“Oh, One Swing, was it? I heard about you from Barbacoa.” The lady working at the Adventurers Guild gave One Swing a friendly smile as he made his way up the desk. “Congratulations on passing the D-Rank exam!”
One Swing smirked.
After leaving the Spire and making the long trek back to the Capital, the starving and severely sleep-deprived man finally made it back to the large city and immediately wolfed down as many baguettes as he could, before finding a suitable third-floor lodging to spend the next twenty-four hours asleep in.
One Swing would often go for great lengths of time without sleeping or eating, especially when he was on the road. It wasn’t because he had an eating or sleeping disorder, it was because he was an idiot with a mental disorder. At least, that was the explanation Arrow Grain had given the man on their journey to the Spire together.
Spending long lengths of time awake, followed by a long length of time asleep was just how One Swing preferred to live his life. It was the same for his eating habits too, as well as most other habits the man had. Sometimes One Swing would refuse to relieve his bowels for days on end, so that he could eventually have the satisfaction of taking a long bathroom break, as well as admiring the length of the waste he left behind.
After a satisfying dump behind a tree one morning, with a smirk on his face, One Swing had tried to show his impressively lengthed bowel movement to the elven woman on their journey together, but she hadn't appeared quite as amused as he was about the whole event.
Now, fully rested and with full belly, One Swing had made his way to one of the Adventurers Guilds in Gran Torte where he was congratulated on his advancement to D-Rank, and given a shiny new adventurers ID to match his new rank.
“Barxy was talking about you guys a lot,” the guild lady continued. “Despite how she seems, she’s actually really sweet. I think she’s been feeling a little down lately since somebody got injured badly during that exam, so if you see her around, make sure to shoot her a compliment or something to cheer her up for me, will you?”
“Very well.” One Swing nodded. “If I see her, I will.”
Bloody Knuckle Barbacoa was a woman who had achieved the lengths of A-Rank, and therefore had One Swing’s respect. Although she used her fists to fight in short-range combat, One Swing recognized her strength and expert combat prowess during the D-Rank exam. And because One Swing recognized her strength, he deduced that she, in fact, wasn’t fighting in short-range combat, but in long-range combat instead. Her fists were so powerful that every impact sent her opponents flying into the distance. Therefore, it counted as a long-range attack, and One Swing would not be forced to challenge his worldviews on the subject of the longest being the strongest.
“I don’t have time to feel down.” A voice from the entrance of the Guild hall suddenly caught One Swing and the guild attendant’s attention. “And you don’t have time to be chatting.”
It was Barbacoa. Ducking beneath the giant purple blade trailing out through the doorway, the gruff-looking wolf-woman approached the desk, her furry brow furrowed, and with a stern look on her weathered face.
“Aha… Sorry, Barxy.” The guild lady chuckled awkwardly. “If you’re wondering about any new A-Rank quests, nothing’s come up yet, and Shashlik should’ve cleared out that bandit fortress by now and be making his way back.”
“Good,” she said simply, before turning back to leave. “Send word if anything comes up.”
“You got it, Barxy!”
As the woman went to leave, One Swing called out to stop her.
“Bloody Knuckle Barbacoa,” he called, causing the woman to pause and turn back to face him. “I have always lamented the shortness of my tailbone and wished that I could grow a tail. The respectable length of your own tail is something you should be very proud of.”
The woman simply blinked back at him in silence, a sharp glare beneath her furrowed brow.
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“… Eh?” The guild attendant at the desk voiced her confusion. “Was that… was that your idea of a compliment just now?”
“Thank you,” the wolf-woman eventually replied—the expression on her face unchanged—before turning towards the door again, her thick brown tail sweeping happily behind her. “And call me Barxy. There’s no need for formality among friends, after all.”
“… Eh? She was fine with that?! It actually did cheer her up?!”
As Barbacoa made her way to the exit again, two adventurers suddenly burst through the door in front of her, ducking beneath One Swing's sword and collapsing to the floor.
“I—It’s an emergency!” one of them shouted between panted breaths. “Somebody help!”
Leaning against his shoulder was the other adventurer. However, it was clear that the other one had been badly wounded, and was no longer conscious. Black, scorched marks had left raw and bloodied patches of burnt flesh across half the man’s body. The weapons holstered all across his armour had melted into the leather, fusing with the flesh beneath. The only thing left intact was the hood atop his head, obscuring his face.
“What happened—?” Barbacoa asked, before her eyes went wide at the sight of the burnt man. “… Shashlik?”
One Swing took a closer look at the burnt man. Barbacoa was right. He was almost unrecognizable in his current state, but there was no doubt that this was the man that One Swing had travelled with during the goblin expedition near Bredkrum. The A-Rank adventurer, Shashlik of a Thousand Nettles.
“Let’s get him in the medical wing! Now!” Stepping into the scene, a group of guild attendants quickly rushed the man further into the guild and out of sight, leaving the other to remain panting on the floor.
“Tell me what happened,” Barbacoa said sternly, helping the breathless man to his feet again.
“I—I don’t know! I was coming back to the city and found him on the road like that! I wanted to take him to the infirmary but he said he needed to warn the guild about something urgent!”
“Urgent? Did he say what?”
“W-well, I think he was trying to, but I was too focused on trying to get him here that I didn’t catch it. Sorry…”
Barbacoa sighed and then shook her head. “No need to be sorry. Good work getting him here.”
Turning back, the woman stomped her boots across the wooden floor to stand in front of the attendant at the desk once more.
“I need the details on the last quest that Shashlik took.”
Nodding, the woman immediately rummaged around below her desk. Pulling out a large notebook, she rested it on the desk between them.
“It was an A-Rank quest,” the woman began. “To clear out a fortress of bandits that had been attacking and robbing people along the frozen ridges of Mount Kyuri-Cumber. Their numbers are estimated to be somewhere in the hundreds.”
Taking in all relevant information, Barbacoa gave a nod of her head, and made for the exit. “Right. I’m going.”
“Barxy, wait!” the attendant called back, causing her to pause. “Don’t you think you should take some more people? Shashlik went it alone, and look what happened to him! I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
“Hmm…” Barbacoa thought to herself for a moment, before jerking her head at the swordsman watching from nearby. “Onesie, we’re going.”
One Swing smirked. “Of course!”
“Wait, wait, wait!” the guild attendant called again. “I meant a group of you! And C-Ranks at the very least! You can’t just take a D-Rank with you! It’s dangerous!”
Barbacoa glowered at the woman. “Then consider this his C-Rank exam. Onesie, let’s go.”
“Wait, but—!”
Not letting her interject again, Barbacoa stomped out of the Guild hall, with One Swing carefully maneuvering his giant sword through the exit behind her.
“Mount Kyuri-Cumber is only a few days away by horse,” she said, walking briskly ahead. “Do you know how to ride one?”
One Swing shook his head. “I tried to mount one once but its spine was tragically and mysteriously crushed beneath my weight for reasons still unknown to me.”
"I see," she replied, giving a quick glance up to the one-hundred-and-sixty-four foot blade slung across One Swing's shoulder, trailing fifty meters up into the sky. "I guess carriages are out of the question too… How do you usually get around."
“I walk,” One Swing replied simply.
“Walking…” Barbacoa stopped in thought for a moment, before turning to face One Swing, the same stern and serious expression on her battle-hardened face. “How do you feel about running?”
One Swing smirked.