After wrapping up the fierce battle with the dragons and spending a little more time exploring, we finally made our way back to our clan headquarters.
"We’re home—"
"Ah, welcome back, everyone. You’re home quite early today."
As we stepped inside, I was greeted by a trio of small, baby-faced boys who handled all the clan's general administrative work by himself.
Hm? Did I say something weird? No, I’m pretty sure I didn't.
One of the boys spoke to us as we walked in. His name was Miles Rampling. He was fifteen.
Miles possessed a special Ability called Clone, which allowed him to multiply his body. Apparently, the memories and thoughts of every clone were perfectly synchronized. To be honest, it was the kind of Ability that sounded like it would rot your brain if you actually used it. Your very definition of "self" would start to blur; if it were me, I’d be too terrified to even try it.
"Yeah, well, we’re back early because this blockhead Fuuka decided to go on a rampage," Kati grumbled.
"That's rude," Fuuka replied tonelessly. "I didn't rampage."
"Hah?! You reached the 90th Floor and immediately started pulling that stunt where you scatter Magic Stones everywhere! How can you say that with a straight face?"
"But Haruto said he needed a lot of dragon scales."
"I did say that," I chimed in, "but I meant we should collect them over time! That’s why we started our dive first thing this morning!"
"Oh. Was that the plan?"
Now that Kati had pointed it out, it seemed the full scope of today's schedule had finally dawned on Fuuka. Yeah, note to self: from now on, I’m only letting Fuuka carry the absolute bare minimum of Magic Stones.
"Ahaha... Fuuka-san hasn't changed a bit," Miles laughed.
"Today was easily the worst it’s been in a while..." Kati sighed.
"Oh, that reminds me," Miles added. "My father is waiting in the reception room. Leader, Fuuka-san, could you head over there?"
Miles's father was the current head of the Viscount Rampling House. A few years ago, we’d saved Miles from some thugs, and the family had been paying us back ever since. Miles helped out at the clan, and his old man provided us with financial backing. We hadn't done anything that heroic, really, but they were a remarkably dutiful pair.
"It’s rare for him to drop by. Got it. Fuuka, let's go."
◇
I led Fuuka toward the reception room. When we entered, we found an elderly man with a magnificent beard and his maid waiting for us.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Alf-san."
"You’ve returned quite early," he remarked.
"We gathered what we needed faster than expected. Still, it’s not like you to come here in person. Do we have an urgent problem on our hands?"
"I simply came to see my son. That, and I have a favor to ask of you both."
"And that is?"
"It concerns the Thanksgiving Festival being held in two weeks. I assume you’re aware that the main event is a martial arts tournament?"
"More or less. I’ve never entered or even watched it, though. Just wasn't interested."
"In the past, the participants were mostly officers from the Central and Territorial Armies, along with Explorers of B-Rank or lower. It’s been rare for A-Rank Explorers to participate. It seems Marquis Forgas found that situation unsatisfactory. This time, he intends to create a bracket specifically for Senior Explorers to face one another. The Marquis reached out to me personally about it."
"What a pain. So, in short, you want me and Fuuka to enter?"
"To put it bluntly, yes. I apologize, but our opponent is a Marquis. I cannot simply turn him away."
"Setting me aside, is the Marquis an idiot for wanting Fuuka to participate? I’m sure the goal is to restore the Hero's reputation, but if Fuuka enters, she’s going to win. There's no doubt about it."
"I know Fuuka-chan is strong, but is she truly that formidable?"
"The tournament is fought with martial arts and Abilities alone, no magic allowed, right? Fuuka’s physical specs are already beyond common sense, and her Ability is easily one of the strongest in existence. There’s no one who can beat her even when magic is allowed, so there’s no logic that says they can win when magic is banned. Isn't that right, Fuuka?"
"......Probably?"
I looked over at Fuuka to confirm, but she gave a vague answer, her cheeks puffed out as she focused on eating sweets like a little chipmunk.
"It’s rare to see you being so modest," I teased. "Is it going to snow tomorrow? Oh, man... and here I was, just about to pack away my winter clothes."
"I'm not being modest," she insisted. "I really don't know."
Well, she wasn't one for jokes, so she was likely being serious.
"...The Hero is certainly strong, but is he really so powerful that even you aren't sure of victory? I didn't get that impression from him."
"I can beat the Hero," Fuuka said flatly. "The one I’m talking about is Orun."
Huh? She can't beat Orun?
Orun was the Explorer we met during that joint subjugation recently. He seemed like a decent guy, easy enough to talk to. He used to be in the Hero Party but had since moved over to the Silver Rabbit of the Night Sky. Talk about a weird career path.
My impression of him was that he was a thinker. I didn't feel that overwhelming aura unique to the truly powerful from him, and his physical abilities seemed average. He just seemed like a guy who was skilled and versatile enough to fill whatever holes the party had.
When I first heard that he’d soloed a Deep Floor boss, I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. But since it appeared to be a proven fact, it just meant I’d failed to see his true strength. I didn't feel like he was hiding anything, though. Maybe he has some kind of insane Ability.
I mean, everyone’s calling him the "Dragon Slayer" now, but doesn't that title suit me better after today? What? A generic dragon in the lower floors and a Deep Floor boss are on completely different levels? Yeah, yeah, I get it.
Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked.
"...I'm sure he's strong, but that shouldn't matter when he's up against you, right?"
"...A serious Orun is, without a doubt, a monster. But, if he's in that state where he's holding back—like he was during the joint subjugation—then I can win. That’s why I said 'probably.'"
...He was holding back? I didn't notice a thing. My observation skills, which I was actually pretty proud of, are worse than Fuuka's? My reason for existing is... I think I'm gonna cry.
Jokes aside, for her to go that far...
Fuuka's Ability was Future Sight. She could see slightly into the future. That alone was an absurd advantage, but on top of that, Fuuka possessed physical abilities and combat instincts that far surpassed any ordinary human. Even before her Ability manifested, the strongest swordsman in her home country had declared that she would one day surpass him.
The proof was in the results: since becoming an Explorer, Fuuka had never suffered so much as a scratch. Her skill with a blade was far superior to even Oliver Cardiff—the man they called the "Sword Saint" before he became the "Hero."
And yet, even this ridiculous girl couldn't definitively say she would win against Orun.
"Sigh... fine. I understand. We’ll enter the tournament. We owe you a lot, Alf-san. I just have to make sure we lose at a respectable rank, right?"
"No, I want you to go all out."
"...Why? A decent showing should be enough, shouldn't it?"
"It’s a simple matter. I just don't want to see you lose."
"And you’re okay with snubbing the Marquis?"
"I’ve already taken steps to handle that side of things. It won't be an issue. Go ahead and win the whole thing."
Good grief. Unreasonable demands from sponsors are the same everywhere, I guess. Still, Alf-san had always let us do whatever we wanted without trying to control us. We were lucky to have a sponsor like him. If this was his one wish, I suppose we’d better give it our all.
"I guess we have no choice. Fuuka, we’re aiming for the top."
"Understood. Even if I have to fight Haruto, I'll use everything I have to take you down."
"No, please, hold back against me... I’ll actually die."