Nozomanu Fushi no Boukensha (LN) - Volume 1 - Chapter Pr

Prologue 

This... This is bad. 

That was the first thought that flashed across my mind as the monster before me opened its crimson red lips, rushing at me with its mouth wide open.

In a particularly rural corner of the lands was the Kingdom of Yaaran, and on the fringes of the kingdom was a small town by the name of Maalt. I, Rentt Faina, an adventurer of the lower-Bronze-class, found myself hunting weak monsters in the Water Moon Dungeon—a dungeon close to the township of Maalt. On this day, much like any other, I continued my relentless hunt for skeletons and goblins, assembling what little materials and magical ores I could along the way. 

That was my daily routine after all. I basically did the same thing every day, returning to town in the evenings and off-loading my gathered materials at the adventurer’s guild for a humble sum of coin. That was what I had intended to do today, too, as I always had before. 

However, this disruption to my well-established routine was sudden and abrupt—a quick wrench in the cogs, if you will. 

Perhaps I should elaborate a little on the subject of dungeons. Since I had walked the chambers and paths of Moon’s Reflection every day, there was little to no possibility of me getting lost. Ironically, it was this familiarity that was my undoing, for I discovered what appeared to be a new path along my old and familiar routes. 

I suppose one could call it bad luck. Yes, let’s go with that. 

Under normal circumstances, I would have probably overlooked such a thing. Adventurers, after all, were supposed to be individuals who adventure, but the definition of “adventure” didn’t exactly include rushing into situations without any prior surveillance or planning. In reality, however, there were far more adventurers who simply charged headfirst into any situation—and as ashamed as I am to be counted amongst their number, I, too, have made such mistakes. 

It would probably do me well to raise a single point in my defense here. To begin with, the Water Moon Dungeon was discovered ages ago. To find new paths and chambers in such a well-explored dungeon was virtually unheard of. In other words, it was a big discovery. One would summarily deduce that some sort of magical grimoire or weapon with a wildly ridiculous price tag lay at the end of this mysterious path. In addition, one could attain a certain degree of fame and fortune by charting a previously unexplored area of a dungeon. 

And so it came to be that I entered this strange path, thoughts of potential riches clouding both my mind and my judgment. My short-lived exploration trip, however, did not end well. I soon found myself in a large chamber toe-to-toe with a monster of gigantic proportions. And when it rains, it pours—or so they say. 

Of all things, the monster had to be a dragon. You know. dragons. Monsters that stood at the top of the monster hierarchy. Normally, one would have to be a Platinum- or Mithril-class adventurer to even stand a chance against them, as they were the monster of monsters. 

At a glance, it looked a little different from one’s usual vision of a dragon. While most dragons looked a certain way, this one was markedly different—like a large snake, or perhaps a frog. However, there was no mistaking that the monster in question was a dragon of some sort. That’s what I thought anyway. 

Unfortunate adventurers who cross paths with dragons usually do not make it out alive to tell the tale. As dragons do not appear before people very often, eyewitness accounts are rare, perhaps historically so. In fact, you could count the existing recorded instances on one hand. Legend has it that there were no more than four of such dragons in the world, and their strength was said to even rival that of the demon king. Some would say that they were not monsters but instead divine beings, while others would say that they were beyond even that. 

In other words, someone like me, who had been stuck in Bronze-class for eons despite their best efforts, would be utterly crushed and defeated if the dragon so much as lifted its little finger—For a while, I wondered if dragons actually had fingers. 

So with a dragon appearing before me, I had no choice but to be surprised-I did not have any illusions or thoughts of fighting it at all. This, specifically, was why I decided to run. If I didn’t run, I would surely die. And so my feet began to move. 

But then— 

I guess the dragon really was the monster of monsters, because it quickly noticed my intention to escape. Perhaps it couldn’t help but notice, just like how my feet couldn’t help but freeze on the spot. Just like that, I found myself unable to move. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that my body itself refused to move. It didn’t even twitch. A normal individual would question why this was the case—if they were, say, a normal person who had never come face-to-face with a monster before. 

However, because of my long tenure as an adventurer, it wasn’t difficult for me to understand this current phenomenon. Adventurers eventually learn to read their opponents regardless of their nature, be they human or monster. The pressure and aura released by a being of high strength was often enough to oppress and intimidate the weak; they say it is like being crushed by a heavy, invisible weight. At least, that was how the rumors went. 

What I experienced was exactly that. Incapable of withstanding the pressure emanating from the dragon, I was unable to move, completely rooted to the ground. Realizing my situation, I wished from the bottom of my heart for the dragon to spare me. It probably wouldn’t. This, I knew as much. 

At that point, all I could do was stand and watch as the dragon advanced closer—all the while praying that it would change its mind about eating me. Reality, however, was not quite so forgiving. 

After it caught sight of me, the dragon swiftly opened its mouth and charged in my general direction. Of course it was going to eat me—as expected. That was the conclusion I arrived at as I pondered, somewhat leisurely, in the face of death. At the same time, a little voice in my head reminded me of how dire the situation was, reminded me that I’d soon be dead. There wasn’t much I could do about it, however—my body simply wouldn’t move. 

It had been about ten years since I first became an adventurer at the age of 15. Back then, I believed that I’d one day exceed Platinum-class rank and become one of the few legendary Mithril-class adventurers—that was my dream when I first started out. So, I took on simple quests, earning my daily keep as I continued dreaming of such a future. When I was done with my daily quests, I would continue my daily training regimen. Although I did all that, it seemed like my dream would end here. 

It was pathetic; unfortunate, yes, but mostly pathetic. 

With feelings of utmost regret, and a strange sense of release knowing that my relatively pointless life would end here and now, my body was engulfed in the mouth of the dragon—and that was that. 

What I was not expecting, however, was the strange sensation of waking up after an indeterminate period of time. It would seem that I had woken up, regardless of how I was sure I’d been eaten by a dragon, and how I’d confirmed my death with these very eyes. Yet here I was, awake. 

And then I noticed— 

Wait. No, no no no. That’s impossible. 

That’s what I thought as I woke up, confirming the situation around me. 

This all seemed unfeasible, particularly the matter of what had happened to my body. I couldn’t process what was happening. Even so, first, a look at my hands was warranted. 

It was then that the realization struck me. There was no flesh on my hands—though there should have been—and there was no skin, either. In fact, all that remained of what was once my hand were a series of thin, white bones. 

—And that was all there was. 

This strange ailment didn’t stop at my hands, however; it had apparently afflicted every inch of my body. My feet, too, were plain bone—no flesh or skin anywhere. Same went for my thighs, as well as both my arms. 

As for my face, well... It wasn’t common practice for adventurers to carry compact mirrors. Needless to say, I didn’t have one. With an educated guess, I would assume that I probably had a skull for a face. In other words... 

I, Rentt Faina, adventurer of the lower-Bronze-class, had apparently conducted a class change from “adventurer” to “skeleton” at some point in time. 

Impossible...