Timaias Adama,

Strength: B-725 -> B-764

Defense: C-662 –> B-704

Dexterity: B-702 -> B-740

Agility: C-611 -> C-652

Magic: B-719 -> B-760

Spells:

Rippling Sword

* Swift Strike Magic

Skills:

Predator

* Increased Growth

* Killing Monsters provides increased Growth.

* Killing more Monsters in a short period of time results in an even greater bonus

Adama huffed out a satisfied breath when he took in his stat sheet.

He was finally back to growing more quickly, thanks to his little moonlighting session last night and his escapades with Lilli this morning. He had driven her harder, today, and she lay collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. She had struggled to keep up with him, but she had struggled valiantly, a fact which he appreciated. Sometimes he caught her examining some of their loot, when she thought he wasn’t looking, almost like she was contemplating whether she wanted to try theft again. Sometimes she would notice him watching her and carefully place the loot in her pack, where it belonged.

But sometimes she didn’t notice his gaze. She would struggle a bit, but, fortunately, every time he was watching her, better angels won out. He didn’t want to cause strife in their merry little band already, but he needed to be able to trust the girl. His hope was that, by showing her he was trustworthy in his payments, she would begin to realize that she didn’t need to steal from him. It was idealistic, sure, but Hestia had rubbed off on him more than he wanted to admit. He wanted to be able to reform the girl, so he would try.

That evening, he began to try his fishing strategy again.

He visited his little specialty store and got bait of a rather specific type. Bait geared towards Orcs. He had initially nixed the idea of trying his fishing on the 10th floor, because of its danger, but he realized after his fight with the Infant Dragon that he needed to toughen up quickly. And, because of the nature of his skill, he wasn’t going to be able to do that well without taking on small armies of foes. So that’s what he would do.

He searched around a bit for a particularly large room, cleared it out, dropped some bait, and began to wait. He had taken a physical recovery potion, as well as Mind recovery, so his exhaustion from ignoring sleep was long forgotten. He was in top shape.

Soon, he heard the lumbering footsteps of a small tribe of green skinned giants heading his way. As they emerged from the mist of the 10th floor, he noticed that their faces were excited with a combination of bloodlust and hunger. He met those glares with his own icy determination and desire to fight. A Rippling Sword laid two of them low before the others even realized what had happened. But when they did, they bellowed and charged him, swinging their clubs with lethal intent.

Their fists and natural weapons rattled the ground as he danced around, unleashing his own retaliatory attacks when he found openings. He severed arms and hamstrings, opened up stomachs, and cut throats with both his magic and his physical sword. They were stronger than him, but he was still physically powerful enough to turn aside the brunt of a falling club, his sword taking that impact and remaining as durable as ever.

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He silently thanked Hestia again for the Hearthblade as he cut his way through the mob of porcine warriors, shrugging off the force of flying debris that inevitably came his way after being kicked up by the vicious attacks. He never let them hit him directly, for that would be near certain death. Instead, the harbingers of certain death passed over his head or thundered into the ground beside him, often a hair’s breadth from contact but never a hair closer.

He cut and killed and sawed his way through all of them. Thanks to the bait, there was always a steady stream of enemies, and it took forever before that stream slowed to a trickle and finally stopped. Adama was left panting atop a mound of bodies, their alien blood staining his face and his pants, mixing with blood from his own cuts. He was silently grateful for the showers Babel possessed whenever he eventually had to leave. But it wasn’t time to hit the showers yet. He patiently extracted their monster cores, found another suitable room, waited awhile, and dropped another bait.

…

Lilli found Tim a total mystery.

He seemed to work harder than any four adventurers put together. He drove a grueling pace for both of them, even though she could see that he was growing more strained. Likely from the nightly hunts that he was going on. When she had asked Hestia about the wounds he seemed to accumulate every time she saw him in the morning, she had told Lilli about Adama’s moonlighting.

“Tim is a very hard worker. Sometimes I worry about him, but I know he wants what’s best for the Familia, and I trust him to take precautions as best as he can.” She had said.

It all struck Lilli as crazy, but a part of her was grateful for it. She always felt safe around Tim, even when they went down to the 10th floor. He seemed to dispatch the monsters there with an almost contemptuous ease, so much so that she felt more protected with him at the vanguard than if she had come down with a full party. Whenever she was threatened, he always lashed out with that magic of his, leaving the offending party in two or more pieces, before going back to dealing with the enemy in front of him.

A part of her twinged with jealousy when she thought about that. Her magic was useless in combat and a part of her had always longed for an ability that she could use to defend herself. It’s not as if Tim ever made her feel bad about her lack of combat skills, however. In fact, he didn’t speak much to her at all. He mostly just indicated where they needed to go and nodded when she needed to rest. A sarcastic comment here. A word of thanks there. And that was it, for the most part. Considering all the abuse that she had taken in her life, there was something preferable about this kind of treatment.

Best of all, he always paid her share, promptly and without complaining or even forcing her to ask. It was always accurate. He didn’t try to cheat her out of a single vals. He was almost machinelike, both in his fairness and in his killing. She was a little in awe, and a little afraid of him. But, on the bright side, she made more working legitimately with him than she ever had stealing from others.

None of that was what stopped her from stealing from him, though.

Old habits die hard, and for the first few days she very nearly found herself pocketing certain valuables. She caught him watching her, but he couldn’t afford to spare her much more attention than a couple of swift glances. Taking from him would be a risk, but she just couldn’t bring herself to place too much trust in him. She wanted to take what she could, while things were good, and leave him before he inevitably betrayed her or stopped treating her fairly.

No, what stopped her from stealing from him was the kindly eyes of the head of their Famillia.

Hestia had been nice to her from the very beginning. She had soothed her when she cried, cared for her when she was hurt, and told her all sorts of fun and interesting stories. The namesake of Hestia Familia offered her a warmth that she had never had, a flame so pleasant it was almost painful. She wondered sometimes if this was what it was like to have a mother. But whether it was or wasn’t, whenever she considered stealing from Tim a certain orange eyed face appeared in her mind’s eye. Hestia would be really disappointed if Lilli took that item, wouldn’t she?

She sometimes berated herself for these thoughts. She wasn’t a child anymore. How could she let herself get stupid and sentimental over someone she just met? It didn’t make any sense.

She told herself that, but she just couldn’t bring herself to steal from Tim, because it would be tantamount to stealing from the woman who gave her so much warmth. She just couldn’t do it. Maybe if Tim had been stealing from her, she could have. But not like this. So, she waited. Waited for Tim to start stealing from her. Waited for signs of betrayal. A week became two weeks, and, by the time they entered their third week of partnership, there was never even a hint that he wanted to scam her. He even gave her a small bonus, as a thank you for her hard work and reliability.

It didn’t make any sense. Neither of them did.

…

Ottar stared up at the tool that he had been shaping for over two weeks now.

Every couple of days, he would feed it more magic stones and train it for the coming attack. His training mostly amounted to holding up a picture of the boy, Adama, in front of his face and goading the dragon to attack him. Which it did. By now, it was so conditioned to strike when it saw Adama’s visage that he didn’t even need to prompt it to strike when it saw the paper with the child’s face on it. He had even trained it to obey his voice commands.

The Infant Dragon had turned into a truly fearsome foe. It’s hide shimmered a dark, vivacious viridian and its muscles coiled with a strength that surpassed anything the Upper floors had given birth to in a long time. Even some Irregulars might have a handful with this fire-breathing fiend, and most Level 2 adventurers would certainly be threatened by it. To test his new pet, he unleashed it on a party of unsuspecting Level 1s who had wandered down to the 12th floor, likely seeking to grow stronger and Level up.

They had been wiped out.

Their rogue had only escaped because Ottar had called the dragon back, subtly enough that he could not have been seen. That rogue would alert the Guild to the presence of such an unusual creature. They would tell Level 1 adventurers about the unique danger and eventually dispatch a hit squad. The clock had started ticking on the eventual demise of his new pet. But it would live for long enough.

Long enough to fulfill its purpose.