Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? On the Side: Sword Oratoria, Vol. 8

by Fujino Omori, Kiyotaka Haimura

  Bete had no problem with Aiz sitting there. What he did have a problem with was her silence.

  She ordered nothing and simply sat there, staring at him prettily from across the table as Bete’s features twisted into an expression of discomfort far greater than anything he’d displayed back at the manor.

  Then his drink arrived, mistakenly placed in front of Aiz.

  He grabbed and downed it before Aiz even had a chance to react.

  “…So? You’re here…why? Finn ask you to come babysit me?”

  “Finn…? No, this has nothing to do with…Finn…”

  “Then why the hell come here?”

  “I guess I was…worried about you…”

  “—GBWWOOOFFF?!”

  Bete choked on his drink, drawing a startled look from Aiz.

  Though flustered for a moment, he quickly recovered. “Goddamn airhead doesn’t even realize what she’s saying…” he mumbled begrudgingly, leaving Aiz more than a little bewildered.

  I suppose I…haven’t spoken with Bete very often…

  She thought to herself, reflecting on how this was the first time she and the werewolf had done anything alone together outside of battle (and consequently missing the fact that Bete was downing drinks at an increasing pace).

  Similar to Tiona and her sister, Bete had also converted to Loki Familia from a different familia. It had been almost six years since then, which was before the two Amazonian sisters had joined. He’d looked down on her back then, but after seeing her combat prowess in the Dungeon, he’d changed his mind, eventually growing to even respect her.

  His previous familia was Víðarr Familia.

  Aiz had heard from Finn that he’d left them on bad terms. In fact, Víðarr Familia itself didn’t even reside in Orario anymore. Even though she’d known Bete longer than Tiona and Tione, she still felt like she didn’t understand anything about him.

  …When I think of Bete…

  The emotion she usually held was doubt—specifically, wondering whether he had taken something too far.

  His strength was unquestionable. In fact, she couldn’t help but think the werewolf’s views on strength were quite similar to her own. In that regard, he was considerably different from those like Tiona, who simply enjoyed fighting for fighting’s sake.

  These thoughts running through her head, Aiz finally spoke up again.

  “Why is it you…look down on others so much?”

  “Huh?”

  Bete’s face had already taken on a decidedly reddish hue from his continued alcohol consumption. He shot Aiz a curious look before curling his lips into a smile.

  “Weaksticks are weaksticks. What’s wrong with lookin’ down on those weaker ’n you? They’re pathetic.”

  Aiz closed her mouth at the werewolf’s response.

  No. She couldn’t. If she did, she’d get the same exact results Riveria and Tiona always did.

  Instead, she tried to rethink her question.

  “Okay, then…What is it that drives you…to become stronger?”

  “…”

  It was a question she felt would provide her an answer similar to her own.

  If Bete really did share the same reasoning as her, the same unyielding tenacity to grow stronger, then maybe, just maybe she might be able to uncover what it was that made him tick.

  Bete was silent for a few moments, then smirked.

  “Isn’t this a rare treat. You actually showin’ interest in someone ’sides yourself.”

  “…”

  “Pretty rich coming from the girl who never said anything about herself and didn’t care about anything ’cept crushin’ monster skulls.”

  “Ngh!”

  Aiz’s eyes narrowed, her mouth opening for an instinctive retort, but Bete continued before she could find her words.

  “How ’bout this, then? I show you mine; you show me yours? I’ll answer if you answer, too.”

  “!”

  Aiz didn’t have a response. All she could do was avert her eyes.

  Bete knew she wouldn’t answer, and he didn’t blame her for it, either. Instead, he simply continued, words hissing out between his teeth.

  “Don’t get so upset, Aiz. S’not like there’s a point in carin’ about other people’s problems. Let ’em care about themselves.” Finishing up a glass of wasp liquor, he tossed it down on the table. “You’re strong. That’s all that matters.”

  “…”

  “So long as we keep stayin’ strong, we’ll be fine.”

  He was looking straight into her eyes now, almost as if he was trying to advise her through his intoxicated haze.

  “When you’re strong, you can do anything. You’ll never have anything taken away from you.”

  But then, his grave expression shifted into a glib smile.

  “For instance, I could serve up the chicken livers of all these cowards to go with my drinks!” His voice was booming now, loud enough to swallow up the cacophonous frivolity of the entire bar. Ignoring Aiz’s shock, he put his arm on the back of his chair and let his eyes travel the room. “You hear that, you yellow-bellied shits? Keep on yukkin’ it up! I’m sick of you and your pig-ass faces! Every day, killin’ nothin’ but small fries! Is that how you wanna live? Spendin’ your measly-ass coins for watered-down piss like this? What the hell kinda life is that?!”

  The entire bar went silent as Bete’s words echoed against the rafters. It didn’t take long for things to go south from there, as murderous gazes turned toward Bete from every corner of the room.

  “Bete!”

  “Stay outta this, Aiz! You know I’m not wrong! All they’ve got going for them is numbers. There ain’t a single one of ’em with the guts to fight back on their own!”

  And it was true. Despite the multitude of scowls, the adventurers in the pub were quick to back off at the wolf’s antagonistic peal of laughter. Averting their eyes, lowering their eyes, even, their actions seemed to confirm the slander being thrown at them.

  “What a bunch of sorry losers…If you can’t even defend yourself now, how the hell are you supposed to defend yourself in a real battle? Cowards! Every last one of you!”

  But even as their faces reddened and their fists trembled in anger, the armor-clad adventurers could do nothing. There wasn’t a single person in the pub who stood up to Bete’s mockery. They were far too afraid of the true “monsters” of the Dungeon—the first-tier adventurers.

  Even Aiz with her general lack of emotion found herself brimming with anger, and she moved to put a stop to Bete’s tirade, but then…

  “—How charming.”

  Someone moved forward to step in front of Bete before she could.

  It was an Amazonian prostitute, stepping away from the rest of her group in a corner of the pub, her long, silky black hair swaying behind her.

  “Aisha Belka…”

  “Antianeira.”

  The murmurs from the crowd identified her, and Bete and Aiz immediately recognized her and her crew as part of the Berbera and former members of Ishtar Familia. They were a strong group of women, most of them second-tier adventurers at Level 3. And from the looks of it, they’d been continuing to meet for drinks even though they had all converted to different familias after Ishtar’s return to the upper world—a ritual that Bete had just interrupted with his earlier spiel.

  “Don’t group us with the rest of these fools. My sisters and I aren’t so spineless as to take your insults sitting down…First-tier or not, don’t get full of yourself.” Her final words were so low that they sounded practically murderous.

  The rage burning inside her after listening to Bete’s rant was tangible, and it seemed her fellow Amazons lined up behind her weren’t too pleased, either. Her eyes flashing, her clothes revealing much of her copper-colored skin, she had the aura of someone all too familiar with the brawl scene.

  “Ha! So the fishies wanna play?” Bete’s lips pulled back in a ferocious grin as he watched the group of Amazons rise to their feet. He
almost seemed elated. “You learn to use that mouth of yours in bed, you whore? You want my foot to bash your skull in?!” he shouted, once more rising to his feet and sending his chair flying.

  “Bete, stop—!” Aiz started, leaping up in an attempt to stop the fight, but her cry was quickly swallowed up by the crowing of the Amazons.

  “Bring it on, you uncivilized mutt! I’ll enjoy beating the shit out of you!”

  And with jeers from the surrounding patrons egging the combatants on, the fight began. Plates, chairs, tables, blood—everything went flying. Screams and shouts shook the walls, even while the dwarven pub owner stood calmly wiping plates by the counter as though this happened every night.

  Abandoned and alone, Aiz stood off to the side in shock as a grand brawl erupted around her.

  As a soft sliver of the moon peeked through the clouds, the quiet curtain of night fell once again as the furor cooled.

  One after another, the pale-faced patrons of the bar watched the bodies pile up on the floor.

  “Heh. All bark and no bite, I see.”

  “Gnngh…!”

  Bete had his hand wrapped around Aisha’s neck. She was the only one left out of more than ten Berbera he’d already taken down. They hadn’t even been able to scratch him.

  Aisha, however, refused to give up, fighting against him even as he curled his fingers tighter around her throat.

  “Vanargand…!”

  The outcome may have been decided, but the glint in her eyes had yet to dissipate.

  Her continued ferocity despite the pain made Bete grin all the more.

  He would end her right here, right now.

  “Let her go.”

  The edge of a blade met his throat—Aiz’s sword, Desperate.

  Bete’s smile was gone in an instant, and he turned to see the Sword Princess shooting him an icy glare.

  The fight was over. The Amazons had fallen, the spark inside them soundly snuffed. This wasn’t simply self-defense anymore. That’s what Aiz was saying.

  Bete did as he was told, letting out the last of his malice with a huff before releasing his grip on Aisha’s throat. Aisha herself fell to the ground, choking and sputtering.

  “Why do you…always have to hurt people like this?” Aiz asked, attempting to find her words.

  With his fist. With his words.

  Bete didn’t have an answer.

  Aiz’s gaze never left him, even as the other wounded Amazons gathered around Aisha.

  “That’s what I…hate about you.”

  “…Heh. That so?” Bete snorted. “I’m done here,” he said, walking away. He tossed a bag of coins toward the dwarf behind the counter before turning toward the door, not even bothering to throw a look of contempt at the group of Amazons glaring up at him from the floor.

  The same scowls of resentment that had accompanied him in Loki Familia’s dining hall followed him all the way out of the building.

  Bete threw them a glance before letting the wooden door clatter behind him on his way out.

  “…”

  Aiz herself remained silent, still standing in the center of the room with her brows lowered in heartache. Not even she made to follow him this time.

  The Shopping District was a bevy of activity.

  The twinkling lights, the flashing windows of casinos and theaters—Bete pushed past it all without so much as raising his head, almost as though attempting to escape the gaudy effulgence. He preferred the dim blue glow of the moon overhead to man-made lamps.

  On and on he walked until, upon reaching a deserted bend in the road, he lowered himself to a crouch.

  Or perhaps it should be said he dropped into a froggish squat.

  “I’ve really done it now…”

  The antagonizing smirk from earlier was nowhere to be found; instead, he hung his head dejectedly as the self-deprecating words tumbled to the stone below.

  This happens every time you drink too much…Damn loose tongue, then starting a fight…

  Already, the alcohol had left his system, leaving him in cold sobriety. Aiz’s words had made sure of that. Her straight-faced “That’s what I hate about you” had taken care of the buzz like a direct hit from her Airiel.

  He didn’t regret what he’d done. What he’d said. No, it was far too late for that. He didn’t even care about the cold stares he’d received as he’d left the bar. What bothered him now were Aiz’s words. He didn’t even know why they were affecting him so much. Not too long ago, Bete had caused a ruckus at The Benevolent Mistress when he made fun of that kid who resembled a rabbit, comparing him to a tomato and whatnot, but this commotion might have been the last straw.

  It was as though a whirlpool of self-loathing had opened up beneath him. That he was one of those very same cowardly adventurers he’d been vilifying only minutes earlier. Bete was finally reaping what he’d sown, and this thought sent his tail drooping to the ground below.

  If there had been anyone around to see him, they surely would have been unable to believe their eyes. “Goddammit…” he muttered, letting out a sigh that shook his entire body.

  Just as he was thinking he would like to just pass out on the cobblestones right then and there—

  “There you are, Bete Loga!”

  —an annoyingly cheerful voice called out from behind him.

  “…Whaa—?”

  Glancing back, he saw an Amazonian woman. Though perhaps “young girl” would have been a more accurate description. She was clearly far from maturity; her copper-colored arms and legs were slender and lean, and her chest, while larger than Tiona’s (not that this was a difficult accomplishment), couldn’t be called more than a slight bulge. A short vest covered her torso, and hanging from her hips was what could barely be considered a loincloth—it covered slightly more area than what the other Amazons might wear, but it was still considerably revealing, her belly button bared to the world. The only part of her appearance that wasn’t childish was her long black hair, currently done up in a ponytail.

  At the moment, she had her finger pointed in Bete’s direction, cheeks flushed with excitement, golden earrings jangling, and looking very much like a small dog about to pounce on him.

  “I can’t believe I finally get to see you after all this time!”

  “Who the hell are you…?” Bete started, rising to his feet and taking a few steps backward as the girl landed in front of him with a mighty thud.

  Bete was fully prepared to land a kick with his Frosvirt if she took so much as one more step toward him. The girl, however, seemed oblivious to that as shock appeared in her euphoric smile.

  “Hey! You didn’t forget me, did you? I remember you, after all! I could never forget you, Bete Loga!”

  “Like hell I’d be associated with a dopey Amazon like you! And stop tossin’ my name around like that, you little shit!” Bete spat back, clearly irritated at the young girl and her refusal to listen.

  “How rude! And after everything you already did to me, too!”

  She was annoying. So annoying. A different kind of annoying from Tiona. This wasn’t one of those “hyperactive wackos” Loki was always talking about, was it?

  Or was she simply that excited?

  About what? Meeting him?

  One of Bete’s eyebrows arched skyward.

  He didn’t have any memory of this little girl, but there was something about her shrill squawking that seemed to trigger something in his brain.

  “Wait a minute…You’re one of those whores from Ishtar Familia we fought in Meren…!”

  “Bingo! That’s me! Do you remember me now? Huh? Huh?” She was nodding fervently now, eyes sparkling.

  It had been back when he and the rest of the familia’s men had gone to aid Aiz and the others in Port Meren outside the city—when Kali Familia had made Tiona and Tione perform that sadistic rite and Ishtar Familia had faced off against them on the docks. Yes, this girl had been there. She’d aimed a scimitar right at his back after he’d gone into beast mode and
subdued that ugly frog of a woman, Phryne. He hadn’t been able to see her face thanks to the clothes she’d been wearing, but he did remember landing a heavy punch right on that stomach.

  What was it one of the other Amazons had called her…?

  “I’m Lena! Lena Tully! So you better not forget it this time, Bete Loga!” She finished his thought cheerily, face beaming. “Oh, right! I heard you just had a big, huge fight with Aisha and the others, huh? Man, talk about bad timing on my part! I went and missed the whole thing! What a missed opportunity!”

  It seemed this girl, Lena, had been en route to meet Aisha and the other Amazons at the Flaming Wasp for drinks. Then what—had she shown up to see her friends on the ground, heard what happened, then come running after him…? Looking at her all restless and fidgety and clutching her cheeks now, Bete figured that was probably what happened.

  But why…? What’s this brat’s deal?!

  Bete’s brows furrowed even lower as he watched the girl continue to giggle and squirm like a puppy. Bete wasn’t exactly a popular guy. He was well aware of this. Used to it, even. Answering others’ malice and hostility with snubs of his own was pretty much an everyday occurrence for him.

  But this girl was different. In fact, she actually seemed to like him.

  Him. The lone wolf even the members of his own familia feared, wouldn’t come close to.

  “Hey, hey, hey! Wanna grab a drink or somethin’? We don’t have to go back to where Aisha and the others are if you don’t want. We can go somewhere else! Just the two of us!”

  …Not only that, she was close. Ridiculously close.

  This woman.

  “Get the hell away from me, would ya? Just who the hell you think you are?”

  “It’s Lena! Like I said earlieeer, Bete Loga!”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it! And didn’t I already tell you to stop tossin’ my name around like that?!”

  He simply couldn’t understand this chick. Why was she being so clingy? Somehow he could already hear his own emphatic goddess’s words ringing in his head: “Oh-ho! Look at you, Mister Popular!”

  “You look right here, you Amazonian brat. I don’t even know you, so stop actin’ like we’re best friends or somethin’, yeah?” Bete shouted as he attempted to bat the girl away.