The morning began with me realizing an unpleasant fact: I had no pants.
My old, acid-burned men's clothes had disappeared into the Inventory, and walking around the elite penthouse in just a men's white shirt, which now reached my knees, was economically unviable — the elven body rapidly lost heat.
— "Catch, Frieren-chan!" — Ai Hoshino threw a stack of clothes onto the bed with a satisfied smile.
— "This is my favorite oversized hoodie and shorts." — "It will look like a cute dress on you!"
— "And while you're getting changed, Marin and I will call a taxi." — "We'll go to the shopping mall in Shibuya!" — "We'll buy you some normal everyday clothes."
I froze, holding the soft pink fabric of the hoodie in my hands. My long ears twitched. A shopping mall? Shibuya?
Walking on foot among thousands of people?
— "Your agency surely has couriers," — I said monotonously, looking at the idol with an unblinking green gaze. — "And premium delivery."
— "Why waste calories and time physically moving through stores when you can press a couple of buttons on a phone?"
Ai slyly narrowed her starry eyes, leaning toward me and resting her hands on the edge of the mattress.
— "Because dressing up such a pocket-sized, gloomy cutie in person, sorting through hangers, is a privilege I would never pass up~" — "Besides, I want to see how you will..."
She didn't finish. My hand shot up with imperceptible elven speed.
Two thin fingers ruthlessly but carefully dug into the soft, flawless cheek of the national idol, pulling it slightly to the side.
— "Ouch!" — Ai widened her eyes in surprise, trying to pull away, but my grip was iron.
— "I'm not a dress-up doll, Little Star." — "I have a debt of four hundred coins," — I reported absolutely indifferently, continuing to hold her by the cheek.
— "Gofsho-kun!" — "Let gho... it huwts!" — Ai lisped indignantly, comically waving her hands.
Her entire image of a mysterious and unreachable star shattered to pieces once again. — "I'm a sthaw!" — "You don't puww a sthaw's theeks!"
— "Stars should smile less in the mornings, it's annoying," — I countered melancholically, but let go of the cheek anyway.
Ai, rubbing her reddened face, pouted her lips, but cheerful sparks danced in her eyes.
It seemed she even liked being treated not like a deity from the television.
While I pulled on the cozy hoodie smelling of expensive perfume, Marin peeked into the bedroom. — "Guys, how are we going to hide... well... this?"
Kitagawa eloquently twirled her fingers near her own ears.
The question was logical. Elven ears sticking out from under hair attracted too much attention.
— "I have 'Magic that visually shortens ears' in my memory," — I replied calmly, zipping up.
— "But in the Mythical Era, it had an unpleasant side effect." — "It made your nose fall off." — "For three days."
— "I don't want to risk it."
Marin turned pale and swallowed nervously. — "Y-yes, perhaps a nose will still be useful to us..." — "Then, plan 'B'!"
Ten minutes later, plan "B" was put into action. A black bucket hat with a wide brim was plopped onto my head, hiding the ears, and a black medical mask was put on my face.
Now I didn't look like a thousand-year-old elf, but like a regular introverted Tokyo teenager with white hair.
Ai transformed as well. She gathered her long hair into a strict bun, put on thick black-rimmed glasses, an oversized gray hoodie, and a cap.
— "The 'Regular Student' mode is activated" — she winked, adjusting her glasses. — "Even my own manager won't recognize me like this."
— "Excellent" — "But what do we do with him?" — Marin pointed a finger toward the hallway.
There, shifting from foot to foot, stood Takemichi. His school uniform had burned down back in the Yoyogi Gate, so now he was dressed in spare sweatpants and some baggy t-shirt found in the penthouse's stash.
The problem was something else: his face was broadcast nationwide yesterday. The Hunter Association was searching for the "weeping blond" as my main accomplice.
And a bucket hat wouldn't have helped here.
I looked thoughtfully at Takemichi. Then my gaze slid outside the panoramic window of the penthouse.
On a huge advertising billboard of the neighboring skyscraper, they were playing a trailer for the new season of "Demon Slayer".
On the screen, a blond guy in a yellow haori was screaming frantically, running away from some monster.
The resemblance was phenomenal. A simple illusion spell that I had once read in an old grimoire popped into my head.
I raised my hand. A tiny, barely noticeable spark of mana flared on the tip of my index finger, and I lazily flicked it toward the schoolboy.
— "Magic that turns cowards into lightning rods."
The air around Takemichi rippled. With a quiet pop, his dirty hair was dyed into a bright yellow-orange gradient.
Over his t-shirt, a realistic, flowing illusory yellow haori with white triangles materialized.
— "Eh... eh?!" — Takemichi felt his new hair in horror and looked at the glowing fabric on his shoulders.
— "Why do I look like a cosplayer?!" — "What did you do to me?!"
— "You both whine loudly," — I answered unperturbedly, pulling the mask over my face. — "This is perfect camouflage."
— "The Association will be looking for a scared schoolboy, not an anime fan at a festival."
— "If a goblin attacks you — just faint." — "They say that's how you become stronger."
At that moment, Marin, standing nearby, let out a sound like a boiling kettle. Her eyes widened to impossible sizes.
She rushed to Takemichi, almost knocking him off his feet, and began to frantically feel the illusory haori.
— "Oh my god... OH MY GOD!" — Kitagawa squealed fanatically, scaring the poor blond. — "No seams!" — "Perfect gradient on the hair!"
— "The fabric reflects light, even though it physically doesn't exist!" — "This... this is top-tier magic!" — "Frieren-chan!" — "I'm begging you!"
— "Become my personal special effects stylist!" — "I will give you all my savings!"
My long ear, hidden under the black bucket hat, twitched menacingly for the second time that morning. «Frieren-chan?» «Again?»
Apparently, punishing people for excessive familiarity had become a habit for me today.
Without saying a word and without changing my rock-solid poker face, I took one smooth, soundless step toward Kitagawa.
My hands shot up with the same ruthless elven speed with which I had recently attacked the idol, and my thin fingers masterfully dug right into the cosplayer's exposed sides under her t-shirt.
— "AHAHAH!" — "W-WAIT!" — "FRI..." — "I MEAN GOJO-KUN!" — Marin squealed piercingly, instantly bending in half and dropping her phone on the carpet.
She tried to jump to the side, but you don't just walk away from the Strongest mage (even in the body of a short elf).
I advanced on her, cold-bloodedly continuing my tickling torture until Marin collapsed on her knees, bursting into hysterical laughter.
— "AHAHAH!" — "I SURRENDER!" — "GOD, IT TICKLES!" — "HAVE MERCY!"
— "Welcome to the club, Marin-chan!" — Ai Hoshino laughed vindictively and incredibly contentedly in the background, adjusting her thick-rimmed disguise glasses.
Takemichi, still digesting the fact that he now looked like a walking yellow triangle, simply pressed himself against the wall, praying that his turn wouldn't come.
Having ensured that authority was restored, I removed my hands and, as if nothing had happened, adjusted the medical mask that had slipped onto my forehead.
— "I will think about your job offer as a stylist," — I replied dryly, stepping over Kitagawa, who was sobbing from laughter and breathing heavily on the floor, and headed toward the exit of the penthouse.
— "And now, let's go." — "I have a schedule." — "Clothes first, then goblins."
Takemichi, having finally resigned himself to his fate as a Yellow Loudspeaker, sighed heavily and trudged along. The shopping promised to be long.
The shopping mall in Shibuya in the middle of the day resembled an anthill, flooded with neon light and deafening with pop music.
To a thousand-year-old elf, this place was a branch of hell. To Ai Hoshino and Marin Kitagawa — a natural habitat.
They had been dragging me from boutique to boutique for two hours now.
My mana level was at zero, but my patience level had hit rock bottom back in the first store.
I melancholically trudged behind them, sipping ice-cold bubble tea with double syrup from a huge plastic cup.
Sugar was the only fuel keeping me from simply lying down on the tiled floor and falling asleep.
— "How about these cargo pants?" — Marin held a pair of thick black trousers with a bunch of pockets up to my legs. — "Practical!"
"And the fabric is durable!"
— "Too gloomy," — Ai rejected them, adjusting her disguise glasses. — "Frieren-chan needs freedom of movement."
"This tactical skort and thick olive-colored windbreaker will fit perfectly. Cute and combat-ready!"
I slowly turned my head to the idol. From under the brim of the black bucket hat, such a heavy, unblinking, and frighteningly cold elven gaze stared at her, promising another session of ruthless tickling torture right in the middle of the shopping mall, that Ai instantly cut herself short.
She blushed slightly, coughed nervously, and hastily corrected herself: — "I-I mean... tough and brutal! Yes!"
"Just right for such a fearsome guy like you, Gojo-kun! A very manly jacket!"
I nodded in satisfaction, accepting the apology, and once again leaned into the bubble tea straw.
While they argued over my wardrobe, a real tragedy was unfolding five meters away from us.
Takemichi, whose hair still shone with a yellow-orange gradient and with the illusory haori hanging on his shoulders, stood pressed against a glass display window.
Teenagers passing by kept stopping, pointing fingers at him, and giggling.
Someone even took a photo of him with a flash, admiring the "incredibly realistic Zenitsu cosplay, who got so into the character of a crybaby".
— "I want to die..." — the schoolboy moved his lips soundlessly, pulling an invisible hat over his eyes. — "Please, let a goblin eat me..."
— "Hanagaki Takemichi!!!"
The voice coming from behind made the blond jump in place. Through the crowd of shoppers, Tachibana Hinata was approaching us with a decisive stride.
She was wearing a cute everyday skirt and a cardigan, but her facial expression resembled an enraged bulldozer.
Takemichi, whose life was already hanging by a thread, turned as pale as chalk. — "H-Hina?!"
"What are you doing here... How did you recognize me?! I'm in an illusion!"
— "Did you think this stupid yellow pajama would fool the couples' GPS locator on my phone?!"
Hina rested her hands on her hips, breathing heavily. Her gaze slid over his yellow hair and the triangles on the haori.
— "And besides, you yourself texted me ten minutes ago: 'Sorry, sunshine, I'm in Shibuya buying clothes for an elf before going to beat up goblins'!"
"And then I hear someone whining across the whole floor the way only you know how to whine!"
"I thought you had completely lost your mind from stress! Or that the cult from the morning video call had pumped you full of drugs!"
"And you... you're just doing cosplay?!"
— "It's not cosplay! It's a curse!" — howled Takemichi. — "Hina, run away from here before they turn you into something too!"
I loudly sucked the rest of the bubble tea through the straw. The characteristic slurping sound made Hina sharply turn her head toward me.
She stared at a little girl with white hair, wearing a black bucket hat, a medical mask, and Ai's huge pink hoodie.
— "Are... are you him? That same Satoru who 'reincarnated because of debts to the System'?"
— Hina narrowed her eyes suspiciously, trying to find at least a drop of logic in what was happening.
— "Yes," — I answered monotonously. — "But right now I am Frieren."
"My nose is in place because we decided not to use concealment magic."
"And your boyfriend is dressed like a lightning rod so the Hunter Association doesn't arrest him. It's all logical. Want some bubble tea?"
Hina's brain, faced with absolutely impenetrable, rock-solid elven honesty, threw a syntax error.
She shifted her gaze to Marin and Ai standing nearby, who gave her a friendly wave in greeting.
Hina's anger suddenly evaporated, replaced by a heavy, doomed sigh. She realized it was useless to argue with this madness.
— "Are you buying her clothes for a dungeon?" — asked Hina, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
— "In these boutiques? It's all synthetic."
"If she gets hit by fire, she'll light up like a match. Let's go to the outdoors department."
"She needs thermal fabric and proper hiking boots, not these platform sneakers."
And just like that, instead of rescuing her boyfriend from a "cult," Hina took charge of our squad. The four of them turned out to be a terrifying force.
Half an hour later, I was equipped like a perfect elven special forces operator: durable dark tights, thick tactical shorts, a comfortable turtleneck, and a light but sturdy jacket that didn't restrict movement.
The Inventory was replenished with a dozen protein bars and a thermos of hot tea.
— "That's it! You look amazing!" — Hina concluded with satisfaction, adjusting the collar of my new jacket.
Then she turned to Takemichi, and her voice became steel: — "And you. If you die out there, I will kill you."
"Got it?"
— "Y-yes, Hina!" — the blond Zenitsu stood at attention.
The E-rank Gate was located on the outskirts of the Sumida ward, in an abandoned warehouse.
The Hunter Association usually ignored such minor portals, leaving them to be cleared by novice Guilds or freelance rookies.
There was no cordon here, just a couple of bored police officers in the distance.
In front of the dimly flickering, pale blue portal, about a dozen similar low-rank Hunters were shifting from foot to foot.
— "Marin-chan and I won't go any further," — Ai whispered, hiding in the shadows of a ruined brick wall.
Hina stayed with them too, clenching her fists tightly out of worry for Takemichi.
The blond and I approached the Association scanner installed in front of the Gate. The terminal glowed red.
[ Entry requirement: A party of at least 4 people. ]
[ Current composition: 2/4. ]
— "We need randoms," — I stated, lazily surveying the crowd.
We didn't have to look for long. Noticing us standing by the scanner, a duo immediately approached us.
They were two guys in their twenties, dressed as if they were heading for the final battle with the Demon King.
The first was a swordsman clad in cheap shiny leather, with a huge, absolutely impractical two-handed sword hanging on his back.
The second was a skinny guy with a staff, on top of which burned a cheap red crystal.
But they didn't approach us. Their eyes were glued to our "chaperones" standing by the wall.
Even in disguise, Ai's posture and Marin's figure attracted attention.
— "Hey, cuties!" — the swordsman smiled dazzlingly, flexing his muscles in front of Marin and Hina.
— "Waiting for someone to clear this pathetic Gate? Don't worry. I am a Level 5 Hunter."
"My friend is a Level 4 Fire Mage. We'll quickly carry these kids through," — he carelessly nodded in my direction and towards the trembling Takemichi.
— "And then we can go grab a coffee. How does that sound?"
Hina frowned, Marin grimaced in disgust, and Ai just giggled quietly, looking at me with interest.
The swordsman, taking the idol's giggle as encouragement, turned to me and patted the top of my black bucket hat. — "Don't be scared, shorty."
"The main thing is — don't get under my feet and watch how true professionals work."
"And you, cosplayer," — he poked Takemichi in the chest, — "just carry our loot."
My long ear under the bucket hat twitched. On the head again. "Shorty" again. What kind of day was this?
I slowly raised my unblinking, frighteningly blank green gaze to him. Then I took one hand out of my jacket pocket.
My mana channels were blocked by the Frieren Template for healing, but basic, pure magic didn't require colossal energy expenditures.
It only required perfect control. And a thousand years of experience.
I lazily snapped my fingers in the air in front of the swordsman's face. — "Magic that sends idiots flying."
The air between us condensed with a sharp, whistling sound. There were no bright flashes, no pretentious screams.
Only a tight, invisible kinetic strike.
BAM!
The pretentious Level 5 swordsman and his mage buddy were blown away as if an invisible truck had rammed into them at full speed.
They flew a good ten meters through the air and, with a loud clang and wails, crashed right into an open dumpster by the opposite wall of the warehouse.
A dead silence hung over the area in front of the Gate. The police officers in the distance turned around in surprise, and the Hunters around froze with their mouths open, staring at the twitching legs in leather pants sticking out of the trash bin.
I calmly put my hand back into my pocket and turned to Takemichi, who was now paler than his yellow haori.
— "I didn't like them. They waste too many calories on empty chatter. We need others."
The crowd parted. No one wanted to mess with a little girl who sent grown men into the trash with a snap of her fingers.
But from behind the backs of the other Hunters, two people timidly stepped out. One was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a worn but well-maintained tower shield.
The second was a girl in a modest healer's robe, clutching a spellbook in her hands.
They looked nervous, but there wasn't a drop of arrogance in their eyes. Only respect for power.
— "E-excuse us..." — the Shielder swallowed, looking down at me warily. — "We... we saw what you did."
"We don't have a party. I am a Level 2 Tank, she is a Level 1 Healer. We won't get under your feet. Will you take us?"
I looked them over thoughtfully. Ordinary hard workers. They know their place. The perfect expendable material to stand in the front while I drink tea.
— "Welcome" — I said melancholically, nodding to them.
The Shielder quickly walked up to the Association scanner and tapped his phone, registering us as an official party of four to enter.
The terminal screen blinked green, confirming access.
But before my eyes, invisible to the rest, a translucent blue window of my personal, exclusive System popped up:
[ Raid group formed. ]
[ Leader: Frieren (Support). ]
[ Tank (Lv. 2). ]
[ Healer (Lv. 1). ]
[ Vanguard: Takemichi(Porter/Meat Shield) ]
I mentally chuckled, appreciating the System's sense of humor, closed the window, and turned to the glowing portal. — "Let's go, Prophet. Time to kill goblins."
Takemichi, casting a final, despair-filled look at Hina, slouched and stepped into the blue abyss of the Gate after me.
My support career had officially begun.
Inside, the E-rank Gate looked exactly as described in the textbooks for beginner Hunters.
A damp cave, dimly lit by luminescent moss, smelling of mold and wet dog.
Dirty water squelched underfoot, and cold drops occasionally fell from the ceiling.
Our nameless Tank walked in front, holding a worn tower shield ahead of him. His knees trembled slightly, betraying a complete lack of combat experience.
The Healer girl huddled behind his back, convulsively clutching her spellbook and muttering prayers to all known gods.
Takemichi, whose illusory yellow haori glowed brightly in the gloom of the cave, walked in the center.
More precisely, he wasn't walking, but moving on half-bent legs, flinching at every rustle and making sounds somewhere between a hiccup and a whimper.
I was bringing up the rear. Elven vision worked perfectly in the dark, so I quickly found a relatively clean, flat boulder away from the main path.
Brushing the dust off it, I sat down, took a thermos out of my brand-new tactical jacket, unscrewed the cap, poured myself some hot green tea, and prepared to observe.
I didn't have to wait long.
Three goblins jumped out of the side tunnels with a vile, guttural squeal.
Small, ugly creatures with greenish skin, armed with rusty cleavers and clubs.
— "T-they're here!" — the Tank squealed, pressing himself into his shield.
— "I WANT TO GO HOOOME!" — Takemichi yelled.
The schoolboy squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could, raised his sword above his head — a cheap souvenir wooden katana that a frantic-with-delight Marin had bought him at an anime store in the mall for "the complete look," but which I had prudently reinforced with elven mana back in the taxi — and began to blindly swing the blade in all directions like a rabid food processor.
— "The angle of attack is incorrect" — I said monotonously, taking a small sip of scalding tea. — "Calculate the air resistance."
"If you shift your center of gravity to your left leg and deflect his club by three millimeters, the goblin will impale himself on your blade."
"It's elementary. Do you not have a basic split-second reaction time? Why are you screaming?"
But "Zenitsu" wasn't listening to me. He continued to scream and swing his sword.
By some incredible, astronomical miracle, one of his blind movements reached its target.
The reinforced blade smashed into the neck of the nearest goblin with a juicy crunch. The monster gurgled and crumbled into gray ash.
The remaining two, terrified of the crazy blond, squealed and fled into the darkness.
Takemichi collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily and dropping tears onto the dirty stone.
— "I... I survived... I killed him... Hina, I'm going to live..."
A single, dimly flickering system coin rolled out of the pile of ash with a clink. I lazily pulled it toward myself with weak telekinesis.
The coin dissolved into thin air.
[ Received: 1 System Coin. ]
[ Current debt: - 399 Coins. ]
I lowered my gaze to my tea. If we were going to kill one cowardly goblin every ten minutes, I would have to sit in this smelly cave until the next coming of the Demon King.
Elves are patient, of course, but my Inventory would be blocked in twenty hours.
«System, are you mocking me?» — I sighed mentally. — «Where am I supposed to get another four hundred goblins? My tea will get cold.»
As if answering my silent reproach, the cave floor suddenly shuddered. A dull, guttural rumble rolled through the dungeon.
The blue moss on the walls began to rapidly change color, filling with a toxic-red, bloody glow. The temperature in the cave jumped sharply.
The Tank turned as pale as if he had seen death itself.
— "T-this is... The Gate is mutating!" — the Healer girl screamed in panic, dropping her book.
— "A double dungeon! We need to run! Otherwise, the exit will close!"
Right before my eyes, a red, pulsating System window unfolded with a melodic chime.
[ WARNING! SPATIAL ANOMALY DETECTED. ]
[ Hidden lair of the Miser Goblin King (Rank C) discovered. ]
[ EMERGENCY CREDITOR QUEST: Kill the mutated Boss. ]
[ Reward: Exactly 400 System Coins. ]
[ Penalty for failure: Death of the vessel and complete block of the Inventory.]
I unperturbedly finished my tea and carefully screwed the cap onto the thermos. The System was a greedy, manipulative bastard, but its service of delivering ATMs right to the client's feet worked flawlessly.
The walls around us parted with a deafening crack. The floor collapsed, and our motley group flew downwards with screams, right into a giant, torch-lit hall.
I landed softly, like a cat, springing on my knees. The others crashed into a dogpile.
In the center of the hall, on a mountain of stolen rusty weapons and bones, sat HIM. The Goblin King. A three-meter-tall, over-pumped mass of green muscle.
A chain with human skulls dangled on his chest, and in his hand he clutched a stone pillar, which he used instead of a club.
The Boss roared so loudly that stone dust rained down from the ceiling, and he cleared half the hall in a single bound.
— "SHIELD!" — the Tank yelled hysterically, jumping up and thrusting his piece of tin in front of him.
The Goblin King simply swatted him away. The stone pillar smashed into the tower shield with such force that the Tank, letting out a strangled squeak, flew into the opposite wall.
He slid down the stones with a clatter and remained lying motionless (alive, but in a deep knockout).
The Healer looked at the Boss, hiccuped, rolled her eyes, and that very second fell into a saving faint right onto the damp floor.
Only one Vanguard remained.
The Goblin King slowly turned his ugly snout to Takemichi. The schoolboy stood on trembling legs, clutching his sword.
His illusory yellow haori glowed brightly in the dark, making him a perfect target.
— "S-satoru..." — Takemichi whispered, tears streaming from his eyes from primal terror.
The Boss raised his stone pillar for a fatal strike.
— "I... I can't take this anymore..."
The blond's eyes rolled back. His knees buckled, and he began to fall forward, completely losing consciousness from fear.
«Perfect,» — I thought melancholically, staying in the shadows.
My mana channels were still in healing mode. Casting [ Purple ] or a powerful elven destruction spell would mean tearing them to shreds.
But the Frieren Template gave me more than just combat magic. It gave me a thousand years of experience in the jewel-like control of mana.
Basic telekinesis did not require much energy. It required perfect precision.
I raised both hands, spreading my thin, pale fingers in the gloom.
Dozens of invisible, incredibly strong threads of mana shot from my fingertips and lightning-fast dug into the limbs, torso, and neck of the fainting Takemichi.
The blond's body didn't even have time to touch the floor.
I flicked my fingers. The unconscious Takemichi sharply, unnaturally straightened up. His head was lowered, his eyes closed. The illusory haori fluttered from the sudden movement.
The Healer girl, who miraculously came to her senses from the crash, opened her eyes slightly and froze, unable to believe what she was seeing.
To her, it looked like a scene from a legendary epic. The trembling, crying swordsman suddenly fell silent. He lowered his head, his breathing evened out.
Smoothly, with deadly grace (dictated by my threads), he tucked his scabbard behind his belt and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, taking a perfect, low stance.
«Magic that makes sleeping idiots move faster than sound,» — I said monotonously to myself, pouring a tiny drop of mana into his legs for acceleration.
I sharply threw my hands up and forward.
BOOM! The stone under Takemichi's feet cracked. His body, pulled by my telekinetic threads, shot forward with such speed that only a blurred yellow streak remained in the air.
The Goblin King didn't even have time to bring down his club.
My fingers performed a filigree pirouette. Takemichi's hand, guided by an invisible force, drew the reinforced sword from its scabbard.
The blade traced a perfect, shining arc, slicing through the air with a deafening whistle.
Shhhk!
The huge, ugly head of the Boss slid smoothly off his shoulders. Blood hit the ceiling of the cave in a fountain, and the headless carcass crashed to its knees with a thud, then fell on its side, crumbling into black ash.
Takemichi, frozen in an epic pose after the strike, began to fall sideways.
I carefully loosened the mana threads, allowing him to gracefully fall to the floor (face first into a puddle, but at least without any broken bones).
A dead silence hung in the hall. The Healer girl sat on the floor, clamping her hands over her mouth. Tears of absolute admiration rolled from her eyes.
That crybaby... this strange cosplayer in yellow... he just killed a C-rank Boss with one strike, without even opening his eyes!
A hefty, clinking bag dropped out of the pile of ash left from the King.
[ Target destroyed. ]
[ Received: 400 System Coins. ]
[ Debt fully repaid. Balance: 0 Coins. ]
[ Inventory restrictions lifted. ]
[ You can enjoy your belongings again, Host. ]
I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a thousand-ton weight fall from my soul (and my system account).
I unhurriedly walked over to the puddle where Takemichi was lying.
The schoolboy snored loudly, blowing a bubble out of the water, and slowly, painfully opened his eyes. He shook his head, understanding nothing.
Seeing the mountain of ash, the huge club, and the Healer looking at him with awe in front of him, the blond batted his eyelashes in bewilderment.
— "W-what happened?" — he rasped. — "Did I get eaten? Are we in heaven?"
I squatted next to him and melancholically patted his shoulder in the illusory haori.
— "Excellent work, Vanguard" — "I didn't know you mastered a breathing style. You slept very technically."
Takemichi stared at his hands, then at the sword, then at me.
His gaze read a complete lack of understanding of how he was still alive. And I just shoved my hands into my jacket pockets.
My finances were saved. Now I could go home with a clear conscience and eat strawberry parfait.