The road, the hills, the receding silhouette of Dragonspine behind us, and not a soul on the horizon. Bennett trudged beside me, head hung low, while a tiny, snoozing Rimuru sat perched on my shoulder, worn out from a hard day's work. Quite the scene.
For three weeks now, we've been a proper "elite squad" of adventurers. All two of us, plus a slime. Driven by the spirit of adventure, we've been tackling the local dungeons for anything interesting and, preferably, valuable. But, as you could probably guess from Bennett's gloomy face, luck hadn't exactly been on our side.
The first week was all about finding our rhythm. We took on simple commissions, like gathering alchemy herbs — barely hitting our quota, though the monsters we ran into along the way helped make up for the shortfall. We learned to fight as a pair and generally just got to know each other better. The second and third weeks were dedicated entirely to those dungeon delves the white-haired kid could talk my ear off about whenever we stopped to make camp.
But I should probably start by explaining what these so-called "dungeons" even are.
Based on the system's vague descriptions and my own faded memories of the game, a Dungeon is a sort of displaced slice of "reality" connected to a central hub my system lovingly calls the "The Sea of Quanta." In theory, this sea allows for travel between other, similar slices of reality. I know, it sounds pretty shaky, but it's the only working theory I've got. At least it explains some of the weirder things, like brand-new, unexplored dungeons suddenly appearing, or why they're filled with all sorts of useful junk that scholars are so desperate to get their hands on for their research into this phenomenon. Right, and let's not forget the monsters inhabiting them, who are universally hostile to any outsiders.
It also neatly lines up with the story Bennett told me — about how some old adventurer found him as a baby in a place like that and barely had the strength to carry him back to the city. No one ever found the kid's parents, so he was raised by a group of retired Guild members he called his "dads," first out of childish innocence and later, out of simple habit. Thinking back on it, it took all my moral fiber not to crack a joke about my companion having three whole fathers. Thankfully, reason won out over instinct, and I managed to keep my mouth shut. But jokes aside, I have no other logical explanation for how Bennett ended up there, let alone survived.
Getting back to the dungeons, they're generally sorted into three types: Domains of Trial, Hidden Palaces, and Wandering Domains. Though I suspect the real classification is far more complex.
The first is basically a monster arena. At the very end of it stands a petrified tree with giant spiders nesting in its roots. I've only caught a glimpse of them, and I have no desire to get better acquainted. On top of that, your time inside is limited; stay too long, and you get booted back to the entrance gate in the real world. The second type is a pocket of stability, a place where people tried to study how dungeons work and eventually just built shrines there. No time limit in those, though staying for more than a week is said to cause severe illness. The last type is no different from the second, except it shares features with the first. As you might have guessed, adventurers are mostly interested in the first and third types. Besides treasure, you can find rare materials there that are impossible to get anywhere else.
"Mark…" The voice of the white-haired adventurer, who had been suspiciously quiet the whole way back, cut through the silence.
"Hmm?" I grunted without turning my head. When he didn't continue, I added, "Look, if you're thinking that on top of my wide array of other talents I can also read minds, I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"Sorry about the spear."
"I'm telling you, don't sweat it," I said, mentally waving off the kid who was, for the tenth time, apologizing for the weapon that had broken on his watch.
To be fair, it was more of a mutual screw-up. We both decided to push deeper into the dungeon than we should have, but Bennett, who took the hit from those animated suits of armor, saw it differently. The bastards were too strong. We barely managed to kill one, and I heavily damaged the second by chucking my spear at it. While it was stunned, I grabbed the blond kid and we just booked it, leaving the dungeon unfinished.
It's a shame, sure, but the sheer number of rare monsters we fought more than makes up for the lack of a decent reward at the end. When you open a chest and a single head of cabbage is staring back at you — and it's not the first time — it really makes you question the meaning of existence, you know? For me, this setup was actually a net positive; I was leveling up faster, and my own power, which had started to plateau, was growing again. But Bennett, being more of a romantic at heart — raised on the tall tales of other adventurers bragging about their exploits in the tavern — took every failure personally, even if he tried to hide it behind a happy-go-lucky goofball persona. But no matter how strong a person's inner resolve is, everyone has a breaking point. I know that better than anyone. And Bennett… I look at him and it's like seeing a warped reflection of myself, just a few years younger and not yet quite so hateful of his own life.
"But if you're that determined to make it up to me," I started, "how about you tell me why you're so set on becoming a treasure hunter, and not, say, a monster hunter? You're clearly much better at the second one."
"The adventurers of Mondstadt have a legend," the kid said, his tone less like he was describing a fancy way to get himself killed and more like he was speaking of something noble and profound. "That for a worthy soul who gives their life in the pursuit of treasure and the world's secrets, Barbatos the Anemo Archon will compose a song that will be remembered for a thousand years."
…What was I just saying about him "not yet quite so hateful of his own life"? Yeah, I take that back.
"You know, it's not really my place to lecture you, but…" I stopped and turned to face my companion, who was trailing behind me. "Remember this one thing: human memory is a fleeting thing. And your death won't make anyone happy."
At the beginning of my little speech, Bennett tried to meet my eyes, but by the end, he just pressed his lips together and looked away. The last thing I wanted was to pry into the soul of a teenager I barely knew, but this was something he needed to hear. And, more importantly, it was something I needed to say. It felt like I was repaying a debt to a good person from my past.
We walked in silence until our next stop. We were each lost in our own thoughts, in no hurry to start a new conversation. Once we set up a proper camp, though, the uncomfortable topic gave way to a discussion about the envoys from Snezhnaya. By the time we got back to Mondstadt, they were scheduled to have arrived, along with a merchant ship from Fontaine. I was curious to see what goods it brought. We hadn't been grinding like mad for two weeks, clearing out dungeons and mowing down hordes of monsters, for nothing. Thinking about it, I find it kind of funny that I managed to turn my companion's bad luck into a genuine monster-farming exploit.
"I wonder what it's like… Snezhnaya," the white-haired adventurer mused, pronouncing the name with the wrong stress.
It was a strange quirk of Mondstadters; they seemed to unanimously love butchering words I found familiar, mixing up the stress or just mispronouncing them entirely. Funnily enough, anything and everything related to the distant, icy nation — common words, names, you name it — I heard in its original, correct form. At first, it created a weird dissonance, but eventually, I got used to it. It also made me realize why everyone just assumed I was from Snezhnaya. When you can effortlessly pronounce words that are tongue-twisters for most locals, it's not hard to see how they'd jump to that conclusion. As for my opinion on the matter, I tried to stay neutral. I never denied being from there, but I never confirmed it, either.