The ruin exploration proposed to the Magic Tower was safely accepted under the active support of the wanderer, Colin.

He conveyed a coordinate in the local area where the ruin was located, not Gellerg City, as the meeting place.

He said that there was a transfer gate installed by the Magic Tower Master and his disciples, so he would arrive first and finish the preliminary preparations.

Since it was a solo journey, the luggage I had to pack was simple.

I returned home, packed my bags, and said, "I'll be out for a while."

"For how many days? Where are you going?"

When I informed him, Bel showed great interest.

It felt less like a pure curiosity about the whereabouts of his housemate and more like a sinister calculation of how many days of freedom he would have.

"I'm going on a ruin exploration, so I'm not sure how long it will take."

"A ruin exploration? Doesn't that take several months?"

"Well, I plan to finish it as soon as possible."

If it were a normal ruin, it would be a different story, but a ruin related to a profession did not require that much time to conquer.

Bel, who did not know this, had a happy circuit running in his head and was smiling with his mouth open.

"Take good care of the place while I'm gone. Especially the vegetable garden, be careful so that no plants wither or get sick."

The vegetable garden was the source from which I could deploy my territory.

The reason I had wanted an android was to supplement the management personnel of the vegetable garden, so no matter how much I nagged, it was not enough.

"Water them well, put up a shade cloth when the sun is strong, and pull out the weeds. I've heard it so many times that my ears are going to get calluses."

"And be sure to familiarize yourself with the precautions for each plant."

"You mean the booklet you wrote? I look at it every day. I always think it's strange that plants grow well with just the methods written there."

Although Bel grumbled, he now obediently followed my instructions.

I felt a sense of accomplishment, as if I had spread civilization to this uncivilized otherworlder.

"Don't forget to clean the house every day. I'll be bringing a guest when I'm done with work, so it can't be messy."

"Who?"

"The head of the Magic Tower school."

"The head of the Magic Tower school...?"

It was not the reaction of an ordinary person surprised by the mention of an unexpected big shot.

Bel's face was strangely contorted, as if he had heard an occult rumor.

"How can an ignorant guy like you be with the head of the Magic Tower school?"

If I got angry here, I would be the loser.

Because he was under the illusion that he was smarter than me.

The reality was the opposite.

"What's a smart-aleck who only knows how to design machines and assemble parts? What else are you good at?"

[The World Tree actively agrees.]

When the World Tree poked his forehead, Bel got angry and waved his hand, shouting.

"No, knowing that is what's smart!"

"So, what's the result?"

"..."

When I pointed to Beta with my chin, the guy became a mute who had eaten honey.

How could he possibly excuse the biggest mistake that had reduced his own identity to that of a slave?

"Ah."

Crash!

As if timed perfectly, Beta broke a dish.

He stealthily turned his head and then said to us, "It is an inevitable sacrifice that accompanies the process of development. It is trivial."

"You just stay still!"

There was no one on Bel's side here.

I ignored the guy who was whining that he was being treated unfairly and said to Beta, "Keep a good watch on Bel so he doesn't slack off."

"I will do my best."

"It's the opposite! I'm working hard, and he's the one causing trouble!"

I didn't listen to the local broadcast.

"And keep a communication link with me. Be prepared to use your abilities as soon as you receive a call."

"I judge that a ruin is not a place where my hacking abilities will be used."

"It's better to be safe than sorry."

I did not take Claire's warning lightly.

"Because I have to prepare for a dispute with another ruin exploration team."

The world of FP was a world where the worst-case scenario always became a reality.

***

There was a profession called a guide.

It was a specialized profession that guided the way to the extreme lands outside the city, where the influence of the city government did not reach.

As former adventurers, they came and went from the borderlands as if it were their own home, with their own know-how.

It wasn't that they didn't encounter dangerous situations, but it was possible because they knew relatively safe routes.

As such, the customers who sought them were diverse.

Criminals seeking asylum, businessmen wanting secret contact, spies being chased by the city government, and so on.

If we were to group them, who had such diverse circumstances, by one common point.

It was that they never moved alone.

"Are you sure you want to go this way?"

"I must have given you the exact coordinates."

"Hmm, if it's this way, it's a bit ambiguous to move alone."

Even for Clinton, a guide who had met many clients, this client was unique.

"Isn't it the Land of Quicksand? This way, the hot and humid environment is one thing, but the biggest threat is the magical bandits."

If the great plains were a hotbed of the Corrupted, the Land of Quicksand was the land of magical bandits.

Originally, this was a territory managed by the southern city of barbarians.

However, due to being the main battlefield of the great war between the tribes, it lost its vitality and became a desolate desert.

As a result, most of the tribesmen left, but some tribes did not leave their hometown.

They continued their lives by riding on mutant horses that had adapted to the extreme environment and engaging in plunder.

Since the desert was so vast, most of the time they could not be encountered.

As such, when they were encountered, it was a disaster.

Travelers, exhausted from the heat of the desert and fatigue, found it difficult to withstand their persistent and cruel hands.

"I'll guide you on the safest path as much as possible. But I can't guarantee that it's safe. The magical bandits, like uncivilized barbarians, tend to deviate from their patrol routes as if it were a daily routine, so there may be unavoidable cases."

So hire escorts right away or find a group heading in the same direction.

The man did not listen to the advice that was said in a roundabout way and acted boldly.

"It's fine, so just go without nagging. Even if the situation you're worried about happens, I'll handle it."

The skin of his face, visible through the robe he was wearing, was pale.

He had an impression as if he had grown up without any hardship.

So he must be acting so boldly, not knowing the ways of the world.

Clinton did not meddle any further.

He just asked, "What will you do if a situation you can't handle occurs?"

"If you judge it to be dangerous with your own judgment, I'll allow you to run away."

"I'll take half of the advance payment for that."

"I'll do that."

Danger was a daily occurrence for an adventurer.

Nevertheless, the fact that he had survived until the end meant that he had his own means of survival.

If he was confident that he could escape from mere magical bandits, he could not be proud of being a guide.

If it was a contract where he could run away alone in case of an emergency, there would be no problem.

Clinton packed the luggage he had prepared and left the city with the client.

Sizzle!

The sun was scorching hot.

His footsteps sank into the sand with every step, and the heated air made it difficult to breathe.

The Land of Quicksand.

Every sight that met his eyes was the scorching golden sand.

When the wind blew, the light sand was quickly swept away, creating new hills and disorienting his sense of direction.

The guide found his way in such an extreme environment with his own method.

Just by avoiding the quicksand that sucked people in like a swamp, he was doing his part sufficiently.

'He has good stamina, unlike how he looks.'

A few days had passed.

Clinton, who had lit a bonfire in front of the temporarily set up tent, was inwardly impressed.

He had provided a lot of convenience.

Even considering this, the client was following the pace quite well in the extreme environment.

'And he's not thirsty even while walking around like that.'

Even if you filled your bag with water, the desert was a place where it was not enough.

Since he had packed his luggage lightly, the amount of water he had brought was small.

And yet, he did not show any signs of being thirsty.

Even more, he still had some of the little water he had brought left.

'A person is not a cactus.'

Anyway, he was a unique person.

It seemed he had the skill to be stubborn and say he was fine on his own.

"We'll arrive in about two more days."

Since the client did not slow down unnecessarily, the arrival was earlier than planned.

This was the first time Clinton had had such a smooth journey in his time as a guide.

He was filled with the hope of returning quickly and resting well.

"...Damn it!"

But as they say, good things don't last.

Clinton cursed at the approach of a great disaster that made the smooth journey so far seem colorless.

The man asked, "What is it?"

"Do you see that sandstorm blowing over there?"

"It looks like a typhoon has blown."

"The flow of the wind is not natural. It's a sign that a horde of magical bandits is approaching."

The sandstorm was approaching quickly.

It was a storm caused by the orderly hoof beats of the horses ridden by the horde of magical bandits.

In the Land of Quicksand, this was called a harbinger of disaster.

"It won't be much use to hide."

"What are you talking about? Where is there a place to hide in this place that is all sand?"

Clinton was frustrated that the man was still so calm.

"They are ghosts who have adapted to the extreme land. Their physical abilities should be placed in the category of birds of prey rather than the category of humans. Do you know what that means? It means they are coming for us from that far distance!"

Clinton fumbled in his pocket.

His means of survival, which he had prepared for a time like this, was there.

A talisman of perception distortion.

It was an artifact created by a curse master, and it had the function of causing confusion by acting on a person's vision.

The effective number of people was... one.

"Judging by the size of the sand cloud, it's a scale that's beyond my ability. What will you do? If you think you can't handle it, I'm going to run away as promised."

Since he had received half of the advance payment, it was not a loss to wash his hands of it now.

Although it was a pity that it was right before arriving at the destination, it was not more precious than his life.

"I must have told you."

The man took off his hat.

The contrast between his jet-black hair, which seemed to absorb all the sunlight, and his pale skin was impressive.

"I'll handle it."

For a moment, reality was erased by the facial features that were closer to a work of art than a person.

Although he had a feeling that he would be a pretty noble, was he this much?

Clinton suppressed the admiration that was about to burst out.

"Go ahead and try. I'll wait for exactly three minutes."

Apart from the admiration, it was a minus factor to give trust to a guide who was experienced.

He admitted that he was stubborn for his looks.

The raid of the horde of magical bandits was a different story.

How could a young master who had lived under the protection of a bodyguard handle a horde of magical bandits?

Clinton had finished preparing to run away at any time if things went wrong.

"...?"

Let's see how he gets out of this crisis.

Clinton, who had crossed his arms, soon straightened his posture.

Screech!

At the same time as the man closed his eyes, a blue light flashed from his chest.

A hawk with huge wings tore through the light, cried out powerfully, and flapped its wings into the high sky.

"There are so many of them."

Although the man had his eyes closed, he muttered as if he were sharing his vision with the hawk.

Clinton was sure of it.

'It's the art of a familiar.'

So, was he so confident because he was a mage?

But it was not a surprising fact to relax his tension.

The greatness of a mage came from his transcendence.

An ordinary mage who had not surpassed a certain hierarchy still belonged to the category of humans.

They were just a slightly more difficult prey.

It was difficult for a young man to be such a monster.

This was common sense.

...So Clinton, who had given up all expectations, was bewildered by the man's subsequent actions.

Click!

"A gun...?"

It was a small pistol that would be a self-defense tool.

The man aimed it into the sandstorm that had risen to the sky.

'It won't reach the effective range...?'

It was a distance that would require a sniper rifle, not to mention a rifle.

Was there a reason to aim the gun already?

Clinton's question was soon answered.

Bang!

The man pulled the trigger coolly.

The sound of the gun echoed without rest until the cylinder was empty.

It was an interval that made one doubt whether he was aiming properly.

Clatter!

A clean and fast reload followed.

Clinton was personally impressed.

I thought he was a mage.

Only the reloading was as proficient as a special police officer who had received professional training at the security bureau.

'What the hell is he?'

It was difficult to guess his identity.

More than anything, what was most curious was what meaning this series of bullet wastage had.

Soon after the sound of the gun stopped, the man returned the gun to its holster.

"It's over."

It was nonsense.

"...Are you kidding me? You have to have a limit to your bluffing. You just shot a pistol from this distance."

"You'll know if you wait."

"Tsk."

Although it was nonsense, Clinton waited silently.

Since he had said three minutes, he could endure until then.

Whoosh!

And Clinton witnessed it.

"No, the sandstorm...?"

The harbinger of disaster subsided calmly.

It meant that the horses had stopped.

There were two reasons why a horde of magical bandits who had found their prey would stop.

They had finished the hunt... or they were all dead.

"F-follow me. I have to go and check."

Unable to believe it, Clinton headed to the scene himself.

It was difficult for his common sense to believe that the disaster of this land had lost its life in vain.

"H-how can this be?"

The corpses of the horde of magical bandits were buried in the sand.

Only then did Clinton realize that his common sense had been denied.

"I told you I could handle it."

Clinton admitted his misjudgment.

The man who looked like a pretty noble was not an ordinary mage.

He was a monster that was beyond common sense.