“All of them perished?” Riot asked, aghast. “Should we worry about the monster that slaughtered them?”

Eira had sat down on a lonesome rock in the garden of death. She was deep in thought, her blank gaze laid upon the open grimoire of power.

“Does that also mean that our deal has fallen through?” He posed that question to her.

To that, Eira looked up. “No. Our deal is bond. It is sad, but I suppose I will not to make a new monster horde. I still have one monster left over there.” She jabbed her thumb behind her.

“The one doing things? May I ask, what kind of things is it doing?” Riot inquired.

She stared at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Behind the piles of bones, an eviscerated body of an orc slapped in view. Slowly, it was pulled back behind the bones, leaving a trail of purple blood. A squelching sound was coming now from behind the pile, and somebody humming classical music very slowly.

Eira turned away as Riot’s gaze grew heavier upon her.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I did not say anything yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“…What is this feeling swelling in my chest. My palms are feeling slippery and sweaty.” Riot frowned, looking down at his hand. It was shaking now.

“That is what is called fear.”

“I have such a thing?” Riot was surprised. Ever since he was a boy, his father told him that he was too stupid to have fear. “Truly fascinating.”

“Right. So, we should make our way to that gate. While doing so, let’s go ahead and farm some exp. You will just have to share exp with me rather than my bloodthirsty monster horde.”

Riot brought his fists together near his chest, shaking in what he was excitement now. “Curses! I would have desired to see something like that!”

#

“There’s a lot of dead bodies.” Malcolm rubbed his shovel spaded beard. “A lot of them.”

“Yeah…” Dalton didn’t even have to turn his head to see the piles of bones and fresh dead bodies in their path. “I’m not blind.”

“I know you aren’t. I’m just making an observation.” Malcolm said, walking a few steps behind him. “Say, here’s another observation. Maybe let’s not go down a trail of fresh dead bodies.”

Dalton sighed. “We went through this. This is the only trail down the mountain and to the gate. Do you expect us to not go to the gate?”

“Of course, we should go to the gate.” Malcolm stopped at one and nudged it with his bare feet. “But the bodies are fresher every step and I feel like we’re just walking into a lion’s mouth.”

Dalton shrugged at his suggestion. “I already broke the rules here. I even got a message that an assassin has been sent. What else are they going to do, send another one?”

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“I mean, maybe?” Malcolm said. “But I’m not angry about that. You keep on killing those monsters, I’ll just hang back.”

Dalton swived his head and gave him a glare from his shoulder. “You know, you could act a little more sympathetic.”

“It is, but also I’m not going to be killed by an assassin,” Malcolm said happily.

“Well, it’s not going to be worse than Mikoto.”

“You mean the fake pervert ninja, that probably did some things to you when you were asleep.” Malcolm snorted. “Sure, that guy definitely trained you to handle some trained professional assassins.”

“You know, I could just crush your skull right now.” Dalton suggested. “You don’t bring any value other than being an ass.”

Malcolm chuckled at that. “That is where you are wrong. I do bring value.”

“Oh?” Dalton was interested in what the man had to say. He turned to him, giving his undivided attention, and crossed his arms waiting for his response. “Well, are you going to tell me what value you bring to this mission? Other than being a drain on resources and my patience?”

He pulled at the waistband of his underwear, plunging his hand deep in there.

“…I don’t want that at all.”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” Malcolm pulled out a giant rifle from his underwear, resting it on his shoulder.

“What…” Dalton thought about it for a moment. “Your underwear is an item box?”

“No.” Malcolm gave a toothy smile. “It’s better. It’s a pocket dimension. Where it goes, I don’t know, but the things I bring out are random. Look.” The next thing he brought out was a gorgeous looking three-layered chocolate cake. “See, I can feed us.”

“I don’t want to eat that at all.” Dalton felt disgusted.

“When push comes to shove, you definitely will eat my underwear chocolate cake.”

“Stop it! I’m already disgusted,” Dalton said aghast. He then rubbed his chin. “Where did you get a dimension pocket in your underwear?”

“Id meh spushal apility,” he said as he chewed down a mouthful of chocolate cake.

“Your special ability as an Underwear Model?” Dalton repeated dryly. “Why in the world would an Underwear Model need a pocket dimension?”

He swallowed. His beard was smeared and speckled with chocolate. “You’re going to have to ask Ozul. I’m not the one that made an insane system. In my world I don’t do anything at all.”

“Yeah, I know. Your hell world is literally an ocean of blood.”

“Figuratively.” He corrected Dalton.

Dalton narrowed his eyes. “I still don’t think I need you.”

“What? This is one of the most useful abilities. Do you think a Lumberjack would have an underwear that came literally give you anything? Do you think a Devil would be able to give you such a delicious chocolate cake?”

“None of them came from a shit and pissed covered underwear!” Dalton threw up his hands. “From what I can tell, you can’t control what comes out of that can you?”

Malcolm coughed in his hand. “No.”

“See! As useless as that rifle in your hand.”

“Now that isn’t true at all!” Malcolm said. “This thing could puncture a fist sized hole in anything.”

“And are you going to use it?” Dalton asked.

That brought silence to Malcolm. He handed it over to Dalton. “Here you go.”

“I’m not touching that.” Dalton crossed his arms. “And does it even have bullets?”

Malcolm popped off the cartridge. It was empty.

“So, it’s just a useless club then.”

“No, I-I can get some fucking bullets.” He thrusted his hand in his underwear, tossing random assortments of items, like a carton of eggs, a single raspberry, a broken baseball bat. He kept on digging until he started to pant, with his face red in embarrassment.

It looked so wrong.

Dalton turned away. “Just stop! You’re embarrassing yourself.”

He had just started to walk away, when he heard Malcolm yelp in excitement.

“Oh my god! This is amazing!” He was holding a magazine in his shaking hand. He looked up from it, meeting Dalton’s gaze. “Do you know what this is?”

Dalton could not see exactly what it was from where he was standing. “A magazine?”

“This.” He held it up. “Is not just any magazine. This is one of the rarest porn magazine-”

Dalton turned away. He had enough. He could hear Malcolm yelling at him, clearly angry at him for ignoring him.

His head hit something. When Dalton looked up, he met the gaze of a red eyed man wearing a bag over his head and an underwear. He was a giant man with a well-built body. His barrel chest expanded as he his breath was loud and hard. Drool ran down his exposed chin, dripping on the stone ground.

Behind him he finally tuned into Malcolm’s yell.

“-I said there’s a bag man in front of you.”