Chapter Five
Unexpectedly, Finn Deimne is willing to negotiate.

What is my winning condition in a fight?

Picture the Dungeon. You and a monster. You've got whatever you usually roll with. The monster has teeth, claws, and other welcome surprises waiting for you.

What's the difference between the two that lets you win?

Your mind, obviously.

Now, there will definitely be people out there who will tell you that courage, the power of friendship or guts were what let you win a battle. Don't listen to them. It's a scam. 10/10 will lose your investment.

Courage would conveniently leave you at the best moments if it didn't abandon you from the start, friends would end up dying horribly or abandoning you to avoid the former, and guts had the tendency to spill out all over the floor. Source: The dead bodies flowing out of the Dungeon daily.

By elimination, that meant that the only thing one could rely on would be their mind.

Unlike the monsters in the Dungeon who were programmed to have rather obvious habits that could be taken advantage of, humans had sentience. Sentience equivocated to an ability to adapt and strategize. Strategizing meant that eventually, despite the circumstances, one could come up with a way to turn the tables and ultimately win.

In other words, I was and would be able to figure out how to fight in the Dungeon, since I could essentially "game" the system and take advantage of a monster's habits. My hundreds of hours logging RPGs on my precious Vita-Chan have actually paid off for something! Wait, isn't that actually kinda sad? Here I was thinking it would be a waste of time but–errr, I meant that it was time well spent which prepared me for the most… unexpected situations. Heh. Now that doesn't sound so pathetic anymore.

While humans were sentient, however, that didn't exactly mean that they were completely invincible. Most people in combat were subject to the trap known as expectations.

For example, this once happened to a friend of a fellow adventurer. He went into the Dungeon completely unprepared and ended up getting ambushed by frogs one day because a party of Level 1 adventurers decided drop a pass-parade on his head from around a corner and he wasn't expecting it. As a result, he ended up getting bowled over by the frogs before getting barraged by their tongues, covered in slime, and ultimately having to look like an idiot while walking out of the Dungeon early. Not that that was me or anything, just letting you know.

Moral of the story? Check your corners.

There were tons of other personal experiences—I mean, tales that I could expand upon, but I'm sure you get the idea.

Overall, it was important for an adventurer not to set expectations which would embarrass them in the Dungeon at best and kill them at the worst. One also had to learn to defy conventional combat expectations.

There were, of course, moments where being a combat pragmatist did nothing, but more often than not they weren't my fault. The situation was just that difficult.

Case in point: Even after eating the fantasy equivalent of a grenade at point blank and losing half of her right hand, the red-haired woman was still able to easily pulverize Hackard in a single blow before nearly killing me. And then she had been hit by a full-force spell which Mind-Downed the mage of the party, and had come out of it relatively fine with her accelerated healing factor which could put Eren Yeager's Attack Titan to shame.

What a monster. Fortunately for us, Wallenstein had arrived on the scene, which essentially meant that my part in this battle was over until otherwise specified, since it was now time to watch the battle as a commentator crowd and demonstrate how amazing a high-Level battle was.

That's right, genre conventions dictated that one among us all must take the role of the useless sidekick: racking up tension by providing live, descriptive commentary!

With that single move, a character not only reduces their chance of death in the next 12 volumes to zero, but also becomes a fan favorite, which further reduces their chances of dying! It's a favored author tactic used to expand their cast of wonderfully written not-at-all 2-dimensional characters and show that they know what they're talking about.

Who are you kidding here? Everyone at the battle can clearly see what's going on, so whoever speaks is going to sound like an idiot.

~~This is a Line Break~~

With her silver rapier still firmly locked against the red-haired woman's black saber, Wallenstein steadily overpowered her opponent with both of her hands on her sword. The woman was forced to take a step backwards.

The two were fast, alright; my eyes could barely catch all of the swordplay at hand. Wallenstein alternated between attacks, at first favoring single-handed stabs and quick, small slices which forced the woman to block without retaliation before committing to a lunging stab.

The woman, in turn, didn't block, instead narrowly turning with her sword to avoid the attack before throwing a left hook at Wallenstein, who was sent skidding backwards as she blocked with her other hand.

"Woah, they're evenly matched… I don't know who's going to win this." Nevermind, I was wrong, there's Viridis with the live commentary. Guess we know who's making it through the next 12 volumes.

"No… you're wrong." Hackard turned this into a dual commentary. So the plan is to split the volumes, then? 6 volumes apiece? "Aiz-san's losing in pure strength. Look!"

As the four of us watched, as if conveniently demonstrating Hackard's point, the woman locked blades with Wallenstein again, but this time, she placed her other hand on the spine of her blade, taking advantage of her saber's one-sided edge to push down on Wallenstein, who was gradually forced into a kneeling position.

"W-what?! Th-that shouldn't be possible! Aiz-san is Level 5!" Wow, that's some audacious fangirling, Viridis. Did you forget the fact that Wallenstein's opponent easily overpowered all 3 of us at once? It makes sense that she'd be able to go head-to-head with one of Orario's top adventurers.

That's not even factoring into account the fact that a blade-lock is dictated by leverage. Even if Wallenstein possessed a strength stat equal or superior to that of her opponent, her double-edged rapier prevented her from meeting force with force, since she'd get cut if she tried to halt the woman's pressdown. As a result, it was all too obvious she'd be pushed back–

Wait.
Hold on.
Hold on just a second.

Did I get caught up in the flow and indulge in combat commentary unknowingly?! This is bad! Now Viridis, Hackard, and I are split between 4 volumes each! Our individual series longevity is getting whittled away faster than I can say "blink and you'll miss it"!

Ah well, it's not like this is actually going to happen. If it were, I'd probably be the first to die as I go down from taking an attack meant to showcase the enemy's dramatic new powers or something and embolden Hackard and the others to keep fighting. Hikigaya Hachiman, a sacrifice for the hero's victory. Heh, didn't some general once say "death is the greatest honor" or something?

Wallenstein, still in a kneeling position, turned her blade sideways, letting Red-Hair's blade shove slide along the edge of her sword before countering with a riposte. In response, the woman dodged backwards, the tip of the sword nearly striking her eye. As she recovered, Red-Hair launched herself at Wallenstein, her sword raised above her head with a two handed grip.

"Tempest!"

A massive gust of wind swirled around the battlefield, condensing around Wallenstein and her sword before she unleashed a full two-handed swing which sent the red-haired woman flying backwards into a mountain of crystals, plowing through the landscape for several tens of meters before lying there.

"In… incredible!" And here's Hackard with the commentary. "That attack was almost unavoidable! Aiz-san didn't even think about blocking and instead put all of her force into a trade! What a dangerous but rewarding move!" Yes, thank you for providing that amazing explanation that no one needed since all of us had eyes and we could actually see and follow the battle.

"There it is!" If Viridis's squeal could go any higher, I'm sure that it could shatter glass. This isn't an anime, so you don't need to overdo the high-pitched, cutesy girl voice, alright? "Aiz-san's Ariel is a short-chant but incredibly powerful wind spell! She can manipulate it to do anything, including protecting her body, increasing her speed, and enhancing her attack! It's the perfect offense and defense!" Did I just hear "perfect offense and defense"? Viridis, you're really cementing your role as the Speedwagon of the group, you know that?

"What precision… if she mistimed it by even a few seconds, she would've lost more than her arm… but now…" Hackard muttered in awe. "It's the red-haired who's been knocked down. A direct hit, no less."

"No one's ever survived a direct hit from Aiz-san's Tempest!" Someone just tripped the flag for "the enemy getting back off the ground, wiping blood off of their mouth, saying 'not bad' and going right back to fighting".

"Hmph, you're strong…" Getting up from the ground, the woman coughed a little and pounded her chest a couple of times before picking up her sword and advancing towards Wallenstein again.

This is almost too easy. What's next, hearing Viridis say something like "Impossible! No one can just deflect the Emerald Splash(or, alternatively, survive a direct hit from Ariel)"?

"T-that's impossible! No one has ever survived a direct hit from Ariel!"

I nearly fell over flat onto my face. These... these're just supposed to be gags! Why is this whole battle one whole walking mess of cliches?! This is real life, not one of Zaimokuza's manuscripts! No, screw that, not even Zaimokuza could botch a battle this badly! Seriously, gods of isekai, are you all idiots or something?!

This is exactly why I wouldn't be caught dead doing combat commentary. One day I'd slip between the lines of cringeworthy and appropriately dramatic, and I'd fall into the abyss of soul-withering and never return. Wait, wasn't I there already?

As the woman picked up her sword and began approaching Wallenstein, her mouth opened and she mouthed something towards the blonde, who visibly stiffened. One word.

A-r-i-a.

Aria… ? That sounded vaguely familiar, as if it were one of those biology terms that I would've glossed over in the textbook before purging it from my mind. But I couldn't really place it.

Wallentsein's sword shook as she raised it, and her face contorted into an expression of part shock and part fury. "Where… did you hear that name…?"

"Who knows…?" The red-haired woman, on the other hand, kept her scowl, the rest of her face an unreadable mask. "But you and the seed are coming with me."

Wallenstein lunged at her opponent in a blur, my eyes catching more than half a dozen flashes in the span of less than a second as she threw a barrage of stabs and slashes at her opponent. However, every silver flash was intercepted by a wall of black, the black blade blocking or deflecting every single attack.

There was another ear-splitting screech as Wallenstein and Red-Hair locked blades again, but this time, the woman didn't even bother grappling before breaking off from the exchange and throwing a vicious left hook which landed on Wallenstein's right side with a nasty CRUNCH.

The blonde girl soared through the air and into one of the crates, coughing violently as she hit the ground with a thud. I covered my ears just in time to avoid having my eardrums burst from the living sonic bomb, Viridis herself, screaming "AIZZZZ-SANNNN!" As I removed them, however–

"Return the seed, or this man dies." I felt the presence behind me too late, the woman's black saber already pressed against the back of my neck, ready to decapitate me in a single blow. My hands, still pressed against my sides, wouldn't be able to do anything in time.

Wallenstein limped out from the rubble, raising her sword again, but Red-Hair shut her down almost immediately. Her blade pressed harder against my neck. "Unless you want to see this adventurer die, Aria, put that sword down."

The sounds of battle fell silent as Hackard, Louie, Viridis, and Wallenstein all stood still, unsure of what to do.

~~This is a Line Break~~

In stories, hostage situations are rather easy to deal with. Shoot the hostage-takers from far away, they fall to the ground instantly and die after being hit in the chest or the head, done. Fanfare, roll ending credits.

If only reality were that easy.

There was no sniper to save me right now. Hackard was too slow. Louie was too weak. Viridis didn't have the time. Wallenstein was too far away.

By elimination, that left Red-Hair… and me. Take away Red-Hair, who was obviously not planning anything good for me, and only I could help myself. Not like this was new, of course.

I considered my options before alighting on the two Burst Oils still in my pocket. If I used one to escape right now, I could still save one for later and I could break the stalemate. I just needed to stall Red-Hair for a second or two so Wallenstein could jump in again.

This was probably suicidal, but it was still better than the situation I was currently in.

Taking the two vials from my pocket, I dashed one of them on the ground behind me. But instead of the sound of shattering glass, there was a thunk as the vial hit the ground, cracking but not shattering.

Without hesitation, I turned around and wound backwards for another throw as I jumped backwards at the same time. I couldn't afford to miss.

Hit. There was a plank! as the glass smashed against the woman's arm, which had lifted high to deliver a killing blow.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Then a flash of light seared its way into my eyes as I was blasted backwards.

All at once, the air left my lungs as I struck the ground, the impact jarring me to the bone. I blinked once, twice, three times as I coughed and sucked in a shaky breath. The air seemed to pound, pulsing vibrantly as if it were alive. It was slow, constant, loud, passing through my body and rendering my limbs weightless.

It was as if I was floating; everything somehow felt dulled, as if I had plunged underwater.

In front of me, there was an inferno. Flames crackled as they devoured the underbrush, sparks dancing in the air. In front of me, a single figure walked out of the flame, steam rising from her figure.

"Enough games." Her sword was raised, and slowly, I realized that this time, there was no stopping her.

"Tempest!"

As the sword came down, a gust of wind whipped up around me and there was a strange, stinging sensation, as if someone had very quickly drawn a line from my left shoulder down to my right hip. I crawled backwards away from the woman. She had missed.

I was alive. Putting my hand on the floor, I pushed myself off the ground, looking for some way to get up to run–only for the ground to suddenly take a lopsided turn as I found my face plastered against the dirt.

My shirt was wet.

That didn't… make sense. I tried again, only for my limbs to flop to the ground like the nerves that connected them to my had been cut. My face remained on the ground, and I could taste the blood in my mouth.

My shirt was wet.

Someone grabbed my arm. There was someone hovering above me. Blue hair framed a face, its features blurry and muddled. Its mouth was open, saying something I couldn't hear or understand. I couldn't hear it. Who... was it...?

There was a dripping sensation on my face.

Water...?

I was unable to tell.

The world around me was shaking. Wait, no. I might've been the one that was shaking. Was there a difference?

My shirt was wet.

Someone tilted my head backwards.

Liquid flowed down my throat before the sensation was replaced with nothing.

~~This is a Line Break~~

Light flashed through my eyelids, cracking away the darkness which covered my eyes. I winced as consciousness returned to me all at once, bright light squeezing past my eyelids into my retinas.

It was too bright, so I squeezed my eyes shut as I patiently waited for my body to readjust. There was no point in wasting energy on something such as panickedly getting up and ending up hurting yourself further. I had been knocked out enough times to know that there was a process to doing things. All I had to do was go with the flow.

First came the memories of what I last remembered. Closing my eyes again, I let the torrent of memories engulf my consciousness. The delivery quest, the package, Dorlia's murder, Louie's attempted escape, the battle between us and the red-haired woman, and now, a tent.

… I'm alive. That was the only thought I had as my body concluded its calibration. As my eyes opened again after adjusting to the light, I caught a glimpse of tan fabric lying overhead. A tent, then. Since I was lying down, evidently I had been carried here by an ally. And since from the doorway there were still bustling sounds, it was safe to assume I was still in Rivira and that we had won the battle.

Now, it was time to check my wounds. There was a vague, heavy weight lying across my stomach which I couldn't quite place. Slightly raising my head, I looked to see a head of blue hair resting on my stomach.

Hackard. The blue-haired girl had fallen asleep, probably while waiting for me to wake up. I couldn't move around without waking her up, so I had no choice but to quietly put my head on the cot again and wait.

After a while, she stirred. "Mhhmrpghh…" Raising herself up from my stomach, she let out a stretch and loudly yawned before noticing me. There was a moment of silence as she blinked at me. "Hikitani, you're alive!" Letting out a cry, Hackard latched onto me tightly with a sob. "You're alright!" Her arms tightened around me and I sucked in a breath as I felt something–most likely my bandages–shift painfully, but it was fine. "I thought you were–you were–"

"I'm not. Don't worry about it, Hackard." I clumsily patted her on the back, as if trying to say "there, there", but winced again as she tightened her embrace and my front burned. It was awhile before she let go.

"Ah. Sorry." Hackard sniffed as she released me and wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry, uhhm, I got really emotional there…"

"It's fine."

"I'll.. uhm, sorry… I'll wait for you outside." Sniffling some more, Hackard left the tent, leaving me alone. Finally, I could check my injuries.

As I slowly eased into a sitting position, I frowned as I examined myself. While my left hand had ended up perfectly fine, the same could not be said about my right. Both the wrist and hand were wrapped in some sort of hastily wrapped bandage which covered a majority of my palm and extended down the forearm. Even now, it throbbed with an angry pain which told me that I wouldn't be wielding my sword anytime soon.

What about the rest of the arm? Two cautionary rotations later, the strong pulling sensation from my back combined with a pain in my back told me that I had most likely bruised it or worse. A peek showed me that bandages were wrapped around my midsection, stretching all the way to cover everything from waist up to my left shoulder.

The bandages weren't particularly well-done; they were wrapped in a haphazard job which would hold, but not one which would last. The jar of half-finished medical cream and roll of bandages on the side told me that the job had probably used more than it had required.

Carefully, I undid the bandages that were wrapped around my midsection, wincing and biting my lip as the strips pulled away with painful tearing sensations, still stuck to my skin by a mixture of dried balm and blood. Holding up the bandages, I knew that I was probably going to need to reapply another series of bandages. The white cloth had ended up with a mostly rust-stained area alongside an entire area; evidently, I had lost a great deal of blood.

I coughed a couple of times as I examined myself. A massive slash wound ran from my left shoulder to my right hip, with dried blood caked and crusted alongside the original wound. It was a gnarled, ugly line of angry red which pierced into me with needle-like pains every time I sucked in a breath.

In the end, the woman had managed to wound me. I'd need to rebandage it and avoid moving for the next couple of days to avoid reopening the wound. That would definitely spell certain death.

Fortunately, the supplies were already there. Taking the jar of medicinal cream, I sucked in a breath as I began reapplying it alongside the place where the bandage had been. After applying the balm, I took the roll of bandages and applied it around myself, slowly wrapping it just tight enough so that I had ease of movement, but not tight enough for them to come undone.

Then, I slowly eased my legs onto the ground and attempted to stand up. My legs protested at the effort, but remained standing.

Then I lifted my left leg, my balance buckled, and I unceremoniously flopped to the ground onto my shoulder. My chest protested, a jagged pain ripping through my chest as I opened my mouth to scream.

"Hikitani!" Hackard rushed in. "Take it easy. You shouldn't even be up." Gently propping me up on her shoulder, she tucked me into a sitting position.

I felt my ribcage rattle as I took in another breath. "Hackard, where's… my backpack?"

In response, Hackard crossed over to the other side of the small tent and lifted up a somewhat misshapen backpack. My gut churned as I recalled the contents–food, throwing knives, but most importantly, the package.

"Your sword and armor's here too. Though I don't know what you can use your chestplate for anymore." Hackard laughed awkwardly as she picked a piece up for me to see. A long gash mark ran through the chestplate, wide enough that I could see the other side. I winced as I estimated the repair cost. 4 million was a hefty chunk of my bank savings, at least 10 percent. If only money were easier to make in this world…

For now, something was better than nothing. I had Hackard pass the backpack over before I stuck my hand inside, sifting around until I found the familiar, round shape of the package, at which point, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was safe. I had been successful.

Following that, I retrieved my spare set of clothes, sliding my spare shirt over my bandages but leaving the armor on. I still ended up strapping my sword to my back, though. One couldn't afford to end up weaponless, not in Rivira.

Alright, it was time for walking, part two.

This time, I wobbled a little, evidently still unsteady on my feet, but I didn't fall this time. As we stepped outside the tent, however, I squeezed my eyes shut as it happened.

There it was. My greatest enemy. Feared by otakus and NEETs alike, the thing which could transform even the safest of sanctuaries into a riajuu-infested zone.

Sunlight.

As my eyes slowly adjusted, I looked around me. Rivira had become, in essence, a tent town. While some buildings lay here and there, most were partially destroyed or in a state of total collapse.

There was a tug on my sleeve, and I looked back to see Hackard looking at me with a strange gaze. "Come on. I'll fill you in along the way! Finn-san said he wanted to talk to you once you woke up!"

Finn…? Deimne wanted to talk?

Along the way, she began explaining what had happened after I had used the two Burst Oils. The red-haired woman had been surprised and almost furious when I had escaped her grasp, and almost killed me. Even though Wallenstein had used her magic at the highest output, it hadn't stopped the woman's attack entirely, but I wasn't dead, so it had counted for something. From then on after there, Wallenstein had engaged the woman, but ended up losing: though she was able to break the opponent's weapon, she was rendered unable to fight for the rest of the battle.

Then, Deimne and Alf had stepped in; while the two were fighting, Hackard and Louie had been able to drag me away for emergency first-aid. In the aftermath of the battle, Hackard had (surprisingly) remembered the existence of the package inside my backpack and found it with Louie's help.

"Ahh, we're here." Pushing open the door to one of the few still-intact buildings, Hackard let me slowly shuffle inside before following.

The commandeered barroom was empty, save for a single table at which 5 figures sat, while the leader, a blonde pallum, paced back and forth, lost in thought. Deimne looked up as the two of us entered, and as his eyes settled upon me, there was a flash of recognition which was buried as soon as it appeared. As he rounded the table and walked towards us, his face broke into a flawless, disarming smile. What do you riajuus do, practice your smile in front of a mirror or something? Even I'm not that pathetic.

"So you're the Hikitani I've heard about." With a sweeping gesture, Deimne waved to the 5 other figures around the table. "These are the Loki Familia executives with me today. I hope you understand why they're here, and I hope you understand why I've summoned you here as well." Alf, Viridis, Wallenstein, and the Hiryute twins stared down at me across the table, but I stared at them right back. Two could play at this game. "I'd like to propose an exchange of information. What do you say, Hikitani?" Who's Hikitani? I have absolutely no idea who you're talking to, Deimne.

"Er… Finn-san, his name is actually Hikigaya. I just call him Hikitani." Hackard had a funny look on her face as she piped up. "Anyways, I'm going to… go. I gotta clean up some things outside. Hikitani, when you're done just go back to the tent, I'll meet you there." I answered her in the affirmative with a nod.

"... Apologies, Hikigaya." I waved off Deimne's apology. We both know that you're pretending we've never met by getting my name wrong on purpose. No need to apologize.

"Don't worry about it. Regarding your proposal, I think an exchange would be fine."

As we began discussing, the pieces began falling into place.

Loki Familia, like Hackard and I, had encountered the man-eating plants during Monster Feria. Within that time frame, someone–presumably Black-Cloak–had put up a quest to retrieve a certain package, which was then accepted by Hashana Dorlia. Following that, Louie had been approached by Black-Cloaked, whoever that was, and been instructed to take the second part retrieval quest from Rivira to the surface.

Dorlia had been murdered by Red-Hair, who was looking for the package. Red-Hair was also a Tamer, judging from the army of plants that had swarmed through Rivira the night before.

"... You mentioned the package. What happened to it?" In response to Deimne's question, I briefly considered pretending I had lost the package before spotting Wallenstein's aura of silent death from across the table and abandoning the idea.

The crystal ball was still wholly intact, and the creature within remained curled in a fetal position, its deformed body having undergone no changes at all. Its bulbous eyes flickered and blinked as they opened like it had last time, eventually settling on Wallenstein, who flinched as she noticed, but glared back at the ball with a ferocious stare this time.

"This is…" As if the orb had hypnotized her, Alf stretched her hand out towards it, her hand almost making contact with it before I caught the elf's wrist and held it in place. I felt the tension around the table racket up a couple of notches instantly as Viridis tensed up and the Hiryutes, who had been silent statues this whole time, jumped from their chairs.

"No bare flesh." Alf glared at me with a frigid glance, but I was adamant. Whatever this orb was, it wouldn't bode well if someone took it with their bare hands. Quest Notices had descriptions for a reason. I released her wrist, and she withdrew it. Viridis relaxed again, the Hiryutes slowly sat down, and the hostile atmosphere gradually dispersed.

"What… is this?" Deimne's question went unanswered as I closed the bag again, stuffing it into my pack. "... Aiz? Are you okay?"

"Aiz-san almost collapsed the first time she saw that thing…" Viridis's murmur did not go unnoticed. Most of the gazes in the room went straight to Wallenstein, who seemed to huddle up in her chair as a result.

"What about the red-haired woman? How does she factor into this?"

I tuned out Wallenstein's words about the battle, mulling over the existence and presence of the red-haired woman. Red-Hair… she wanted to retrieve the orb. What had she called it?

The seed.

Suddenly the description–"don't handle with bare flesh"–made much, much more sense. A parasitic seed that could absorb something as its host and eventually grow into some sort of full-blown "plant"... the idea alone caused my gut to churn. I had been to the 30th before, but I had never heard of something as dangerous as… whatever this was.

It was clear that there were two factions engaged in a struggle for the orb. Red-Hair, who wanted the orb back and was willing to do anything to retrieve it. Black-Cloak, who had employed two proxies at once to retrieve the orb as to ensure that the package's route couldn't be traced.

I didn't like where this was headed. For both sides to engage in such secretive planning meant that this was something the public didn't know about… which, by itself, spelt trouble. Loki Familia and Hermes Familia… and even Ganesha Familia were nothing but bystanders here.

Furthermore, for some reason Red-Hair also wanted to kidnap Wallenstein–someone they were looking for. Wallenstein had been addressed with the title of 'Aria', which sounded familiar. I just couldn't place it.

"Hikigaya." Someone was calling my name, and it snapped me out of my thoughts. It was Deimne. "Is something wrong?"

There was nothing wrong with telling him, so I did. "Wallenstein." Deimne's eyebrows rose at the mention. "The Tamer was extremely interested in Wallenstein as well. She called Wallenstein 'Aria'."

At the mention of the word, Alf shot up from her chair. "That's... !" Her expression was that of shock. Even Deimne couldn't hide the surprise which flitted across his face before he was able to smooth it into a placid expression. I filed a mental note in the Hikipedia to search that term up later; now was not the time.

"Anyways…" I cleared my throat. "Wallenstein's one of the centerpieces of this entire matter. She has a connection to the orb as well. How, I don't know, but I'm even less inclined to try to find out." I glanced at Deimne. "As it is, this package still needs to be delivered." I was met by a subtle nod of affirmation.

"Whoever this black-cloaked figure is, we need to figure out if they're friend or foe. Loki Familia will protect you, Maris, and Lulune, at least up until the package is delivered. Then we'll see what we can do from there." I acquiesced to the proposed conditions that Deimne set on the table.

As the discussions concluded, the majority of Loki Familia left the room, leaving only me and Deimne left. I was about to follow them until Deimne stopped me. "Hikigaya."

"... What?"

"... Why did you become an adventurer?" His words made me pause.

"..." What was the point of asking that question? You and I both knew the answer. "Because I had to. You yourself would know, wouldn't you?" My words seemed to punch him in the face.

In the end, I wasn't an adventurer by choice, but by necessity. I'm sure Deimne was, too. For someone who wanted to revive his race, he had been driven here because being an adventurer was one of the few ways to become famous.

"No, I wouldn't." The pallum's reply was smooth and practiced, but the little pause before he spoke told me more than his words did. "I'm different."

Different, Deimne? If so, then why would you ask?

"You chose to compromise. How is that any different?" The pallum fell silent this time, unable to answer. It was a question that someone like him couldn't answer. Because everything of his was a carefully constructed facade, built upon the premise of compromising with the world, he had no answer.

Like everyone, Deimne had probably once been idealistic and naive. He'd probably subscribed to the ideals of changing the world or becoming a hero like Hackard and many others doubtless had. But it was clear to me now that he no longer believed in that mantra.

Ideals were ideals, after all. In the end, they didn't follow reality.

Deimne understood that. Everything he did was picked and selected in order to project the image of the 'ideal' pallum, a standard that all members of his race could look up to. He was meant to be a symbol of the pallum potential, a paragon everyone would respect.

But Deimne wasn't perfect. Far from it. And that was why he himself couldn't bring himself to answer my question.

Turning away from Deimne, I stepped out through the bar's opening, leaving him alone and silent, perhaps still trying to find an answer.

Author's Note: … Yo. (awkwardly waves) I haven't really had time to write up a new chapter recently, due to school, college apps, and other things in the real world, and I've been reflecting on my older writing for Volume 1, since I felt that was more of a volume warm-up set-up than anything. My conclusion is that Hikigaya wasn't enough of a Hachiman(sort of) in the earliest story arc - that is, Chapters 1 through 4, and I need to take some time to fix them and make everyone's Willing Suspension of Disbelief less strained. Especially the "work at the tavern for 6 months" part - that's always nagged at me but I've been handwaving it since I didn't really have a way of dealing with it back then, but I think I might now. We will see. I don't want to set a deadline because deadlines are... understandably painful.

Oh, and any tips on how to make Hikigaya more of a Hachiman are much appreciated. And also definitely let me know how I'm doing so far.

Until next time,

Oreo the Cookie