The middle-aged Ranger removed a tobacco cigarette from his threadbare pocket, and lit it.
Even in this night, due to his sharp eyes, even a dim lamp was sufficient.
There were no walls around. With every step the rubble underfoot was dispersed, and the carpet under it was a somber light brown.
Perhaps it used to be a great hall.
“What a troublesome situation.”
He was on the twelfth floor on the Dungeon until a few minutes ago.
While he was fighting with an angry Kobold, blocking his way towards where a party had an ambush prepared, the floor collapsed and he fell into a strange place.
When he looked up, the ceiling was far above.
It was a featureless square with a smooth stone wall.
In other words, the Seeker had blundered his way into a pitfall.
He was lucky that the height was only as high as it was, and since he was careless he only narrowly escaped death.
Nearby him, the huge Kobold whom was running about wildly until just now was used as his cushion during the fall, with its tongue now hanging languidly and completely quiet.
Tristan began to think, puffing the smoke from the cigarette slowly.
There was no doubt that this is the thirteenth floor.
Because the strength and brutality of monsters rises exponentially, the survival rate also falls exponentially.
The “Deadline” is feared greatly. It’s based on the capability of the “Capture Party”, and they fear passing it unless they’re daredevils trying to seek strong monsters.
Safety and efficiency were the priority, but Tristan himself was a ‘Repo man’ who picks up items dropped by parties in the Dungeon to sell in the city at secondhand shops.
“Such a dreadful place, I must leave here.”
There are also circumstances where he could not go through.
His left leg was bent unnaturally, and it was useless trying to set it until he got to a Priest in the city. The only choices for movement were hobbling like a monster and crawling on the floor. Usually in such a state, you would wait for your companions, but there were no hands to help him here.
“Aah, tough. Looks like I’m retiring soon. This old man is softening to the pain.”
He spat out the puffs along with a sigh, pressed to the carpet on the floor.
“…”
But he was going to get no time to rest.
He could here flapping and loud footsteps, likely monsters attracted by the large noise from falling or the smell of the huge Kobold’s blood.
A large three-headed dog appeared, shaking the contours of its body through a heat haze. Although it was rather rare, Tristan remembered what it was. A “Hellhound”, a nasty magical beast that attacks from the shadow.
“Hey, you would even eat a withering grandfather, huh?”
Tristan watched it keep a distance, but when it found out he couldn’t even move, it would attack mercilessly. A situation like this isn’t one a Seeker would encounter, even in a half a century. Running would be impossible.
Tristan also had nothing to rely on, he was almost out of items.
He only had his jackknife and a few equipments, truthfully. Tristan decided it was possible to escape, but his choices were few.
He had that item, but it was a thing that had not had an Appraisal done on it yet. Though, if there was an opportunity to use it, this would be it.
It was now or never.
“I’ll be a good opponent.”
The three headed hellhound approached with drool hanging from its mouth, wondering if the figure it saw would be a good supper, its eyes shining with hunger.
Tristan began laughing fearlessly, his left arm covered by an iron guard, as he extended it into the Gauntlet.
◆
It was early in the morning when Tristan decided to visit the “Goods Old Magician’s Shop”, which had decidedly few customers at the moment.
“Yo, monk”
“Tristan, I’ve told you this many times, my name’s Fujiwara.”
“That’s hard to say. Instead, look at this little guy.”
Tristan is a man who does exploration actively despite crossing into old age already.
Despite his age, he was renowned for his judgment, knife throwing, and agility, clearly he fits the job of Ranger suitably.
He was an old regular of the Good Old Magician’s Shop and he frequently comes to the store even now to get worrisome items appraised, often scarce goods of high quality.
The one on the counter looked like a singular small hand protector.
The Gauntlet.
Made of steel and meant to cover the wrist and fingers, this one had a Ranger’s or Thieves’ orientation, emphasizing finger movement and protection.
“That there was found on a skeleton, a quite strong one. Of course, I took it impolitely.”
“Hmm.”
“How is it?”
“You’ve got something good.”
The reason Fujiwara said it was good was the engraving around the wrist portion.
Shaped like a cross, it was proof it was sanctified, though the mark itself meant nothing.
In most cases something Sanctified was used for good, to subdue bandits or monsters, and was blessed by the church. Something of this sort is nearly Good Granting Tool quality, or sometimes higher.
“Look,”
Fujiwara touched the gauntlet, muttering the spell of transfer and discarded its concealment.
From his fingers poured blue strips, gradually spreading on the surface of the dark gray gauntlet.
It was certainly a Granting Tool.
Since it’s one from the Temple, it’s limited to prayer types- recovery, purging undead, and Buffs.
Turning it over, Fujiwara could see how dirty it was, nearly becoming black, especially near the cuff.
That seems to be dried blood.
The prior owner likely cut their palm of wrist to give it enough blood for healing or hemostasis, so the Gauntlet likely has these capabilities.
“Because of this much blood being required, it’s indeed likely for healing.”
“Is it of the Law of Healing?”
Tristan admires it with wide open eyes.
A Gauntlet of Healing was a tool that could heal wounds, and even the part from which you give blood would be soothed.
Unlike healing potions, it’s effects were quite high, and the overall survival rate jumps to unheard of positions to which it is an item parties search for and that are competed over heavily.
“Even if the person that owns it is a moron, it’ll lighten the burden.”
“…Hold on now”
“Hehe”
Tristan went out to the back yard to kill time drinking coffee with Anemone, while Fujiwara decided to immediately prepare for appraisal.
◆
Tristan was looking around the shop, killing time with coffee in his hand.
In the past the store had a tinge of fog and smoky incense because of the prior owner’s hobbies, but now it looks and smells refreshing. He wondered if Anemone was spreading about Cypress.
The goods of the store are casually divided into many different types on display. Although proper high ranking items are carefully placed in the glass cases, the store was generally laid back in its sorting.
After a long while of drinking Coffee, the monk Fujiwara returns with the Gauntlet.
“So, what is that thing?”
“As expected, an arm guard of healing. I’m hesitating as to whether it’s Good or Luxury Quality, but I think the latter is correct.”
Fujiwara’s face was rather glum, though.
Clearly that was not all.
“I’m guessing I can’t use it?”
“No, you meet the Qualification more than enough.”
“Thou veteran warriors, offer much of your remaining life up ―― The world will close your wounds, set your bones, and return everything to you, like a Spring of Life.”
Fujiwara recited it from memory like a sort of poetry.
These were the summarized contents of the magic circuit, with the early half being the conditions.
Of course, Tristan’s old friend is excellent.
No matter where he looks in Labyrinth City, there’s not a single appraiser who could get it done this fast.
“Looks like this grandfather is qualified to use it.”
“No, I’m afraid it’s the Compensation. It’s rather nasty.
“Offer much of your remaining life up.”
Trading the scant life expectancy of a senile person for the curing of an injury, even if not explained, is indeed a rather nasty thing.
“In exchange for that life expectancy, a great deal of magic is released, but there is a danger of not having enough left and hindering oneself.”
“…”
“It’s unsigned, so the exact intention can’t be found, but it may be made especially for an old soldier who was willing to die in exchange for the healing, as a great accomplishment.”
“That’s appalling. I can at least use it once, right?”
“I can’t guarantee it.”
“Shit.”
Tristan snatched the gauntlet from Fujiwara, placing it onto his arm rapidly. Indeed, the fingertips and wrist are fully free to move, even in battle it would not slow one down or be annoying.
“It’s Evil.”
“…Even still, it’s a decent equipment.”
Fujiwara approached with a reproachful face.
“Uh, monk,”
“It’s Fujiwara”
“When a man dies, he dies. If I was afraid of that, I would have never become a Seeker.”
“I understand, I won’t say any more.”
He said while pouting like a sulky classmate. Clearly he thought this was regrettable, but there was no point in dying one way or another, by the fault of this gauntlet or otherwise.
There seemed to be the shape of a young boy in this seen. Tristan thought if his son was here, he’d look an awfully lot like Fujiwara. Tristan laughed, “He became a boring man”.
◆
“Gurururururu”
It was being strangled by the neck, drooling on Tristan while he struggled to beat it off of him in agony. It backed away and did not attempt to dive in any more.
The troublesome monster dissolved into the darkness, sinking in and moving around. When a person holds one down, it can seal the monster’s ability.
“Gu, u,”
Tristan put forth his whole strength, tightening with a ‘Gichigichi’, while the Hellhound was peeling the whites of its eyes for an opportunity to attack, with him shaking it off whenever it failed.
The dark shape chose a good time, lashing out and attacking his thigh. Tristan was shocked, trying not to scream and attract more attention.
Finally, he managed to stab it, the Hellhound convulsing on the carpet covered in blood. Tristen was glad the fight finally ended, noting that his power wasn’t reduced and making sure it died.
“Fuu,”
Tristan fell forward for a while, smoothing his rough breathing.
Truly, the gauntlet’s power was admirable.
It restored the leg that had been broken from the pitfall in the blink of an eye, to an extent he could run, let alone walk.
The effect even continued through the battle, healing attacks the hellhound unleashed.
It’s to the extent a dreadful cut was blocked, and a bite to the bone was already closed to the point not even a nail could get in.
He suddenly felt a surge of weariness. The magic swirling in his body would be the cause. The power of healing wouldn’t be satisfied with only this, though.
He wondered how long it had shaved off.
Several months? Several years?
Could it possibly be decades, with how cold he felt?
After this, would abnormal changes occur to his body? That would be awfully hateful, if he could even return to the surface safely. He smiled dejectedly.
“…Hn?”
He suddenly noticed something shining from the corner of his eye.
It looked something like a drop item, but he had never seen one of that shape before.
It looked like a sphere atop a pedestal, no larger than could be held in a palm. He had seen many items in the decades of dungeon life he’d had, but nothing similar to it.
Tristan decided to bring it back with him, as his intuition was telling him to.
A souvenir.
Stuffing it in the softest part of his sack, Tristan wondered if it was a Granting Tool. He decided to immediately show it to him upon leaving the Dungeon.
“I wonder why this has never been seen before, let’s see what it is”
Forgetting the situation of being lost alone, Tristan now had a good mood, grinning.
After fifteen hours he finally collapses on the ground of the surface, decrepit as he is he yet continues without dying.
◆
Discrimination Ticket “Healing Gauntlet (Luxury)”
“Thou veteran warriors, offer much of your remaining life up ―― The world will close your wounds, set your bones, and return everything to you, like a Spring of Life.”
In order to perform combat without hesitation, it can heal scratches and wounds on the fly with no priest, an item Warriors covet.
Effect, equivalent to a Priest’s prayer, healing wounds ranging from grazes to deep cuts without a single scars in but a moment.
Has no effects on pre-existing medical defects, but it also has a rare ability that overturns that disadvantage.
This item is popular and is said to give a survival rate that is unheard of, so much so that competitions take place over them and parties are arranged around them.
The middle-aged Ranger removed a tobacco cigarette from his threadbare pocket, and lit it.
Even in this night, due to his sharp eyes, even a dim lamp was sufficient.
There were no walls around. With every step the rubble underfoot was dispersed, and the carpet under it was a somber light brown.
Perhaps it used to be a great hall.
“What a troublesome situation.”
He was on the twelfth floor on the Dungeon until a few minutes ago.
While he was fighting with an angry Kobold, blocking his way towards where a party had an ambush prepared, the floor collapsed and he fell into a strange place.
When he looked up, the ceiling was far above.
It was a featureless square with a smooth stone wall.
In other words, the Seeker had blundered his way into a pitfall.
He was lucky that the height was only as high as it was, and since he was careless he only narrowly escaped death.
Nearby him, the huge Kobold whom was running about wildly until just now was used as his cushion during the fall, with its tongue now hanging languidly and completely quiet.
Tristan began to think, puffing the smoke from the cigarette slowly.
There was no doubt that this is the thirteenth floor.
Because the strength and brutality of monsters rises exponentially, the survival rate also falls exponentially.
The “Deadline” is feared greatly. It’s based on the capability of the “Capture Party”, and they fear passing it unless they’re daredevils trying to seek strong monsters.
Safety and efficiency were the priority, but Tristan himself was a ‘Repo man’ who picks up items dropped by parties in the Dungeon to sell in the city at secondhand shops.
“Such a dreadful place, I must leave here.”
There are also circumstances where he could not go through.
His left leg was bent unnaturally, and it was useless trying to set it until he got to a Priest in the city. The only choices for movement were hobbling like a monster and crawling on the floor. Usually in such a state, you would wait for your companions, but there were no hands to help him here.
“Aah, tough. Looks like I’m retiring soon. This old man is softening to the pain.”
He spat out the puffs along with a sigh, pressed to the carpet on the floor.
“…”
But he was going to get no time to rest.
He could here flapping and loud footsteps, likely monsters attracted by the large noise from falling or the smell of the huge Kobold’s blood.
A large three-headed dog appeared, shaking the contours of its body through a heat haze. Although it was rather rare, Tristan remembered what it was. A “Hellhound”, a nasty magical beast that attacks from the shadow.
“Hey, you would even eat a withering grandfather, huh?”
Tristan watched it keep a distance, but when it found out he couldn’t even move, it would attack mercilessly. A situation like this isn’t one a Seeker would encounter, even in a half a century. Running would be impossible.
Tristan also had nothing to rely on, he was almost out of items.
He only had his jackknife and a few equipments, truthfully. Tristan decided it was possible to escape, but his choices were few.
He had that item, but it was a thing that had not had an Appraisal done on it yet. Though, if there was an opportunity to use it, this would be it.
It was now or never.
“I’ll be a good opponent.”
The three headed hellhound approached with drool hanging from its mouth, wondering if the figure it saw would be a good supper, its eyes shining with hunger.
Tristan began laughing fearlessly, his left arm covered by an iron guard, as he extended it into the Gauntlet.
◆
It was early in the morning when Tristan decided to visit the “Goods Old Magician’s Shop”, which had decidedly few customers at the moment.
“Yo, monk”
“Tristan, I’ve told you this many times, my name’s Fujiwara.”
“That’s hard to say. Instead, look at this little guy.”
Tristan is a man who does exploration actively despite crossing into old age already.
Despite his age, he was renowned for his judgment, knife throwing, and agility, clearly he fits the job of Ranger suitably.
He was an old regular of the Good Old Magician’s Shop and he frequently comes to the store even now to get worrisome items appraised, often scarce goods of high quality.
The one on the counter looked like a singular small hand protector.
The Gauntlet.
Made of steel and meant to cover the wrist and fingers, this one had a Ranger’s or Thieves’ orientation, emphasizing finger movement and protection.
“That there was found on a skeleton, a quite strong one. Of course, I took it impolitely.”
“Hmm.”
“How is it?”
“You’ve got something good.”
The reason Fujiwara said it was good was the engraving around the wrist portion.
Shaped like a cross, it was proof it was sanctified, though the mark itself meant nothing.
In most cases something Sanctified was used for good, to subdue bandits or monsters, and was blessed by the church. Something of this sort is nearly Good Granting Tool quality, or sometimes higher.
“Look,”
Fujiwara touched the gauntlet, muttering the spell of transfer and discarded its concealment.
From his fingers poured blue strips, gradually spreading on the surface of the dark gray gauntlet.
It was certainly a Granting Tool.
Since it’s one from the Temple, it’s limited to prayer types- recovery, purging undead, and Buffs.
Turning it over, Fujiwara could see how dirty it was, nearly becoming black, especially near the cuff.
That seems to be dried blood.
The prior owner likely cut their palm of wrist to give it enough blood for healing or hemostasis, so the Gauntlet likely has these capabilities.
“Because of this much blood being required, it’s indeed likely for healing.”
“Is it of the Law of Healing?”
Tristan admires it with wide open eyes.
A Gauntlet of Healing was a tool that could heal wounds, and even the part from which you give blood would be soothed.
Unlike healing potions, it’s effects were quite high, and the overall survival rate jumps to unheard of positions to which it is an item parties search for and that are competed over heavily.
“Even if the person that owns it is a moron, it’ll lighten the burden.”
“…Hold on now”
“Hehe”
Tristan went out to the back yard to kill time drinking coffee with Anemone, while Fujiwara decided to immediately prepare for appraisal.
◆
Tristan was looking around the shop, killing time with coffee in his hand.
In the past the store had a tinge of fog and smoky incense because of the prior owner’s hobbies, but now it looks and smells refreshing. He wondered if Anemone was spreading about Cypress.
The goods of the store are casually divided into many different types on display. Although proper high ranking items are carefully placed in the glass cases, the store was generally laid back in its sorting.
After a long while of drinking Coffee, the monk Fujiwara returns with the Gauntlet.
“So, what is that thing?”
“As expected, an arm guard of healing. I’m hesitating as to whether it’s Good or Luxury Quality, but I think the latter is correct.”
Fujiwara’s face was rather glum, though.
Clearly that was not all.
“I’m guessing I can’t use it?”
“No, you meet the Qualification more than enough.”
“Thou veteran warriors, offer much of your remaining life up ―― The world will close your wounds, set your bones, and return everything to you, like a Spring of Life.”
Fujiwara recited it from memory like a sort of poetry.
These were the summarized contents of the magic circuit, with the early half being the conditions.
Of course, Tristan’s old friend is excellent.
No matter where he looks in Labyrinth City, there’s not a single appraiser who could get it done this fast.
“Looks like this grandfather is qualified to use it.”
“No, I’m afraid it’s the Compensation. It’s rather nasty.
“Offer much of your remaining life up.”
Trading the scant life expectancy of a senile person for the curing of an injury, even if not explained, is indeed a rather nasty thing.
“In exchange for that life expectancy, a great deal of magic is released, but there is a danger of not having enough left and hindering oneself.”
“…”
“It’s unsigned, so the exact intention can’t be found, but it may be made especially for an old soldier who was willing to die in exchange for the healing, as a great accomplishment.”
“That’s appalling. I can at least use it once, right?”
“I can’t guarantee it.”
“Shit.”
Tristan snatched the gauntlet from Fujiwara, placing it onto his arm rapidly. Indeed, the fingertips and wrist are fully free to move, even in battle it would not slow one down or be annoying.
“It’s Evil.”
“…Even still, it’s a decent equipment.”
Fujiwara approached with a reproachful face.
“Uh, monk,”
“It’s Fujiwara”
“When a man dies, he dies. If I was afraid of that, I would have never become a Seeker.”
“I understand, I won’t say any more.”
He said while pouting like a sulky classmate. Clearly he thought this was regrettable, but there was no point in dying one way or another, by the fault of this gauntlet or otherwise.
There seemed to be the shape of a young boy in this seen. Tristan thought if his son was here, he’d look an awfully lot like Fujiwara. Tristan laughed, “He became a boring man”.
◆
“Gurururururu”
It was being strangled by the neck, drooling on Tristan while he struggled to beat it off of him in agony. It backed away and did not attempt to dive in any more.
The troublesome monster dissolved into the darkness, sinking in and moving around. When a person holds one down, it can seal the monster’s ability.
“Gu, u,”
Tristan put forth his whole strength, tightening with a ‘Gichigichi’, while the Hellhound was peeling the whites of its eyes for an opportunity to attack, with him shaking it off whenever it failed.
The dark shape chose a good time, lashing out and attacking his thigh. Tristan was shocked, trying not to scream and attract more attention.
Finally, he managed to stab it, the Hellhound convulsing on the carpet covered in blood. Tristen was glad the fight finally ended, noting that his power wasn’t reduced and making sure it died.
“Fuu,”
Tristan fell forward for a while, smoothing his rough breathing.
Truly, the gauntlet’s power was admirable.
It restored the leg that had been broken from the pitfall in the blink of an eye, to an extent he could run, let alone walk.
The effect even continued through the battle, healing attacks the hellhound unleashed.
It’s to the extent a dreadful cut was blocked, and a bite to the bone was already closed to the point not even a nail could get in.
He suddenly felt a surge of weariness. The magic swirling in his body would be the cause. The power of healing wouldn’t be satisfied with only this, though.
He wondered how long it had shaved off.
Several months? Several years?
Could it possibly be decades, with how cold he felt?
After this, would abnormal changes occur to his body? That would be awfully hateful, if he could even return to the surface safely. He smiled dejectedly.
“…Hn?”
He suddenly noticed something shining from the corner of his eye.
It looked something like a drop item, but he had never seen one of that shape before.
It looked like a sphere atop a pedestal, no larger than could be held in a palm. He had seen many items in the decades of dungeon life he’d had, but nothing similar to it.
Tristan decided to bring it back with him, as his intuition was telling him to.
A souvenir.
Stuffing it in the softest part of his sack, Tristan wondered if it was a Granting Tool. He decided to immediately show it to him upon leaving the Dungeon.
“I wonder why this has never been seen before, let’s see what it is”
Forgetting the situation of being lost alone, Tristan now had a good mood, grinning.
After fifteen hours he finally collapses on the ground of the surface, decrepit as he is he yet continues without dying.
◆
Discrimination Ticket “Healing Gauntlet (Luxury)”
“Thou veteran warriors, offer much of your remaining life up ―― The world will close your wounds, set your bones, and return everything to you, like a Spring of Life.”
In order to perform combat without hesitation, it can heal scratches and wounds on the fly with no priest, an item Warriors covet.
Effect, equivalent to a Priest’s prayer, healing wounds ranging from grazes to deep cuts without a single scars in but a moment.
Has no effects on pre-existing medical defects, but it also has a rare ability that overturns that disadvantage.
This item is popular and is said to give a survival rate that is unheard of, so much so that competitions take place over them and parties are arranged around them.
