ch121-ch140 · 134-ch134

Chapter 134: Mia-san's Past Part 1

SIDE: Mia (【Blacksmith】)

I've been small ever since I was little.

Growing up in the countryside, that alone made me a target for mockery.

Maybe as a rebellion against it, my pronoun became 'ore' and my speech turned rough.

Even so, things were fine back in the countryside.

I stopped being underestimated, and every time I showed up the boys who'd mocked me, we'd end up getting along...

(I was playing with the boys more than the girls, more than...)

The trouble started after I went on to high school.

Small as I am, my grades back in middle school were good.

From a countryside school to one in the city...

I didn't know a single soul.

The boys there mocked me just the same—but just the same, we got close right away.

Same as always, I spent my days in the boys' group.

That was probably where I went wrong.

(I understand it now.)

The girls started bullying me.

'She's sucking up to the boys'—that's how they took it.

Nobody said it to my face.

Being ignored was the mild version—some mornings I'd come to school and find my things broken, or scribbles all over my desk, and toward the end they were writing insults about me on the blackboard.

Another problem was that I couldn't tell who was behind it.

I had no clue.

The girls banded together as one and froze me out.

And once that happened, the boys just watched and laughed.

Fresh from the countryside, I had no acquaintances outside my class, and even if I'd wanted to ask for help, the whole school was against me.

(The whole school—every last bit of it...)

The moment I grabbed some random girl to get her side of things, she'd run and call a teacher.

In the teachers' eyes, I was the bad kid—rough language first and foremost, and worse conduct besides.

It'd get spun like I was the one picking the fight, and I'd be the one at fault.

'Everyone says so.'

Not one word of my side ever got through.

Unable to trust anyone anymore, I stopped going to school in less than a year.

(No. I couldn't go anymore.)

I managed to keep my parents fooled for a while.

They only noticed after I'd actually stopped going.

They fought hard for me, I hear—the ringleader student and the teachers were all disciplined—but it was too late.

Because by then, I could never set foot in that school again.

When I heard the ringleader's name, I didn't recognize it—and I don't remember it now.

Apparently she was in love with one of the boys I'd become friendly with.

(In the end, we never found out which boy it was, either...)

I stopped leaving the house.

My parents were kind and never blamed me, and honestly, people scared me by then, so I leaned on that kindness.

But the days of being unable to do anything hurt too.

I knew I was a burden on my parents, and I wanted to do something about it.

But not knowing what to do, a year went by—until I came across a certain rumor online.

(The dungeons opening up to the public.)

Magic stones had already taken hold as power infrastructure, and our family car had just switched from gasoline to a battery-swap model.

Magic stones were expensive and worth real money.

Education didn't matter, and inside the dungeon—with levels and stats—there was no difference between men and women.

Better yet, anyone eighteen or older qualified.

There were plenty of dungeons—if anything, there weren't enough people.

Even me—high school dropout, middle school my highest education—could do it. That's what I thought.

From then on, my days were spent chasing that rumor.

Before long it became news, and then it was all over TV.

And then the date for the dungeons' opening to the public was set.

"I'm gonna be an adventurer."

When I said that, my parents objected fiercely.

It'd be a life-risking job. Naturally.

But I talked them into it. Crying the whole time.

I couldn't go on like this—I wanted to work and repay my parents for everything...

We talked it over again and again, and right up to the eve of my eighteenth birthday my father kept telling me to reconsider, but my mind never changed.

Everything's going to work out from here.

That's what I believed...

(Reality wasn't nearly so kind...)

【Equipment Weight Reduction】.

Simply put, a skill that makes the weight of your equipped gear feel lighter.

That was the special skill the dungeon had given me.

It wasn't one of those skills the Adventurer's Association had pre-announced as 'instant hire' material, nor a combat-useful one like 【Beast Transformation】, 【Toughness】, or 【Idaten】.

One search turned it up immediately, so someone must have gotten it before me.

In other words, a dime-a-dozen trash skill.

(Tripped up right out of the gate.)

Even so, I think things went fairly well after that.

Among the jaw-dropping crowd that gathered for the beginner orientation at headquarters, I killed a goblin and got my first magic stone.

My parents still have it displayed like a treasure to this day.

...It's a goblin magic stone, you know?

From the next day on, I worked up the courage to answer pickup party recruitment calls.

Pickup parties—parties formed for a single day.

Plenty of people treated me like a kid because of how I look, but I took down goblins without a hitch, and our climbs went smoothly.

My weapon was a spear.

I'd figured it was the only weapon that let someone as small as me claim the reach advantage.

It was allowance-level money, but I was earning every day.

When I treated my parents to a meal out with that money, I was the one who nearly got emotional.

I could finally start repaying them...

(Things went well right up until I cleared 【Floor 10】, I'd say.)

About two weeks along, I was still joining pickup parties like always.

That day, since an adventurer who was already Single-Rank had joined us, our goal became breaking through Floor 10.

The Single-Rank was a pretty capable sort, and the five of us worked together and brought down the Minotaur without a hitch.

On my first-ever job selection screen: 【Blacksmith】, known in those days as a rare job.

For the record: considered rare back then, but nowadays it's known that apprenticing under a 【Blacksmith】 on Floor 1 for even a month makes it show up.

Most production jobs work that way.

But I didn't know any of that, and I lunged for 【Blacksmith】.

A trade to live by.

I think that's what I was thinking.

The dungeons had been open to the public for mere months.

The information circulating was far too thin...

(That was right about when the death toll inside the dungeons began to climb...)

The crews who'd been chasing the fastest dungeon clears since the day the doors opened.

Every last one who reached Floor 30 ran out of strength and never came back.

They'd prioritized speed over everything, so their levels must not have been enough...

Thinking about it now, reaching Floor 30 in mere months was madness—but back then, famous athletes, martial artists, and even streamers were competing to get in on it.

And they all died...

Apparently neither the Association nor the government saw it coming.

Clear speeds that were simply too fast...

Ironically, as criticism rained down on the Association and the government, a race kicked off over who would clear Floor 30 first.

A race with their lives on the line.

Ordinary citizens with no stake in adventuring—swayed by the dividends flowing out of the dungeons and ever-cheaper utility bills—raised no real objection, and the ruling party kept racking up landslide elections.

The First Dungeon Boom.

The high-water mark of the dungeon age.

(Everyone was drunk on the fever and gone a little crazy.)

Meanwhile, yours truly had hit a wall.

I couldn't beat orcs.

The only ones who could take an orc one-on-one were the people who'd picked melee combat jobs at Floor 10...

And with the ones pushing ahead dying in droves, party entry requirements got stricter by the day.

Me especially—I was barely half an orc's size, and production class on top of that.

Before long, nobody would even acknowledge me.

"I can carry your gear. I have the special skill 【Equipment Weight Reduction】."

I'd scrape together pocket change from goblins, or work as a porter—staying close and letting whatever EXP came my way add up.

Days like that wore on, until eventually even the porter calls stopped coming.

Ignored by the adventurers...

The ugly memories came rushing back.

Days like that stretched on and on.

I thought it was hopeless, over and over, but the thought of my parents' faces stopped me every time.

I'd just be a burden to them again.

...Anything but that.

Several more days passed.

Compared to before, I'd gotten used to being around people and could hold a normal conversation.

I'd just started thinking maybe I could handle a convenience store job when—

"Would you form a party with me?"

A tall woman—like a model right off the page—had called out to me.