“That’s the thing! Why do you work solo knowing everyone needs mages on their team?”
“Because everyone’s so obsessed with going to dangerous places, and I don’t want to. I just like to relax and enjoy going on fantasy adventures.”
“Such a waste of talent—anyway, what kind of magic can you use? Fire? Water? It’d be nice if you could use wind magic...”
“Why are you talking as if I’m going to join your team?”
Crunch, crunch.
“I mean, I’ve already decided you’re joining,” said Miguel matter-of-factly.
Crunch, crunch.
“Well?” he pressed.
“Lightning,” I answered.
“What’s that?”
“Lightning is lightning. You don’t know what it is? Haven’t you ever seen a flash of light coming down from the sky on a stormy night?”
“Wait, are you talking about Ameithys’s Hammer?!”
“Is that what they call it here? Come to think of it, I’ve never seen lightning in this world.”
Maybe it was rare for lightning to strike here. Lightning was pretty common in the modern world, and most people had at least seen it in videos or on TV. It seemed the concept of and the word for “lightning” weren’t that widespread here.
“Ameithys’s Hammer, huh.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about it from my grandfather,” said Miguel. “He said you can see it somewhere on the edge of the world. It’s the wrath of Ameithys the Purple. Supposedly, an entire country had been wiped out by it.”
“Mine isn’t anything crazy like that. It’ll just give you a little shock,” I lied.
“Can you seriously use it? This...‘lightning’ thing? You’re not lying?”
“I’m super serious.”
With that, I conjured a spark of purple lightning with a snap of my fingers, destroying one of my potato chips. He seemed to finally be convinced.
“So, that makes you a purple mage...” he mused.
“I guess.”
“Don’t ‘I guess’ me. You’d be the first recognized purple mage in the world.”
“The first? No way. I’m sure there’s at least one out there somewhere.”
In the world of Do-Melta, there existed generic spells that could be used by any mage. Then there were fire, water, earth, and wind spells, elemental spells that could be used by those born with that particular blessing. Mages were categorized as red, blue, yellow, or green respectively depending on which of the four elements they could use.
“Kudo, join my team, man.”
“I dunno...”
“I won’t stop drinking until you agree to join me,” he threatened.
“How’s that even supposed to work?”
Miguel the drunkard suddenly began chugging his drink, and once his mug was empty, he persistently repeated, “Join my team... Join my teeeam...”
“You’re not going to back down, are you?” I asked.
“Damn right, I’m not. I originally invited you because of your survival rate in the dungeons, but now that I know you can cast some super crazy spells, I have to have you on my team. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“You say that, but...” I trailed off.
To be honest, I was tempted. Joining a team did have its merits, and I was honestly flattered that my friend wanted me so badly. On the other hand, there was a chance I’d be dragged into danger. I was more than happy just hunting Blood Bats in the area in front of the boss room of the Dark Corridors, and it was a good leveling spot. That was enough for a junkie who was hooked on the dopamine hits from leveling up, and there was other stuff I needed to take care of, so it was hard for me to accept the offer.
“Come on, man,” he insisted.
“I don’t know if I can...”
Miguel’s tone was playful, but he was unrelenting. As I considered how to get him to back down, I remembered I had something just for an occasion like this.
“Miguel, you’re a big drinker, right?”
“Obviously,” he said. “If you take drinks away from me, women will be the only joy in my life.”
“Hee hee hee, then I have just the thing for ya, boss,” I said as I rubbed my hands together.
“That shady laugh and hand-rubbing gesture doesn’t suit you.”
“Just play along, will you?”
With that, I pulled a magic bottle out of the void and placed it on the table with a thud.
“That Dimension Bag sure is convenient,” said Miguel.
“Yeah, I feel like a millionaire whenever I use this thing.”
“So, what is this? I’ve never seen anything like it in Freida.”
“It’s the mythical brand-name liquor: Old Whisky. It’s made by Suntory, a god of alcohol from another world. You could even say it’s legendary. What do you say to backing down for today in exchange for this bottle?”
Miguel stroked the rounded black bottle with a red top fascinatedly.
“Oh? You speak of mythical liquors before me, he who’s drunk every type of alcohol in all of Freida? If it fails to impress my discerning tongue—you know the deal.”
He was implying I would have to join his team.
Seeing his cocky smile, I began to have second thoughts.
“Actually, maybe I should reconsider...” I said.
I’d helped myself to this bottle from my dad’s collection. It went without saying that I hadn’t tasted it myself. I had no idea what was considered good, and there was no guarantee my plan would work, so my confidence in Japanese quality began to wither. Maybe I should’ve brought a bottle of Macallan instead.
As I sat there second-guessing myself and feeling intimidated by Miguel’s fearless smile, he brought out a cup and poured himself some whiskey.
“Don’t backpedal on me now. I’m gonna have a taste, all right?”
“Ugh... Be careful, I hear whiskey is pretty strong,” I said hesitantly.
“Who do you think I am? I’m the man who finished a bottle of Flame Hawk, Freida’s strongest liquor, in one night!”
To be honest, I had no idea how impressive of a feat that was.
Miguel lifted his cup and took a whiff.