Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Vol. 8

by Fujino Omori

“Excellent! Let’s make a deal!”

  A few of Orario’s deities stood over the badly wounded soldiers, smiling and dangling potions for sale just out of the soldiers’ reach.

  Indeed, these deities were selling not only to their own forces but to enemy troops as well. Their entrepreneurial spirits knew no bounds. They’d found a market and were going to take advantage of it.

  “No one can fight with a broken weapon! Come and buy a new one!”

  “I’ll accept a trade!”

  “Ba-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! How do you like that, Miach? My goods are selling like there’s no tomorrow! Looks like I win this one, too, wouldn’t you say, Amid?”

  “No, Lord Dian Cecht. Lord Miach and his familia are not here.”

  “What was that?! Chickened out, eh, Mi-aaaaaaaaaaach?”

  Weapons, armor, and even magic swords changed hands.

  It was all a simple case of supply and demand, and the fact that Orario hadn’t taken the slightest bit of damage meant that demand was overwhelming. Merchants were champing at the bit. Orario’s adventurers had completely destroyed Rakia’s supply lines and means of communication; these soldiers had no choice but to buy. The commanding officers could not go against the will of their god Ares, and so they cried rivers of tears watching a fortune disappear.

  “Tsk, no real men anywhere…All the good ones must be commanding officers.”

  “Aisha! There’re some really hunky knights a few rows over! It’s time to feast!”

  “W-wait right there, Samira! Right behind you!”

  A few of the prostitutes from the Pleasure District had also come to the camp. Not belonging to any familia, the “free” beauties also came to conduct business. They offered services to some of the warriors, but as soon as the fearsome Amazons found a knight who met their standards, they “devoured” him on the spot. Every so often the wails of pleasure would break through the continuous moans of pain and despair.

  With nothing to keep them in check, what was once Rakia’s camp for the assault on Orario had become little more than a playground for the economic ambitions of the city’s citizens and deities.

  “A-a report from the front! Battalions one through five have been wiped out, and our front lines are retreating in an all-out rout across the board. The enemy seems to have predicted all our strategic ploys, as each one ended in failure…”

  “C-curse theeeeeem…!!”

  —A god sitting under a tent at the very rear of Rakia’s forces clenched his fist in anger.

  With golden hair as thick as a lion’s mane, the deity was clad in stark red armor. His masculine and robust features would rival those of a male God of Beauty, the epitome of manliness.

  He was none other than the instigator of this war, the true leader of the Kingdom of Rakia—and the familia’s god: Ares.

  He ground his teeth together as he listened to the messenger’s report, his immaculate face warping into a frown.

  “The forward camp has been overrun by Orario’s greedy scum! Swindled by Amazonian prostitutes, our soldiers’ morals have been thrown to the wayside…Morale is at an all-time low!!”

  “Orario! How cowardly, to use such underhanded tactics!!”

  Ares’s face flushed so red that it matched his armor. If Loki were there, she would be quick to hit him with a one-liner such as, “Ya think we’d do somethin’ like that, blockhead?” Just the thought of it filled Ares with even more rage.

  The god himself would call it his innate urge to fight, but the people around him would refer to it as recklessness.

  Other deities described him as having 100 percent muscle between the ears. The young man currently at his side took one look at his god’s infuriated state and let out a big sigh. His shoulders dropped as he shook his head from side to side, obviously tired of seeing it.

  This was the god of the military, otherwise known as the God of War: Ares.

  He might have been a god of battle, but he did not control victory.

  An air of defeat had already filled the tent of commanding officers. All of them fell silent. Only Ares’s cries of rage echoed into the distance.

  “Are you sure there’s no scheme you want to put into motion?”

  As a particular god was roaring in frustration…

  A white cape danced in the breeze on top of Orario’s city wall far from the battlefield, as the beautiful young woman Asfi, leader of Hermes Familia, asked her god a question.

  Her god was leaning against the chest-high guard wall and watching a pillar of smoke, most likely the result of Magic, rise in the distance. He didn’t move as he answered.

  “Even if I did find a way to introduce Bell to Ares…”

  The breeze ruffled Hermes’s orange hair as his delicate smile thinned. He had to hold down his traveler’s hat to keep it from being blown off his head.

  “That’s not to say doing so wouldn’t make for a great show…but I’m a bit scared of how Lady Freya would react, for obvious reasons.”

  “…Has there been any communication from her or her familia since then?”

  “Why, no. But that’s the scariest thing. Her silence is her way of warning me that there won’t be a next time.”

  The frenzy after the incident that took place in the Pleasure Quarter was starting to die down. However, that didn’t mean the dandy god could do anything he wanted for just a little entertainment when it came to Freya Familia. Hermes closed his mouth and turned to his follower.

  “The annihilation of a familia is no laughing matter,” said Asfi with a stern glare.

  “I know,” responded Hermes with a shrug.

  “I had a few words with the Guild and made sure that there’s no way the Mission will come knocking at Hestia’s door. Those children have been wrapped up in one incident after another recently; it’s time they had a chance to relax and live a little.”

  Leaning with his back against the guard wall, Hermes looked up into the clear blue sky.

  “K-Kenki?!”

  “It’s the Sword Princess!!”

  “RUN AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!”

  It was on the northern edge of the plain where the battle was taking place. A female knight had appeared in the line of sight of a small force staging an ambush at the perimeter of the forest. In that moment, every single one of the ambushers lost their will to fight.

  Their commander yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to rally his troops, but it was in vain. The foot soldiers threw down their weapons and ran back into the forest as fast as their legs could carry them.

  “That was to be expected.”

  “Dammit, Aiz, that’s why we told you to stay in the back of the formation. Now we gotta go round them up. Gahh…”

  “…”

  Aiz stood ready for a fight, sword in hand. But her shoulders sank and her mouth shut tight as soon as she heard the words of Riveria and the werewolf Bete.

  With golden eyes and blond hair, Aiz stood out like a sore thumb and was easily identifiable even in a large battle. Rakia’s soldiers feared the girl who had once slain a floor boss in the Dungeon by herself. Aiz watched them disappear into the forest with an aloof expression on her face but was actually feeling a little depressed.

  “Aiz, do not stand idle. Pursue. We cannot allow any harm to come to the surrounding villages.”

  “…Yes.”

  “Let’s get this over with and head back to Orario. Being out here is a waste of time.”

  Riveria and Bete led the other members of Loki Familia and charged into the forest. Aiz joined them in chasing the panicked figures darting through the trees.

  Directly to the southwest, a white tower tall enough to pierce the heavens stood as it normally did on any other day.

  This attack by Rakian forces would become known as “The Sixth Orario Invasion.”

  Life went on as normal for the citizens of the Labyrinth City in spite of this war being drawn out longer than usual. Several small, unnoticed stories unfolded between deities and their foll
owers.

  CHAPTER 1

  LOVE SONG TO A GOD OF MARTIAL ARTS

  “So, here’s where you were, Mikoto.”

  She saw it in a dream.

  The air was cool on her skin as she sat on the roots of the withering tree.

  Her younger self hugged her knees to her chest beneath its shade. That’s when she knew it was not a dream but a memory.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hungry?”

  The young Mikoto buried her face in her knees. She didn’t look up even though Takemikazuchi—looking exactly as he did nowadays, with the exact same loops of hair hanging on either side of his face like bobbed ponytails—was calling out to her.

  They were in her hometown in the Far East, behind the shrine in which they used to live. Their voices hung in the air.

  “…Lord Takemikazuchi.”

  The little girl’s voice came out from between her knees; she still refused to look up.

  Takemikazuchi leaned down in front of her, patiently waiting until she opened her mouth once again.

  “Why don’t I have a mommy or daddy…?”

  Because I’m an orphan.

  The current Mikoto could answer that question right away.

  Disasters, plagues, and monsters.

  It wasn’t all that uncommon for children in the Far East to lose their parents and be left all alone. Actually, Mikoto was one of the lucky ones, since she had been taken in by a shrine where gods like Takemikazuchi resided.

  —They had taken her to see a lively town festival.

  —Or perhaps it had been a port with ships in dry dock; maybe the big city.

  She had been among friends like Ouka and Chigusa along with the gods and goddesses, but all Mikoto saw at that time were parents playing with happy children. It left her with a feeling of desolation, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “…The mother and father who gave birth to you, Mikoto, left you in our care and went on a journey to the great beyond.”

  “Will I…ever see them again…?”

  “Well…They might not return to this world while you are still alive.”

  It might be tens, hundreds of years before her parents’ souls were reborn.

  Mikoto had been too young to understand the full meaning of Takemikazuchi’s words at the time. The only thing she clearly understood was she would never see them again. She squeezed her legs even closer to her body.

  “Are you lonely?”

  The young Mikoto couldn’t move her head up and down or left and right.

  She only tightened her grip on her arms, fingers digging deep into her skin as if she was desperately trying to keep something contained within that threatened to overflow.

  Takemikazuchi kneeled next to the girl as her body began to shake.

  Suddenly, he lifted her high into the air as if she were light as a feather.

  Mikoto raised her face, surprised by the sudden burst of light coming in from under her arms. She looked at the deity beneath her.

  “Mikoto, become my daughter.”

  Takemikazuchi’s smiling face was reflected in the girl’s wide, tearful eyes.

  “Huh…?”

  “Someday I shall bestow you with my Falna. Once that is done, we will share a bond of blood like a true familya familia.”

  “Family…familia.”

  His words didn’t just sound sweet, they provided warmth to a girl whose soul was filled with nothing but pain.

  It was because she could see a tenderness in Takemikazuchi’s eyes that was reserved for a parent beholding their child. He continued to hold her high above his head like a proud father would for his daughter.

  “Pain dwells in spirit, and spirit dwells in the body—that’s my theory. So I will teach you so many martial arts that your body and spirit won’t have time to feel loneliness. Be at ease, Mikoto, and be ready,” said Takemikazuchi to the stunned young Mikoto. Then, he smiled at her with childlike innocence. “Mikoto, what did you want to do with your mother and father?”

  He then told her to speak from her heart with the same tenderness in his eyes.

  “I…I wanted a piggyback ride from Daddy.”

  “I’ll do that right now. Anything else?”

  “S-sleeping next to one another in the futon at night so that we don’t get lonely.”

  “Okay, tonight we shall. Is there anything else?”

  “I wanted to eat konpeitou, that candy we saw in the city the other day!”

  “A-all right. Leave it to me.”

  An earnest request for high-quality, colorful sweets brought a smile to Takemikazuchi’s face.

  Despite their shrine being incredibly poor, Takemikazuchi would bring her, Ouka, Chigusa, and the other children into the city and fulfill his promise only days later.

  Child and deity, dressed in little more than rags, exchanged looks of affection and endearment.

  “But it’s okay if you’d rather be in Tsukuyomi’s familia if you don’t want to be in mine—”

  “I want yours, Lord Takemikazuchi!!”

  Young Mikoto’s loud voice interrupted the deity.

  Her little cheeks blushing pink, she kept her dark-violet gaze fixed directly on him.

  “…Okay then.”

  Takemikazuchi blinked a few times before he finally smiled at her.

  He set the young girl back on the ground and ruffled her hair.

  Mikoto squeezed her eyes tight as his fingers tickled. One last tear ran down her cheek.

  She then climbed up on his back and the two of them went to rejoin Ouka, Chigusa, and the others who had been searching for her. Both the god and the girl smiled as their friends came to meet them.

  From that day on, Takemikazuchi became her father, and Mikoto was surrounded with love.

  And at some point, her love for him became something a little bit more special.

  “…”

  Mikoto slowly opened her eyes.

  Beams of soft light coming through the window and chirping birds outside let her know that night had come to an end.

  She stared at the ceiling above, feeling light with nostalgia because of the dream. It didn’t take long for her to realize that she was smiling, too.

  As even more memories flowed forward to fill her mind, she started to climb out of her futon. Zzz. Zzz. Zzz.

  The sound of someone else still sleeping reached her ears.

  Looking to the side, she saw a renart girl—Haruhime—sleeping on her back in a futon next to hers.

  Mikoto’s lips once again softly curled up into another smile. The events surrounding Ishtar Familia had caused many trials and tribulations, but it was thanks to them that she had been reunited with her childhood friend from the Far East. Careful not to wake her up, Mikoto brushed a few stray golden hairs out of the sleeping girl’s eyes and softly stroked her fox ears.

  They were in a room of Hestia Familia’s home, the Hearthstone Manor.

  Mikoto and Haruhime, both entering the familia by Conversion, had been given two rooms to themselves on the third floor.

  There was no bed in this room, and the abundance of items from the Far East clashed with the continent style and design of the architecture. An open-frame closet stood in the corner with many colorful kimonos and Far East–style battle cloths draped across it.

  Leaving her dream behind, Mikoto’s attention shifted from the familiar shrine she once called home to the place she lived in now.

  She took another look at the sleeping face of the girl she’d been fortunate enough to reunite with after all these years, before returning her gaze to the window that grew brighter by the moment.

  “…On with the day!”

  She stretched in the early morning light.

  “Lady Haruhime, may I ask you to set the table?”

  “Y-yes, of course!”

  Delicious smells wafted their way through the manor’s dining room.

  Mikoto, with her long black hair tied back and an apron tight around her waist, was hard at work in the
kitchen right next door. Several fishes were cooking over an open flame as she stirred a pot with a wooden spoon.

  The clangs and crackles of her breakfast preparation mixed with the tap, tap, tap of Haruhime’s feet as she busily traipsed back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room with food and utensils in her arms.

  “Lady Haruhime, you need not push yourself so hard…”

  “Oh, no, no. I have been accepted as a member of this familia. Please allow me to do this much, Miss Mikoto.”

  Haruhime was currently wearing a maid’s outfit rather than her usual kimono.

  Lilly had been wanting a housekeeper of some kind, and Haruhime was quick to volunteer—“Please give me a job to do!”—the moment she arrived.

  Born into nobility and having spent five years living in a brothel, she had very little experience with cleaning or serving others. However, she was quite eager to learn, and she now wore a black blouse with a white apron, her fluffy golden tail swishing her skirt back and forth. Mikoto was glad to have her help.

  Orario’s Alliance and the forces of the Kingdom of Rakia were clashing at this very moment.

  Hestia Familia had not been summoned to the front because they didn’t have enough members to qualify. Therefore, today was a peaceful day like any other.

  “Whoa, that smells good…”

  “So today was Mikoto’s turn? That’s why it’s good.”

  “Ah, Sir Bell, Lady Hestia. Good morning.”

  Mikoto sampled her soup as she greeted the human boy and the goddess poking their heads in the doorway.

  All members of Hestia Familia took turns preparing food each day. As long as nothing drastic had happened, typically two or three people, including their goddess, would prepare the dining room for a meal.

  Some type of grilled meat or other flame-roasted “manly food” was typically on the menu on days Welf was in charge. Lilly, however, would find ways to put food on the table while saving as much money as possible. Everyone’s specialties and personalities came through in their cooking, but it was only on days that Mikoto prepared the food that the entire familia unanimously agreed it was delicious.

  She had developed her skills from a young age alongside Chigusa and the other girls at the shrine, turning whatever ingredients she could find into something palatable. Her combination of seriousness and skill came together to create dishes that even Hestia, obsessed as she was with Jyaga Maru Kun potato puffs, couldn’t help but enjoy.