2 - a housemate in a closet

It is said that in the center of this world lies an unfathomable cavern, a "coma hole.

The miasma that gushes out from there gives birth to monsters, the dependents of the gods of the dead world.

Their bodies, transformed by the miasma, are so hard that they can repel any half-hearted attack.

It is possible to injure them by repeatedly targeting the same spot, but they will recover and return to normal after a certain amount of time.

Even more troublesome, its activity can only be stopped by destroying vital organs such as the brain and heart.

It is an existence that no ordinary human being could ever hope to defeat.

However, the gods of creation have given people the means to fight against them, skills called martial arts and magical arts.

By making full use of these skills, people have been able to secure their living space and protect themselves from the threat of monsters.

However, there was a test to master these skills.

In fact, they are not very useful in actual battle because they are not at a high enough level in their given state.

The tree of skills is rooted in the soul of a newborn, so it may have been considered a burden for the immature body.

Therefore, people had to raise the level of the given skills by themselves.

Literally, one must nurture the tree in one's heart.

The way to do this is simple: First, defeat monsters.

Then, skill points are accumulated in your soul.

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

The closer a branch is to the ground, the less effective it is, and the higher it is up the trunk, the more effective it is.

The branches are not able to reach the upper branches unless the lower branches are grown to a certain extent.

The lower branches and lower branch skills are easier to grow because they require fewer points, but their effectiveness and power cannot be expected to be as great as they are.

The main users of these skills are G-rank apprentices and F-rank novice adventurers.

The middle tier of the middle branch skill requires more points, but it shows stable strength in return.

The promising E-ranks and D-ranks are the first to start using this area.

Many C-rank users train multiple branches.

The upper branch skills near the crown of the tree are more suitable for the name of "special kill", and the number of users is also limited.

They are the A-ranked ones called "masters" and the B-ranked ones known as "skillful.

And the thirty-nine-year-old Thor, who was quietly walking home, was the lowest rank, G rank, who had not yet been able to grow even a single branch.

The reason for this is obvious: his skills, which are said to be useless.

In order to take on monsters that cannot be easily defeated, a skill that boasts high killing power is essential.

Or a skill that can assist the fellow who unleashes it.

However, Thor's was neither of these.

It is certainly a useful and rare skill to be able to repair broken weapons and armor, although it is limited.

However, it is also rare that someone would consider to waste a valuable party slot just for that.

Unfortunately, the skill points gained from killing monsters are divided by the number of heads.

Therefore, more points can be gained by defeating a monster with fewer people.

Weapons and armor can be paid for if they break, but points cannot be obtained no matter how much money is piled up.

Thor, who had been blending in with the crowd, suddenly slowed his steps and slipped into one of the alleys.

Unlike the main street, the light from the magic stone lamp does not reach the narrow alley as far as the main street.

Thor moves forward soundlessly through the quiet, dark streets.

When he is far away from the bustle of the street, Thor stops and puts the package on the ground.

The smell of blood fills the narrow alleyway, and at the same time, several presence approach from the depths of the darkness.

"Meow!"

"Meow-oh!"

They were cats with glowing eyes.

Two of them, one with tiger stripes and the other with black fur.

The cat approached us and rubbed itself against Thor's leather shoes as if to flirt with us.

Thor dexterously pulled out the tip of his right leather glove in his mouth, then bent down and gently stroked Tiger Stripe's back.

Strangely enough, Thor had never been exposed to fleas from these stray cats.

Lifting his buttocks, the tiger-striped cat purrs happily.

The black fur clung to him, so he pulled off the leather glove on his left hand with his right this time.

Thor's left wrist was covered with a large whitish discolored scar.

Thor's eyes narrowed at the feel of the rough tongue licking his almost immobile fingertips.

Thor stood up quietly, enjoying the feel of the hard fur for a moment.

The cats, after greeting him, took turns to bury their noses in the pile of bones, and began to gnaw on them at will from a short distance away.

It was a few months ago that Thor noticed this back alley dweller.

It was when he happened to pass by and was struck by a strange sensation.

He felt as if someone was peeking out from behind him, so he entered the alley and was surrounded by hungry beasts.

From then on, Thor's only pleasure was to get some leftover bones and organs and feed them to the stray cats here.

Perhaps it is because of the smell of the place, and the litter that is scattered all over the place, but there have been no complaints from the neighbors.

Satisfied with the cheerful cats, Thor turned his back and walked toward the main street.

In fact, besides the two cats, there was another presence lurking in the darkness of the alley.

This one never wanted to eat in front of Thor.

Even now, only the eyes of the bluish-purple beast were glowing as it peered at us from the back of the alley.

It was Thor's small hope to pet this shy third animal someday.

But it has become difficult now that he no longer has bones and entrails to dispose of.

Resisting the urge to have a drink on his way home from work, Thor quickly makes his way down South Main Street, lined with restaurants and bars.

He also stifles the comfort of sweating it out, and passes by the curtain of a public bathhouse.

The wooden sword is getting worn out, and it is time to have the knife for dismantling sharpened.

With Thor earning less than a large copper coin a day, he has no choice but to put up with it all.

The number of passers-by finally dwindles as they approach the outer wall of the town.

This area was poorly lit due to its proximity to the wall, and was lined with cheap inns and rented houses for novice adventurers with little income.

Thor continued westward along the road along the wall and finally arrived at his lodgings when the empty moat between the inner city came into view.

It is a one-story house, not very large, and there are no other lodgers besides Thor.

No, there was one other person, but he was in no condition to be included in the list of tenants.

Thor was very happy with this lodging house because of its cheap rent due to its location away from the Adventurers Bureau, and because of the mild and friendly personality of the landlord who never ceased to smile.

Above all, the greatest advantage was that he did not have to be questioned too much about his roommates.

"Welcome home, Thor.

Thor takes off his leather gloves and removes the mud from his shoes as he bows a small bow to his landlord Yuril, who greets him with a lamp made of tallow in his hand.

He would have been sixty years old this year, but his legs and back are strong and his back is straight, so he does not look that old.

Although she has some wrinkles on her face, the bridge of her nose is high and she looks as if she must have been a beautiful woman in her youth.

Her white hair was carefully tied up, revealing long, pointed gray ears characteristic of the northerners.

"Would you like to have dinner?

At the old woman's soft question, Thor nodded and handed her the meat of a horned mole he had brought in.

He makes up part of his rent with it.

Dinner was a salty stew of mole meat and round potatoes.

I put a piece of hard bread on it and chewed it.

I was tired of the taste, but I was not in a position to complain about the luxury.

When his stomach was full, Thor bowed his head in gratitude and went back to his room.

Thor's room was furnished only with a bed and a long wardrobe.

He has no clothes to change into, so the shelves are stuffed with other things.

He removes his sword belt from the wooden sword and hooks it, along with his backpack, to the edge of the backboard of the bed.

Next, Thor dexterously removes his mogul-skin jacket with one hand, flaps off the dirt, applies birch oil to keep it from hardening, and hangs it on the wall.

His gloves, underclothes, and boots are cleaned in the same way.

Thor, now dressed in his loungewear, lies down on his back on the bed.

He exhales deeply.

Today was much the same as yesterday.

Tomorrow will be no different.

It is not a few days that he has trouble falling asleep because of the black feelings rising up from the bottom of his stomach.　

Countless times I have wished I could just drop everything and run away.

But I didn't.

And I won't tomorrow either.

Because I was determined to finish what I started.

And also because I was determined.

If I had come this far, I would go all the way.

Thinking this over again, Thor picks up his adventurer's card, which he had left hanging around his neck.

His black eyes reflect the green trim that he has grown tired of seeing.

The adventurer's card is designed to reveal the owner's skills and other information when the owner touches it.

In Thor's case, the word and nine dots of light next to it indicated his level.

In the lower right corner, the current accumulated skill points are also indicated by a dot of light.

This light spot showed one thousand points.

Plates are checked twice a year, and if there is no significant change in the number of points, one's rank is demoted or one's adventurer status is revoked.

This is inevitable, however, since there are preferential treatment such as exemption from the entrance fee.

The maximum number of checks was set at fifty.

Thor got this plate when he was fifteen years old, so it will expire in the summer of this year, his twenty-fifth year.

Thinking of the time left, Thor let out another long breath.

Then he starts to casually count the number of light points in his skill points.

"......7......8......9......10... .........,Oh, it's piling up."

It was the first thing Thor had said today other than the numbers.

Thor, who had been listening to his own words for a while as if they were someone else's, suddenly jumped up from the bed like a spring.

He jumped up to the wardrobe, gripped the handle, took a deep breath and mumbled in a hushed voice.

I've kept you waiting a long time, haven't I? Hey, old man..."

The door was opened with a mighty bang.

Standing there was a girl.

Their eyes are wide open and their mouths are open as if they are about to scream.

But what catches the eye more than the expression on his face is his neck.

A gash has been opened in a horizontal line, and the overflowing blood has painted it crimson.

It was like a statue of a girl about to die.