As usual, sweating through manual labor, evaluation in hand, I returned to the Guild.
The verdict on the form: 【B】.
For some reason, the second-floor counter was packed.
Hawkins’s counter, normally free, had a line. The big lady who usually processed at a frightening pace was missing.
A staffer I didn’t usually see was at the desk, struggling with unfamiliar paperwork.
I listened to the voices around me.
“Heard? A third labyrinth.”
“That’s bad. The lord’s troops are out subjugating the others, right?”
“That’s why the Guild is in a panic. Lot of them lately.”
So — a new labyrinth had appeared.
Labyrinths grew if you left them alone — monster nests, spawning monsters.
Bad enough that they spawned troublesome monsters; if you left one too long, it spat out a massive wave of monsters and then the labyrinth itself collapsed. Nasty.
Some towns managed labyrinths — killed their monsters for profit.
But those towns had the know-how.
They partnered with the Adventurers’ Guild and managed them with paranoid care.
Standard practice: find one, subjugate it.
Reward money from the Guild and the lord both, plus a reputation boost for the adventurer.
A labyrinth-subjugating adventurer — the dream job for kids.
“Open recruitment and head right in, maybe.”
“Curious about the value of the loot in the deepest chamber.”
“As long as people don’t fight each other over it.”
The adventurers’ jokes were dark but they were smiling.
It did actually happen, though.
In the deepest chamber, a guardian protected the loot — the labyrinth’s core.
Gold or jewels — that was certain. Sometimes metal.
But whatever form, it carried mana generated by the labyrinth. Or — wore it. A mysterious metal — rare and valuable.
Used as material for magical implements. A precious haul.
(Selling it is one-shot wealth. Even an easy labyrinth — sell the loot and you can live two or three years on it.)
The Second piped up from the Jewel.
“In my day, labyrinths were a place you went to 【Grow】 yourself. Now they subjugate as a group?”
The Fifth too.
“Solo or party isn’t efficient. Worst case, you fall in the labyrinth and get absorbed — feeds the labyrinth’s growth. From an efficiency standpoint, a coordinated mass subjugation is safer.”
I logged that.
Even the concept of labyrinth varied across eras.
What I’d been taught — what I’d read in books — was that labyrinths produced rare materials and were extremely dangerous.
The notion of “a place to train yourself” hadn’t been on the page.
“The Fifth is killing monsters too — that means… the rule I left is still being practiced?”
The Second. The Fifth.
“You set it, Second? Hmm — managing men and fighting monsters was good experience.”
The two of them started reminiscing about their first combats.
What caught my ear was the word 【Growth】, which both used in passing.
“Sensation varies, but — like the haze lifting from your eyes? I first felt it after I started fighting monsters. When you feel the Growth, you tend to push yourself and screw up.”
The Fifth, the same.
“Mine was similar. Just-promoted-to-viscount, so I had fewer monster engagements than bandit ones. But you Grow even fighting humans…”
This didn’t match my idea of growth.
Different from body growing, or mental maturity?
“Latest, you Grow once or twice in your early teens. Different feel — and the family looks at you with the ah, he’s Grown face, infuriating.”
The Second’s voice dropped. The Fifth laughed a little.
“It’s a sensation. Some people only get one or two in a lifetime, supposedly.”
The Second was surprised.
“That few? I’ve Grown at least nine times. Felt like I was fighting every day. First time around twelve.”
“That’s too many.”
I was listening, and getting uneasy.
(…Um. I’ve never had one. Ever.)
While I was thinking that, Hawkins called me up looking unusually cheerful.
“Next, please. Oh, Lyle.”
“Yes, please.”
I handed him the form; he processed it with a smile.
Maybe he was happy being busy.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
After eating out for lunch, Novem and I used the money we had to buy gear.
Mostly mine — my sabres had broken against the boss.
The Skill-boosted weapon had ruined both my main sabre and the spare.
We were at the weapon shop Zelphy had introduced.
“Selection is smaller than I expected.”
“Can’t help it,” the owner shrugged.
The owner was a dwarf — small, muscular, big red nose, bushy beard.
“Sabres aren’t popular in Darion. Nobles like them, but here it’s all subjugation. People want sturdier blades. Some of the knights here lean toward spears, clubs, even axes over swords.”
A look around confirmed — those were the dominant stock.
Naturally — the popular weapons varied by region.
I’d thought I’d stay on sabres, but I considered switching.
“Where do they carry sabres? Doesn’t have to be far from Darion.”
Novem asked. The dwarf put a hand to his chin and looked up.
“That kind of blade — the capital, Central, has a range… still, shops that carry combat-grade are few. I know a guy in Central, but he’s armor specialist.”
Dwarves had a reputation for working metal; many ran successful smithies.
Not that you needed to be a dwarf to be a good smith.
“I could order in and have them shipped, but if you’re going anyway, going yourself to actually see them would be better. I can write you a letter of introduction.”
I considered.
The sabres on the rack were all mass-produced.
If you wanted top-of-the-line, the sky was the limit. The quality was higher than what I’d been using, so I bought two — main and spare.
(I’ve come this far on sabres. A little stubbornness is fine.)
The first weapon I’d been given was a sabre.
Mother and Father had once looked forward to me carrying a sabre into battle as a Walt man… there’d been a time like that.
“What about the old ones? Beat up like this, trade-in just pays metal value.”
I handed him the old sabre and said fine. I paid.
“Quite a state, this.”
He looked at my used sabre and commented. I almost apologized.
After all — mass-produced or not, it was his work.
“No, no, not blaming you. Just — I haven’t seen a swordsman around here use a blade this way. For better and worse, this is a town that’s kind to beginners. Skilled hands are countable. The ones who Grow move on quickly.”
He handed me change. I took it.
I turned to Novem.
“You don’t need anything?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“What I have still works. I bought a knife. For armor, Zelphy says I don’t need more for now.”
“Right… yeah.”
In weapons or armor, the top end is endless. At our current level, gear too good is wasted on us.
And going into slime fights in metal armor doesn’t quite make sense.
A wooden shield and a spear and you’re done.
I took the new sabres from the owner and we left.
◇
On the way home.
On a quiet stretch, I made an offer to Novem.
“Hey — about… the money. I can’t buy back your dowry with this, but — I want to give back what I can.”
Sixty gold on hand.
Money supported by the lord for the bandit subjugation.
Most of it had gone to the hires, food, supplies. What was left was the value of the bandits’ goods after conversion.
Starting from two hundred gold, this was a clear loss.
Novem, who’d been deciding what to cook, went serious.
She shook her head — couldn’t take it.
“I’m grateful for the thought, Lord Lyle. But that money is for what Lord Lyle needs going forward. I can’t take it.”
“No, but—”
“If you insist… then someday, when Lord Lyle is a first-rate adventurer — return it then.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
I didn’t have much of an ambition to succeed as an adventurer.
“O-okay. I’ll buy back what you had — no, something even better. I promise.”
She smiled, a little.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
The First:
”…What a good girl.”
The rest piled on. I ignored them.
“Lyle’s deadbeatedness really stands out.”
“Honestly, having Novem-chan already puts Lyle in the winner’s column.”
“Different from the women I knew.”
“You (Fourth) spoiled the other party (Mom) too much. I had to call her ‘Mama’ my whole life.”
“Lyle, keep this verbal promise. Break it and you lose something important as a person.”
“The Fuchs raised their children right. Walt, by contrast…”
I tuned them out. Home came into view.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
That night.
To ask about something on my mind, I used the Jewel’s council room.
Novem and Aria asleep. I lay down, and consciousness slid into the Jewel.
A round table at the room’s center; the room itself round.
Behind the ornate chairs, doors to the ancestors’ rooms were visible.
Throughout the space, gems resembling the blue Jewel were embedded — varying in size.
— This was what we called the council room.
The Fourth, in moderator mode, asked the reason.
“Lyle called the meeting. You said you had several questions. Well, what is it?”
He glanced at me through his glasses, finger adjusting them.
“Yeah, several small things, but before that, one I’m curious about.”
“What?”
I thought back to the Second-and-Fifth conversation and asked.
“Um… about Growth.”
Interest perked in the room. They leaned in.
The First cut me off before I could continue.
“Right! Growth! Lyle, how many times have you had it so far? Your mana is low, stamina iffy. Other stats barely passing — and as for the physical, what was the word…?”
He turned to the Second, who clicked his tongue.
“Physical spec is low. From the magic skill and sword skill, Lyle’s the kind of fighter who survives by technique.”
A technique type, then. I hadn’t thought of myself that way.
The Third.
“When you ran two sabres, I noticed — Lyle’s Growth pattern might be specialized in technique. Right? Single-stat-spike types aren’t rare.”
The Sixth nodded.
“There are. That kind of person — push their strong suit, deploy them in their specialty, and they shine. Lyle in that direction—”
The talk drifted toward typing me, so I raised my voice.
“Listen to me, please! Anyway — what is Growth? Sensation, you said, but I have no idea. Is it different from physical or mental growth?”
The room went quiet, stunned. The Seventh — my grandfather — grabbed both my shoulders.
“L-Lyle!”
“Yes?”
“You’re fifteen, yes? Skill is rough but manifested. So — have you ever experienced Growth? Wake up one morning and your senses feel different, your body moves differently — REMEMBER! That distinct, born-again feeling!”
I tried to remember. No such moment. Ever.
The First confirmed.
“No, listen, just living, you get this — ping! Right? My third or fourth Growth felt like that.”
Everyone looked at me like they couldn’t process what they were seeing.
But I’d never had it.
”…Never.”
The Seventh’s mouth opened and closed.
The Fifth, calmly.
“Lyle, I’m told you were cold-shouldered from age ten — but at what level? You were educated, yes?”
Asked. I answered honestly.
“Yes. I read every book they gave me.”
The room went into chaos.
“Hold ON a second!!”
“E-eh, what — Lyle, you used magic in that state?! You can use it?!”
“How are we supposed to evaluate this?!”
“Not happening… handed books only and calling it education…”
“We underestimated. All of us. Including Lyle — none of us had grasped the situation.”
“I needed at least two Growths to reach your level of magic use, Lyle.”
”…If I could reach out and slap my son across the head right now.”
I watched. Bad shape, apparently.
They all sat down and asked me, again, to walk through what had happened more precisely than before.
The Fourth re-took the chair.
“Lyle, talk us through it… how did you live from age ten?”
I told them as I remembered.
From around ten, basically alone.
Meals delivered to my room.
Almost no conversation. The tutor handed me books and—
— I stopped, hand at my forehead.
“H-huh? This is… weird, isn’t it?”
Everyone nodded.
“Considerably. If you lived normally until ten, you should’ve noticed this…”
The Fifth, thinking. The First.
“The monster’s work, then? A monster that bends the surroundings and the situation — is this what that means? But it doesn’t explain Lyle not experiencing Growth. Even in a normal life, once or twice—”
Once or twice.
Apparently it should have happened to me at least that often.
The Fourth sighed.
“Lyle. I retract ‘low mana.’ …There’s more you wanted to ask?”
The Fourth’s question. I went on, hesitantly.
“Well… that…”
The Second eyed me warily.
Another bombshell? — that face.
“Wh-what now?”
I—
“What should I be aiming for from here?”
Every face went exasperated.