Perience landed nimbly on the hard stone floor of the pit, sending up another wave of dust. One of the villagers, holding onto one end of a rope that dangled into the pit Pion had fallen into yesterday.

“Is everything alright down there? Any monsters? Is the rope doing fine?”

“Yup! The rope held! No baddies down ‘ere! Alls well n’ good!”

It was the morning after, and Pion still had not emerged from the dungeon. Either she was having a really great time down there, or he’d have to assume the worst and perform a dungeon cleanup, which he really did not want to have to do. Hoping for the best, he stepped towards the staircase, staring down into its unfathomable depths. He hesitated before taking a big breath.

“Is everythin’ okay down there? Can you hear me? Are you still alive???”

For a moment, no response. Can’t be. She was so strong too, and the one time he decided they could go into a dungeon solo they died? The adventurer profession saw many men succumb to the rigors of battle, whether from monsters, traps, or criminal gangs looking to take out their anger on someone. For a seasoned swordsman like himself, Perience had seen a lot of people dead. That was just how the line of work went. But every time it always hit him a bit harder. He was always a little bit stronger but it was never enough. Some of those he guided would die and there was nothing he could do about it.

Perience turned away from the entrance, which proved to be his lucky break of the day, as a massive spider’s corpse was hurled up the staircase with such force he could feel the wind whip his cheek. The big ol thing landed heavily in the great big pit, making a disgusting squishing noise. Upon closer inspection, the head of the beast was blown clean off, following the also very mauled torso. The proper reaction was staring at the thing incredulously. This thing lived in the dungeon? And Pion killed it? He didn’t even need to ask, watching Pion climb up the stairs with measured steps shortly thereafter.

“Congratulations on your solo dungeon elimination…”

“Thank you.”

She didn’t even bother to continue the conversation, opting instead to just begin climbing out of the pit. Her intelligence was astounding, but her emotional ineptitude was clear as day. Pion sulked like a child would, performing her tasks with a generously unnecessary amount of force.

The reason behind her relative unhappiness was of course the lack of interesting findings in Arane’s body. The corpse was much weaker than the living creature it once was, perhaps indicating the lost effect of the [Spider Queen]’s skills. Only skills would be able to provide a bug this size sufficient power and speed to battle the indigenous humans. There were no wacky new organs to analyze either; all the cells of her body simply absorbed mana instead of requiring ATP from normal sources. This kind of adaptation made sense, as the deeper she went the more dense mana tended to become, as she found in her mining expedition.

On that topic, the quest was a relative success. After using the nanos to burrow through dirt and stone, the excavation went much more smoothly, yielding a significant reserve of excess nanobots, as well as a Basic Ballistic Pistol, a Basic Combat Drone, a couple Basic Fabricator and Harvester Drones, and a Drone Commander to control the lot. It would take the burden off of Pion’s processors and improve their autonomy while she was gone. For now they would hold down the fort while she went to claim the rewards of the Worm Extermination from the Guild.

She did worry somewhat about the performance of the Basic Combat Drone. Armed with only a small beam turret, any creature with an extreme resistance to heat may be able to destroy it and plunder the dungeon. Based on the surrounding area there should not be anything strong enough to resist, but circumstances always changed. It was best to prepare for the unexpected, after all.

Hopefully the harvester drones would collect enough materials and assemble enough defenses before anyone could exploit her new vulnerable base of operations. Though then there was the issue of providing consistent power and upkeep of all her little minions and it was all just so unnecessary.

“We should depart towards the city immediately to collect the reward for subjugation.”

“Way ahead of ya. The carts are already prepped and ready to go. Before that, you should do something about the body. Letting it decompose could attract more monsters and breed plague, not to mention the smell.”

She had already pored over the body in detail and found not much of use. There was little point in harvesting materials from a body that depended on skills to present any reasonable threat.

“What is the most optimal solution for disposing of unwanted monster corpses?”

“Well generally you can send a request to the disassemblers who work for the main guild back in town, and they’ll take apart the beast for a fee. They’ll even buy the parts if they’re rare or in particularly good condition.”

Perience eyed the massive corpse and the comparatively small carts they were using for travel, exhaling and stretching.

“It is recommended that you lift heavy objects with your legs, not your back.”

Perience groaned in anticipation of excessive manual labor.

Many people considered alchemy as a fine art, one that must be approached with perfected finesse and a keen intuition. They would slave over their desks with shaking hands, trying to find the optimal balance of ingredients to create a flawless brew. Emis thought himself smarter than that. To him, the true time and tested way to create a potion was to follow his instincts: a thinly veiled excuse to throw stuff together and perform damage control afterwards.

Such was his personal philosophy. Do now, think later. He was glad for it, since it led him to what he had become today. Could things have gone better if he had simply been luckier? If he had taken a different path? Acted more cautiously? He assuaged himself with the assurance that had he followed an alternate road, he likely would have ended up a pencil pusher or a cooped up alchemical researcher, entirely out of touch with the world.

Despite this, he did not particularly want to go back to being an adventurer. He had embellished the idea of roaming through verdant green forests, past great mountains that pierced the sky, across oceans and seas, and into the deepest dungeons, ever since he first heard about them from his parents. Only after doing battle with hundreds of beasts and travelling with a myriad of parties over his multi-year career did the illusion of an illustrious future fighting baddies and saving the world crumble into dust.

Which was why he dreaded seeing clipboards.

While most other brewers would cower behind their counters the moment they were in any semblance of danger, Emis always carried around a belt of utility potions for a whole range of situations. After learning how to throw a bottle properly over a couple years, he knew how best to support allies and inflict great pain on his enemies. All this meant he was very useful as a soldier.

A war asset.

The beastkin countries at the borders always reported victories against the ever present darkness that threatened to topple the current order. The four great human nations told stories of how the void was pushed back every day, and that they would likely see it defeated within their lifetimes. Most were placated by this answer. However, for someone who witnessed what really went on at the front, it could not be further from the truth.

For every two steps forward they’d take one step back. For every victory they scored against the endless hordes there would be something new to replace them, to put them on the backfoot. Someday the day would come when the king would call for all hands on deck, pulling people from all walks of life to defend their nation from the void. And he would have to go back.

So when the bell above his door jingled and he looked up from his work to see a formally dressed butler clutching a clipboard, he flinched.

“Greetings, sir. What-what is the purpose of your visit to my humble establishment?”

The proper decorum was always required when speaking to those of higher stature. Failing to do so could ruffle the feathers of the nobles, who would claim disrespect and find some way to make life harder for him.

“I am under orders from the mayor to Request your participation and assistance as an independent mercenary under the banner of the Chappie Kingdom to support the military in a frontline healer role, for the good of our great country.”

Skill [Underlying Intention] took effect. Whereas a bystander might hear a polite summons on behalf of the mayor, what Emis understood was that he would be thrown into the thick of war again, against his will. He could practically hear the quotation marks around “Request”.

“It… would be a pleasure. To defend the nation against the void again.”

The butler looked at him questioningly.

“No no, none of that. The void is in remission. The city desires you to fight in the upcoming war against the Hammer Tribes.”

Emis was dumbfounded. Glad he wouldn’t have to repeat his earlier years, but still very confused.

“But we are not officially at war with them. The most they have done is send occasional skirmishes our way.”

The butler gently placed an official declaration of war document on the countertop for Emis to peruse.

“We are now.”