Chapter Text
The Adventurer Guild's receptionist looked like a human stock photo.
It was actually kind of terrifying. Their averageness was weaponised to the point where Akira struggled to retain any of their facial features to memory, his eyes averting from the offensive genericness to fixate on something more interesting like the grain patterns of the desk. The receptionist’s voice had a soporific effect too, words spoken evenly and without fluctuation in tone, lulling Akira into a trance where he automatically signed whatever papers were put before him in his quest to gain his adventuring license.
Was this how it felt to be in the presence of an enigmatic eldritch being? Just what was he signing anyway? Wasn’t this a violation of some kind, hypnotising aspiring adventurers into signing their life away via boredom-induced mind control?
“Well, everything seems to be in order, Mr Kurusu,” the receptionist said cheerily, shuffling the stacks of paper together. Akira tried to read their name tag but his brain struggled to process the aggressively utilitarian letters into anything legible, “Just allow me to process this paperwork and create your license… take a number and sit down, please.”
Akira took a number and wandered over to one of the rows of benches set up in the guild’s surprisingly spacious lobby. His brain felt like it had been microwaved.
“You done?” Morgana asked the second he sat down, perking up from where he’d been napping.
“...no, I have to wait for my paperwork to be processed,” Akira said, frowning down at his number, ‘99’. He peered around them, dismayed to see quite a lot of the benches were full of people clutching their own numbers - adventurers in some interesting outfits, looking either bored, frustrated or anxious. Surely all of these weren’t getting a license?
Morgana read the question in his expression and answered; “The Adventurer Guild handles a lot of administrative stuff that goes with adventuring, like mount licenses or crafting masteries. There’s also applications to find a job master, or to change classes, or to own land-”
“I get it,” Akira sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Didn’t think I’d find inefficient bureaucracy here .”
But should he really be surprised? Despite the fantasy setting, this world mirrored his own in a myriad of uncomfortable ways. Well, the Slimes were new. He couldn’t forget about the Slimes.
“What number are you anyways?” Morgana asked, pressing his cute paws against Akira’s thigh to peer at the ticket in his hand, “Wha- ninety-nine?”
As one, they looked up at the board mounted above the receptionist desk, where a brightly lit ‘12’ flickered over the grim waiting room. Akira wondered if that was genuine electricity or some sort of magic.
“We’re gonna be trapped here forever, ” Morgana groaned, slumping over his thigh in open despair.
Akira, immune to such dull inconveniences thanks to growing up in a modern capitalist society, just let out a grunt. He couldn’t really do much about it. Beside, it was early in the morning, maybe the line will move fast!
The line did not move fast.
“Twenty-two!” the eldritch receptionist called, and with a creaking groan of stressed wood, a mountain of an adventurer clad in heavy, black armour heaved themselves up. Akira and Morgana enviously watched the knight (dark knight?) stomp up to the desk, their patience long since frayed.
“ Two. Hours.” Morgana hissed.
“The moment we leave our number will be called, that’s the law of the universe,” Akira hissed back.
“In your universe maybe!” Morgana’s fur bristled and he swatted at Akira’s arm, “At least let’s get some food. I’m hungry .”
Akira considered. It was mid-morning by this point, and their number wasn’t going to be called until the end of the day at the rate the line was moving. Getting some food sounded like a good way to stretch their legs and fill their bellies, so the remaining hours staring at the dull walls didn’t drive them completely batshit insane. There was just one problem.
“We don’t have any money,” Akira mumbled.
“Master Loki has money,” Morgana quickly said.
“Yeah, but…” Akira already mooched so much off the demon lord. Not only that, he was fairly sure Goro didn’t even have two copper coins left to rub together after paying for their inn room. Speaking of their handsome villain…
“I hope no one’s found out his identity yet,” Akira fretted, “It’ll be kinda awkward if he got dogpiled by a bunch of wannabe hero adventurers.”
“Psh,” Morgana rolled his eyes, “ These guys wouldn’t make a dent in Master Loki. This is a beginner’s town, y’know? They’re all low-levelled.”
Right, and Goro was a lvl 99 Demon Lord with min-maxed stats. Akira was sure Goro could kill him if he sneezed at him too hard.
“Yeah, but it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth,” Akira sighed.
“Number twenty-three!”
Akira and Morgana groaned quietly, the reminder of their long wait solidifying their decision.
“Okay, fine, ” Akira huffed, picking Morgana up as he stood up, “Let’s get something to eat from somewhere.”
“Yeah!”
Being poor, Akira and Morgana solved their food issue via thievery.
“I knew you were a villain,” Morgana said smugly as they enjoyed their ill-gotten spoils of pocketed apples, ambling through the windy backstreets of the small town. Akira wondered when he became a stereotypical, hollywood street rat - though he had to admit apples were a lot easier to steal than, say, the hot pastries set up on the market street, so films got that right, at least.
“I’m not a villain,” Akira said, pausing to take a bite out of the apple. Mm, juicy, “I’m just not a hero.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“It’s-” Akira stopped as they turned the corner, blinking slowly at the small obstacle blocking their path.
A person more beanpole than man was dramatically sprawled on the floor, his upper body propped up against the stained brick wall. For one heart-stopping moment Akira was worried they’d stumbled across a dead body, but then the corpse (?) turned their head to peer at him from beneath dark, long eyelashes, and Akira’s heart stopped for real.
This man was utterly gorgeous.
“Ah… is that food I smell?” Mystery Hunk murmured, reviving by inches as he sat up, blinking up at him, “Apples! Kind stranger, may I ask for a mere bite of your meal, to revitalise these fatigued limbs of mine? You see, my coins, I used them on these rare pigments said to paint iridescent-”
“Uh,” Akira blurted, struck dumb by the man’s beautiful weirdness.
“Who’s this kook?” Morgana grumbled, “We don’t give stuff to beggars! Go steal your own apples!”
“Steal…? Perish the thought!” Energised by this crime confession, the Handsome Bum climbed to his feet. It was like watching a giant stick insect rearrange their lanky limbs. “Desperate I may be, but I have some dignity-”
“Here,” Akira said stupidly, handing out his apple with a giant bite mark in it.
“I owe you my life,” Beautiful Lunatic said solemnly, taking the apple shamelessly from him.
“More like you owe us a name,” Morgana snapped, immune to Crazy Lovely’s hypnotising strangeness, “Who’re you?”
“One moment,” the Lush Kook said before proceeding to devour the apple in four large, rapid bites. He somehow made the entire scene oddly sensual despite getting sticky juice all over his mouth and dripping down his chin. Akira couldn’t help but gape at him.
“Ah, that truly hit the spot,” the Hot Madman sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with a casual sort of elegance, “I am Yusuke Kitagawa, though the denizens of this strange world refer to me as ‘Fox’. A pseudonym bestowed upon me due to the weapon that drew me here.”
Morgana and Akira blinked slowly at him, the metaphorical hamster in its metaphorical wheel metaphorically sprinting towards a literal realisation.
“...! Wait, you’re-!” Morgana squawked, flailing his cute little arms and frantically patting Akira’s leg, “He’s-!”
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…” Akira drew out, snapping his fingers, “You’re an otherworldly hero!”
“Indeed I am,” Yusuke bowed a little, unperturbed by their mental slowness, “Here to put a stop to a supposed evil.”
“Supposed?” It was Akira’s time to shine. Acting skills, go! “You mean this ‘demon lord’ guy? Yeah, I’ve heard some shady things about him.”
In the corner of his eye, he could see Morgana glare at him, trying to communicate something with the rapid movement of his invisible eyebrows. Akira feigned ignorance.
“The Demon Lord Loki,” Yusuke said solemnly, tossing the apple core aside and, somehow in the same movement, materialising a sketchpad and pencil. Without an explanation, he began drawing something, “The evil that is the cause of this world’s ills from great to small.”
The pencil paused. Yusuke looked up towards the heavens thoughtfully, “Emphasis on small.”
“Small as in, ‘he stole my milk so now I have to take my coffee black’ level of small?” Akira asked dryly.
“Hm, how curious. Such a complaint was levelled towards me just this morning during my investigation,” Yusuke mused, and resumed sketching again, “But yes. It seems strange that such a powerful, enigmatic entity would go out of its way to inconvenience people in such petty ways.”
because it’s all lies, Akira thought with growing vehemence.
“It almost sounds like people are just blaming him as a convenient scapegoat,” Akira said with forced casualness.
“It does,” Yusuke agreed, not looking up from his sketchpad, “Which prompted my investigations in this town. I had heard rumours that he has minions intimidating the unfortunate townspeople here, extorting vast amounts of money that go back to his coffers filled with stolen gold.”
Akira thought back to last night, where he and Goro had to share a bed in the cheapest inn in town because they were poor.
“I wish…” he muttered under his breath.
“Hm? Pardon?” Yusuke looked up.
“Er, I said ‘sounds fishy’.”
“Yes, exactly,” Yusuke nodded, tapping his pencil against the edge of his sketchpad, “Why would a Demon Lord bother extorting a town with harvestable resources when pillaging would do just as well? Why try to conceal his activities if he is powerful enough to take what he desires without fear of retaliation?”
That… was a good question. Demon Lords pillaged, they didn’t extort - or at the very least, they did so in dramatic and extravagant ways and called it ‘tribute’.
“I also cannot ignore this ominous feeling I have regarding the matter,” Yusuke finished his sketching with a flourish, his pencil moving in sharp, staccato movements as he presumably signed whatever masterpiece he had created, “Something is not right.”
With that cryptic statement, Yusuke gently prised the paper out of his sketchpad and handed it over. Akira took it automatically.
“In return for your kindness, I give you this,” Yusuke said, “During my investigations, I identified this man as one of those involved in the extortion of the townspeople here. Please use this admittedly rushed portrait of him to aid you in avoiding him.”
The sketch was immaculate, clean, broad strokes and giving life to the scowling man on the page. Akira held the paper with a bit more care, feeling like he was holding a priceless piece of artwork.
“Uh, thanks?” he squeaked, genuinely intimidated by Yusuke’s artistic power move.
“Goodbye, my friends,” Yusuke said, “I must continue my investigation into my true purpose here.”
With that, the beautiful yet bizarre stranger turned on his heel and walked away, muttering and chuckling over his sketchpad as he began a new masterpiece. Akira and Morgana watched him go in stunned silence.
“...that… happened, right?” Akira asked Morgana.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, good.”
When they returned to the bureaucratic hell that was the Adventurer’s Guild, the ticket number was only up to twenty-nine.
“Really,” Akira muttered.
“Ugh,” Morgana groaned, “How long does it take to print out a license?”
They took their seat on the bench once more, and Akira smoothed the sketch the mysterious ‘Fox’ gave them. The man in the picture looked to be on the wrong side of middle-aged, with small, squinting eyes and a rotund face, and hair that was slicked back to such a degree it looked plastic even in this sketch. All in all, it was a distinctive face.
“So, this is the guy framing Master Loki, huh?” Morgana muttered disdainfully, “He looks like a weakling.”
To Morgana, maybe. Akira was still a fragile lvl 1 Adventurer here.
“At least we have a lead now,” Akira said, “And all it cost me was one apple.”
“And revealing yourself to an otherworldly hero!” Morgana hissed, his fur bristling at the reminder of that encounter, “What is it with you? That’s twice now you’ve bumped into them!”
“Maybe as well as Slimes, I attract heroes too,” Akira said wryly, finishing in memorising their lead’s face before neatly folding up the picture into halves, then quarters, and tucking in the inside pocket of his jacket, “How many are there, anyways?”
“Six,” Morgana settled down, “There was meant to be seven, but apparently the last hero’s summoning ritual was a bust. The Shido Kingdom’s weapon didn’t successfully call a hero, I don’t know why though…”
“Weird,” Akira said, scratching the underside of his jaw, “Poor signal, maybe?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing, just a joke,” Akira sighed. He was a little curious as to why the seventh hero wasn’t summoned, but he was sure it was some convoluted magical reason that he wouldn’t make heads or tails of - plus, it wasn’t important to know. One less hero meant one less potential enemy trying to decapitate Goro because of a misunderstanding.
Speaking of…
“Where is Goro anyways?” Akira frowned, looking about himself as if expecting his demon lord to come morphing out of the shadows to complain about his tardiness, “I haven’t seen him since we left the inn.”
“He said he was scouting the area,” Morgana said, then added a bit too loudly, “Heh, he’s probably already caught that guy Fox was going on about!”
“Maybe…” Akira mumbled. Honestly, he hoped Goro was taking a nap under a tree somewhere or dedicating himself to the extinction of Slime-kind outside of town. It probably wasn’t a good idea for the ‘Great Evil’ to be roaming around where one of the otherworldly heroes were.
“Number thirty!”
Akira and Morgana groaned.
“Who knew the start of my new career as an adventurer-journalist would be so boring?” Akira complained, and slouched low in his bench to get comfortable.
It took until the sun was easing down towards the horizon for Akira’s number to be called and a license in manufactured plastic to be put into his grasping hand.
(“how do you guys have commerical plastic but not an established electrical grid?!” akira had shouted at the poor eldritch receptionist.)
He was grumpy, stiff-limbed and exhausted when he dragged his corpse out of the Adventurer’s Guild, the streets lit up by oil lamps hanging from iron-wrought posts. Draped over his shoulder, Morgana yawned and nuzzled his kitten nose behind his ear.
“Let’s go find Master Loki,” he said, “I can sense him, hmm, that way.”
‘That way’ was a bit vague, but Akira followed the direction into a series of winding, narrow back alleys that he somewhat recalled taking with Goro last night. Right, this way was leading back to that shitty inn without indoor plumbing. Maybe Goro had scraped together enough funds to stay for another night.
ugh, i want an upgrade to one of the nicer inns, he whined childishly to himself, pausing at an alleyway crossroads as he tried to remember which way-
Morgana abruptly tensed up from his lazy sprawl on his shoulder, bolting upright with a hiss of; “Watch out-!”
“Dormina!”
-and Akira’s exhaustion suddenly grew claws and hooked them deep into his consciousness, his vision growing spotty as he found himself on his knees without any memory of the moments in between. Morgana tumbled off his shoulder and onto his lap, fighting against the drowsiness too with angry, half-slurred hissing, and something pinged in Akira’s groggy, half-enchanted brain then.
Oh, he thought dazedly, i’m in danger.
“Got ‘em!” Someone barked, and a rough hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, saving him from face planting the alleyway floor in an embarrassing sprawl, “Hah, told ya I found that hero’s accomplice. This was who that Fox was sharing info with! ”
“Really?” Another voice said, but Akira’s consciousness was sliding away too fast, no matter how much he struggled against it, to coherently understand what they were saying, “He’s… ek… t… turer?”
“We...se...tage?”
“J...t...o…”
Akira blacked out, and that was that.