Book 1
Chapter 12: Welcome to the Guild, We're Broke
The Kokoro Adventurer's Guild was, in theory, a prestigious institution. In reality, it was a dump.
The building sagged like a depressed pastry that had been left out in the rain. Its wooden beams groaned under the weight of poor financial decisions and an alarming number of pigeons. The sign above the door, which might have once read "Heroes Welcome! Inquire Within!", now just said "Heroes Wel". The last three letters, along with any lingering hope, had fallen off long ago.
Inside, the air smelled of stale beer, unpaid bills, and old gym socks.
Behind the front counter sat Brenda. Her aura of apathy was so potent it could wilt flowers at twenty paces. She was knitting something aggressively shapeless and disturbingly lumpy, her fingers moving with the relentless rhythm of indifference.
KenHanzori, ever the beacon of misplaced enthusiasm, strode up to the counter.
"Greetings, fair maiden of quests!" he declared, slapping his Platinum-tier ATM card onto the counter.
"I, Ken Hanzori, scion of infinite wealth and boundless charm, seek adventure! Also, maybe a loyalty rewards program? I love points!"
Brenda didn't even look up. Her needles clicked.
"Sign here. Don't touch the form with your hands; it's sensitive." She slid a grimy parchment toward him across the counter.
Ken blinked, momentarily deflated.
"That's it? No fanfare? No 'Oh wow, a Hanzori, our wildest dreams have come true!'?"
Brenda's needles clicked twice more, a sharp dismissal.
"Fanfare costs extra. Our marching band quit after the last Goblin raid."
Narutama, standing slightly behind Ken like a long-suffering shadow, sighed.
"Just take the form, Ken. It's fine."
Ken, however, was undeterred. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a stage whisper.
"What if I told you… I could make this place shine? Gold fixtures, velvet drapes, a solid diamond floor, maybe a complimentary Mone fountain?" His fingers twitched toward his ATM card.
Brenda finally looked up. Her eyes, the color of expired tea, fixed on Ken with a gaze that promised doom.
"Try it. And I'll assign you to Closet Duty for a month. With a rusty spoon."
Ken recoiled. "You can't threaten me! I have standards! Hygiene standards! Goldfish standards!"
"Standards don't pay the rent," Brenda said flatly, turning back to her knitting. "First mission's sewer slimes. Go on. Have fun. Try not to break anything important."
---
The Sewer Slime Incident
The sewers beneath Kokoro were, predictably, disgusting. The walls glistened with unknown sludge. The air was thick with the kind of humidity that made clothing regret its life choices.
Ken, meanwhile, was thriving.
"This is great!" he announced, stepping around a suspiciously squishy patch of ground. "Very dungeony. It's got... character! Like a vintage cheese!"
Narutama, who was actively trying not to breathe through his nose, muttered,
"The only ambiance here is regret. And possibly ancient fecal matter."
Their mission was simple: clear out a nest of sewer slimes. According to the Guild, they were weak, mindless blobs. Which, of course, meant things went wrong immediately.
Ken's cologne—a custom Hanzori blend infused with trace amounts of Mone—was so potent the slimes began oozing toward him with unsettling enthusiasm.
"Uh, Ken?" Narutama said, watching as the first slime quivered at Ken's feet. "I think your cologne is..."
FWOOMPH.
The slime exploded into a cloud of glittering, faintly melon-scented mist. It coated everything, turning the already grimy sewer walls into a temporary, shimmering disco.
Ken gasped, utterly delighted.
"I didn't even do anything! My cologne just makes things... spontaneously pop? Is that a feature?"
Narutama, now drenched in slime-confetti that made his uniform sparkle offensively, closed his eyes.
"That's not a good thing, Ken. That's... a very bad thing."
The rest of the slimes, emboldened by the scent of pure Mone, attacked. A cascading series of accidental Mone reactions turned the sewers into a literal disco inferno.
* One slime devoured Ken's chewing gum and bloated to the size of a small wagon, sprouting diamond-hard fangs.
* Another absorbed a drop of his sweat and began singing opera at ear-splitting volume, causing pipes to burst.
* A particularly ambitious blob tried to hug Narutama, only to dissolve into a puddle of harmless water when Narutama's Bronze-tier ATM card, vibrating nervously in his pocket, emitted a desperate, defensive pulse.
* Smaller slimes, attracted by Ken's proximity, began to glow before quietly liquefying into harmless puddles of Mone-tinged water.
By the time they stumbled back into the Guild, Narutama was drenched in glowing slime residue. Ken, meanwhile, was somehow cleaner than when they'd entered, his clothes radiating a faint scent of pine and prosperity.
Brenda, behind the counter, didn't even look up.
"Done?" she asked, her voice flat.
"Define 'done,'" Narutama said wearily. "I think we initiated an impromptu sewer rave and possibly invented sentient, operatic goo."
Brenda shrugged. "Good enough. The pipes are running. Next mission's in a week. Try not to break anything important. Or yourselves."
Ken, already vibrating with excitement, turned to Narutama. "We're adventurers now! This calls for celebration! I'll buy everyone ramen! And maybe we can find a singing toad for a mascot!"
Narutama looked down at his slime-stained boots. "…I need a bath. A very, very long bath. Preferably with very strong solvent."
---
Narutama's Hidden Grind
That night, while Ken snored loudly in the Guild's cheapest bunk (which he had accidentally manifested into a king-size memory foam mattress), Narutama sat alone in the dim light of a borrowed lantern.
Spread before him were ancient scrolls. His fingers, calloused from sword practice, traced the worn kanji of a forgotten technique, "The Thousand Quid Blade Strike." It detailed the painstaking process of channeling his finite Mone through a blade.
His Bronze-tier ATM card lay beside him, its glow faint but steady, a humble testament to his genuine efforts. If Ken's Mone was a broken fire hydrant, Narutama's was a stubborn tap that only worked if you turned it just so. He understood the value of every single Quid, every ounce of cultivated energy.
Somewhere in the inky darkness outside the Guild, a distant, very faint sneeze echoed. It was followed by a soft, almost wistful whinny. It carried the energy that sounds like a horse who'd just remembered an unpaid bill.
Narutama paused, cocking his head. "Stray horse?" he muttered, then shrugged it off. He had more pressing matters. He leaned back over the scrolls, his brow grooved in concentration.
"One day," he whispered to the silent script, a fierce glint in his eye, "I won't need luck. I'll just need skill."
Then he got back to work, the faint glow of his lantern illuminating his grim determination, a stark contrast to the accidental comfort of Ken's plush bunk.