The muscular stranger, it turned out, went by the name Masso. After spending a good while putting his physique on full display, he finally explained his reasons for wandering the forest in the dead of night.
“I am a member of the Gurna Warrior Group! Our organization conducts night muscle training as part of our regimen. My presence here is merely an extension of that!”
The explanation was all well and good, but it still didn't make much sense to me. Nevertheless, as I patiently listened to him ramble on, I felt like I eventually grasped the gist of it.
The Gurna Warrior Group was apparently an organization formed by adventurers with... specific tastes. To put it simply, they were a gathering of muscle worshipers. It seemed to be a fairly large-scale organization back in Aingurna; they regularly met to praise and hone one another's physiques. Today, it seemed, a group event was being held right here on the Tenth Floor. That event was the aforementioned "Night Muscle Training."
“Monsters are often far more formidable at night than during the day. Because it is a difficult time to fight, most people tend to avoid it. Thus, the purpose of this training is to forge one’s self and one’s muscles by intentionally operating under the cover of darkness. Clashing with creatures different from those seen during the day provides a fresh stimulus for the body!”
Masso laughed with a boisterous “Fuhaha!” I didn't quite see the point of training during the dangerous night hours, but I suppose it meant something to the members. Probably.
“I see. So that means there are a lot of people like you, Masso-san, on this floor right now...”
“There are only a few of us, myself included, currently devoted to the night training. Most of the members are resting back at the campsite.”
As expected, people like Masso seemed to be the exception rather than the rule. Still, the fact that there were any others at all was... something.
“Hmm, indeed. I have caused you some trouble. As an apology, why don't I put you through some muscle discipline? What do you say? Why not come back to our camp?”
“No, thank you! ...My combat style is focused on magic.”
Since I could easily imagine a stiflingly intense scenario unfolding if I agreed, I reflexively declined. Just in case, I used my combat style as a diplomatic excuse. In reality, I doubted my status would allow for much strength growth anyway. It was definitely wiser to stick to developing my dexterity and magic skills.
“Hmm. It is true the boy appears to lack muscular potential. That is precisely why I believe you should put on at least a baseline of muscle... but very well, I shall not force you.”
Masso seemed convinced—at least regarding me. It appeared his primary target hadn't been me at all, but Lowell.
“Now, what about you, young man? Judging by your weapon, you are a front-liner, are you not? Your muscles are not thick, but they are supple. You have great potential. How about it? Why not take this opportunity to forge yourself?”
“No, I’d rather...”
“Muscles are magnificent! A body of steel can become a sword to crush your enemies and a shield to protect you from their blows! There is no weapon or armor superior to muscle! That is truly a maxim to live by!”
Despite it being the middle of the night, Masso was recruiting with overwhelming energy. Aside from the pitch itself, he kept striking poses as he loomed over us, which made the whole interaction feel incredibly oppressive. Since even I, watching from the sidelines, felt that way, the pressure Lowell felt as the direct target must have been astronomical. His pained expression said it all.
Moreover, if we kept making this much noise, monsters were bound to show up. While I was sure Masso would fight them off gleefully, we were the ones who would suffer for it. I really wanted him to calm down.
Regarding the training, if Lowell had actually wanted to participate, I wouldn't have minded staying on this floor for a bit. But he clearly wanted no part of it. I had to find a way to decline politely.
“Tort! ...What's going on?”
“Um... Big Brother, who is that?”
“Wafu?”
While I was trying to find the right words to bow out, Halfa and the others—evidently unable to wait any longer—emerged from the Magic House. Petit No. 4 was with them. The little golem looked around restlessly, and upon noticing that the other Petit Golems had resumed their sentry duty, it hurried off to join them.
“Oh...? There were more of you? What a mysterious building.”
Seeing several people emerge from the Magic House—which looked no larger than a one-person tent from the outside—caused Masso's eyes to bulge. Fortunately, it also caused his passionate recruitment drive to grind to a halt. It would have been foolish to miss this opening. I wasn't the only one who thought so; Lowell spoke up immediately in a firm tone.
“No apology is necessary. We are operating as a party. I can't leave them behind.”
“Muu, I see. Indeed, with so many children... I see, so you are engaged in practical training! That is not bad either. However, if you ever feel your muscles are lacking, you should seek us out. Our headquarters is in Aingurna, so please, do pay us a visit!”
Masso seemed to reach his own conclusion after seeing our party composition. Even so, he left us with a final recruitment pitch before departing gallantly into the woods.
“Eh? What was that all about?”
“Who knows?”
Halfa and Spira looked utterly bewildered, unable to grasp what had just happened. Lowell simply shook his head at them.
“...It’s nothing. We’ll talk about the details tomorrow. For now, I just want to sleep.”
Despite only being subjected to a sales pitch, Lowell looked completely drained. It was likely mental fatigue. The man had been a lot to handle, after all.
The next day, we hurried toward the stairs to the next floor. It was Lowell who spurred us on; he seemed genuinely desperate to avoid running into Masso again. We had no reason to linger on this floor anyway, so I didn't mind the pace.
Once we successfully located the stairs, however, I realized I had forgotten one thing.
“Ah, I haven't searched for the key's location yet.”
I was referring to the Mystery Key dropped by the Golden Slime. I knew from my Appraisal Skill that the place to use it was somewhere within this dungeon, but I had no idea where. Because of that, I had been using the Item-finding Rod on every floor to check for a reaction. Since the search parameters were so vague, I wasn't even sure if it would work, but it didn't take much effort to try.
I visualized the place where the key was meant to be used and tossed the Item-finding Rod—
“Wait. I’m getting a reaction.”
To my surprise, the rod was clearly biased in a specific direction. It seemed there was a place to use the key right here on this floor.
“What should we do? Should we take a look?”
“No. Our primary objective is to find C-rank magic stones, so we should prioritize that. Besides, Rache told us to call him if we were going to explore anything unusual, didn't he? The key can wait!”
When I made the suggestion, Lowell shot it down with unusually rapid speech. He was clearly itching to put as much distance between himself and this floor as possible. It seemed the encounter had been somewhat traumatic for him...
His reasoning was sound, and considering his emotional state, I decided to put the mystery of the key on hold for the time being.