"Right then, allow me to take over once more. You were here for adventurer registration, correct?"
Buffy-san offered me a sheet of paper with a textbook business smile. It was essentially a consent form for new recruits. Whether she hadn't heard the talk regarding Spira's true identity or was simply being professional, she didn't mention it. The procedure finished without any particular issues.
Following that, I handled the registration for joining 'Glory's Steps.'
"So most of you are C-Rank, and only Spira-san is F-Rank..."
"Is there a problem?"
Buffy-san's expression clouded slightly. Perhaps sensing the mood, Spira looked equally uneasy.
"Oh, no. The registration itself isn't an issue. However, it might be disadvantageous when it comes to ranking up."
According to Buffy-san's explanation, parties with large gaps in rank among their members tended to be inefficient for progression. Eligibility for a rank-up was determined by 'evaluation points' calculated from a request's content and success, but those points were significantly reduced if there was too much distance between the individual's rank and the request's rank.
The work a party could accept was dictated by its highest-ranked member. For instance, if even one A-Rank was in the party, they could accept A-Rank jobs regardless of the other members' standing. However, if an individual's rank was lower than the job's requirements, their contribution was deemed low, and their evaluation points suffered accordingly. With a gap of three levels or more—such as C-Rank and F-Rank—you received almost no points at all. In other words, if Spira only did C-Rank jobs with 'Glory's Steps,' she would never rank up, no matter how much time passed.
On the flip side, taking requests lower than your own rank yielded very few evaluation points. If we prioritized Spira by taking only F-Rank jobs, our own rank-ups would be delayed.
Still, we weren't exactly in a rush to climb the ladder, so sticking to requests suited for Spira shouldn't be a problem. It felt a bit like we were poaching jobs from other rookie F-Rank adventurers, though, which made me feel slightly guilty.
"Um... by the way, about Rache-san being the Guild Master...?"
Now that the paperwork was done, I asked the question that had been bugging me. Buffy-san let out a small sigh and gave a wry smile.
"It's only natural that you'd find it strange. Rache-san is actually the acting Guild Master."
Apparently, the previous Guild Master had left a resignation letter and vanished into thin air. With no successor in sight, the guild staff and high-rank adventurers held a meeting and decided to appoint a temporary lead. Rache-san was the one chosen. Though, I use the word 'chosen' loosely—it was apparently the result of a coin toss.
"Does that mean Rache-san is a high-rank adventurer?"
"I'm sure she doesn't look the part, but she is indeed an A-Rank adventurer."
It was certainly hard to imagine given her earlier tantrum over paperwork. Then again, I could understand why an active A-Rank adventurer might hate being shackled to a desk. In Rache-san's case, however, it sounded like it was her own fault for losing the toss.
In any case, I now understood the bizarre circumstances that led to her appointment.
"Big sister, you talk differently than the person from before, don't you?"
Just as I was about to ask my next question, Spira cut in.
She was likely referring to the way Rache added "-nya" to the end of every sentence. I’d been curious about it as well, but I’d kept quiet, fearing it might be a rude thing to point out.
"Eh? Oh, I see. You mean Rache-san's quirk? That's just a dialect unique to Beastfolk. It comes out for me, too, when I'm only hanging around other Beastfolk."
...Adding "-nya" to the end of a sentence is just an accent!?
Furthermore, it seemed to be common to all Beastfolk. It didn't feel out of place on Rache-san since her pointed ears looked like cat ears, but seeing it come from the round-eared Buffy-san felt a bit strange. However, I seemed to be the only one who found it odd; the rest of the party nodded as if it made perfect sense.
"Does this dungeon ever collapse?"
Halfa asked the next question—one I’m sure was on everyone's mind. If a core is destroyed, a dungeon collapses. That would mean the city of Aingurna would vanish. Since people were settled here permanently, they had to have some kind of safeguard.
Or so I hoped.
"If the core were destroyed, it would collapse," Buffy-san confirmed with a breezy tone. I really would have preferred a denial.
I wondered how anyone could live in a dungeon under those conditions, but then I realized adventurers who made their living exploring them were in the same boat. In fact, adventurers were in much more danger. Since the citizens lived on the first floor, they could likely escape to the outside the moment they felt the signs of a collapse.
"According to the view of The Council, it's highly likely that the dungeon's core is in the deepest reaches, so they believe the risk of collapse is minimal for the time being," Buffy-san added.
The Council—officially the 'Gurna Council'—was the governing body of Sazantgurna. Matters of city management and foreign strategy were decided by their deliberations. I didn't know the specifics, of course. It wasn't like they had televised parliamentary sessions like in my previous life. The inner workings were likely known only to the members themselves.
The furthest anyone has reached in the Aingurna dungeon is the 31st Floor. Because that floor is still being explored, no one knows if there are deeper levels. However, The Council has publicly stated that the deepest part is the 50th Floor. They haven't provided any evidence, but most people take them at their word. The Council is an authoritative body that has existed since Sazantgurna's founding and led the monumental feat of building a city inside a dungeon. They also serve as the central authority for any dungeon-related crises. In short, they are deeply trusted in Aingurna. Based on their word alone, the residents seem convinced that there is no immediate threat of collapse.
As outsiders, it was hard for us to share that blind faith, but there wasn't much we could do about it anyway. Every dungeon exploration carried the risk of collapse; I suppose I just had to treat living here with the same mindset.