The three idiots who couldn't become heroes are preparing a man's meal today as well. - Chapter 53

Episode 53: No Crab for Me

---

Dungeon Boss.

They appear in various forms—sometimes found between floors, sometimes patrolling specific levels.

These formidable foes are known as “strong enemies.”

Naturally, the lowest floor houses the most powerful one.

That one isn’t just called a boss, it’s referred to as the “Master.”

Basically, it’s the dungeon’s final boss.

Defeating it is generally considered the completion of a dungeon.

That said, it’s not an easy job.

You have to stay inside the dungeon for days, stockpiling supplies as you go.

However, the rewards are significant.

High risk, high return—this is the very definition of that.

When a dungeon is conquered, something called a Dungeon Core can be obtained.

It’s highly valuable and can be sold for a hefty sum.

On top of that, the Walker Guild pays out a reward.

And to top it off, a treasure chest appears upon defeating the boss, like a prize.

It’s straight out of a game.

A dungeon is a place where such game mechanics become reality.

Once a Dungeon Core is removed, the dungeon “calms down.”

It doesn’t disappear or collapse.

It simply produces far fewer monsters and beasts.

This is a major benefit to the surrounding countries.

That’s why nations are willing to pay for its conquest.

For this reason, Walkers venture into dungeons day after day.

Whether for rare items or the prestige of clearing a dungeon.

That’s how it was supposed to be…

“We’ve reached the boss room without finding a single good drop.”

“Yeah… I really hate dungeons.”

“I mean, I get that magic stones can be sold for money, but… this just isn’t fun.”

“Masters… please don’t expect dungeons to be fun.”

Before us stood a massive door.

The kind that screamed, “Hey, there’s a boss behind here!”

Give me a break.

Every single chest so far had been a mimic.

The only things that dropped were empty crab shells.

Some theorized that since few Walkers ventured into this dungeon’s depths, mimics had infested the treasure chests.

But you know what?

Screw that theory.

“We’ve been in here for almost a week, and all we have to show for it are monster scraps and magic stones… Hahaha. Hope those stones sell well…”

“Dungeons are the worst.”

“Everyone’s getting pretty bitter, huh…”

“Well, sometimes it just turns out this way…”

Everyone stared at the massive door, exhausted.

How did it come to this?

This was our first dungeon, and we entered with dreams and high hopes.

Yet all we found was disappointment.

If the boss drop turned out to be trash as well, I might just cement the entrance shut.

Not that I have any cement.

“Alright, I’m opening it. Stay alert, but don’t get your hopes up.”

With a push, the massive gate swung open.

Something that huge should require multiple people to move, yet it opened smoothly, like an automatic door.

If the dungeon had the budget for this kind of nonsense, I’d rather they spent it on making the journey more rewarding.

With that selfish thought, we stepped into the boss room.

…

“So, this is how it ended, huh?”

“Go ahead, laugh. Please, just laugh at us…”

“Well… that’s unfortunate. Even with all those magic stones, this isn’t much of a haul.”

The branch leader looked at us with a conflicted expression.

Of course he did.

We had just cleared a dungeon, yet our loot was pathetic.

Inside the boss room, waiting for us, was a massive crab.

In short, a giant mimic.

A spear through its body.

The scouts took out its eyes.

Azuma split its shell open.

It was a total victory.

Yet the boss only dropped a giant crab claw.

Of course, there was no meat inside.

A treasure chest?

Sure, we found one.

It had a slightly larger-than-usual magic stone inside.

Not even close to the size of the ones we got from the previous giant turtle and wolf.

And the Dungeon Core?

Turns out this wasn’t a very large dungeon, so what we got was just… a glowing Rubik’s Cube.

Apparently, it still fetches a good price, but…

I don’t feel like we achieved anything.

Dungeons… hey, dungeon.

After taking three whole days to make our way back from the boss room, this is all we get?

It’s true that once the Dungeon Core was removed, the place became “calm.”

Our return trip was relatively safe.

But that just meant nothing happened on the way back.

“Come on… not even a Magic Bag? Not a single rare item…?”

It felt like a complete waste of time.

Well, if I only thought about this as a money-making venture, the results weren’t bad…

“Well, there are many dungeons out there. And just clearing one is an accomplishment. So, all in all… good job.”

“Shut up… I’m never going into another dungeon.”

“Don’t be so childish… Even just the magic stones and core bring in a hefty reward.”

With that, the branch leader placed the drop list back onto the table.

I glanced at it.

Most of it was labeled “Discard.”

The gorilla pelts fetched some price if they were large, but a single limb? Worthless.

As for other beasts, the only thing that sold was the massive crab claw.

The rest? Garbage.

Ahh, man… I really wanted to eat some crab…

“Well, anyway, the reward for this job is quite a sum. Your group will need money going forward, so make sure to start saving up now.”

I replied halfheartedly with a casual “Yeah, yeah,” making the branch chief sigh once again.

The orphanage is managed by Nakajima, and the Fortia family has been providing substantial financial support, so for now, there’s no issue.

On top of that, our business is steadily making profits.

Apparently, small accessories with enchantments are really popular.

As for Hearty Eater’s financial situation—
We were completely broke for a while after purchasing our base, but now we’ve recovered a fair bit.

Thanks to Thoor and the others, weapon maintenance is nearly free, and when we need something new, we just commission it as a job.

Considering that, we hardly have any major expenses.

Our spending mostly consists of seasonings and the monthly shares we distribute to the group—
which is more like pocket money than a salary.

That said, since our biggest cost—equipment—is covered, and we have a home,
and we cook our own meals,
We hardly even spend time in town, meaning we don’t get many chances to use money in the first place.

So everyone just takes a small amount and says,
“I’ll just keep this in my wallet for party funds~.”

Thoor and the others want drinking money, but aside from when we all drink together,
they seem to fund their booze from what they earn at their own shops.

So yeah, our finances are actually in decent shape.

Still, as the branch chief says, it never hurts to save up.

Maybe I should start thinking about retirement…

“Well, that’s enough about the dungeon. Now—”

“Tch, what now?”

“Things have started moving against you all—since you disgraced the Hero.”

“…Hah.”

I couldn’t help but grimace.

Just hearing the word Hero makes me feel sick.

After that last battle, I hate him even more.

If that idiot hadn’t been firing beams like crazy, five people wouldn’t have died.

If I see him again, I’ll probably punch him.
Even if I get vaporized by another beam.

I’d still punch him.

“To be precise, people posing as Walkers have been asking around about Hearty Eater.
I doubt they’d resort to extreme measures, but I’d advise you to stay on guard.
That’s why you should also secure noble backing—”

“Whoa, hold up. How do you know they’re just posing as Walkers?
Couldn’t it just be actual Walkers hearing rumors about us and trying to investigate?”

“No.”

“…And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I’ve memorized every Walker in this city,
and I personally review the paperwork of every Walker who enters the country.”

“…Wait, our branch chief… is actually competent?”

“Can I hit you?”

According to our supposedly highly capable branch chief,
lately, some unfamiliar faces have been coming in and out of the guild.

They don’t take on jobs,
they don’t even check the quest board—
they just gather intel from other Walkers and leave.

Yeah, that’s definitely suspicious.

Honestly, though, isn’t it more concerning that our branch chief can memorize every Walker?

“Anyway, I take responsibility for egging you on, but you guys have become too conspicuous.
It’d be wise to have a noble backing you for protection.
That’s why I’m suggesting you take this next request—it’s a direct commission.”

“Wait, we don’t exactly have noble connections… oh, is this from that Battle Princess girl?
Yeah, I’d rather not deal with that hassle.”

“I’m telling you to establish a connection now to avoid trouble later.
And just to remind you—
both myself and Airi, as well as the Fortia family supporting the orphanage,
are some of the most influential nobles out there.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess we do know a lot of nobles.”

“…Can I punch you now?”

I sighed and glanced at the request form.

But what the hell is this?

Usually, requests are simple like Do this task! The reward is this!

But this one reads more like a damn contract.

My eyes hurt just looking at it.

Noticing my furrowed brows, the branch chief let out a massive sigh before explaining.

“To put it simply, soon there will be an outdoor training session at the magic academy where noble children gather.
The Fortia family has specifically requested you all to act as bodyguards for their daughter’s party.”

“Bodyguards? On a field trip?”

“Yes. They’ll be fighting magical beasts.
Also, the strength of one’s escorts affects their social standing.
It’s basically a noble pissing contest.”

“Pass.”

“Shut up. You’re taking it.
You do want to maintain good relations with the Fortia family, don’t you?”

For the first time, the concept of having a choice felt like an illusion.

This is basically a job from Iris’s family.

Yeah, we owe them—big time.
Buildings, land, financial aid… the list goes on.

But still.

This feels like real noble business.

Not just a pain in the ass—this screams trouble.

And bodyguarding for a field trip?

If this is just a noble dick-measuring contest,
why not hire some handsome dude in shining armor instead?

I mean, isn’t black armor considered bad luck in this world?

Why the hell do we have to go?

They’re basically putting us on display.

“I get what you’re saying,
but if you want to keep the Fortia family’s support, you can’t avoid these kinds of requests.
They support Hearty Eater—not just any Walker.
A great noble house trusts you.
Now go play babysitter for a few days.”

I’ll be blunt.

I really don’t want to.

We’re dealing with noble brats, right?
If it were just Iris, fine—
but there’ll be others.

This is gonna be a nightmare.

Being surrounded by arrogant kids for days?

Hell no.

I don’t have any tolerance for bratty teens.

At least the orphanage kids are cute.

If some snot-nosed noble punk gives me attitude,
I will punt them.

I do not have the patience for that.

I looked at the branch chief—

“…By the way, the Fortia family is offering a Magic Bag as part of the reward.
Iris heard about your situation and convinced her father.
It’s supposed to be a really high-quality one.”

“…For real?”

“For real.
After searching everywhere,
this is your fastest route to getting one.”

“…We’ll take it.”

“Good.”

And with that, our next job was set.

We couldn’t find a Magic Bag even in the dungeon.

If that’s the reward,
then enduring a little shame and hassle is worth it.

Money is nice,
but a Magic Bag is way better.

More people eating means we need to hunt more.

So securing one is a must.

“…But wait, isn’t this a problem?
We don’t exactly own any noble-appropriate clothes.”

The branch chief shoved the request form at me again, pointing at a specific line.

“Read this.
It says bodyguards must be ready for combat at all times.
The Fortia family wants you to wear your usual gear.
So yeah—
you’re going in that black armor.
You already stand out enough, so behave yourself.”

He smacked the request form against my chest for emphasis.

…What an asshole.

That wording makes it sound like we’re always doing stupid shit.

“…Got it.”

Can’t even deny it.

Ugh, this is gonna suck.

Rich kids, stuck-up guards, judgmental glares…

I hate this.

Like being a broke parent at a fancy school’s open house.

I don’t even have kids, but I can imagine the humiliation.

“Anyway, get ready.
It’ll be easier than your usual jobs,
but in a different kind of painful way.
Choose your team wisely.”

And just like that, we accepted the request.

…This might end up being a solo mission.

That ominous thought lingered as I headed home.