Happy Father's day everyone! Nothing father related today sadly, but I still wanted to give greetings nonetheless.
Grant went about hunting as he usually did.
He went out, he killed some orcs, killed a few goblins, and some other assortment of monsters.
Grant wasn't looking for anything particularly great, merely looking to add some substance to his rank.
It wasn't increasing as much since he wasn't bringing anything huge in, but that was fine.
He was focusing on something else.
"STIR!"
He was focusing on getting Ursa Honey's little crew to grow and evolve.
Which wasn't exactly exciting, but it would take some dedication.
For example, the honey slime.
"STIR!"
"My lord, are you sure this will help it evolve? It just seems like you're cooking it?" The shroom asked unsure.
"Of course. That's exactly what we're doing!"
"Pardon?!"
"It's a slime! Unless you do something to initiate an abnormal evolution, it'll just evolve into a bigger honey slime!"
"Oh!"
"You get it now!"
"Of course lord! Pardon my rudeness!"
"It's fine! Pour more of that magic stone sugar!"
"Yes sir!"
"And you kobolds! Bear! Did you not hear me!"
"Sir!"
"STIR!"
"SIR!"
Grant had decided to evolve the honey slime since he already had an evolution off the top of his head.
So why were they screaming?
They were positioned over a huge pot in which the honey slime was boiling as they poured magic stone sugar and the vanilla extract and milk was being prepared.
Technically, were they making a real dessert, than magic sugar stones would not be encouraged.
But as a monster, it needed the appropriate amount of magic stones to stimulate the evolution, and in the case of dessert monsters, Grant often found sugar stones were usually even better in such cases.
The milk of course came from one of apollos cattle, since he couldn't find any quality cattle monsters nearby who were milkable, so hopefully the milk wouldn't have any side effects.
Or hopefully it did. Who knows.
The slime was enjoying it, treating it like a steam bath. Is this like a frog in a boiling pot thing? Honestly, that's up to interpretation.
As the days went by, one day Grant had a rather interesting visitor.
Grant had been avoided by most adventurers. Turns out wearing a raven sage mask usually commanded some level of respect and suspicion, but wearing horns on top encouraged the view of being insane, even amongst the other adventurers he had traveled with. They just thought he was fun crazy.
Grant didn't mind of course, but the perception continued.
What's more, there's been the ongoing tension between the non human beings and the humans, with the tension resulting in many parties dividing into human and non human groups.
And Grant fit into neither. Despite claiming he was a human, he gave no signs of being so, never taking off the costume, thus in spite of his decent track record, humans weren't much in the way of recruiting him.
He was just ominous, and the fact that he was such an ominous human meant that non human parties had no interest in recruiting him.
And the moderates... just didn't wat to recruit him since there were better options.
So imagine to his surprise when an A rank minotaur sat down in front of him.
Of course, one has to remember the difference between feral monsters and their sapient counterparts, with a spattering of differences between the two.
The feral minotaur is different from the sapient ones in all the important ways, but that rarely matters to the average person.
For the average person, a monster is a monster, and its hard not to separate the crimes of a feral monster from a sapient monster when ultimately the face that faces you and the face that kills your friends and family are one and the same.
Sapient goblins and orcs have a far harder time unfortunately.
Not that Grant cared, but as one could guess, as a result the A-rank adventurer was a controversial being in the guild and the outpost currently.
The minotaur sat down, easily 10 feet tall, dwarfing Grant's two meter height.
He put out his hand. "Granite" His voice was deep and gravelly, appropriate for such a beefcake.
"Really? I thought you were more of a blackish hue personally."
The minotaur snorted as he had clearly heard that one before.
He put out his hand and shook it in return. "Grant."
The minotaur nodded, satisfied.
"I wish to recruit your aid in slaying an A-rank monster."
A series of gasps echo around the hall.
An A-rank monster was already a major danger, especially in a zone where new people gathered, and even with the divide between people in the guild, no adventurer is stupid enough to ignore the danger.
There was also the fact that he was asking a D-rank adventurer for aid, which seemed ridiculous, for no matter how ominous he may seem the man was merely a D-rank adventurer.
He had not proved himself anymore competent in any way, and Grant agreed.
"But I'm a D-rank." he said inquisitively.
The minotaur shook his head.
"My instincts tell me otherwise. And I always trust my instincts."
"A monster's instincts are often quite great. Regardless, I'm still a D-rank."
"Nonetheless, I request your assistance in hunting this monster."
An awkward silence followed as the two stared down one another, clearly waiting for the other to give, before finally Grant shrugged.
"Whatever. I suppose I'll have to rely on the great A rank adventurer Granite to protect me on this hunt." Granite's nose wrinkled a bit at the obvious sarcasm.
"So, what day will we leave then?" Grant asked.
"Tomorrow afternoon" was his short reply.
Grant merely nodded as he got up to leave the guild, clearly to prepare.
Of course once he left, and Granite as well, whisperings amongst the two sides began.
Some whispers were about how a lucky D-rank adventurer got an easy ride with an A-rank adventurer, while others snickered, clearly believing the monster would eat the man or even use the man as bait.
For some, this solidified which side Grant stood on, while for others, this was an act of reconciliation made by an A rank adventurer, to show bonds between the human and the inhuman side.
For the more experienced, some wondered how strong Grant really was, because they too, respected a monster's intuition, especially one who had reached an A-rank position.
If he said there was more to it, than there was likely more to it.
The next day, Grant arrived at the gates to meet Grant, with no bag in hand, much like Granit with no bag in hand.
"Spatial pocket?" inquired Granite.
"Indeed. I see you've brought one as well."
"Of course. Only high rank or noble adventurers can afford to buy spatial bags." said Granite with a pointed jab.
"Who knows? Maybe I'm just some noble brat?" Grant teased.
"Then you will have good gear which would compensate for poor skill." was the minotaur's grunt of a response.
As they walked out the gates most of the guards scurried out of Granite's way, causing Grant to roll his eyes under the mask.
Ah, to be young and judgmental of other races by appearances alone.
At his age, Grant had longed learn that a monstrous outside hardly mattered, for some of the worst monsters he killed looked the most human or were the most human.
As they left the outpost, Grant found himself a bit curious.
"Tell me," he asked, "what else convinced you to ask for my assistance. Your instinct may be good, but there's no way someone would solely rely on that when making important choices."
"The scales."
"Hmm?"
"The wyvern scales you turned in a week or two ago."
"Ohh. Those. I'd forgotten about those scales."
"You claimed that the wyvern dropped those scales."
"Indeed. What of it?"
"Wyverns don't shed scales."
"I said they likely dropped off in the conflict didn't I? I'd hardly call that firm proof"
"Perhaps." agreed the minotaur. "However, those scales were too clean to be merely be beaten off the monster in a fight. The scales were not only in great condition, but there were no rips and tears, no pelt to speak of. Just scales with no hide attached. In a fight even if singular scales had fallen off, they should still have hide attached. That's not from a normal fight."
Grant cocked his head, still pretty genuinely curious. "So what do you think happened?" He asked.
The minotaur shook his head. "I do not know, and that is all the more reason to ask for your aid."
Grant looked at him blankly for a second.
Another second.
And then he laughed.
The minotaur walked on unbothered, but Grant found this minotaur all the more amusing.
Deciding to take a gamble despite how unpredictable he could be solely based off of instinct. He was so firm in his instinct in spite of having little to no reason to believe so in this case.
"HAHAHAHAHA~"
He laughed hard.
Fun times like these were what made him adventure.
It was great when life surprised Grant, and times like these it was worth living.
And so a beast and a youth went off to hunt a monster that day.
Happy Father's day everyone! Nothing father related today sadly, but I still wanted to give greetings nonetheless.
Grant went about hunting as he usually did.
He went out, he killed some orcs, killed a few goblins, and some other assortment of monsters.
Grant wasn't looking for anything particularly great, merely looking to add some substance to his rank.
It wasn't increasing as much since he wasn't bringing anything huge in, but that was fine.
He was focusing on something else.
"STIR!"
He was focusing on getting Ursa Honey's little crew to grow and evolve.
Which wasn't exactly exciting, but it would take some dedication.
For example, the honey slime.
"STIR!"
"My lord, are you sure this will help it evolve? It just seems like you're cooking it?" The shroom asked unsure.
"Of course. That's exactly what we're doing!"
"Pardon?!"
"It's a slime! Unless you do something to initiate an abnormal evolution, it'll just evolve into a bigger honey slime!"
"Oh!"
"You get it now!"
"Of course lord! Pardon my rudeness!"
"It's fine! Pour more of that magic stone sugar!"
"Yes sir!"
"And you kobolds! Bear! Did you not hear me!"
"Sir!"
"STIR!"
"SIR!"
Grant had decided to evolve the honey slime since he already had an evolution off the top of his head.
So why were they screaming?
They were positioned over a huge pot in which the honey slime was boiling as they poured magic stone sugar and the vanilla extract and milk was being prepared.
Technically, were they making a real dessert, than magic sugar stones would not be encouraged.
But as a monster, it needed the appropriate amount of magic stones to stimulate the evolution, and in the case of dessert monsters, Grant often found sugar stones were usually even better in such cases.
The milk of course came from one of apollos cattle, since he couldn't find any quality cattle monsters nearby who were milkable, so hopefully the milk wouldn't have any side effects.
Or hopefully it did. Who knows.
The slime was enjoying it, treating it like a steam bath. Is this like a frog in a boiling pot thing? Honestly, that's up to interpretation.
As the days went by, one day Grant had a rather interesting visitor.
Grant had been avoided by most adventurers. Turns out wearing a raven sage mask usually commanded some level of respect and suspicion, but wearing horns on top encouraged the view of being insane, even amongst the other adventurers he had traveled with. They just thought he was fun crazy.
Grant didn't mind of course, but the perception continued.
What's more, there's been the ongoing tension between the non human beings and the humans, with the tension resulting in many parties dividing into human and non human groups.
And Grant fit into neither. Despite claiming he was a human, he gave no signs of being so, never taking off the costume, thus in spite of his decent track record, humans weren't much in the way of recruiting him.
He was just ominous, and the fact that he was such an ominous human meant that non human parties had no interest in recruiting him.
And the moderates... just didn't wat to recruit him since there were better options.
So imagine to his surprise when an A rank minotaur sat down in front of him.
Of course, one has to remember the difference between feral monsters and their sapient counterparts, with a spattering of differences between the two.
The feral minotaur is different from the sapient ones in all the important ways, but that rarely matters to the average person.
For the average person, a monster is a monster, and its hard not to separate the crimes of a feral monster from a sapient monster when ultimately the face that faces you and the face that kills your friends and family are one and the same.
Sapient goblins and orcs have a far harder time unfortunately.
Not that Grant cared, but as one could guess, as a result the A-rank adventurer was a controversial being in the guild and the outpost currently.
The minotaur sat down, easily 10 feet tall, dwarfing Grant's two meter height.
He put out his hand. "Granite" His voice was deep and gravelly, appropriate for such a beefcake.
"Really? I thought you were more of a blackish hue personally."
The minotaur snorted as he had clearly heard that one before.
He put out his hand and shook it in return. "Grant."
The minotaur nodded, satisfied.
"I wish to recruit your aid in slaying an A-rank monster."
A series of gasps echo around the hall.
An A-rank monster was already a major danger, especially in a zone where new people gathered, and even with the divide between people in the guild, no adventurer is stupid enough to ignore the danger.
There was also the fact that he was asking a D-rank adventurer for aid, which seemed ridiculous, for no matter how ominous he may seem the man was merely a D-rank adventurer.
He had not proved himself anymore competent in any way, and Grant agreed.
"But I'm a D-rank." he said inquisitively.
The minotaur shook his head.
"My instincts tell me otherwise. And I always trust my instincts."
"A monster's instincts are often quite great. Regardless, I'm still a D-rank."
"Nonetheless, I request your assistance in hunting this monster."
An awkward silence followed as the two stared down one another, clearly waiting for the other to give, before finally Grant shrugged.
"Whatever. I suppose I'll have to rely on the great A rank adventurer Granite to protect me on this hunt." Granite's nose wrinkled a bit at the obvious sarcasm.
"So, what day will we leave then?" Grant asked.
"Tomorrow afternoon" was his short reply.
Grant merely nodded as he got up to leave the guild, clearly to prepare.
Of course once he left, and Granite as well, whisperings amongst the two sides began.
Some whispers were about how a lucky D-rank adventurer got an easy ride with an A-rank adventurer, while others snickered, clearly believing the monster would eat the man or even use the man as bait.
For some, this solidified which side Grant stood on, while for others, this was an act of reconciliation made by an A rank adventurer, to show bonds between the human and the inhuman side.
For the more experienced, some wondered how strong Grant really was, because they too, respected a monster's intuition, especially one who had reached an A-rank position.
If he said there was more to it, than there was likely more to it.
The next day, Grant arrived at the gates to meet Grant, with no bag in hand, much like Granit with no bag in hand.
"Spatial pocket?" inquired Granite.
"Indeed. I see you've brought one as well."
"Of course. Only high rank or noble adventurers can afford to buy spatial bags." said Granite with a pointed jab.
"Who knows? Maybe I'm just some noble brat?" Grant teased.
"Then you will have good gear which would compensate for poor skill." was the minotaur's grunt of a response.
As they walked out the gates most of the guards scurried out of Granite's way, causing Grant to roll his eyes under the mask.
Ah, to be young and judgmental of other races by appearances alone.
At his age, Grant had longed learn that a monstrous outside hardly mattered, for some of the worst monsters he killed looked the most human or were the most human.
As they left the outpost, Grant found himself a bit curious.
"Tell me," he asked, "what else convinced you to ask for my assistance. Your instinct may be good, but there's no way someone would solely rely on that when making important choices."
"The scales."
"Hmm?"
"The wyvern scales you turned in a week or two ago."
"Ohh. Those. I'd forgotten about those scales."
"You claimed that the wyvern dropped those scales."
"Indeed. What of it?"
"Wyverns don't shed scales."
"I said they likely dropped off in the conflict didn't I? I'd hardly call that firm proof"
"Perhaps." agreed the minotaur. "However, those scales were too clean to be merely be beaten off the monster in a fight. The scales were not only in great condition, but there were no rips and tears, no pelt to speak of. Just scales with no hide attached. In a fight even if singular scales had fallen off, they should still have hide attached. That's not from a normal fight."
Grant cocked his head, still pretty genuinely curious. "So what do you think happened?" He asked.
The minotaur shook his head. "I do not know, and that is all the more reason to ask for your aid."
Grant looked at him blankly for a second.
Another second.
And then he laughed.
The minotaur walked on unbothered, but Grant found this minotaur all the more amusing.
Deciding to take a gamble despite how unpredictable he could be solely based off of instinct. He was so firm in his instinct in spite of having little to no reason to believe so in this case.
"HAHAHAHAHA~"
He laughed hard.
Fun times like these were what made him adventure.
It was great when life surprised Grant, and times like these it was worth living.
And so a beast and a youth went off to hunt a monster that day.
