Ch.69The Sunken Village (3)

Here’s the composition of the adventurers gathered here.

Including myself and Raisha, there are 54 frontline fighters such as Battlers.

17 rear-line fighters like Rangers and Scoundrels.

And the remaining 9 are Mages.

“Let’s go with the standard formation. Mages in the center, rear-line fighters guarding them, and the rest of us spread out widely to serve as lookouts. Any objections?”

I established the grand strategy first, and the other adventurers agreed with my opinion.

In truth, this formation was the most commonly used when conquering dungeons or labyrinths, and since none of us were particularly strategists, it was safe to say my opinion wouldn’t face any opposition.

“The most standard of standards. I agree.”

“We need to keep the mages alive above all. Especially when we’re facing machines, not humans.”

Nods all around.

Once the grand strategy was set, the conversation devolved into trivial chatter.

Of course, there were important matters too, like how to distribute the spoils.

Ancient ruins were mysterious places in themselves, but unless you were an archaeologist or historian, they weren’t particularly lucrative hunting grounds.

At best, they contained worn-out machine parts or obscene diaries.

However, since these items still fetched high prices among collectors and scholars, the distribution of spoils obtained inside the dungeon was something that needed to be addressed to prevent internal conflict.

“Let me make one thing clear: taking spoils before confirming the deactivation of the artificial intelligence is strictly prohibited. There’s the possibility of booby traps, not to mention it could disrupt our formation…”

“Well, that’s obvious. But what about the distribution?”

“Can’t we just take what we find? Everyone looks after themselves. We’re adventurers, after all.”

When someone voiced this “personal responsibility” argument, the adventurers began nodding in agreement.

It was a natural reaction for adventurers who strongly believed in claiming their own share, but I had reason to put a stop to it.

“No. That doesn’t seem wise.”

“Why not?”

A human female Ranger with short brown hair asked me.

“Right now, we have solo adventurers who came without parties, and large parties with more than ten members. Large parties can look after their companions unless the situation becomes dire, but if a solo adventurer sustains serious injuries and can’t collect their spoils, they’d just be wasting their treatment costs.”

“Isn’t that unavoidable? It’s only natural that more hands collect more treasure.”

“I’m saying this because unfairness occurs in the process of realizing that ‘naturalness.’ Besides, our request was clearly to rebuild and protect Cavington Village, not to conquer a dungeon. Some adventurers came lightly equipped without proper gear. While we’ve agreed to proceed with the conquest by majority vote, it’s not morally right for solo adventurers with inadequate equipment to suffer losses alone.”

“…So what are you suggesting?”

“Simple. Let’s create a kind of safety net.”

“Safety net?”

At my words, several adventurers’ eyes lit up.

Probably those who came alone and lightly equipped.

I moistened my throat before continuing.

“When a solo adventurer without a party is judged unable to move or carry items, someone who still has the strength to move will collect spoils on their behalf.”

“Wouldn’t that reduce the spoils we can take?”

“It’s just a safety measure, so we should accept that much loss. Besides, we all came from Shahelm, right? I doubt any fool would come from the City of Potions without bringing potions.”

At my words, the adventurers looked at the potions hanging from their belts and nodded.

“If you’re worried, we can cast healing spells, so don’t fret.”

When the old mage said this, even the large parties that had shown sharp reactions nodded in agreement.

We came from the City of Potions, and consequently, our bags were overflowing with potions.

If someone died after using all these potions, it would probably be from internal injuries caused by drinking too many potions rather than from wounds.

“Well, it seems we’ve sorted everything out. Let’s start moving. If we leave now and spend the night on the ridge, we should reach the ruins by tomorrow morning.”

“Those with horses will lead the way. Those without, follow behind.”

*

“Damn it! This cursed mountain! If I die of arthritis, Lord Karil will laugh at me!”

“Hang in there, dwarf. You’ve got longer legs than most dwarves, so you won’t die.”

“You blasted elf! I’ll break that beanpole spine of yours!”

“Hahaha!”

The journey up the mountain wasn’t boring.

Not only could I see more clearly the scenery I had passed by quickly during the previous reconnaissance, but now there was also a noisy group behind me, so at least my eyes and ears weren’t bored—and in adventure, those two senses alone were enough.

Clop, clop, clop…

As I rode forward on horseback with a faint smile, the old mage began to approach me.

“Victor, party leader of Iron Walker… correct?”

I nodded.

“Your discourse earlier was excellent. Reaching an agreement that so many adventurers could accept… and a humane one at that… is no easy task.”

“If something is unreasonable, it should be corrected. Even if it’s merely honor among thieves. Honor shines by itself.”

“Honor among thieves… Indeed. Not wrong at all.”

The old mage looked at me with a satisfied expression, chuckling.

In truth, though called old, he still appeared robust—exaggerating, he might be in his mid to late 50s, or being generous, early to mid-60s.

Given that humanity’s average lifespan exceeded 1,000 years some 160,000 Imperial years ago, he might be over 100, but I knew well that averages are always skewed by extremes.

“What’s your name?”

“Simon. Simon Holme.”

“Simon Holme. You look old, but why are you still adventuring?”

“Hehehe. Would this old man have anything left like a sense of adventure? At this age, I’m just wandering around without a place to rest my body.”

“Then have you been to Fernheim and the Crusis Mountains?”

“Fernheim… Crusis…”

Simon pondered deeply, then, as if realizing something, pointed at me with the tip of his staff.

“Are you perhaps trying to make a pilgrimage to the 52 Scenic Wonders of the world?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. No matter how beautiful the scenery, a mediocre view seen while alive is better than a spectacular one seen in death…”

“That’s not for you to decide, Mage.”

I don’t like people who belittle others’ goals.

What’s most precious to me might be more worthless than roadside dust to someone else, and what’s nothing to someone might be something I’d risk my life to protect.

At least, that was the lesson I learned on the streets of Parcifal.

When I shot him a look containing a trace of contempt, Simon hastily changed his tone.

“Oh… don’t look at me like that. This old man just spoke out of concern. Challenges are the privilege of the young. Yes, indeed.”

“Hmm.”

I looked into his eyes.

They were eyes similar to mine.

The eyes of a true adventurer with longing for the unknown.

“Are you alone?”

“What party would accept this old man? Now I’m just moving this body following fluttering papers.”

“So you are alone.”

The speech of mages is scholarly, but also lyrical.

If you remember that well, communication with a mage isn’t that difficult.

I’ve managed to interpret even the neologisms of autistic patients with disintegrated language. Mere convoluted speech couldn’t deceive me.

“Mage. You still haven’t answered my question. Which parts of this continent have you traveled so far?”

“…I’ve been to the Chick-her-jang of Faerus Vale and the Potion Museum of Shahelm.”

“Then you’re like us. After we finish this job, we will head toward the distant Fernheim and Crusis.”

“…And after that?”

“We go to the Miriam continent. After visiting the famous places there, we’ll depart for the next continent. Until we reach Saburos in Centrum, the final continent.”

“…A grand goal.”

“I swore on the cliffs of Parcifal. To grasp the horizon in my hand and become someone higher than the clouds. Such ambition is only fitting.”

“Yes… you have the makings of a great person.”

I could read regret in his voice.

Not regret for me.

Self-pity.

He had spent too many years in magic towers and libraries, and his body, weakened by accepting mana, was not suitable for adventure.

But such things don’t matter.

Adventure is something you embark on because you want to, and no constraint or limitation can suppress the concept of adventure.

“Simon.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not too late.”

“…”

“Buy preserved food, stock up on water, and go further. Explore until your legs crumble, your arms break, your eyes go blind, and your ears go deaf. How will you introduce yourself in the Hall of Logos? Adventurer Simon? Mage Simon?”

“I am…”

Simon couldn’t answer, and we made camp at our planned midpoint, lighting a campfire and pitching tents.

And Simon never approached me to talk again.