Chapter 1:
No More Slipping
IT WAS BUSINESS as usual at the drugstore when a man resembling an adventurer dropped in.
“Greetings,” he said. “Is this the shop that sells medicine made by an alchemist?”
“Er…”
The adventurer wasn’t a familiar face; he was likely visiting Kirio Drugs based on word of mouth. I figured he was probably in his forties. I didn’t know much about adventurers or their skills, but this one came off as a veteran. He had a well-used sword at his hip, and the rest of his equipment looked likewise worn. None was in poor shape, though; he must’ve maintained everything properly.
“I’m not actually an alchemist,” I replied with a strained smile.
My voice woke Noela from her nap on the countertop. “Customer, Master?”
“I’m about to give him a consultation,” I told her, stroking her head. She narrowed her eyes contentedly at that.
“A beastling,” noted the adventurer.
“She’s a werewolf, actually.” I made sure to correct him. To Noela, there was a huge difference. In fact, she was rather snobbish on the subject. I frankly didn’t see the two species as that distinct, but she got up in arms if anyone said otherwise. “What do you need today?”
“Well, I’ve been using those potions of yours,” the adventurer replied. “They’re pretty damn incredible! They’ve saved my butt more than once.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“So, I’ve come with a request, Sir Alchemist…” He tried to cut to the chase.
“Um, just to be clear, I’m a pharmacist, not an alchemist.”
I again made a point of correcting him, since people confused those roles regularly. Then I motioned the old adventurer to take a seat. As he did so, Mina appeared with complimentary tea; she must’ve heard our conversation and realized a new customer had arrived.
“Thanks, Mina,” I said.
“You’re quite welcome. Enjoy!” She left the storefront with a smile.
“So, what’s this request you mentioned?” I asked.
“It’s about my sword.” The adventurer gently patted the sheath his blade was tucked into. “Recently, it hasn’t felt right in my hands. I hoped you could address that, Sir Alchemist.”
Is a drugstore really the best place for this errand? “You might prefer to visit an armorer or blacksmith, frankly.”
He shook his head with a gruff expression. “I can’t. They’re only interested in selling new weapons, and I want to keep using this sword.”
Aha. He didn’t want to buy a replacement. Now this made sense. “Can I take a look?”
“Mm.” The adventurer placed the sheathed sword on the counter. The sheath itself was light, and even a total civilian like me could tell the sword inside was of good quality.
“May I draw it?”
“Of course.”
Holding the hilt, I slowly drew the blade from its sheath. It glistened in the light, which suggested it was well maintained. In fact, at first glance, it seemed totally functional. It’d clearly been wielded for many long years, but as far as I could tell, it wouldn’t slip in your hands so long as you held it properly. If the adventurer favored this sword, I saw no reason for him to replace it.
“It doesn’t feel ‘right’ in your hands, huh?” I again squeezed the hilt tightly but still couldn’t figure out what he meant.
“Exactly. That wasn’t always the case, though.”
“How’s the sword different now?”
“Well, this may seem minor, but I can’t put as much force behind it. For instance, I can’t split a tree in one swing anymore. I used to be able to.”
“Oh…” That claim impressed me immensely, despite my underwhelmed response. And nothing about the adventurer’s demeanor led me to think he’d probably gotten weaker. Even if it had, I couldn’t have implied that either.
“I switched hilts already, but…” He shook his head. Apparently, nothing had improved.
“Oh! Hold on.” I had an idea. “Could you show me your hands for a second?”
“Hrm? Sure.”
The old adventurer held out both hands. I prodded them for a moment. They were tough, calloused from years of swinging his sword.
“I knew it,” I murmured. “Yeah… I think that might be your problem.”
“What might?”
“Please wait here a sec.”
Leaving the drugstore, I entered the lab. Following my medicine-making skill’s instructions, I gathered the proper ingredients, then concocted a product I suspected would solve the adventurer’s problem.
Nonslip Gel: Fast-drying nonstick friction gel.
All finished. I put some nonslip gel on my hands to test it; it dried immediately. Glancing around the room for a way to test the stuff, I spotted a mortar and pestle. I held the mortar tight in my hand and ground the pestle against it.
“Ah!”
It felt completely different from using my bare hands. My fingers didn’t slip at all, and the pestle absorbed my grip’s full strength. Perfect. With this product, I could solve the older adventurer’s problem.
I carried the nonslip gel to the storefront. “I created something new. What do you think?”
“What is it?”
“It’ll stop your grip on the sword hilt from sliding.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Your hands have gotten too dry, and that keeps you from feeling like you’ve got a sure grip on your weapon.”
“Really?”
“Yup. The skin on your hands loses some of its natural moisture as you age.”
A little moisture would normalize things, but dampening his hands in the middle of a journey would be a hassle for the adventurer. On top of that, it’d be a waste of time if his hands dried before he entered battle and drew his sword.
I lathered the man’s hands with nonslip gel as if washing them. The gel dried quickly after that.
“That’s it?”
“Should be.”
He seemed doubtful but followed me outside, nonetheless. There, I told him to take a few swings with his sword.
“I can tell it’s better even without swinging it, Sir Alchemist!” he exclaimed.
“Huh?”
“The sensation the moment I gripped the hilt—that’s what’s been missing lately!”
Things had seemingly worked out.
“Here I come!” the man said like a true swordsman. He took a deep breath, then yelled, “Hyah!!!”
Lunging forward, the adventurer swung his blade, producing a sound as if space itself had fractured. A literal blast of air shaped like a half circle flew away from his swing.
An actual projectile?! The blast mowed down a few meters of weeds and plants, then disappeared. What the heck just happened?
The aged adventurer gazed at his sword with a pleased yet nostalgic expression. “It’s been years since I last pulled off a Wind Slash…”
A “W-Wind Slash”?! That was some formal technique?
“Hrmph!” He raised his sword quickly, and another blast of air cut through the plants nearby.
“A-awesome,” I muttered.
“Thank you, Sir Alchemist. I owe you.” The adventurer shook my hand, gripping it tightly. “It’s thanks to you that I performed a move I thought I’d never use again!”
“So…what’s a Wind Slash?” I asked hesitantly.
“A sword technique I developed. The concentrated pressure of a blade’s swing produces a projectile.”
“A literal slash of wind,” I mused. It was incredibly cool. This dude was the real deal!
The adventurer presented me with a leather bag. “To express my gratitude, I’d like to offer you this.”
“No, no. I can’t possibly accept anything for a prototype.” I was honestly just happy he showed me his awesome technique.