Chapter 36: Veteran Joe

“It’s simple. Just follow those rookies, help them when they’re in danger. If there are issues with their fighting, give them feedback. Don’t hold back just because they’re younger. That kind of hesitation could end up getting someone killed someday. Engage in three battles and then come back.”

“Yes.”
“Got it.”

Isshiki Itsuki is ridiculously serious. Joe judges him that way in his mind. Because he’s so earnestly serious, Itsuki worries about the repercussions of his actions and ends up trying to take on unnecessary responsibilities.

Lila is just a fool. Period.

Both have enough skill. Their potential is unknown.
A boy who defeated a third floor special entity within just two months and a girl who was born and raised in a dungeon. Joe doesn’t possess the measuring stick to properly assess them.

But it doesn’t matter. As long as they have the strength to do the job here, that’s all that counts.

Joe gives instructions to the boy and girl and takes a cigarette from his breast pocket.
With Itsuki and Lila joining, efficiency should logically triple. Hopefully, this will help process the accumulating requests a bit.

Joe lights his cigarette and takes a hearty puff. It seems smokers can’t get oxygen to their brains without doing this.

Returning to the courtyard, Itsuki and Lila seem to have already departed. They move quickly. Perhaps I’ll let them handle another party when they return.

Joe calls out to the four-person party he’s responsible for.

“Head out. Three battles, and you’ll get your 150,000 yen, so keep at it.”
“Yes!”

They respond energetically and start casting physical enhancement magic.
Deduction. While in a dungeon, physical enhancement should remain active. Sustaining magic wearies the mind. But so what? Monsters can attack at any time and place.

Itsuki and Lila were meticulous about this, too. The magic they used, which Joe had never seen before, was unsettling. Why are those kids calmly walking through the air?

“If you want to earn, run during travel! If you dawdle, other adventurers will hunt everything down!”
“Yes!”

He hurls shouts at their backs.

The Fallen Holy City can be profitable—that phrase is half right and half wrong.
It’s the typical survivor bias. Those who can profit stay and keep earning, while those who can’t give up and leave.

Monsters aren’t limitless. To earn stably here, other adventurers become obstacles. Find them quickly, defeat them swiftly. If you can’t do that, you won’t earn a thing.

By the time they’ve run and run and finally engage the Grids, they’re out of breath.

There are four Grids. Two with maces and two with crossbows.
The numbers are equal. If they can break through one of the frontline Grids, they could overrun them, but the adventurers lack decisive power, and the battle stagnates.

They’re in a dangerous zone. Joe steps forward, having decided.

“That’s enough. Fall back and regroup.”
“We can still fight!”

“No, you can’t. Follow a veteran’s experience.”

Many adventurers are stubborn. It’s not unusual for them to refuse help even after requesting Joe’s assistance. Thus, he firmly denies them in such situations.

Joe claps his hands vigorously before the four Grids.

“[CLAP]”

As the sound of the clap overlaps, an explosion occurs in front of the Grids. The intense disruption of sound, light, and mana impairs the monsters’ senses.

Joe claps along with the rhythm, making a show of it.

“[CLAP CLAP CLAAAAAPPP!!!!]”

No lethal power. But there’s no magic that confuses monsters more than this. Perfect for strategizing a retreat.

Joe confirms the adventurers have retreated enough and distances himself as well.

After a brief feedback session, they attempt again. Retreat. Feedback, then another try.
On the third attempt, the adventurers succeed in defeating the Grids.

Standing before the grateful four adventurers, Joe strokes his chin.

“I’m a veteran. It’s only expected that I do good work.”

◇

18 years ago.
Joe lay sprawled on a park bench, gazing at the sky through the edges of a newspaper.

—Even a thin-cut slice of bread feels thick. Sheet cheese for bread, that’s about right.

Since reading a book about the depth of human nature, he’d been pondering his own depth or lack thereof.

Even in his 30’s, he hadn’t settled into a stable job. His life consisted of drinking, smoking, betting on horses, cycling, boating, and pachinko. When money was tight, he’d take short-term gigs, but otherwise, he’d while away the days like this.
[T/N: Pachinko is a popular japanese gambling game similar to slot machines.]

Born into an ordinary family, graduated from a regular high school, attended a random university, quit his first job just two weeks in. There wasn’t much of a reason. He couldn’t wake up in the morning, or the trains were too packed—those were probably the reasons.

Joe was a man indifferent to his own life. Yet he was deeply affected by the tragic news stories on TV. That’s another aspect of his shallowness.

He couldn’t forget the interview he once saw with a person waiting for a family member’s return. They hadn’t returned for years. Their life or death was unknown. Yet still, they waited.

There was no tragedy like that in his life. Looking around him, there were no crises, no friends carrying serious burdens.

Surely, he’d continue a bland, uneventful life until he faded away, like a forgotten barbershop in the countryside.

He wasn’t satisfied with this. But he accepted it. It didn’t matter much. Fundamentally.

So when a former friend who’d joined the Self-Defense Forces invited him into a dungeon, he didn’t think much of it. “It’ll make for a good drinking story,” he thought. He’d give it a try, and if it was a hassle, he’d quit.

The friend, later to be known as the instructor, was meticulous to a fault. With the mental and physical discipline honed in the Self-Defense Forces, the friend led the party, always on guard. Any slight unease and they’d withdraw. They continued these tediously safe adventures and, within four years, reached the [Fallen Holy City].

‘Holy City’—a trace of god.

This city, which reset itself periodically, was filled with meticulous detail that Joe found terrifying. Monsters, objects, even adventurers—if they lost their roles, they’d disappear here.

He remembered the story of the person waiting for family.
I guess it’s human nature to not believe anything unless a dead body is found. That vague notion finally sunk into his heart.

His companions, feeling their own limits, retired from adventuring. Only Joe remained, unable to leave. He couldn’t forgive this city that erased things like a lie. His thin anger was perfect fuel. It wouldn’t drive him onward, though.

—This is a place where people mustn’t die.

Fueled by a sense of duty from an unknown source, Joe remains here. With alcohol and cigarettes and work he finds meaningful, life takes care of itself. He doesn’t consider it a good life, but it’s better than lying on a park bench.

As Joe rested in the courtyard, Itsuki returned. Lila was still out.

He thought they were quick. The adventurers he had Itsuki accompany seemed satisfied too, so he must have done a good job.

The approaching boy looks straight at Joe. Dark, cold eyes. Just from that, Joe could tell this boy suited the dungeon.

“Joe-san, why are you doing this job?”

He was used to that question. Joe chuckled as he exhaled purple smoke.

“There’s someone I hate at the crematorium. I’m just giving them more work.”