It was a disaster.
The Spirit-possessed were, without a shadow of a doubt, a walking disaster.
The Elven receptionist at the Adventurer’s Guild felt the truth of it deep in her bones again today: even if they appeared capable of communication at first glance, they were fundamentally different lifeforms.
She had been watching the two Spirit-possessed regulars chatting noisily in the guild’s dining area when a new one arrived. This newcomer was a girl with black twin-tails and a blue Halo floating above her head.
Everything about the situation was wrong. For one, the Spirit-possessed were not supposed to be this common. Usually, one appeared every few years at most. That was the natural order of things.
Yet, here were three of them in one place. What kind of cataclysmic omen was this?
And even setting aside their numbers, their behavior was even more bizarre.
Lady Tria—the Spirit-possessed who looked like a charming young girl—suddenly pulverized the black-haired newcomer. It was a heavy, air-shaking blow that made the very atmosphere vibrate.
She had indeed shouted something aggressive like, "I've finally found you!" but the act itself was so sudden and natural it defied logic. A normal person would have died instantly, and the girl with the twin-tails did indeed collapse... only to spring right back up and launch a counterattack.
She swung a massive, heavy-looking black mass, bashing it into Lady Tria repeatedly. Anyone could feel the murderous intent radiating from the sheer weight of that weapon.
The receptionist wondered if the final war between the Spirit-possessed had just broken out inside the guildhall. She tried to run, but her legs shook so violently she couldn't move a muscle.
Yet, despite her small stature, Lady Tria simply stood there and took the hits. She was even smiling. They were insane. Every last one of them was insane.
"There! Now that the greetings are out of the way, time for recovery magic! Heal!"
"Oh, thanks. You learned recovery magic? Nice."
Greetings? That looked like an assassination attempt! The Elf’s cheeks twitched as she listened to the Spirit-possessed girls laughing together. Apparently, that really had been a greeting, as they now seemed to be on excellent terms.
Did they try to kill each other for fun? As she feared, the Spirit-possessed were beyond all reason.
Just as she was wondering if they would perform a similar "greeting" with the third member of their group, they began spreading out a Lesser Dragon corpse right in the middle of the floor, completely ignoring their surroundings.
A Lesser Dragon. It was a monster of disaster-class proportions. Seeing it, the Spirit-possessed in the straw hat, Lady Penpen, let out a squeal of delight.
Was that... a souvenir? A monster that would require two full parties of ten C-Rank adventurers to risk their lives to slay... was being treated like a gift?
The receptionist snapped back to her senses just as her consciousness began to fade.
"E-Excuse me! Wait! Please do not spread out your spoils of war in the middle of the lobby!"
"O?"
Hieee! She glared at me! I’m going to be killed!
The receptionist nearly blacked out again. Honestly, she was fairly certain she would need to change her underwear later—assuming she lived long enough to do so.
"Oops, sorry about that, Miss Receptionist. Penpen, hurry up and put it away."
At Lady Tria’s command, Lady Penpen packed the Lesser Dragon corpse back up.
Thank goodness. I survived.
The receptionist was certain that if Lady Tria hadn't intervened, she would have been killed on the spot.
According to lore, the Spirits themselves were often relatively mild-mannered. Their actions were erratic, but if one spoke to them with total sincerity, they would usually understand logic—though there were exceptions.
However, the "possessed" were a different story. The devotees who surrendered everything to a Spirit tended to hate and eliminate anything that obstructed their Spirit's whims, often running wild when the Spirit wasn't looking. At least, that was the legend. Half of the disasters attributed to the Spirit-possessed were actually caused by the human hosts.
Which made her wonder... what kind of being was this new girl?
When she glanced back, the Guild Master sent her a high-pressure "I'm counting on you, please check her" icon contact with his eyes.
Her life was on the line; she didn't want to do it. But as the veteran, she had to. If a reckless interaction caused the town to be annihilated, there would be no coming back from it.
She approached Lady Tria, who she had previously thought was the most reasonable of the bunch—a thought she had briefly doubted during the violence, but now desperately clung to again.
"U-Um..."
"Hm? Sorry, were we in the way?"
"N-No, not at all! Perish the thought!"
Lady Tria seemed to have realized they were clogging up the center of the guild. She was the only one the receptionist felt she could talk to. She was relatively sensible—if one counted her habit of repeatedly crouching, standing, and jumping for no reason as being within the "barely acceptable" range of common sense since it didn't actually harm anyone.
"Is that new Spirit-possessed girl an acquaintance of yours?"
"Yeah, she's a friend."
"............I see."
A friend. They were friends. And yet she attacked her friend with the same force one would use to slay a mortal enemy.
The Spirit-possessed were terrifying. If she ever accidentally became "friends" with them, would they punch her like that as a greeting? She’d die. She’d definitely die.
Wait. A "friend"? Did that mean Lady Tria had summoned her? An ally?
Was Lady Tria acting as the leader of the Spirit-possessed? Was she gathering an army?
The receptionist nearly fainted as she hallucinated a future where the guild was overflowing with hundreds of Spirit-possessed. She felt a sudden urge to punch the High Elf who had assigned her this "Liaison" duty in the first place.
No, this was an emergency. Three of them. There were three Spirit-possessed here now. This was no time for workplace grudges. She needed to request reinforcements immediately.
"...P-Please tell her to come to the counter if she has slaying requests or other reports to process."
"Okay."
The receptionist squeezed the words out and practically fled back to her station.
Lady Tria must have passed on the message, as the third Spirit-possessed, Lady Alto, eventually came over to report her completed requests.
To gather other Spirit-possessed and command them at will... was she a legendary Spirit King? Was Lady Tria actually a Spirit King? Was that "greeting" actually a way of establishing the hierarchy?
If a Spirit King had actually descended into this world, what was about to happen? Someone tell me—no, wait, don't. It’s too scary. Don't tell a nobody like me; tell the people in the capital.
...
...Um. Why is Lady Tria looking at me? Why is she just standing there, staring and smiling?
Don't tell me I've been locked on as her next target?
I’m going to die. I’m so sorry. I must have committed a sin in a past life.
Please, make my grave a simple one.
Send my inheritance and my final paycheck to my sisters.
God, help me.
I want my last meal to be a thick, juicy steak.
Ma-mi-mu-me-mo... ma-mi-mu-me-mo...!
Too terrified to ask anything else, the receptionist focused every ounce of her willpower on finishing her work so she could escape to the break room.
She had, in fact, already changed her underwear.