Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Vol. 3

by Fujino Omori

  “UUWWOOOO!!”

  The weapon shattered.

  Just as Loki Familia found out on their last expedition, all weapons would eventually become useless without repair.

  And this heavily neglected blade had reached its breaking point.

  It had been trapped in the Dungeon for almost a week.

  The cleaver had survived Ottar’s training, as well as taken countless lives at the hands of the Minotaur. It just couldn’t take any more punishment.

  The impact broke the blade just above the hilt, shattering the base and sending the rest of the weapon flying into parts unknown.

  On the other hand, there wasn’t even a scratch on the Minotaur’s horn.

  A rain of silver shards clouded Bell’s vision.

  Bell followed through with his attack angled to the right, the scrap metal in his hands passing harmlessly by the Minotaur’s face.

  The Minotaur’s attack had been a leftward thrust. The combatants slid cleanly past each other, no damage inflicted.

  The two locked eyes for a moment. Bell caught a glimpse of the smirk on the Minotaur’s face.

  It was not a ridiculing smile of a sore winner, but a burly smile of someone desperate for victory.

  The Minotaur could see its chance at triumph, now that its opponent had lost his last trump card.

  Bell was silent for an instant, white hair covering his ruby-red eyes in shadow.

  The beast flew past his line of sight, almost as though in slow motion.

  My trump card—

  Bell…

  —is right here!!

  …drew a jet-black knife from its sheath.

  “!!”

  Bell slammed on the brakes.

  He came to a sudden halt behind the Minotaur’s ferocious rush.

  Ignoring the screams of agony erupting from his knees, Bell turned around.

  The two had been back to back. However, Bell’s Agility had gone beyond normal limits. His second ace in the hole opened a new window for attack.

  The blade sticking out beneath Bell’s fingers in his right hand, the Hestia Knife carved a brilliant violet arc through the air.

  The Minotaur had come to a stop as well, its head still tilted left and the light emitting from Bell’s blade reflecting off its eye.

  “SHAAA!!”

  “UWOA?!”

  The Hestia Knife plunged into the Minotaur’s exposed right flank, piercing its defenses.

  Power, momentum, and centrifugal force combined into one spot. The impact of Bell’s sudden sneak attack shook the Minotaur to its core and sent its body listing to the side.

  Bell drove the knife as deep as it would go with all of his might before yelling:

  “FIREBOLT!!!”

  BOOM! A shock wave rocked the Minotaur’s body.

  The beast’s chest expanded suddenly, as if something deep within had exploded.

  Scarlet flames erupted from the wound made by the Hestia Knife. The Minotaur’s bloodshot eyes opened as wide as they would go.

  “FIREBOLTTT!!!”

  One more blast.

  As strange as it seemed to the onlookers, the Minotaur’s upper body swayed like sails on a boat.

  No matter how thick its muscles, nor how resistant its skin was to Magic, its insides were a different story.

  Bell’s Magic drove the knife even deeper still, a web of flames burning the Minotaur from within.

  The flaming electric current searched for a way out and suddenly found the beast’s throat.

  “GEGAHH!” Scarlet flames erupted from its nose and mouth.

  “GAHA, GEHAH……GUWAAOOOOOOOOO?!”

  Its throat and mouth being burned to ashes, it put all of its remaining power into its elbow and thrust it backward at Bell.

  A rejection of the utmost strength.

  This attack, even without aiming, would undoubtedly turn Bell’s body into a pile of meat.

  Death would come a moment later.

  And then at the very moment the hammer made contact with the skin of Bell’s head—

  Bell was faster.

  “FFFIIIIIIRRRRRREEEEEEBOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!”

  Another burst.

  “?!”

  A blinding flash of light—and the Minotaur’s upper body burst into pieces.

  More explosions filled the room as flames overtook the still-intact remains of the beast.

  Scarlet sparks had reached as high as the ceiling, smoke covering them moments later. Bete and the others gazed at the carnage and thought it looked more like a volcanic eruption than the climax of a duel. The Minotaur’s legs, which had mostly survived the blast in one piece, remained upright for a heartbeat before collapsing to the ground.

  Next came a rain of charred flesh and blood.

  The rising smoke colored each of the thousands of fragments as they passed through and eventually hit the ground.

  Amid the sounds of the remaining pieces showering the ground, a single magic stone fell from the ceiling. It spun over and over before hitting the ground with a sharp smack.

  “Did he finish it… ?”

  Bete whispered in a state of shock.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off Bell, unable to believe what he’d just seen.

  Bell had his back to Loki Familia, but Bete’s question was only aimed at himself.

  Bete wondered how long ago it was that he himself had became strong enough to take down a Minotaur.

  No, how long had it taken him to become strong enough to take one down alone?

  These questions ignited a fire within him, his face turning red.

  What started as irritation flaring up in his gut turned into full-blown embarrassment. It spread to every corner of his body.

  “…Mind Down.”

  “He…he’s standing there, out cold…”

  The Amazonian sisters stood there in shock. Their voices couldn’t hide their disbelief as they looked at Bell, frozen in his last attack position. His right arm was still in front of his body, his hand curled as if holding the Hestia Knife.

  The girls were in awe at the boy who’d spent every last drop of energy to win the battle.

  It was as if a book were open in front of them, the hero of the story jumping out of the pages.

  “…! Answer me, prum! Just what the hell is that kid… ?!”

  “Mr. Bell…Mr. Bell!!”

  “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you…Tsk!”

  Bete snapped his tongue at the girl as she ran toward Bell on unsteady feet.

  The wolf man watched her go, tormented by feelings he couldn’t understand.

  Then he noticed the state of Bell’s back. Armor long since broken, his black inner shirt had been torn to shreds. His shoulder blades were completely exposed, only a few threads of fabric kept the shirt on his back.

  What’s more, hieroglyphs were visible just beneath the damaged cloth.

  “—! Reveria! Tell me the kid’s Status—now!”

  “…Are you telling me to steal personal information?”

  Only the skin on Bell’s upper back was visible.

  The slots containing his Magic and Skills were obscured by what was left of his shirt. Despite all the holes, most of Bell’s Status remained hidden.

  “It’s not freakin’ stealin’ when it’s that wide-open. Fine, if ya ain’t gonna look I’ll ask someone who will. I can’t be the only one that wants answers.”

  Bete felt it wasn’t against the law if the information just happened to come into your line of sight. He fumed at Reveria, for she had the eyes to see at this distance and the knowledge to decipher the hieroglyphs.

  The knowledgeable elf sighed and cast her gaze toward Bell. Perhaps she, too, was interested.

  Her dark emerald eyes found the hieroglyphs on Bell’s back.

  “Dammit, what’s takin’ ya so long?”

  “Be patient, I’ve almost finished—”

  Reveria suddenly stopped talking, her words trailing off.

  Bete glared at her.
Tiona and the others drifted toward the elf, drawn in by curiosity.

  A moment later, the elf let out an uneven laugh.

  “…Heh. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.”

  “The heck’s wrong with ya, hey?! Son of a…Yo, Aiz. Ya can read hieroglyphs, too, right? Can ya see anythin’ from there?”

  Bete angrily bared his fangs at Reveria. It looked as though something had popped loose in her head, her shoulders shaking as she laughed. So, Bete directed his question a few meders ahead where Aiz was standing.

  The human girl was still rooted to the same spot, her eyes focused only on the boy. She gave a quick nod and looked at his back.

  Her golden gaze honed in on their target with the precision of a blade.

  “…S.”

  “…Huh?”

  “All of his abilities are S.”

  “ALL S?!”

  Bete’s voice joined Tiona’s and the others’ in surprise. All other words had left them.

  In reality, Aiz couldn’t see Bell’s Magic level due to what remained of his inner shirt. However, considering what had just transpired she had a feeling it was close enough.

  There was one other fact she hadn’t told Bete and the others.

  It was the very thing that had sent Reveria for a loop. SS. The boy possessed an ability that went beyond normal limits. It made her eyes spin.

  “His name?”

  A new sound echoed.

  A voice cut through the stunned silence.

  Everyone except Aiz turned around to find the source.

  With the eyes of his compatriots on him, Fynn slowly walked forward while tapping the shaft of his spear on his shoulder.

  He eyed the human with a calm gaze as he came up to meet the rest of his battle party. Asking his question again, the prum had a more serious look on his face.

  “What is the boy’s name?”

  “Hell if I know…Haven’t heard it.”

  “…Reveria. Please stop laughing like that.”

  “Hee-hee…Ahh, my apologies. What were you asking?”

  “Please check the boy’s Status for his name. I’d like to know.”

  “Yes, that would be good to know. Please wait a moment…”

  The Status worked like a contract between a god and the being who received their falna—their blessing.

  To make the contract binding, the god engraved their seal next to the recipient’s real name.

  Reveria squinted her eyes in an effort to read the boy’s name. But before she could open her mouth, another voice beat her to it.

  It was Aiz.

  “Bell.”

  “Aiz…”

  Her soft voice cut through the air.

  She hadn’t budged an inch.

  She didn’t even turn to face Tiona when the Amazonian girl responded. Her eyes were planted firmly on Bell.

  “Bell Cranell.”

  They could see the boy’s reflection clearly in her golden eyes.

  Period of Employment: one month

  Total Monsters Slain: 3,001

  Three days ago, he became by far the fastest adventurer on record to reach Level Two.

  Epilogue

  PAGE 0 → PAGE 1

  I hear someone crying.

  A small child, tears pouring down his face, hiccupping over and over and clinging to a large chest.

  And holding onto the child covered in blood and dirt, patting him lightly on the head, is one old man.

  “Does it hurt, Bell?”

  The boy listens to the soft voice overhead and is about to nod, but quickly shakes his head no. He starts to cry again.

  The old man smiles and continues to embrace the trembling boy, comforting him.

  “I told you not to go outside the village, now didn’t I? Those goblins did quite a number on you.”

  That voice, this grass, that smile…I know this place.

  The setting sun, a face that I thought I would never see again, everything is so bright.

  “But you did well. You didn’t give in to those monsters. Be proud.”

  The sky is filled with brilliant shades of red, fields of golden wheat dancing in the evening breeze.

  Amid this beautiful scenery from my memory, an old man’s kind words make their way into the heart of the young boy.

  All of this will no doubt be lost in a deep corner of his memory.

  Once he wakes up, it will seem like an old, far-off wish.

  An irreplaceable longing from childhood.

  “You looked good out there, Bell.”

  Seeing the old man smile, the boy starts bawling yet again.

  Yet, inside his hazy, tear-filled eyes, there is a glimmer of admiration.

  Looking at the man’s face that is so close to his own, the boy fights back his tears and swears to himself.

  As the child’s lips move, I feel my own and move with him. Our voices overlap, becoming one.

  I want to become someone like you.

  Like the one who saved me, someone strong like you.

  Someone like my hero, I want to be like you.

  “Is that all? Too low, too low. An old geezer like me your goal? You should aim higher.”

  Well then, I’ll become one of those heroes from the stories.

  One of those heroes whom everyone praises.

  Will you say that you like me?

  Will you say that you’re proud of me?

  Will you be happy?

  “Oh yes, I’ll smile so hard my cheeks will fall off. I’ll brag to anyone and everyone that you’re my grandson. I’ll tell them in a big voice you make me proud.”

  Okay, then. If you’re willing to say that. For sure I’ll…

  You’ll always watch over me from heaven, my one and only…

  “I’ll always be watching. You’ll always be on my mind. So don’t do anything for my sake.”

  The old man laughs again, wrinkles appearing all over his happy face.

  “Real men chase after the ladies. Dash after them at full speed. Puff your chest out. Head up, facing forward.”

  Then the old man looks down, a serious look in his eyes as he says:

  “If it’s for the love of a woman, you can become a hero, or anything you want. You can do anything.”

  The last golden light of the setting sun grows dim.

  I reach out desperately into the growing darkness. That’s when I hear him say these words:

  “You are, after all, my grandson.”

  “What are you dreaming about, Bell…” whispered Hestia as she watched a tear work its way down Bell’s cheek.

  A member of her family lay sleeping in a bed inside the medical center within Babel Tower. He had been carried here by the blond girl with golden eyes. His supporter was with them as well. The only sound in their quiet little room was Bell’s peaceful breathing.

  The boy, who had just overcome the most intense battle of his life, wore no expression in sleep, just peaceful calm.

  “…And there are so many things I have to tell you, but…”

  Hestia gently wiped away the tear that came out of Bell’s closed eye.

  Bell’s mouth was slightly open, his breathing deep and steady. Hestia couldn’t help but smile.

  “You did your best, didn’t you…Congratulations.”

  She looked around the room once before leaning forward and brushing Bell’s bangs upward. She pressed her lips to his forehead.

  The goddess blushed softly as she read the story engraved in the boy’s back, her eyes slowly closing.

  “This is the first page.”

  SCHWEIZERDEGEN

  • BASELARD.

  • ONCE DECORATED THE WALLS OF A GNOME SHOP. 19,000 VALS.

  • A MASTERWORK. MORE THAN GOOD ENOUGH FOR BEGINNING ADVENTURERS.

  • BELL ORIGINALLY RECEIVED IT FROM A DISHONEST PRUM AS A PARTING PRESENT. AT A DISCOUNT, OF COURSE.

  Afterword

  Part one is complete.

  While there were a few bumps along the way, I feel like I’ve written exact
ly what I wanted to read and write for the third installment of the series.

  Throughout writing this book, I have come to realize that those who go on adventures usually win in the end.

  Venturing into the unknown requires a great deal of courage. In my personal opinion, going somewhere where you know absolutely nothing is very scary.

  That being said, the moment you take your first step toward a place where you don’t know what is going to happen, something changes inside of you.

  Other authors have said this before, but I agree: No one can prove they have overcome their challenges, only that they have grown in the process.

  Successes and failures stick with us for our lifetime. However, those who face obstacles without compromising who they are will grow. Of that, I’m sure.

  Go on an adventure.

  Strive to be an adventurer.

  While it’s in my nature to do an about-face at the last moment, I am always trying to do something new.

  And now to show my gratitude.

  Completing the story and getting it into print is thanks to a great number of people. I would like to extend a special thank-you to Suzuhito Yasuda, H2SO4, Kurogin, Fox Mark, Siki Douji, toi8, Yuuji Nimura, Kiyoshi Haimura, and Ruroo for your beautiful artwork, as well as everyone involved in making this book a reality.

  Also, thank you to every person who has read this series from volume one. I am extremely thankful for your support.

  Next, I hope to steadily expand the scope of this world, starting in the next volume. It is my goal to continually improve the series, and I will do my best to deliver a high-quality volume four as soon as possible.

  Let’s meet again in those pages.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Until next time.

  Fujino Omori

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