After that came another status update.
With Furina's slightly clumsy motions, the refreshed parameters surfaced clearly across their skin.
[Name: Faen]
[Level: Lv.1]
[Strength: I75 –> H136 (+61)]
[Endurance: I73 –> H133 (+60)]
[Dexterity: I78 –> H143 (+65)]
[Agility: I81 –> H144 (+63)]
[Magic: I0 –> H150 (+150)]
—
[Name: Robin]
[Name: Lv.1]
[Strength: I8 –> I11 (+3)]
[Endurance: I9 –> I13 (+4)]
[Dexterity: I12 –> I25 (+13)]
[Agility: I11 –> I39 (+28)]
[Magic: I70 –> H168 (+98)]
Looking at the explosive growth in his stats, Faen nodded in satisfaction.
Even though they'd spent longer in the Dungeon than yesterday, pushed into a new floor, and fought stronger monsters, they'd also spent a good portion of the day circling areas they'd already explored—so the efficiency boost to experience gain had dipped somewhat. Getting this much growth was exactly within his expectations.
And with magic being used frequently, his Magic stat had finally caught up with the others. Step by step, he was moving toward becoming a well-rounded "all-rounder" with no obvious weaknesses.
Robin, as always, had gained over a hundred points—mostly Magic, with a smaller portion going into Agility and Dexterity from movement and evasive positioning while supporting the fight.
On Faen's system panel, the [Intertwined Fate] gauge that represented a summoning chance was already more than halfway filled.
A few more Dungeon runs like today, and he should be able to summon again.
He needed new companions—urgently.
Whether for more efficient exploration, or because of Robin's skill [Harmonic Convergence]—the more teammates they had, the greater the teamwide growth bonus became.
After personally cooking a lavish dinner for Furina and Robin, Faen changed into casual clothes and left alone, heading for a famous tavern in the busy streets of the Fifth District—Blazepoint Tavern.
It was a textbook adventurer's bar.
A thick oak door separated the quiet outside from the roar within.
The moment he stepped inside, the rich scent of ale, the char of roasted meat, and the rough mix of sweat and earth clinging to adventurers slammed into him like a wall.
The decor was old-fashioned: rough stone walls hung with aged monster head trophies and rusted weapons as ornaments.
Several massive wrought-iron chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, their yellow candlelight washing the hall in dim warmth and casting swaying shadows everywhere.
The floor was laid with thick wooden planks, stained with spilled drink and scored by countless boot marks.
And somehow, that coarse, lived-in atmosphere was exactly what adventurers loved most.
Faen chose a corner seat, ordered the tavern's signature hard liquor—spicy enough to bite, and sipped slowly while listening to nearby conversations.
"You should've seen it, those Rockshield Hilichurls, their shields are harder than a grindstone. My sword edge curled from chopping!"
"Hard doesn't matter. Money does. Our party split over a hundred thousand valis today."
"I heard the Guild named all these new monsters. No idea how they got the info…"
Nearly every topic revolved around the new monsters.
People bragged about how many Rockshield Hilichurls they'd killed, or complained about how obnoxious certain Slimes were—yet every word was laced with excitement and greed.
Faen listened quietly, the faintest curve tugging at his lips.
Oddly enough, the Guild's final names matched his memories almost perfectly.
Even "Hilichurl", a label only he and Furina should've known, had somehow become common consensus among Orario's adventurers.
This world's appraisal methods really were something else.
Then again, it made sense.
This was a world with gods… and the Guild also had that legendary sage who possessed the Mystery Development Ability.
Not long after, a tall figure dropped into the chair across from him—and without the slightest restraint, propped a pair of long legs in silver metal greaves up onto the table.
"Long time no see, Bete."
Faen didn't mind the rudeness. He even greeted him with a smile.
The newcomer was none other than Loki Familia's executive, a Level 5 first-tier adventurer, "Fierce Wolf" Bete Loga.
"At this point… why come to Orario?"
Bete ignored the greeting. He grabbed the other cup—one Faen had already had prepared—downed it in a single gulp, and went straight to the point.
"Because I've become an adventurer. I joined a familia."
Faen answered evenly.
"Heh. So some god actually managed to carve a Falna onto you."
Bete let out a derisive snort. Then his eyes cooled.
"Whatever. I don't care about the details. I'm just saying—now that you're still a small fry, you should've stayed in that little village. The Dungeon isn't as simple as you think."
Cruel words. Venomous tongue, on full display.
"I've never underestimated the Dungeon," Faen said, still calm. "I came here with resolve."
"Resolve? What kind of resolve could a weak, lower-class adventurer possibly have?"
Bete grew rougher, more impatient. He slammed his palm onto the table.
"Weaklings should act like weaklings. Quit dreaming. One day you'll die down there. Get out of Orario!"
The words were ugly.
But in the fury of his tone, and deep behind those icy eyes, Faen caught something buried—something fiercely hidden.
Concern.
Faen understood.
This wolf had lost too much. Carried too much pain. He couldn't stand the idea of watching another weak person die in front of him.
In Bete's eyes, only the strong had the right to gamble their lives. The weak only threw theirs away.
"Heh. Still the same as ever. No wonder I heard you keep to yourself even in Loki Familia—no friends to speak of."
Faen chuckled, then his gaze hardened with a resolve so intense it seemed to burn.
"But don't worry. I'm not going to die. I've got my own obsession—and until I see it through, even if I die, I'll crawl back out of hell."
Bete fell silent.
That look… that kind of fixation, willing to discard everything, to be ruthless for the sake of a single driving purpose—
He'd seen it before.
In Captain Finn's eyes.
"…Tch."
Only after a long moment did Bete click his tongue in disdain.
He pulled his feet off the table and stood, saying nothing more. But as he turned away, he tossed a single line over his shoulder—so quiet only Faen could hear it.
"Don't die."
Then he shoved his hands into his pockets, kicked an obstructing chair aside, and strode straight toward the tavern door.
=====================
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