"Well then, commoner," the guy continued, "I just joined the guild today. I know what the rules say, so I'll just comply and do what's asked of me."
The kid pulled his hand back, but he didn't walk away.
"Really? There are plenty of quests on the board, but I need this one."
I took the sheet. The kid made an arrogant swipe for it, but all I had to do was lift it slightly to keep it out of his reach. With an attitude like that, unless he's seriously talented, he won't last long out in the wild.
"Hey, commoner! You'd better consider my station and hand over that paper if you know what's good for you!"
"What station? Are you the son of some chieftain or something?"
"U-uh... something like that."
Clearly he was hiding something—or maybe not. Someone that arrogant could easily be some noble brat, sick of being told what to do and out to prove he could handle things his own way. Or maybe he was just arrogant, hollow, and that was all there was to it. Still, his clothes made it obvious he wasn't the humble sort.
Even so, he kept pressing, and knowing this could drag on forever, I decided not to waste any more time. I threw out an offer to settle him down once and for all.
"How about a contest? Whoever gathers the most in the shortest time wins."
His expression shifted in an instant.
"Really, commoner? Challenge accepted! Prepare to be crushed by the great Cliff!"
"Fine. Simple enough."
"Cliff."
"Hm?"
"Remember that name well. When you lose, you'll have it in your mouth every single day of your life, cursing how easily you fell to someone of my caliber."
I raised an eyebrow. What kind of upbringing did this guy have? It was best not to dwell on it, so I just headed to the counter to register the quest.
"Find what you were looking for?" the receptionist asked.
"Yes, but I was wondering if we could turn it into a competition. As in, whoever gathers more wins, but both of us get the reward if we bring back the full quota."
"Ah. What you want is to form a party, right? In that case, sure."
"That's not what I asked."
"Sorry. Team or solo. Nothing in between."
I turned back to Cliff.
"Cliff, want to form a party?"
I pulled out my guild card and showed it to him.
"Think about it. We could both rank up from a single run. Wouldn't that be easier? It gets the job done faster."
"Clever of you, for someone dressed in rags. Fine, I'll allow it, but I'm the leader. Got it? You carry the load."
"Fine."
[I really can't stand this guy...]
Apparently, the voice in my head had developed a mind of its own, and now it had taken a disliking to someone. It had never shown this side before, leaving a strange sensation behind my eyes. Cliff was definitely insufferable, but maybe he'd prove useful.
*We don't know enough about him yet. He might surprise us, Ayam.*
[I certainly hope so!]
"'Cliff and the Others.' How does that sound? Simple, I know, but it makes it clear what kind of group this is with me in it."
"No. Pick something else."
Truth be told, I had no idea why I cared so much about the name of an adventuring party.
"Nothing inspires confidence quite like my name, don't you think?"
"Really? As far as I can tell, we're just fighting over the same scrap of paper. We're in the same system now. Out here, your status is worthless."
Even if rank meant nothing, I still needed Cliff to feel invested. I spent a moment turning names over in my head. Nothing too dramatic, but not just the first random thought that popped up either. Something that would stroke his ego enough to keep him from complaining.
"How about 'Crimson Crest'?"
Cliff blinked, shifting his staff.
"Why that?"
"'Crimson' for my eyes, and 'Crest' for your heritage. Sounds like a coat of arms—worthy of a proper leader, don't you think?"
He didn't even try to hide his reaction. The skepticism melted right off his face, replaced by sheer satisfaction.
"Mmm... it does sound noble. Very well," he conceded. "But I'm designing the emblem. A crest deserves artwork worthy of the name."
Before we officially registered, Cliff pulled out a scrap of parchment. He was dead set on crafting a "unique" design, completely unnecessary as it was. Still, he threw himself into it with absolute gravity.
A few minutes later, he held up the finished sketch. It featured a crow and a grimoire. The bird carried the open tome mid-flight, ringed by an intricate magical crest that sent a fairly pointed message: all knowledge was bound within, borne aloft by another.
He managed to be arrogant even through his drawings.
"What? It's magnificent."
In the end, I let it pass, and we registered the party.
Was it really just ego with him? The way Cliff had drawn the crow and the grimoire, the meticulous detail, the needless passion poured into something as trivial as an emblem for a group that might disband tomorrow... maybe there was more to it.
Or maybe it was just another flavor of narcissism: "Whatever is mine must be entirely mine."
"Hey, Daiki. What happens if you win?"
"Hmm... you buy me a new cloak to replace these 'rags,' so we actually look like a decent team. Sound fair?"
"Mmm... fine. But if I win, you follow my orders without question."
Cliff paused, looking me up and down.
"Pretty bold for an outsider," he muttered. "Do you really think you're getting tailoring of this quality? You're either an idiot or painfully overconfident. Don't you know who I am?"
"Yes, I think so. Let's get moving."
"Fine..."
We headed straight out into the woods.
"We have two buckets here," I said. "All we have to do is fill them up and set them by that log. That's the whole challenge. Understood?"
Cliff let out a dry chuckle.
"Crystal clear. How convenient for you! I suppose you think that's how you'll keep pace with me, being a kid from the boonies."
He snatched up one of the pails.
"Don't worry," Cliff added. "I'll try not to finish too fast. It'd be humiliating if you lost within the first five minutes."
"Right."
How much time had slipped by? By that point, I'd lost track. I just sat on the log, staring up through the canopy. I'd gathered more than enough herbs, and well before the deadline, I was already parked on the fallen trunk, waiting for Cliff.
I pulled a crust of bread from my pouch and chewed it slowly, savoring it even if it had gone a bit stale. No complaints here. It was what little food I had left, and soon enough I'd have a fresh cloak, a handful of coin, and—if luck was on my side—another lead on where my brother had gone.
Leaves rustled, and Cliff strutted out from the brush with easy confidence, swaying slightly, eyes half-closed as if humming some private tune. His gaze hit me, dropped to the full bucket, snapped back to my face, and then began frantically darting across the undergrowth from side to side.
I hadn't even broken a sweat. Seeing me lounging there must have completely derailed him.
He just stood there, jaw slightly slack.
"I... what?"
Before he could pull himself together, a branch snapped deeper in the timber.
"What was that?"
"What's what, Daiki?"
[Daiki. On guard. Multiple signatures detected. They pose an immediate threat to your person.]
*I know, Ayam. Be quiet.*
There was no time to think. A hooded figure burst through the foliage, driving a blade straight for Cliff's throat.
"Ghh—!"
Before Cliff could even register the ambush, I sprang forward, sword drawn, and batted the strike downward. In the same motion, I drove the pommel hard into the assailant's ribs and shoved Cliff back with my off-hand to clear him from the line of fire.
"Run, Cliff!"
"No, Daiki! I'm not running—"
I ignored him, locking eyes with the hooded man.
"What are you after? A bucket of weeds?"
The man gave a curt shake of his head.
More men broke through the brush. Rather than waste breath on words, they fanned out, converging on me from three directions at once. Catching them flat-footed, I launched myself high into the air and unleashed a sweeping wave of flame that engulfed the flanks.
Dropping back down, I triggered a concussive burst beneath my feet to rocket forward and hit the dirt right in front of them.
The men writhed and cursed, frantically trying to smother the fire clinging to their clothes, but it was useless. That left only the three standing directly ahead. They were clearly rattled, but none of them offered a word of explanation.
"H-hey, Daiki..." Cliff's voice squeaked from behind. "I see a patrol guard heading this way. Mind if I take off?"
"What? Why?"
"No reason! I just screwed up once and I really don't want that specific guard catching me, all right?"
Cliff pivoted to bolt, but one of the men thrust out an arm, aiming straight at him.
"Is he the target?" I asked coldly. "Let him go, and I'll let you walk away from this."
The man didn't lower his arm.
Cliff took advantage of the standoff to sprint in the opposite direction. The swordsman lunged forward to intercept him, but I used his own momentum against him, cutting across his path and burying a brutal strike straight into his solar plexus.
The man folded and dropped like dead weight. His two remaining companions froze, taking an involuntary step back.
"Still not talking?"
Just two left now: a broad-shouldered brute and a scrawny kid whose hand was shaking around his dagger.
"Halt!"
A woman's voice cut through the trees behind me. She was alone. As she pulled off her helm and I caught sight of her face, the breath caught in my throat.
"...Mother? Is that you?"
What would she be doing in heavy armor like that...?
"Huh?"
No. It wasn't Mom. But the resemblance was terrifyingly close.