A little over a month passed, and I arrived in Bemurhen. Yes, I had finally arrived in this city.

The city where I would learn a part of the truth, at long last.

"... It's heavily guarded."

"It is the city that has waged war against the mermen for the longest time, after all."

However, perhaps because fighting the enemies of the sea was the city's main task, Bemurhen was vastly different from a typical port city.

Starting with the fact that there weren't even piers, let alone anchored ships.

Furthermore, the castle walls were higher and thicker on the side facing the sea rather than the continent, and the sea beyond the walls featured intricately twisted dikes and breakwaters. The turrets erected here and there along the dikes were quite menacing, to boot.

It was all preparation against external enemies.

"Let's go in."

In addition, the interior of the city was also built in a way to prepare for enemy invasions.

"... The roads really are two-tiered."

"Indeed. What on earth is the lower road?"

"Berserker is hungry. Let's go to an eatery."

I subtly observed the lower part of the road.

I wasn't sure if I should say they dug a waterway, or if they just built the buildings high and created another entrance and road at the second-floor level.

But there was no water flowing to call it a waterway, so technically, I figured it was closer to the latter. Though it was strangely narrow and deep to be called a road.

"It's a rare occurrence, but it's because the mermen sometimes come with a tsunami."

"Ah, is it a precaution against flooding?"

"There's that, and there's another reason as well."

"Um... I heard it's to prevent the mermen from riding the water to move around and kill people when the city floods, is that correct?"

"You know well. That's correct."

"Water is flowing right now. Mage, does this mean mermen were here too?"

"I believe that is because it rained yesterday."

So that was it. Thinking that nothing was ever made without a reason, I crossed the upper road.

The bridge-like road was made of stone, so there was no need to worry about it collapsing. Considering most cities consisted of dirt roads, it felt somewhat magnificent.

After all, the entire city of Bemurhen was paved with stone.

"Anyway, let's head to a restaurant first."

Mhm. A solid feeling without any crunching. Feeling the sturdy reassurance unique to stone floors, I headed in a different direction from the party.

"... Let's meet at the Magic Tower right after lunch tomorrow. I'll give you an estimate on how long we'll stay then."

The Archmage's voice fell behind me. This was a rule established based on the three cities we had stopped by earlier.

Determine the departure date as soon as we entered a city, and if we couldn't decide on that day, at least make an appointment to meet up in between.

During this time, we absolutely did not share our personal schedules. For instance, investigating traces of demons or hunting demons—unless it was a situation where we had to meet to set a date, we never asked or told each other anything.

On the surface, it was quite a decent relationship.

"Excuse me, Demon Knight! Please get a good rest!"

... Except for the Inquisitor, who still stubbornly struck up conversations even after that declaration.

"... Get some rest."

The Deathbringer wasn't particularly different. He was getting more dispirited by the day... but he didn't show any signs of giving up yet either.

Seriously, they were undeniably persistent.

"..."

However, once I made up my mind, I didn't quit easily either.

I was the guy who beat a Soulslike game with a trash weapon solely because it fit my concept. When it came to perseverance, I wouldn't lose. I would absolutely never lose.

"Let's go! I'm hungry!"

"Yep. Let's get going."

I maintained my silence as I progressed through the city.

Recklessly marching forward in a city I was visiting for the first time. It was the perfect way to get lost, but I didn't really care. If I wandered and wandered, I'd eventually find a path.

"Do you even know how much this costs? Huh?!"

Well, right now, I could see something else before an exit.

NEIGH.

I patted Frederick and checked the fight taking place on the main street. Several onlookers had already gathered around to watch.

"I'm asking if you know how much this costs!"

Well, they say the most fun things to watch are fires and fights, so it wasn't like I didn't understand the sentiment... but I glanced at the restaurant-slash-inn right across the street of all places. I wanted to go there more than I wanted to watch a fight.

But that would be difficult, right? It'd be one thing if I were alone, but I had Frederick with me.

"It's a price I couldn't forgive even if you apologized on your knees...!"

NEIGH.

"Wait."

In my confusion—or perhaps unavoidably—I ended up watching the fight. The remarks of a textbook asshole kept piercing my ears.

"Hah."

The next thing I heard was the sound of a sigh. It seemed the member of the Slender race, who was the asshole's opponent, had let it out. Hair mixed with brown and pink swayed gently.

"How dare you sigh!"

At that moment, doubting my eyes, I examined the opponent once more.

A beauty with a neat and graceful face like an ink wash painting... wasn't the important part. Who the hell gave someone like that a two-tone hair combination of brown and pink? And a long ponytail at that? Such thoughts floated around in my head.

SLIDE.

In the midst of this, the glasses he adjusted had red frames, and the forearms exposed by his sleeveless shirt were covered in tattoos. At this point, my head was spinning from the sheer overload of character traits.

The combination was truly insane.

"Poor folks are always like this..."

"That's weird."

But somehow, if those excessive traits felt like something from a memory of mine, was it just my imagination?

"If you were lucky enough to be born in human form, you should speak human words. Why are you spouting beast gibberish?"

And what if I had definitely seen that kind of temperament—capable of insulting someone right to their face without a single curse word—somewhere before?

"What? Trash? Are you done talk—"

SMASH!

I rummaged through my mind as I watched the person shatter the other's face with a fist without hesitation. Then, a single memory barely popped up.

"They say reading the room correlates to intelligence... With intelligence so low you can't even read the room to this extent, you wouldn't even get compensation. How annoying."

... Don't tell me, does the new class introduced during the 2nd-anniversary patch exist here too?

"Wow... As expected, never a letdown. Truly fitting for Bemurhen's Mad Dog."

"He should've picked his target before starting a fight. Where did that idiot leave his eyeballs? Is he an outsider?"

"Probably thought he was an easy target since he doesn't have a Mage robe or a badge."

"... Doesn't that outfit look pretty far from easy, too? It's obvious at a glance that he's a technician."

"If he had the eyes to recognize that, wouldn't he have noticed the hair color first? A Master Artisan's name carries more weight than a Mage's anyway. And there's only one Master Artisan with two-toned hair."

"That's true, but... Yikes. He's looking this way."

I was dumbfounded. Since I had only seen five people in the trailer, I subconsciously assumed that was the end of the roster.

But there was another one? And the new class that had been the ultimate game-breaker, completely shattering the balance? Balance aside, a class that even slightly clashed with the world's lore?

Is this for real?

CLINK, CLINK.

While I couldn't contain my shock, the person who had managed to find the opponent's wallet shook its contents entirely empty.

A few copper coins and a single silver coin fell into his hand.

"Hah, you don't even have any money."

As if displeased with the loot, he packed up the luggage he had briefly set down and stomped down hard on the fainted man. A clear, muddy footprint was left on the exceptionally pristine-looking cloak.

"A mad dog, indeed..."

"Shh. What if he hears you?"

Wow, regardless, that class must have been pretty memorable to me. Seeing as how the memories were rushing back so vividly, even though my track record of playing that class was exactly once.

Mainly things like, is it okay for this character's personality to be like this?

I know it's a game that sells characters, but still, is it really okay to cram so many traits into just one character?

Why is this character always throwing punches in the scripts when they aren't even a direct combat class? And so on.

Even if they were such trivial memories.

"Let's go now, looks like it's all over. And someone tell the guards to take that guy away. It'd be a pity if he gets stripped of all his clothes."

"If he gets robbed, that's his own fault for picking a fight with the wrong person."

However, even though I had those memories, I didn't remember much about Gans.

It made sense. In the past, I had only obsessively played the original classes, and this class had a lot of buffs, but the raw damage (the damage attached to the skill itself without any additional scaling) was so absurdly high that I dropped it halfway through. It wasn't fun because monsters would just drop dead left and right whenever I did anything.

"Ah, sorry. Hey, move."

"Why are you rushing... Gasp. I'm sorry."

Anyway, it didn't mean anything now. Whether he was really that class or not, it wasn't an area for me to get involved in.

If he joined, he joined, and if it was just a passing connection, it would end at that.

With those thoughts in mind, I walked past the people blocking my way. As for them getting spooked and stepping aside... well, that wasn't something I could explain away either.

I've said it time and time again, but looking like a thug isn't something that can be fixed unless I recustomize my appearance.

"Hold on."

Ah, more importantly, I was slowly getting hungry. I just hoped the restaurant up ahead was a decent place.

"Hold on, you."

But why was that guy calling me?

I briefly shifted my eyes, following the resonant low voice. Violet eyes like violets came into my field of vision.

"You've got some interesting equipment on you, don't you?"

* * *

"Like I said earlier, I am the second Master Artisan of Bemurhen and a Mage formally registered in the Magic Tower. Welcome to my workshop. Ah, I invited you first, so there's no need for thanks. When addressing me, use the title 'Meister' instead of Mage."

It was a baffling proposal, but ultimately, there was no loss for me. I had been thinking it was about time to figure out the true nature of this equipment anyway.

"As a warning, I hope you don't touch the workshop items carelessly. Some of them might burn or shred your hand to pieces."

In such a situation, the person who proposed a deal—the 'Meister'—was... perfectly verified talent, except for the controversies over balance and lore. From the standpoint that he was the 3rd advancement of the new class, Machinist, that was already a given.

Moreover, the class advancement description for Machinist included stuff like becoming an artisan at age 13 and creating inventions that would shake the world.

My memory was fuzzy, so I could only recall the gist, but regardless, it was certain that he was a genius.

In that case? I had to accept immediately. How many chances would I get to have my items inspected by a certified genius of this caliber?

"Don't even think about going inside, either. There are a lot of dangerous chemicals."

On top of that, even putting aside the meta reasons, there was plenty of room to trust him.

Of course, the other party tried to step up and show evidence before I even asked for proof. Even though he had rummaged through his clothes, sighed saying, "Left my badge behind again," and then asked with an annoyed face (at himself) if he could show me the proof of being a Meister later since it was at his workshop.

Anyway, in my eyes, it didn't look like an act. The location of the workshop I followed him to was also nestled between all sorts of smithies and magical artifact shops, which gave it a certain level of credibility.

Crucially, he attached the condition that I only needed to show him my glove, rather than handing over all my equipment. He also didn't pry into the circumstances of how I obtained it or why I didn't know its properties.

Furthermore, in exchange for letting him look at the equipment for free, he promised to share any information he found without a price. At this point, refusing would be the more foolish choice. Even if it were lost by some one-in-a-million chance, a glove was an acceptable loss to bear.

"That's all for the precautions. Keep in mind, any damage you suffer from not following the rules is entirely on you, and there won't be any compensation from me either."

Thus, I came here. To the Meister's workshop, a place reeking of stale oil and metal.

"If you've engraved the advice in your head, wait a moment. I need to prepare. Ah, and don't touch the papers on the workbench, either. Unless you're curious about how a workshop owner tortures someone."

Hm. I had no intention of carelessly touching or messing with anything, so the warnings were none of my business. Judging by the smell, it was a good thing I had eaten beforehand.

I praised my judgment from several tens of minutes ago, thinking I did well to reject a part of the Meister's proposal—*You haven't had lunch? The inspection will take some time, so why not eat at the workshop? Ah, you need to stable your horse, too. Then it can't be helped.*

The Meister had stared at the food so persistently that I ended up spending a bit more money to order his share too, wondering if he hadn't eaten either... but paying a little more was better than eating in a place that smelled like grease.

On top of that, I gained the realization that while I knew the Meister did things at his own pace, I hadn't known he was this shameless, along with a brief opportunity to reminisce about the past.

RUSTLE.

But why was he suddenly taking off his clothes?

"What are you..."

I was flustered at the sight of him abruptly taking off his top, but I barely regained my composure after seeing his flat chest.

"Why, did you think I was a woman?"

... I couldn't deny it because he wasn't wrong.

However, I didn't mistake the Meister for a woman specifically because of his appearance. It was just that because he appeared as a female character in the original work, I mindlessly assumed he'd be a woman here, too.

After all, the major characters I had met so far had never deviated from their settings.

"Since you agreed to show me your equipment, I'll let it slide this once."

No, I mean, I...

I grumbled inwardly, realizing that the more I made excuses, the uglier I would look. It was unfair.

"You take yours off, too."

Meanwhile, the Meister, who had changed into work clothes (presumably), nonchalantly held out his hand.

It wasn't much of a statement, but for some reason, a sigh escaped me.

"I shouldn't tear it, right?"

"It doesn't matter."

I handed him the half-palm glove from my left hand and leaned against the workshop wall. As an aside, the Meister's eyes sparkled at my permission.

"Then, I won't hold back."

The Meister unceremoniously cut the glove with scissors. SNIP, SNIP. The cut-out fabric pieces were submerged in some unknown liquid.

"These glasses I'm wearing are enchanted with magic that allows me to see the essence of inanimate objects. It's a spell my grandfather cast on them."

Proceeding to create even more pieces, he dropped chunks of fabric into other chemicals with a plop, plop. Being a layman in such things, I couldn't figure out what the purpose of that action was at all.

"It consumes a lot of mana, so it doesn't react to common things. The magic only activates when it's something never discovered before, registered as rare, or when I specifically wish for it."

At least it was a relief that he was explaining things.

Listening to the Meister's story, I watched everything he did. Now, he was using items to try burning or freezing the fabric.

"Among those, your equipment falls into the first category, even though it just looks like a garment made of cloth or leather on the outside. Are you aware of that?"

"... About half of it."

"Meaning you don't know it properly. Then again, that's probably why you accepted my request."

Then, suddenly, the glove began to regenerate. Looking for the previously torn pieces, they had already vanished without a trace.

I knew it would start restoring itself on its own if destroyed, but this was the first time I learned that the torn-off fragments disappeared.

"... Is this why you said it was okay to tear it? How fascinating."

The Meister was also looking highly intrigued. He inspected the restored glove from every angle before turning his gaze to me.

"Those too?"

"... If you mean the restoration ability, yes."

"Amazing."

He took off the gloves he was wearing and adjusted his glasses.

"And surprising at the same time. This isn't a magically enchanted item... So how does it restore itself automatically?"

This time, it was my turn to be surprised.

The Archmage... never said anything like that. If anything, he said it was enchanted with a high-tier spell called automatic restoration.

"... The Great Sage didn't say that."

"Forget it if it's not something you heard from the Great Sage of Bemurhen. Because no Great Sage can surpass Mages who see the essence when it comes strictly to analyzing items."

Uh... so, should I view it as a difference in specialized expertise? Like how scientists are divided into biology, physics, and electrical engineering majors, and they can't answer well if you ask them about knowledge outside their major.

"So, what is the essence you saw?"

"... Well, these glasses aren't omnipotent. If it's not a type it has analyzed in the past, it doesn't give me an answer."

"I didn't ask about your glasses."

Anyway, if they were the experts in this field, I should listen to them.

I focused on the Meister's words to listen closely. It was then that the Meister lightly bit his lip.

"... I don't know how to use magic."

It was an answer that made an "Eh?" slip out automatically.