Finding teammates — an unavoidable part of an adventurer's life.
Everyone dreams of finding a strong companion who can carry them to glory. But reality isn't that generous; adventurer quality varies wildly. If you're lucky, you get a reliable teammate and enjoy a smooth journey.
If you're unlucky — Kazuma-level unlucky — you pull a hidden "special edition" teammate and your adventure becomes chaos incarnate.
Nobody wants a partner who blows all their energy in a single flashy burst each day, then collapses by the roadside waiting to be picked up, right?
…Well, unless that exhausted person happens to be a cute girl. Then that's a different situation.
Anyway, back to the point: who should Darrick look for as a teammate?
The first group that came to mind was the Raid Team — the most elite adventurers in the city.
However, after the last battle, he realized their fighting style didn't mesh well with his. Their coordination felt awkward — maybe because Terl and the others had all adapted to Leon's rhythm, and couldn't adjust to a swordsman who fought differently.
In short, tightly bonded teams weren't suitable for him.
So he had to search among solo adventurers. Among the Silver ranks, who else worked alone?
Then he remembered someone who wasn't officially an adventurer — the magician Roger.
Though Roger's flippant personality made him hard to deal with, Darrick admired his combat style.
That was how battles should be fought: unpredictable, lethal, and ending in a single strike!
When he was younger, Darrick dreamed of becoming a shadowy assassin under the moonlight — moving unseen, striking swiftly and elegantly.
Instead, he became a swordsman who plunged into hordes of monsters, unleashing flashy combos until everything was dead.
…Still, from a certain perspective, that was also fighting without witnesses.
A dream fulfilled in a roundabout way.
If he could get Roger's help, exploring Farron Keep would become much easier.
Whenever he thought of Farron Keep, Darrick couldn't help recalling the day he fled from the Old Wolf of Farron.
The reason he was now so determined to conquer Sein was to meet that old wolf again.
He didn't even know why he was so obsessed with it. It wasn't like he'd suddenly gain the courage to accept the wolf's blood if they met.
Maybe some instinct told him that if he didn't see the old wolf one more time, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.
He shook his head and chased away the thought. The sun hung bright above, its warm light washing away the chill he brought back from the dungeon.
"Let's rest for a day."
After being sent back to the bonfire by the Darkwraith, Darrick had left the dungeon on his own. Another death would mean losing what was left of his soul — and the dull ache at the back of his head warned him not to push further.
Thanks to Count Charon's generous donation of teleport crystals and Darrick's careful spending habits (he rarely needed to visit the resurrection room these days), his wallet was finally a little heavier.
"Let's buy something good to eat — a treat for everyone."
He weighed the pouch in his hand and couldn't help smiling.
"Boss, can I pick up the meat I ordered last week?" he called as he entered a familiar shop.
"Of course! It's been ready for a while," the burly owner replied. "Wait here, I'll get the cart."
Darrick nodded and sat down.
This wasn't a butcher shop or a tavern — it was a Monster Workshop.
Adventurers brought monster corpses here to be dismantled, or, if they didn't want the hassle, sold the entire carcass and kept only the materials they needed.
Darrick had known this workshop for years. He asked the owner to buy low-grade monster meat weekly — preferably pig- or cow-type monsters.
Monster meat was edible, but not particularly tasty and had no strengthening effects, so it was cheap.
But Darrick's wolf pack loved it. Since they could only hunt normal animals in the forest, he came here weekly to buy monster meat as a treat.
"Back again, huh?" a middle-aged dismantler greeted him with a grin. "You must be earning well. You're here every week."
Darrick shook his head. "Just barely enough."
"Haha! I hear the exhaustion in your voice." The man laughed and slapped Darrick's shoulder. "You need a proper way to relieve stress, my friend. How about I treat you today?"
Darrick frowned, already knowing where this was going. "I don't go to… those kinds of shops."
The dismantler blinked, then handed him a mug filled with cold, frothy beer.
"What? Who said anything about that? What's going on in that head of yours, kid?"
"…"
Darrick turned away, cheeks reddening — which only made the man laugh harder.
"I don't drink," he muttered stiffly.
"Aw, come on, I'm just teasing. It's on me — just a little."
Darrick stared at the beer. The golden brew fizzed with bubbles, condensation sliding down the glass, a rich scent of wheat and fruit rising from the foam. Just looking at it was refreshing.
It definitely looked like a really good beer.
His throat moved. He grabbed the mug. A few seconds later, he found himself staring at an empty glass.
When he snapped out of it — he had downed the whole thing.
"…You must really be tired. Want another?" the dismantler asked, surprised.
"N-no, that's enough," Darrick said quickly, face flushing. At that moment, the owner returned with the cart stacked with monster meat. Darrick paid and hurried out of the city.
His steps were unsteady, his head slightly dizzy — turns out he had terrible alcohol tolerance.
But the cool autumn breeze brushed his cheeks, the grass swayed on the plains, and the faint tipsiness wasn't unpleasant at all.
Relaxing once in a while wasn't so bad.
He even began humming softly, smiling as he admired the scenery — a smile that lasted until he reached his farm.
Clang!
The sound of steel leaving its sheath snapped through the air. Darrick dropped the cart and drew his sword, eyes turning bloodshot.
The fence was broken. The farm was in chaos. The wolves were gone.
And a massive creature crouched in the middle of the field, blood dripping from its jaws.
A… dragon!
Darrick's face drained of color, his body trembling. In the next instant, he charged forward with a roar.
"Why is there a dragon here?! Why my farm?! My wolves—!!"
"DIE!!!"
"Gah?"
The Rathian — Hathaway — blinked in confusion, startled. She spread her wings in alarm…
Revealing a group of wolf pups underneath, happily gnawing on a wild boar.
Their faces were smeared with grease, tails wagging as they howled contentedly.
"Ah!?"
Darrick froze mid-charge — then tripped and performed a perfect faceplant into the dirt.
He slid right to the pups' feet.
Recognizing their partner, the pups barked happily, circling and licking him, smearing his clothes with blood and meat.
Darrick looked up, dazed — and locked eyes with the equally confused Rathian. Man and dragon stared at each other in awkward silence.
"Who dares attack my Hathaway?!"
A familiar voice echoed — Roger's.
Before Darrick could respond, a Mage Hand appeared and slapped him square across the face.
.
..
...
"I'm sorry! It's all a misunderstanding, buddy!" Roger said quickly, casting a healing spell on Darrick, who sat there with a sour expression.
"I told you to fix the fence your dragon broke," Antilly, the beast tamer, sighed. Dressed boldly as always, she stood surrounded by several male wolves wagging their tails at her adoringly.
Darrick's face darkened further. He recognized those wolves — they were supposed to be the aloof ones in the pack.
"I did send Hathaway to hunt something as compensation," Roger muttered awkwardly. "But I guess that just caused a bigger misunderstanding…"
Once Darrick confirmed the wolves were unharmed, he calmed down. Still, he glared at Antilly — like a wife glaring at a mistress.
Feeling his stare, Antilly patted the wolves' heads, and they dispersed.
Darrick's expression softened a little, though his tone stayed sharp. "So, why are you here?"
Roger hesitated after the embarrassing incident, but Antilly boldly stepped forward:
"We're inviting you to join us in exploring the dungeon! There'll be lots and lots of rewards. So, what do you say?"
"Oh?"
Darrick glanced at Roger, who nodded.
He hadn't even begun looking for teammates — and they came to him.
Though the encounter had been unpleasant, it only gave him a scare. If anything, this gave him leverage for negotiations.
He had planned to ask only Roger, but with Antilly added — and she was extremely capable — the team looked promising.
Darrick answered without hesitation.
"All right. But what's your goal? Which area are we exploring?"
Roger and Antilly exchanged glances, then smiled mysteriously.
"Tell me," Antilly asked, "would you mind being hated by monsters?"
Darrick blinked. "Monsters already hate humans, don't they?"
"So you don't mind! Perfect!"
Antilly clapped and grinned. "Then rest up today. Tomorrow, come with us. Our goal is simple — we're going to fight monsters!"
Darrick frowned, suddenly uneasy.
—The next day, in the Dungeon, Gourmet Zone—
"Here, take this," Antilly said, handing Darrick a wooden stick and pointing at a nearby bush.
"See that yellow rat? Hit it!"
"Pika?"
The wild Pikachu blinked in confusion.