Clang
Clang
Clang
Clang
Clang
Clang
Clang
Clang
As always, the sound of hammers rang through Orario's Smithing Street day and night.
Normally, the Hephaestus Familia, which maintained order in this district, would crack down if the noise became too loud at night... but this time, there was nothing they could do.
What could they do, when Smith, the vice-captain who held authority over security in place of the captain responsible for the Familia's internal affairs, was the cause of all that noise?
The people of Smithing Street and the Hephaestus Familia members patrolling to keep the peace simply let it slide.
...There was an incident where an adventurer, drunk out of his mind and having lost all sense of fear, tried to charge into Smith's shop, NPC, only to be collectively beaten senseless and dragged away by fellow adventurers. But that was nothing worth mentioning.
The hammering that had echoed through the entire Smithing Street for three days and nights finally died down. Then, after around ten days of quiet stillness, one night a drunken adventurer babbled about seeing blue flames explode inside NPC and hearing demonic laughter. As always, though, it was dismissed as the usual nonsense heard around Orario and faded away.
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"...It has been a while, brother."
"Yeah, it has. This is what you asked for."
"...Thank you."
"Do not open it here. Go back to the Familia Home and look at it [alone]. The note inside has its abilities and a detailed explanation written down, so read it. If there's anything you don't understand, come ask me."
"...Yes."
"Oh, and... live."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"...Never mind, then."
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..
...
....
.....
[It] thought.
It was still not enough.
There were still countless people here who needed to bleed.
Countless people exploited the innocent, discarded even those they had exploited like trash, and trampled over those who had become trash.
Too many still believed that anything was permissible as long as it was done to the weak.
They—the things—had to be wiped out. All of them.
—Well, well. I did not expect much, but you have grown splendidly.
What? How? Who?
Reflexively, [It] tried to swing the [Head] it held in its hand—
Boom!
—But I suppose a failure is still a failure. Then again, you are only a mongrel made using some dead supporter as a base. It is a stroke of extraordinary luck that you grew this much at all.
[It] could not understand what had just happened.
That attack should have struck any ordinary Level 2 before they could even react and sent them crashing into the Dungeon wall. Yet when [It] came to its senses, it was the one embedded in the Dungeon wall.
[It]'s mind had been shattered to pieces when it was reborn, and it could barely hold onto fragments of its former reason. But in exchange, its instincts as a beast had become stronger. The instant it slammed into the wall, it realized.
`This person is far stronger than me.`
"Urgh... ugh..."
It moved its body as the fragment of reason that could be called its former memories prompted it to.
It brought both legs neatly together, bent its waist forward, pressed its forehead to the ground, and respectfully overlapped both hands before its head.
It did not know what this posture was called. It only remembered, strangely clearly, that it was the posture one took when begging forgiveness and pleading for mercy.
—Oh? Even a mongrel retains its instincts, does it? And judging from that posture, it seems some of your past memories remain as well... Well, without memories, you would not have thought to hunt adventurers in the first place.
A strangely delighted voice came from above.
But its remaining memories warned it. More violence might follow that delight, so it should merely curl up and pray for the storm to pass.
—Good. Since I have seen something amusing, I shall give you a gift.
It had merely kept its head bowed and waited, but along with the voice, it heard something hard falling to the ground.
—Raise your head. And take them.
When it cautiously raised its head and looked ahead, dozens of magic stones lay scattered about—magic stones that appeared to be from monsters at least from the middle floors.
—Eat them and grow stronger. Kill more. Bring even greater chaos to Orario above.
It did not fully understand what those words meant. But it understood one thing.
[Kill.]
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Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
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Side ???
...
My head... hurts...
Why?
Why was I... here?
Ah... that is...
Right.
To kill them... to kill those bastards...
Because this was a place those bastards often came through...
Huh? How do I know that...?
Bzzzzzzt
"Say that again, you bitch! What did you say, you do not have the money? Then you should sell that body of yours and earn some, shouldn't you?! What are you so damn proud of when you're saying you have no money?!"
Thud
Thud
Thud
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, please... stop..."
Thud
"Next time..."
Thud
"I'll definitely..."
Thud
"Bring it..."
Thud
"Stop..."
Thud
"Huff... huff... If you cannot bring the overdue tribute by next month, I'll cut off all four of your limbs and sell you to a brothel. Understand that? Got it?!"
Ptooey!
Bzzzzzzzt
I remember now... This time's target is Canoe Belway of the Soma Familia...
How should I kill him today?
The adventurer who used a supporter as a meat shield and ran away last time—I tied him up in the Dungeon, lured over a Pass Parade, and rammed it straight into him... Hmm, since the Soma Familia loves alcohol so much they would die for it, I will leave him submerged in a barrel of liquor until he dies!
Ahh, how kind Ash is. Letting people enjoy their favorite hobby right up until the end when they want to kill them!
...The next day, the corpse of a Soma Familia member was found before the Familia Home's main gate, forcibly crammed into an oak barrel with a liquor bottle jammed into his throat.
The barrel was filled with cheap beer and the corpse's blood. Ash had also been sprinkled [very generously] over the corpse's head.
Orario was finally beginning to be thrown into turmoil.
Members of the Soma Familia, one of the pillars of Orario's economy, had begun dying one after another.
The Soma Familia had amassed immense wealth through brewing and distributing liquor. As the hands and feet that brought in their money began to be cut off in earnest, they formally lodged a protest with the Guild and had a warrant issued.
But against an extreme serial killer of unknown appearance, unknown gender, unknown age, unknown name, and unknown affiliation, even the Guild and the Ganesha Familia were helpless. With no progress whatsoever, only the number of Soma Familia corpses continued to rise...
"Goddamn it all—!"
Deep within the Soma Familia, in the captain's office, a middle-aged man with prematurely white hair and glasses could not contain his rage. He grabbed everything within sight and hurled it in every direction to vent his anger.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it! What the hell is this because of that bastard calling himself the Ash Benefactor or whatever?!"
His name was Janis Lustora, a Level 2 adventurer with the alias [Barrel Keeper] and the captain of the Soma Familia.
Taking advantage of the fact that the god Soma paid no attention to the Familia's internal affairs, he had enjoyed absolute authority within the Familia and indulged his personal greed by controlling Soma's distribution rights and influence—or by forcibly making others drink Soma. But now, even that absolute authority was useless.
In truth, while the Soma Familia was one of Orario's economic pillars, its disappearance would not cause such a major problem. It would only create minor disruptions in Orario's economic circulation. Compared to the Ishtar Familia, which controlled the pleasure quarter; the Hephaestus Familia and Goibniu Familia, which controlled Smithing Street; and the Njord Familia, which handled Orario's trade beyond the city, it fell short.
And that [small pillar] of Orario was slowly dying because of just one murderer.
"Somehow, somehow, I have to catch that bastard... Aaargh!"
Crash!
Clatter!
Today, another Soma Familia executive had died.
No matter how powerful Soma's addictiveness was—strong enough to suppress even the desire to survive—if this continued, fear could overwhelm that addiction, and the members, those sources of money, might start running away.
"How did I climb this far and build up all this wealth... only to go under here? That cannot happen... it cannot."
Late that night, the Barrel Keeper's worries only deepened...