After tallying up their respective gains for the week, the two spent a while bantering and chatting before turning their attention to organizing gear and supplies.
The past week of training had transformed Leon in ways both measurable and not. His Basic Abilities had climbed, yes, but the softer gains mattered just as much: technique, experience, combat instincts. All of it courtesy of Jeanne's systematic instruction.
The foundation she'd drilled into him was solid, even in such a short time. Combined with his expanded arsenal of magic, upgraded equipment, and now a powerhouse vanguard fighting at his side, he finally had the confidence to push deeper.
Tomorrow's Dungeon dive would raise the bar.
His target: the tenth floor.
"Reaching Floor 10 and back will take several hours with our current strength. If monster density spikes or we hit unexpected complications, longer. That means we need to pack food and water for stamina, plus whetstones and maintenance oil for our equipment."
Back when he'd been skulking around the upper floors, consumables like these had been optional. At Floor 10, where monsters hit harder and gear degraded faster, they became the difference between maintaining combat effectiveness and falling apart mid-expedition.
And beyond survival, proper maintenance extended the lifespan of their equipment.
The longer they could go without replacing weapons and armor, the more valis stayed in their pockets.
Higher quality gear meant bigger savings.
"Rope, waterskins, lantern, maps, and other miscellaneous items go in the utility pack. Antidotes, Potions, Magic Potions, and every other type of restorative gets counted and sorted carefully. These are lifelines. High-performance emergency bandages go in the hip pouch where you can reach them, so you can grab one single-handed."
The living room floor disappeared beneath a sprawl of gear and supplies.
Playing the role of "veteran adventurer," Leon walked Jeanne through every detail of expedition prep. She crouched beside him, arms wrapped around her knees, listening with sharp focus and nodding along.
She understood. For an adventurer, combat was only part of the job. Knowledge, experience, and preparation carried equal weight.
Especially when exploring a Dungeon that was alive. It shifted constantly, brimming with the unknown, and accidents could strike without warning.
Case in point: when danger appeared or a situation turned bad, experienced adventurers rarely chose to fight first. They relied on hard-won instincts to avoid the threat entirely and stay alive. That was always the optimal play.
You only fought to the death when every other option was gone.
The two worked until evening before everything was sorted and stowed. A quick dinner, baths in rotation, then early to bed. Tomorrow demanded everything they had.
...
The next morning. Dawn.
At four o'clock, Orario still slept beneath a blanket of silence. Only the occasional birdsong pierced the pre-dawn stillness.
Already awake and washed, the two sat at the table eating breakfast.
"One last check before we leave. Weapons, armor, pack. Make sure nothing's been missed." Leon's tone was serious. "Thorough preparation isn't optional when it comes to Dungeon exploration. It's an iron rule."
"Right." Jeanne nodded firmly.
...
Back in the living room, they suited up piece by piece.
Jeanne wore a deep blue clerical dress over black knee-high stockings as her base layer, with custom-fitted silver plate armor, etched with elegant engravings, over the top.
When she stood fully armed, Leon's eyes lit up.
"Now that's the bearing of the Holy Maiden."
Pink crept into her cheeks. She shoved his face away as he leaned closer. "What are you staring at..."
"Can't help it. I like what I see."
"Pervert!"
...
With their gear and packs secured, they stepped out the front door just as the first sliver of sunlight kissed the city walls.
As the vanguard, Jeanne traveled light for maximum mobility: armor, cloak, a few hip pouches, and her primary and secondary weapons.
The bulk of their supplies, logistics, and the empty pack reserved for loot fell to Leon, who served as rearguard and support.
His loadout was more complete than anything he'd carried as a solo adventurer. A black hooded cloak concealed the light mail and leather armor beneath, along with an array of pouches at his waist. Strapped to the large pack on his back, the Scholar's Staff rested in its maintenance wrap alongside a small round shield. A quiver and shortbow hung across the small of his back. At his hip, a leather sheath held a backup short sword and a Carving Knife.
Fully kitted out, he looked like Link.
His current Basic Abilities handled the weight without issue, though. It wouldn't slow him down in a fight, especially now that Jeanne shouldered the close-combat pressure, leaving him free to maneuver as ranged support.
"Let's go."
"Mm."
They locked the door and left the quiet residential streets behind, their figures weaving through tree-lined alleys still cool with morning shade.
Before long, they stepped onto Adventurer Street.
Gazing at the iconic grey-white edifice looming at the far end, Leon turned to Jeanne. "First stop is Guild Headquarters to get you registered. After that, your first Dungeon expedition begins."
...
At this hour, the normally bustling Adventurer Street was sparse and quiet, only a handful of figures dotting its length.
They walked along the clean, flat grey-white flagstones, passing the occasional adventurer. Some hurried along with purpose, heads down. Others ambled at an easy pace, stopping and starting. The variety of people gave Jeanne a more visceral sense of what the adventurer community looked like up close.
"All sorts mixed together, good and bad alike..." she murmured, half to herself.
The alley they'd emerged from wasn't far from Guild Headquarters. In under ten minutes, they stood before its imposing entrance.
Leon scanned the notice board by the doors, checking for any important updates among the posted commissions and announcements. Finding nothing urgent, he led Jeanne into the relatively quiet main hall.
With the early hour, few people were at the counters filing commissions or browsing the notice board for intel.
Come the morning rush, they'd have been standing in line.
Leon kept his voice low as he walked Jeanne through the Guild's operations and key points to remember, guiding her toward the service counter.
Then a flash of red hair stopped him mid-step.
"Huh? Rose? Were you on the night shift?"
Behind the counter, a red-haired young woman with an impressive figure was slumped over the desk, dozing. Exhaustion radiated off her in waves. She looked about Leon's age, and even half-asleep she carried a certain mature, intellectual air.
At the sound of her name, she cracked one lazy eye open. When she registered Leon's face, handsome even under all that gear, she blinked.
Then she propped herself up, stretched into an elegant but deeply weary yawn, and spoke in a voice dripping with drowsy irritation. "I was wondering who'd be stupid enough to wake me up this early... and of course it's you."
She glanced at the Magic Stone clock on her desk. "The sun's not even up. It's not six yet. Since when are you an early riser?"
"Uh, Rose, looks like the night shift's been rough on you. And your mood." Leon tried to keep it light.
Rose took her time smoothing her slightly disheveled hair, then crossed her arms and let out a cold laugh. "Of course I'm in a bad mood. Especially when some inconsiderate jerk wakes me from a night shift nap, and I open my eyes to find it's that same irresponsible scumbag."
Leon's stomach dropped. This is bad.
Jeanne's eyes narrowed. Her grip tightened on the Banner Lance. She looked at Leon, then at Rose, then back at Leon.
"Hey, hey! Rose, you can eat whatever you want but you can't just say whatever you want!" He dropped his voice to an urgent hiss. "Last time was a total accident! And for the record, you were the one who got blackout drunk and dragged me to your place! I'm the victim here!"
"You have the nerve to bring that up?!" Rose's voice shot up an octave, sharp as a she-wolf whose tail had been stepped on.
Feeling the gleeful, gossip-hungry stares gathering around them, and the whispered commentary building like a tide, Leon's panic doubled. "Rose, keep it down! At least leave me some dignity, would you?"
"Oh, you still care about dignity?"
"..."
"Don't pull me..."
"Let go, you scumbag!"
"*... bastard!"
"..."
Spectacular. Truly spectacular.
Fresh drama before breakfast. The growing audience of rubberneckers couldn't have been happier.
Shame the scoundrel in question seemed to know how to handle himself, because the little scene was brought under control before it could really escalate.
...
Leon mopped cold sweat from his brow and let out a long, heavy breath.
So a bit of his... colorful history had been exposed in front of Jeanne. But it was fine. No real damage done.
A man's past was a man's past. Everyone made mistakes.