Yakudatazu Skill ni Jinsei o Sosogikomi 25-nen, Imasara Saikyou no Boukentan Midori Kashi no Akira

It is said that in the heart of this world there is a bottomless cavity, the "Great Hole of Coma".

It is the monsters, the families of the gods of the world, who are created by the impatience that gushes from them.

That body, transformed by temper, is so tough that if it is a half-breed attack, it will bounce back.

It is possible to hurt yourself if you aim at the same spot again and again, but over time you will recover and get back to normal.

Even more troublesome, it won't come true to stop that activity without destroying steeples such as the brain and heart.

In a normal human being, he's not the one to deal with.

But the gods of Genesis had given people the means to confront them - skills called martial arts and magic tricks.

By using these, people have secured their living areas and protected themselves from monster threats.

However, the trials imposed existed to use those skills.

As a matter of fact, the stage (level) is low as it was given, so it doesn't work as well in action.

Was it considered that a skilled tree would be a burden in an immature body because it would bring its roots down to its newborn soul?

So people, on their own, needed to increase the level of skills they were given.

Literally, you have to grow a tree in your heart.

The method is easy to understand and defeat the monster first.

Then a training point (skill point) accumulates in the soul.

By accumulating a certain number of points and pouring them into the skill tree, the skill-bearing branches grow and become stronger.

Branches are less effective the closer they are to the ground and become higher as they go up the trunk.

And to some extent, if we don't grow the branches below, we can't reach the branches above.

Lower branches, lower branch skills are not easy to cultivate because of the low number of points required, but you cannot expect so much from effectiveness and power.

If you are an adventurer, the G-rank of apprentice and the F-rank of rush out are the main users.

Mid-branch skills in the middle add more points needed, but instead they show steady strength.

Starting to use this neighborhood are the E rank of promising stocks and the D rank considered for one serving.

When it comes to the mid-level C-rank, there are many users who work out multiple branches.

When it comes to upper-branch skills close to the crown, it deserves the name Special, and the number of users is narrowed down.

They are A-ranks called masters, and B-ranks known as craftsmen.

And Tor, thirty-nine years old, who quietly follows the family path, was the lowest, G-ranked, who had not yet been able to grow a single branch.

The reason is obvious, because of their allegedly useless skills.

Highly lethal skills become a must to deal with monsters that cannot be defeated easily.

Alternatively, it may be a skill that can assist the fellow releasing it.

However, Tor's < restore > did not apply to either of them.

The ability to fix limited but broken weapons and protective equipment is certainly a convenient and unusual skill.

But for that reason, it was also rare for humans to think about crushing precious party frames.

Unfortunately, any skill points you gain from defeating a monster will be overhead.

Therefore, there are more points you can earn to defeat with fewer people.

Weaponry and protective equipment can be dealt with with with with with gold if broken, but the point is that no matter how much money you load, you don't get it.

Thor, who was blending into the crowd, accidentally loosened his footsteps and slipped into one of the alleys.

Unlike Boulevard, even narrow trails don't reach as much demon stone lamp lights.

Thor travels on a quiet, dark path without sound.

Thor, who stopped his leg quite far from the hustle and bustle of the street, kept the wrap in his hand on the ground the whole time.

There is a smell of blood standing in the narrow alley, and at the same time multiple signs are approaching from the back of the dark.

"Nyao."

"Nyaovo"

It was the cats who glanced at the mess.

Two tiger stripes and black hair.

The nearer cat rubbed her body to mesmerize Tor's leather shoes.

Thor pulls the tip of the leather glove on his right hand cleverly through his mouth, bending in and gently stroking the back of the tiger stripe.

Strangely enough, Thor has never been rumored by these wildcats before.

Lifting her butt, the tiger striped cat snarls her throat with joy.

The black hair has also stuck around, so I take off the leather gloves on my left hand and offer them with my right hand this time.

Tor's left wrist had a large scar of white discoloration.

Thor narrowed his eyes to the feeling of being licked with a shiny tongue, his barely moving fingertips.

Thor, who enjoyed the sensation of stiff fur, stood up quietly.

The cats who have finished greeting also alternately bury their nose tips in a pile of bones, and begin to gallop a little further away if they please.

It was about a few months ago that Thor noticed the residents in this alley.

It was triggered by a strange sensation when I happened to pass by.

When I enter this trail feeling like someone peered into me from behind, it begins that I was surrounded by hungry beasts.

Then I got a little extra bones and organs, and giving them to the wildcats here became Tor's only pleasure.

I've never been complained of by a neighbor because of the smell that even came from the source and the garbage and the all-you-can-scatter place.

Satisfied with how the healthy cats were, Thor turned his back and walked out onto the boulevard.

Actually, besides the two of us on this trail, there was another sign of lurking in the dark.

He never tries to eat in front of Thor.

Still from the back of the alley, only the eyes of the blue-purple beast peeking at this one were glowing.

One day stroking this shy third was Thor's whispering desire.

Most of all, it became difficult in situations where I could no longer get the bones or guts to dispose of.

Patient for a drink home from work, Thor leaves early enough through South Main Street lined with restaurants and taverns.

Plus the sweating comfort, passing the warm curtains of money and water sideways.

The wooden sword is coming, and it's time to put the demolition knife out to grind.

In Thor's earnings, where the daily wage did not reach a single large piece of copper coin, I had to put up with everything.

Coming close to the city's outer walls, the number of passers-by is finally decreasing.

The neighborhood was poorly sunny due to its proximity to the walls, with lodging and rentals for less fruitful rushing adventurers.

By the time he took the road west along the wall and could see the open moat between him and the inner city, Tor finally reached the boarding house.

It's not that big a bungalow, and there are no other boarding houses besides Thor.

No, there's one more person, to be exact, but the person wasn't in such a condition that he could be put into the number of borrowers.

Thor treasured this boarding house because of its location slightly away from the Adventurers Bureau, the rent was cheap, and the character of a mild and laughable landlord.

Above all, with regard to cohabitants, it was the greatest advantage not to be asked loudly.

"Welcome back, Mr. Thor"

To the landlord Yuryl, who welcomed the beast fat lamp into his hand, Tor removes the leather gloves at the front door and drops the shoe mud as he lowers his head small.

I'm supposed to be sixty this year but my ankles are tight and my spine is straight so I don't look that old.

There are quite a few wrinkles engraved, but the nostrils are high, making you think you would have been a beauty when you were younger.

The white hair is carefully tied, revealing the long, pointed gray ears characteristic of the Northerners.

"Would you like to have dinner?

To the soft inquiry of the old woman, Thor hands over the meat of the horned mole that he has nodded and picked up.

I'm making up for a portion of the rent.

The dinner was a salty stew stewed with mole meat and round potatoes.

Hit the hard bread and even bite it off.

It tasted tired of eating, but I am not in a position to say luxury.

The belly filled Tor returned to his chamber as he bowed his head and thanked him.

Tor's room only has a fitted bed and a vertical costume shelf.

Although the shelf is packed with other things because there is hardly any change of clothes.

Remove the sword band from each wooden sword and hook it to the end of the back plate of the bed along with the backpack bag.

The next toil, cleverly removed with one hand from the mole leather top, is painted with birch oil to remove dirt and then hang on the wall to prevent it from becoming firm.

Keep the gloves, underwear and boots in the same way.

Thor, dressed in his room, leaned back against the bed.

Exhale deeply.

Today was much like yesterday.

Tomorrow will be the same.

Few days when black emotions come in from the bottom of your belly and you sleep poorly.

There are countless things that I wanted to throw away everything and run away from.

But I didn't.

I won't even do it tomorrow.

When we do it, it's because we're ready.

And there was intent.

If you've come this far, I'm trying to keep you going.

With that in mind again, Thor takes the Adventurer's Bill, which was left on his neck.

Tired of seeing the green edges were reflected in the black eyes.

A testament to this adventurer is the mechanism by which ownership skills, etc. come to life when the owner touches them.

In the case of Tor, the letters < restore > and nine light points indicating the level were lit next to them.

In the lower right corner, the skill points currently accumulated are displayed in terms of glowing as well.

This light point indicated one thousand points.

Plates have biannual checks, and without significant changes in their numbers, they are demoted from rank or disqualified from being adventurers.

Although there are preferences such as exemption from street entrance fees, there is no choice.

The maximum number of such checks was set at fifty.

Tor got this plate when he was fifteen, so it expires this summer in his twenty-fifth year.

Thor exhaled again for a long time, thinking of the time left.

And casually count the light points of your skill points.

"... seven... eight... nine... ten... oh, you're hoarding"

That was the first word Tor has spoken outside of the numbers today.

Thor, who had listened to his words like any other HR for a while, accidentally jumped out of bed like a spring.

I approach the costume rack to jump, breathe deeply in the position where I held the handle, and then crush it with the voice I pushed to kill it.

"Have I kept you waiting long enough? Hey, Grandpa."

Behind a well-opened door of momentum.

It was one girl standing there.

He glances wide and opens his mouth as if to scream out now.

But it's the neck that catches your eye first.

Packed and scratched open on the horizontal letter, coloured crimson with overflowing blood.

It was like a statue of a girl dying right now.