The addition of Eleanor did little to slow down their progress.
Monsters were hardly treated as a threat and were immediately cut down should they so much as think to block their path. They pressed on, resting as sparingly as possible.
As Haring would put it, this was a party of “idiots rushin’ to their death.” But insults wouldn’t make Yuri rest. Every scene his eyes took in was so new, so fresh; he was driven by a strong desire to see what lay beyond every next bend.
And—
“Floor fifty! We did it!” Yuri roared.
The transfer gate put them on the ledge of a craggy mountain. A steep drop behind them, a cliff in front, and a winding path on both sides...
“It’s floor fifty, Mr. Haring! I was counting, there’s no way I’m wrong!”
Haring delivered a forceful whack to Yuri’s head to curb his enthusiasm. “Shut it, fool! Make too much noise and the monsters will rush in! Good grief... These floors ain’t so rare to me or any—”
“Whoooah!! So this is legendary land from book Ninja x Samurai! Where specters run rampant, the peerless world of darkness—and its name is Neo-Saitama!”
“Why is that the only thing you can say clearly, bloody weeb elf!?”
Just like Yuri, Eleanor’s excitement had peaked, and as she energetically cried out, she was similarly whacked.
“Ow... Haring harsh...”
“You know...it’s just you, Mr. Haring. You’re the only one who kept insisting we needed to take a break.”
“If you don’t rest your body, it won’t move right when you need it to. And listen here, you damn brats, if you had anyone else as your guide, you’d have left them in the dust ages ago.”
Haring said this not only to Yuri but to Eleanor as well. Eleanor had kept up with them without ever initiating a break herself.
Normally, an elf’s physical capabilities ranked relatively low among the eight tribes. They were physically even weaker than humans, but living in lands filled with forests made them extremely nimble.
Their vision and hearing were both excellent. This allowed them to easily snipe from afar or take covert action. Add in some proficiency in magic and they were a tribe highly suited for the backline. At least, that was what Yuri remembered hearing from Fram.
Eleanor’s sharp movements fit the bill perfectly, and by weaving in some rather unique techniques of her own, she kept her stamina expenditure to the bare minimum.
“As expected of Ms. Eleanor! You’re not a Ninja Elf for nothing!!”
“Hmhmm! You flatter me!”
“...Well, appearance and language barrier aside, she is a Gold Rank.” Haring sighed, rather tired out by their exchange, and lifted his head. “Ah, whatever. Now that we’re in the deeper levels, we’re shiftin’ over to harvestin’ duty. I know what herbs the brat needs, but elf, what do you need for your weapon?”
“Err... Blacksmith said I need this!”
Eleanor took out a note, and Haring gave it a good look-over.
“Fermatite, sky-eye, blood-seal stone...you’ll have to mine for them.”
“I-Is hard?”
“Not hard, but you’ll need patience and luck. You don’t even have the tools, do you?”
“Do not!”
“Shut it, that’s nothin’ to be proud of. Calm your tits.”
Slapping Eleanor’s note against her forehead, Haring scratched his head in thought.
“Brat, your herbs can wait. Let her get her ores.”
“I don’t mind whatsoever, but is there anything I can help with?”
“Do whatever you want. My job was to guide you to the depths, and watch you. What you do here ain’t none of my business.”
“Rather, Mr. Haring, you’re no longer against helping her out, I see.”
“We’ve already come all the way here... Rather than you lot wastin’ time searchin’ in the dark, it’ll be much more efficient if I throw in a hand,” he awkwardly replied before staring at the rockface of the cliff. He placed his right hand against the bare rock, and soon pebbles began to gather around it.
Only his right hand was covered—Haring himself didn’t change.
“Oh...is that also Dragonification? You can selectively change only a portion of your body?”
“You’re supposed to be a mix-blood. Are you saying you didn’t know?”
“Ahaha... I definitely have some dragon in me, but I’ve only ever used it to strengthen my bones.”
“Well yeah, that’s the Dragon Tribe’s steel bones trait. It’s somethin’ any dragonkin has, nothing special. The power we invoke with Dragonification is like the Beast Tribe, in that it’s related to our ancestors.”
“My father did his best to get together the names and subspecies of the people I supposedly take after, but the documents were all so old, I really don’t know anything about the details...”
“Well then, try sayin’ the name. I might know a thing or two.”
“Err, I’m getting the feeling the name was Nidhöggr.”
The moment he repeated the name he heard from his father, Haring looked at him dubiously.
“...That ain’t much of a name, more of a description really.”
“You know about it, Mr. Haring?”
“That word you used is ancient dragonic. The language ain’t around no more, but the village I’m from carried on this old-ass religion, so we used a bit of it in ceremonies from time to time.”
Haring made a bitter expression. He must not have had very good memories of his homeland.
“Eater of corpses, stealer of branches—that’s what it means,” Haring said before painstakingly scratching his head. “But even if I know what it means, I don’t know what powers that gives you.”
“Yes, that really isn’t too clear...”
“The documents you’re talking about probably come from the legends and ceremonies of a village where he’s deified. I’m assumin’ they’re in ancient dragonic too. If you get the chance, bring ’em to me, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh? Is that alright?”
“Not for free, of course. I’ll do any job for a price.”
Seeing Haring’s smug grin, Yuri couldn’t help but return a wry smile of his own.
Haring turned back to the rocks, determining there wasn’t anything else he could do on the matter, and returned to describing Dragonification.