The dull coin he'd bought at an antique market the day before was still wedged between the pages of his notebook as Shojin Kudo sat in the hard wooden chair of the "Purple Smoke Lantern." The tavern—"Purple Smoke Lantern"—stood directly across the street from the Watarihomei headquarters. It was the standard gathering place for adventurers after work. The owner, Yorg Bassa, was a former adventurer of fifty-five with a unique appearance: his left arm was a prosthetic. Soot-covered swords decorated the walls, there were sixty seats, and half of them filled up by evening. A mug of ale cost two copper coins, and hearty stew cost one silver coin. The air was thick with a unique blend of tobacco smoke, sweat, and the fermented smell of grain. In Shojin's hand was a wooden cup filled with water. Not ale. Water. Just water. A savings of two copper coins. (Yesterday, because of that budget report posted on the bulletin board, my mental exhaustion was severe. At least today I won't waste money.) Shojin told himself this reason while opening his notebook. Across the table, Liliath had a troubled expression on her face. A girl with silver hair loosely braided and eyes of pale blue—the sixteen-year-old mage sat with her staff bearing the lunar crest cradled in her lap, quietly reflecting on her choices. Before her lay an array of dishes: two bowls of soup, a plate of roasted root vegetables, smoked river fish, black bread, and some mysterious fried item. "...I ordered too much." "Didn't I tell you to check the menu before ordering?" "You did! But everything looked so delicious...!" "I have 'Liliath Order Management—High Risk' written in my notebook." "Please erase that immediately!!" Shojin leisurely took a sip of water. Liliath picked up one of the fried items and began eating it with a soft "munch munch." Her pale blue eyes narrowed. It must have been delicious. Then. Giiiiiii—CLANG!!!! The neighboring table shifted sideways. The wooden table dragged across the stone floor with a heavy, dull sound that echoed through the tavern. All the other patrons turned at once. Shojin turned. Liliath froze with the fried food still in her mouth. Standing there was— Huge. One hundred eighty-five centimeters tall, reddish-brown short hair standing up haphazardly, nineteen years old. Amber eyes that were sharp yet somehow held a laid-back light. A shallow diagonal scar on his left cheek. His arms were crossed, and his shoulders were about one and a half times wider than a normal person's. His equipment was well-worn leather armor, and his sword hung diagonally at his hip, still in its sheath. The man was pulling the neighboring table toward himself with one hand. Completely convinced it was his own seat. "Sorry, don't get in my way." Shojin froze. Yorg the owner approached, raising his prosthetic arm. "Customer, that table belongs to someone else." The man stopped. He looked at the table. He looked at Shojin and the others. He looked at the table he'd been pulling. "I see." He said only that and pushed the table back into place with a clang. Yorg simply said "Thank you" and returned to the kitchen. The entire tavern went silent for five seconds, then gradually returned to its usual noise. The man sat down at his own table—diagonally in front of Shojin and Liliath—as if nothing had happened. The chair creaked in protest. (What was that all about?) The moment Shojin thought this, the man's gaze turned toward him. His amber eyes fixed on Shojin's left hand. On the summoning mark etched into the hand that held the Watarihomei card. The man stood up. The chair creaked again. He walked over to Shojin's table in long strides and stood with his arms crossed. "So you're the summoner everyone's talking about." "...Um." "The guy who made that budget report public to all adventurers. I heard about it at the Watarihomei headquarters." "I didn't actually make it public." "I'm Greg Dorson. Root rank." Root rank was the second-highest tier in the Watarihomei's ranking system—the sixth level up from the lowest Moss rank. It was the rank of a considerably skilled adventurer. It wasn't the kind of rank ordinary adventurers aimed for. Before Shojin could fully process this, Greg pulled out a chair—with a loud clang—and sat down. The table creaked again. "Want to form a party?" "Huh?" "I'm free right now. You're interesting. There's reason enough." "No, uh, I—" "I want to be normal." The moment he said those final words, Greg's eyes lit up. Or rather, they took on a look of certainty. "The modesty of a strong man." "That's not it!!" "That's what everyone always says!!" Liliath offered covering fire while eating her fried food, her voice perfectly natural. Her pale blue eyes were shining. She looked happy. Shojin gave her a "you too?" look, but Liliath just smiled. "I see." Greg and Liliath made eye contact. "I'm Liliath! Let's form a party together with Shojin!" "Greg. Nice to meet you." The two shook hands. They'd hit it off completely on first meeting. "...Did you hear what I said?" Shojin asked in a voice barely louder than a mosquito's buzz. "I heard." "I heard too!" Both answered simultaneously. Shojin opened his notebook and wrote one line. 'Today's mental exhaustion: All-time high' --- The next morning—or rather, things had progressed that very night. It was around the time the fried food had been reduced to two-thirds when Greg said, "Let's decide on a party name." "...Can I think for five seconds?" "Go ahead." Shojin thought for five seconds. "The Ordinary Three." Inconspicuous. Simple. Perfect. "Ordinary that transcends ordinariness." "If it transcends it, it's not ordinary anymore." "The Ordinary Guild!! The name has such good flow!!" Liliath set down her spoon and declared it. Something had been decided in Liliath's mind. "It's decided." "It's not decided!!" But Greg was already standing. Liliath was standing too. Both of them were walking toward the Watarihomei headquarters. "Wait! The reception desk closes at night!!" "First thing tomorrow morning, then." "First thing...!" When Shojin woke the next morning, the window of the Dull Turtle Inn was still dim outside. The Watarihomei reception opens at seven in the morning. After washing his face and heading downstairs, Poura Hunt—the innkeeper, forty-eight years old, meddlesome and talkative—was cutting thick slices of wheat bread for breakfast and said, "My, you're up early." Greg was standing in front of the entrance. Arms crossed. Before the sun had even risen. "You're early." "It's normal." Liliath came running around the corner three minutes later. Her silver hair swayed, and her staff clattered against her shoulder. Her cheeks still looked sleepy, her eyes only half-open. "I, I'm not late!! Five minutes early!!" "Seven minutes early." "Yes!! I made it!!" Shojin took out his notebook and recorded, "7 AM, forced party registration." --- The Watarihomei Crevasse headquarters was still quiet just after opening. At one of the reception windows stood Anna, her chestnut hair neatly tied up. The same receptionist from yesterday and the day before. When she saw Shojin's face, her expression shifted slightly. A "here again" kind of look, he thought. Greg stood before the reception counter and requested the party registration documents. As Anna handed them over and checked Greg's Watarihomei card—she stopped. Completely stopped for two seconds. "...Root rank?" "That's right." Anna looked at Shojin. She looked at Greg. She looked at Liliath. Then she began writing something on the documents. Her hand moved a bit faster than usual. Shojin followed the edge of the documents with his eyes, once again recognizing that Root rank was the second-highest of the Watarihomei's seven tiers—a rank that took ordinary adventurers years to reach. (Why is this person trying to form a party with us?) "Um, could I ask you something for a moment?" Shojin spoke quietly to Anna. While Greg and Liliath were checking the documents, he leaned over the counter. "Can I... refuse this?" Anna gave an apologetic smile. When Shojin slowly turned back around, Greg was standing silently, pointing at the signature line of the documents. Liliath was bouncing around saying "Hurry, hurry!!" Shojin looked up at the sky. Five seconds. He gripped the pen. "Also, with the addition of a Root rank member, your party rank will be elevated, so a rank-up exam recommendation will be automatically issued as of today." "...What?" "Oh." "We did it!!!" Shojin's pen stopped. "A rank-up exam...?" "The exam is tomorrow. It will be a practical test in Valessa Forest." "Tomorrow!?!?" Anna naturally gestured toward the next window. Shojin looked at the signature line. He looked at his hand holding the pen. He looked at Greg and Liliath. "...The Ordinary Guild, huh." Shojin said it quietly and ran the pen across the paper. --- The next morning, Valessa Forest still had morning dew on it. About twenty-five kilometers west of Crevasse, this hunting ground with its broad-leafed trees was a standard area for new adventurers. Dappled sunlight filtered through, and the smell of soil hung in the air. Bird calls echoed somewhere. It was a good morning. The examiner from the Watarihomei was already waiting. A meticulous-looking man in his forties wearing glasses, holding a parchment binder. He introduced himself as Edwin Craft. He was a tense, precise person. "Today's task is to defeat two Volgs and collect medicinal herbs. You have three hours." "Understood." "Got it!" "Let's go." The three lined up. Shojin took out his notebook and unfolded the terrain notes he'd written beforehand. Volgs appeared most often in the low shrub area to the west, medicinal herbs could be found along the stream to the south— "The forest is something you learn with your feet." The moment Greg finished speaking, he took off running. At full speed. Chaos began thirty seconds after the start. Dododododo!!! "Wait!! Greg!! I haven't even explained the direction yet—!!" Liliath tried to chase after him. The moment she started running without looking at her feet, her staff's switch activated. Splaaash!!! A water sphere fell straight down. Liliath's water spheres had unstable gravity control and tended to fall vertically—exactly as recorded in Shojin's notebook. The ground beneath her feet was instantly soaked. "Kyah!!" She slipped. Shojin reflexively grabbed Liliath's arm. He pulled her to a stop. Liliath's body halted. The warmth of her slender arm transmitted through his hand. For just a moment, Liliath's ears began to turn red. But neither of them had time to notice. "Greg disappeared!!" "W-which way did he go!!" From deep within the trees came a dull sound: Gagoooon!!! Followed by Greg's voice: "Whoa!" Then came the growls of beasts—three of them. "There are three!!" Shojin ran. He pushed through the gaps between trees toward the sound. Liliath clattered along behind him. The scene that came into view made Shojin's legs pause for a moment. Greg was—fighting three Volgs with his bare hands. Volgs were wolf-type monsters about one and a half meters long, classified as "low" danger. The task was supposed to be two of them. But there were three here. Greg's sword—still in its sheath—was placed on the ground. It had slipped from his belt and was leaning against the grass to the side. "More is more efficient!!" "Why did you leave your sword in its sheath!?!?!?" "I forgot to take it!!" How was that even possible!? Greg dodged one Vorg's charge to the right, grabbed another by the scruff of the neck, and pinned it to the ground. A third jumped at him. He swung his arm and knocked it away. The third one bit his leg. "It's hot," he said, just one word. "I'll provide support!!" Liliath raised her staff. The incantation for a fireball