Dungeon, Upper Floors, Floor 9, Stairway Passage.
Leon stumbled out of the passage looking like he'd lost a bar fight with a freight train. He slumped against the wall, head tilted back, sucking air in ragged gulps. Deep inside his skull, something throbbed with a pain that defied description, twisting his face with every pulse.
"First time... pushing my Mind that hard, refining that much magic in one go." His voice came out raw. "Nearly fried myself."
He fumbled through his supply pack with clumsy hands, yanked the oak stopper off a test tube, and poured the orange liquid down his throat.
Name: Magic Potion (Mind Recovery Elixir)
Origin: Orario
Type: Elixir
Effect: Restores Mind. Eliminates mental fatigue.
Notes: Orange solution, packaged in a test tube with an oak cork stopper. Base price 10,000 valis, subject to sharp market fluctuations. An indispensable luxury for any self-respecting mage.
The costly potion slid down his throat and its effects spread fast.
Leon closed his eyes. A cool, spring-water clarity washed through his mind, smoothing the jagged edges of the headache, pressing it down to something bearable.
Only then did he let out a long breath. His body went slack, sliding down the wall until he sat on the cold stone floor. The staff clattered from his grip and rolled into the corner.
"First trip to Floor 10. Ran into Orcs. Gave it everything. Couldn't win."
He shrugged.
Jeanne stood over him, Banner Lance planted, one hand on her hip, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You take one hit and immediately call for retreat. I honestly don't know what to say. Should I criticize your lack of fighting spirit, or praise your... cautious pragmatism?"
Leon rolled his eyes. Easy for her to talk. She wasn't the one without a broken passive skill jacking up every stat she had. Holy Maiden was practically cheating.
With that skill permanently active, Jeanne's effective power was roughly one full tier above her actual Level.
Level 1 beginner became Level 1 veteran.
Level 1 veteran became Level 2 beginner.
On paper, Jeanne was a freshly blessed rookie, a brand-new Level 1 with zero seniority. In practice, she hit like a seasoned adventurer at the top of Level 1.
Factor in her battle-hardened technique and the combat instincts forged across countless fights, and that estimate climbed even higher.
That was why she could handle multiple Orcs at once with room to spare while he played artillery from the back.
"My dear Holy Maiden," he shot back, utterly drained, "those were Orcs. Forget that they outclass me in raw potential. Their defense and vitality are absurd. I burned through everything I had to barely kill one, and my head nearly exploded in the process."
"You know how the Dungeon operates. It fights dirty. The second we show weakness, it piles on. One slip, and we'd be dealing with reinforcements, traps, who knows what else. By that point, running wouldn't even be an option."
"So I cut our losses early. We go back to the surface, prepare properly, and come back when we're ready. That's the smart play."
Jeanne pressed her lips together, considered it for a moment, and recognized that his situation was nothing like hers. She nodded, a touch of apology in her expression. "You're right. I wasn't thinking about it from your position. Sorry, Leon."
He waved it off. The potion had done its work, and most of his faculties were back online. He pushed himself up and retrieved his staff.
"We'll spend the rest of today on Floor 9. Finish updating the map while we're at it."
"Sounds good. Your call."
...
Compared to the large-class nightmares on Floor 10, the ordinary small-fry on Floor 9 were a completely different story. Leon tore through them like a hot knife through butter.
Jeanne held the front, he hammered from the rear. Classic tank-and-mage formation, and against Floor 9 trash mobs it was borderline therapeutic.
"Scorch!"
"Scorch!"
"Scorch!"
Wherever the staff pointed, nothing survived.
Every flare of the magic crystal snuffed out another monster. A cut-short shriek, a sizzle, the smell of something burning. Next target.
"Now this is the good stuff."
His massive Mind reserves turned Scorch into what was essentially a ranged auto-attack. Anything in his line of fire ceased to exist. One spell, one kill.
And if one wasn't enough, he'd throw another.
Jeanne stood at his side, expression neutral, eyes scanning the perimeter.
The brief taste of Floor 10's intensity had changed something in him. Back on Floor 9, the constant white-knuckle tension was gone. He moved with an ease he hadn't had that morning.
"That's growth, Leon," Jeanne said softly.
The two of them steamrolled through Floor 9's side routes and chambers, clearing and mapping everything in their path.
As the hours passed and the kill count rose, the Magic Stone Pouch at Leon's hip swelled fatter and fatter.
He finished carving out the last Magic Stone, flicked it into the pouch, and hefted the heavy bag a few times. The stones clinked together, bright and musical. His eyes nearly disappeared behind his grin.
"A few bumps along the way, but today's haul absolutely earned its keep." His voice was light, almost giddy. "One day's income just matched weeks of solo grinding."
"Jackpot!" He couldn't help adding.
Jeanne watched his unfiltered joy and smiled despite herself.
First real adventure. Not bad at all, she thought.
Leon glanced at his brass pocket watch, snapped the lid shut, and swept his hand forward with theatrical grandeur. "Quitting time. Let's go home."
...
The return trip was smooth sailing compared to the descent.
The map was second nature by now. They wove through the maze of corridors, found the main route quickly, and climbed the stairs toward the upper floors.
Floor 9. Floor 8. Floor 7. As the numbers dropped, adventurers began appearing in thicker clusters around them.
Leon caught Jeanne's eye and gave a small nod.
They kept their profiles low, packs bulging but posture unremarkable, blending into the stream of adventurers flowing toward the surface.
As they walked, both of them let their ears wander.
"Heard the news? Astraea Familia made a real scene on Floor 7 today."
"Yeah, that story's all over the upper floors by now. Word is Evilus has been getting under their skin, so they went down to Floor 7 to blow off steam on the monsters."
"Seriously? Those girls didn't look like they had pent-up frustration to me. Especially Scarlet Harnel. Can you even picture her being upset?"
"I mean, sure, maybe not her. But Yamato Rindou and Sly Mouse? Definitely."
The adventurer paused, glanced around nervously, then leaned in close to his companion and dropped his voice to a murmur. "I actually heard that those two..."
"Shh! Shut up! You got a death wish? You can't just say that kind of thing!"
"Uh..."
Both men clamped their mouths shut.
The conversation died, and Leon and Jeanne quietly pulled their attention back.
Beneath the shadow of his hood, behind the mask, his eyes met hers. The same thought crossed both their minds at once.
Looks like the justice Familia took the blame for us.
So it seems.
I was worried the Guild would come knocking about that Killer Ant Monster Party. Now we don't even need an excuse. Astraea Familia, doing us a solid without even knowing it.
...
The unspoken exchange passed in a glance. They fell back into silence and let the current of bodies carry them upward.
About an hour later, they stepped into the cavernous adventurer plaza on Floor 1.
The weight on his shoulders was real, tangible. Thinking about what was packed into those bags, Leon kept his expression carefully blank, knuckles pale where they gripped the straps, while something quiet and relieved settled in his chest.
The entire way up, he'd worked to look exactly the same as always. Unremarkable. Forgettable. The last thing he needed was the wrong pair of eyes picking him out.
He didn't fear trouble. He hated it. Especially the kind that could've been avoided if he'd just kept his head down. Getting targeted for being flashy would make him feel like an idiot.
For an adventurer whose fists weren't big enough yet, staying under the radar was survival. Doubly so in an Orario crawling with every shade of predator and opportunist.
They passed through Babel's grand archway and stood on the stone steps, looking out over the city bathed in evening light.
Along the distant walls, an orange sun sank toward the horizon, pouring its last warmth across the rooftops.
A breeze caught the edges of their cloaks.
Sunset gilded the road home.
"We're back."
Leon's voice carried the quiet weight of a long day, finally set down.