"Fifteen... fourteen... thirteen... twelve... eleven... ten, whoa"
Noticing the feeling of breaking the egg shell, Tor slowly pulled out the knife he was plugging into the forest slime.
The tip of the blade, which was immersed in soluble body fluids, was discolored and caused great distortion.
I shake gently and fly clean the sticky liquid on the tip of my sword, thanking you for the good luck of stabbing a stop in time.
And as he focused his consciousness on the knife he gripped, Thor chanted in his heart.
- < Restore >.
The moment I remembered, things were already over.
Previously, the terrible condition disappeared without a trace, and what was there was the appearance of a knife that was no different in dimension from the previous one.
With a thin breath of loss coming from his magical decline, Thor quickly returned the knife to his sheath, holding a longitudinal roll of shellfish that was sandwiched in his hips.
Slime, which was snagging at the trunk of the tree, is starting to drip off because of the crushing of the nucleus.
Raise the seafood mouth and pour it into the brown body fluids to collect.
Forest Slime, an indefinite monster (monster) born of condensation, becomes safe from loss of solubility from its fluids when it dies.
Sticky body fluids had various applications because when heat was applied, they became strong adhesives and reinforcements.
Therefore, the purchase price is surprisingly high at five pieces of copper coin for one fine rolled shell.
There are other reasons why they are expensive, and it is also significant that there are few people who want to collect them.
Mud chunks A similar forest slime is a monster that snaps into the trunk of a tree and just withers that tree as it gnaws.
They won't attack us if we get close. Yeah, they won't fight back if they try to exorcise us.
That sounds like an easy opponent to ask, but the problem is how to defeat it.
First, the membrane on the body surface of the slime is surprisingly elastic and cannot be penetrated unless it is a sharp blade.
And the only way to find the nucleus of weakness lurking in its brown body fluids is to even spin it with a blade tip as a stew pan.
So, in the meantime, the forest slime is all in return, when you continue to melt foreign objects that have come into your body.
In exchange for expensive weapons for that reason, there was no choice but to make them unpopular, because they were too unpopular monsters.
Naturally, Tor's favorite knife for dismantling is not safe if it touches the slime.
But he had the "skills" to make it a charade.
This land, called Eternoah, is contested by the two poles of the gods of Genesis and the gods of annihilation.
People were on the side of the Genesis God and bore the fate of fighting the servants of the Desolation God who attacked them day and night.
In the most powerless human beings, there is no way they can rival the horrible monster that is the incarnation of destruction.
But the gods of Genesis did not imitate abandoning the children they themselves created.
The merciful gods have given men in the lower realm the art of fighting monsters.
That is the skill tree.
Every human soul is born with a skilled tree, capable of performing various miracles by the skill of dwelling in its branches.
Once given, the tree will not wither for life, nor will it grow back into a new tree.
And Thor's skill tree was not a lineage of the famous six great gods, but a gift from an anonymous god.
Only one branch was stretched out of the tree.
That was the skill with the < restore > name.
The old priest who did the appraisal was surprised and delighted that he was a rare intrinsic skill (unique skill).
The people around them also fussed that it must be a skill that can be undone for anything based on the skill name.
But that was also until Thor grew more magical as he grew and his skills were actually available.
< restore > requires a lot of magic, and its effects were too poor.
Skills are valid only for objects touched by the hand and are not covered by life-threatening beings.
And the only state I could restore was just ten seconds ago.
The number of times available for enumeration was only once an hour.
I can't even heal a little injury.
Only about something broken in front of me, it helps.
In the first place, there were great constraints on the skills given by the gods to fight.
It was stipulated that the only objects that could be used were the monsters offered by the exterminating gods or the people and objects involved in them.
In the end, the use Tor came up with was enough to undo the weapon melted in the slime this way.
Having collected three portions of body fluids of vertically wound shellfish, Tor cleverly pushed the wooden plug in with one hand to make sure there were no leaks before turning it into a backpack.
The part of the trunk where the forest slime was sticking had the bark melted and a large indentation.
A little later, this tree would have been useless.
(i) Thor, having finished his work, makes sure the time is clear by watering down the leak date.
The faintly reddish sunshine had shown that the sun would soon fall.
Decide it's time to pull up and head back through the trees to the forest road.
This little ghost forest has involved so many people over the years that a well maintained path can be made.
Thor, who switched his score to a wooden sword, began to walk early, vigilant around.
Walk about half an hour through the woods and you'll see stone gray walls across the trees.
Thor and his adventurers live in the border city of Dadan.
There is a large gate on the front of the stone wall, beside which are two gatekeepers in red brown leather armor.
But the sturdy wooden doors, framed with iron, open to the left and right, with no shards of motivation left behind by the men who guard the gates or by the walls.
The gatekeepers with a tattered attitude stopped noticing and bickering at the approaching Tor.
"Hey, old man. Have you finished collecting mud for today?
"Hey, let it go."
Another old man stops the young man with one hand in his nose talking in a teasing tone.
Tor nodded back small, letting him hold the Adventurer's Bill (plate), which would be his pass, from his neck.
The green edges of the palm plates are a testament to the lowest grade (G-rank) called green oak.
The old gatekeeper, a former adventurer, shrugged his jaw into the gate looking with pity at the green plate held by nearly forty men.
It's a trick to get through.
On the back of Thor through the gate, the words of a young man are thrown once again.
"I'm a good old man, how long have I been dealing with Slime? Until this late."
"Come on, Carlus. Pick a word!
"Retire, too, old man. It's easy to start a gatekeeper."
To the advice of a young man with purple eyes, Thor responded with one hand up without turning around.
Where G-rank adventurers have retired, it's not easy to find a new job.
It's about daily manual labor at best, but it won't last that long in a body with Thor's problems.
It was a fact that we knew each other well.
The corner through the gate was a square.
As the sun sets, the demonic stone lamps illuminate the thin blurry and stone streets.
Against a wave of people rushing home, Thor headed to the Adventurers Bureau building, which he saw in the front.
Instead of the front entrance, turn to your right hand and arrive at the crusade assessment desk.
Already similarly dressed adventurers had made longer rows in their hands with a sign of their tailored prey.
Tor quietly falls into a swarm of gay young people.
As we followed the line one by one, someone who had been delayed overtook Tor to speak to the previous young people.
Apparently they're from the same party.
The young man who exchanged two or three words joined the line as it were.
Most of all the hunting is done by all the parties, so this is not enough to be blamed separately.
The young man who participated along the way turned back to say hello.
And I notice the toil that was lined up directly behind me and the G-rank plate on its neck and circle my eyes.
Without hesitation, he pointed to Thor and whispered something in his ear, drawing the attention of the woman with him who was lying beside him.
The young people in front of them who overheard the conversation also turn their necks to see what a middle-aged adventurer looks like.
Compared to their gear, which was dirty and damaged everywhere, Thor's leather coat had not been used in, but there are no signs anywhere like the one contested with the monsters.
The young men, who carelessly perceived its meaning, raised their voices to scorn.
"Seriously. Oh, you don't want to be"
"How long are you going to stick around, crusade thief?"
"I'd be ashamed to retire."
Thor looked back expressionlessly at the voices he heard.
No shame or discomfort has come to mind in those eyes.
What was just there was the eye of a man who had been exposed to severe wind and snow.
The young men, who notice Thor's gaze, face to face and push silently.
Then I started happily talking about the effects of today's war so that I could force myself to change the subject.
After a while I waited, the order of the tall came around.
The receptionist lady in the green uniform was an unfamiliar woman, but Thor takes it out as he always opens his backpack and checks one fine rolled shell at a time.
Slightly hung receptionists slap the counter with long nails to frustrate as they alternate the look and the row stretching behind the toll.
At the end of the day, accompanied by a bottle of pointed horns, the receptionist took one of the shells unwrought as she stuck her lower lip out in dissatisfaction.
"This, what?
A glance at the green edged plate at the neck, the receptionist asks Tor to slightly raise his tail and intimidate him.
Most Adventurers Bureau officials are highly-ranked former adventurers.
And the rest is occupied by its hereditary and marginal hiring.
The more people who have been granted such privileges, the more they tend to look down on the people who get to work in the field.
"The place, isn't it wrong? This is the focal point for crusade assessment."
Slime is a testament to defeating one for three fine rolled shells with fluid because there is no evidence of crusade.
Thor was the only one in the city who was hunting for slime, and the woman in charge of this desk was the first to question it.
"You didn't put anything weird in there, did you?
The receptionist suddenly unplugged the seashell without waiting for Thor to explain.
The brown mucus overflows from the mouth of the finely curled shellfish, which leaned shortly after stopping.
dripped off. It spread stickily over the bundle of paperwork it had placed.
The receptionist lets go of the shell container and makes a loud scream at the appearance.
"CAR! What, this!
"Hey, what's up?
"You, what have you done?!
Men lined up behind me, noticing the women screaming and stuffing.
Thor creates a slight void in the arms of a man stretched out with his shoulders closed.
He took a step back and vividly overdid the man who jumped on his back even more.
The avoided men bump into the counter and nod as they leak the groan of pain.
It was the voice of a hasty woman who had abruptly interrupted me as someone screamed and became noisy asking me to call the guards.
"Hey, hey, what the hell happened?
"Ah, Senior Enna!
What emerged from the back was a woman in a pompous shape.
I can't say I'm beautiful, but I have a loving face.
The woman called Enna seemed to understand the situation instantly, alternating between the container of finely curled shellfish, which was the source of the noise, and the receptionist's face.
Like that, try shrugging your shoulders.
"Did you do it again? Marika. Oh, thank you, Mr. Thor, always."
"What, because... this"
"I told you to be careful with slime mucus."
"No, I didn't ask"
"Ma, that. I'll do it here. Write the final book in the back."
"What, I'm not bad!
"Fine, I've already gone. Looks like we made a little mistake. Sorry to disturb you."
The familiar receptionist gets rid of Marika, the grieving face, and apologizes to the men who are still in pain to clean things up lightly.
In silence to Thor, Enna first tried to pick up the sealed finely curled shellfish to prevent the spread of the damage.
Thor's hand reaches out to block it and touches the spilled liquid first.
At the next moment, the body fluids of the smashed slime had disappeared without a trace.
Enna gives a flashing look with the liquid in her shell as if nothing had happened.
but I immediately understood what happened once in a while and let Tor have a full grin.
Count the items brought in tightly and write down the name and amount details of Tor in the assessment form and press Pong and Hanko.
"Yes, let me confirm. A crusade between one horn mole and five forest slimes at once, and fifteen mucus, right? Please take it."
Ninety-five copper coins were on the accounting plates offered.
Since the daily wage of daily workers is about two hundred pieces of copper coin, it is difficult to say that it fits the quota.
But Thor took it silently and rewarded the sachet he hung in his waistband.
"Thank you. I'll tell that kid a lot, so forgive him."
In response to Miss Enna's mistaking words, Thor let her scratch her jaw lightly.
After the assessment desk, Tor then heads to the shopping office set up in conjunction with the Adventurer's Bureau.
The boutique is where you buy the carcasses of crusaded monsters, dismantle them and wholesale them.
Once inside, the unique smell gets muffled on my nose.
There were desks lined up for demolition in a wide area, and staff members who had defiled the forehang with blood were snorting at the cutting work.
One of them, a small, gassy man who grew horns from his forehead, approached the counter noticing Thor.
"Welcome, Mr. Thor"
Nodding to a familiar official, Thor hands over the carcass of a horned mole that had been cut out of the corner that had been lowered to his waist.
A horn mole is a mole that has been invaded and monstered by temper.
The tip of his nose is as hard and pointed as a corner, and his body also mutates to the size of a medium-sized dog, with the habit of suddenly hitting him from under the ground when he senses prey.
That sounds kind of strong to me, but in the woods of little ghosts for apprenticeships, it can be second to slime.
"You're still beautifully finished. I'll peel the skin clean, so it'll really help."
Typically, monsters are defeated by martial and magical skills, thus becoming burnt or flashly mutilated carcasses.
However, Tor's mole was concentrated on the face only, with very little damage.
"Are you sure you want to do as usual?
To Thor, who scratches silently under his chin, the official handed him the meat of a dismantled horned mole wrapped in leaves for packaging.
I see it in my backpack, and then I give you three copper coins.
The purchase price of the whole square mole was five pieces of copper coin, but it was also possible to have the meat and skin bought separately.
"And it's the usual mess"
When Thor reaches for his right hand to the leaf wrap the official sneaked on the counter, someone's voice is accidentally heard.
"What the hell is that? Mr. Sargon!"
"Chief!"
"There have been reports that some officials have been misappropriating purchased goods, but I didn't expect you to be such a shameless imitator."
It was a red-haired, color-black man wearing the same white forehead as everyone else who approached him roughing up his voice.
I didn't find any dirt on the most men's clothes.
Sargon hurries to tell the breakdown to the man who took the wrap from the side.
"It's a misunderstanding, chief. It's part of the plan to dispose of."
"Why, give me something like that? You can't lie to me like that."
"T, because Mr. Thor wanted me to"
Turning to the suspicious eye, the man known as the chief spread the wrap over the counter.
It was bones and organs of bone moles unsuitable for consumption, as the officials said, that came out of the inside.
The red-haired man, who was alternating between the contents of the wrap and Thor's face with a rugged face, turned into a mocking look at whether he was accidentally convinced by the green plate on his neck.
"Oh well. You're a mud fisherman or something. I see. You mean you've eaten up and become a beggar"
You completely lost interest, the man largely took the flue out of his nose and set it on fire.
Speaking out smoke deliberately, ignore Tor and speak to the officials.
"Let me give it to you this time. Save yourself the trouble of throwing it away. But you, Sargon. You can't deal with people who don't have character. Let's get this straight."
"... ok"
Sargon snuck his eyes out as he replied with a sorry face.
Realizing what it means, Thor lifts the leaf wrap silently.
"In the first place, it's not worth living in, like, a man who lost his pride. Don't you think?
Yes, you are, chief.
Tor, who exited the boutique, breathed heavily, restocking his backpack.
And I finally walk out on my way home.
From behind, the red-haired man's voice was still faintly heard.