A Weakling Who Died a Million Times - Chapter 3.2

Year 133_Keireki Era Summer/00~Year 133_Keireki Era Summer/01
I can see it! A walled city!

The entire city was surrounded by sturdy walls.

This fortress city wasn’t just built to withstand battles; by limiting entry points, it reduced the chances of riffraffs getting in.

Yes, people like me, for instance!

The city is governed by Count Biumode. I think it used to be one of the kingdom's major cities... but who cares about that!

I'm here to soak in the sights.

However, a bandit like me can’t exactly stroll through this crime-resistant city’s gates.

To enter, anyone from outside the city either needs some kind of ID made in another town, or they must present proof or a letter of introduction from a person of influence.

I have nothing.

… But giving up here would be something only an idiot would do. So I stayed hidden for a while and watched the gate.

The security checks are tough.

Sneaking in through luggage would be nearly impossible.

So, what about other entrances? There’s a window in an area with hardly any foot traffic.

Reaching it isn’t possible by jumping or leaping.

But if there’s a window, there’s a way in with a little creativity.

A bandit’s creativity, that is!

I took some rope and a spear from my gathered goods.

After tying the rope to the spear, I threw it through the window.

Throwing things is my forte. Got plenty of practice, if you count lives, anyway.

With a pull, the spear lodged itself on the window frame, allowing me to climb up using the rope.

It’s quite the climb, but I made my way up quietly and steadily.

… Once inside, I took a look around.

No one’s here.

This room was likely only used during emergencies, perhaps as an archer’s station.

I pulled up the spear and rope and left them here.

They might come in handy again, and carrying something like this around could get me arrested.

If I were an adventurer, I could probably present an ID and avoid arrest, but I have nothing of the sort.

The door’s locked, but a quick... click, click… and it’s open!

Alright, it only took one try, so I’m safe.

I headed out and eventually managed to slip past the city wall and into the interior.

I’ve landed by the wall.

A short walk later, I found myself on the main street.

The town’s lined with three- and four-story buildings, with a wide public road featuring rows of street trees in the center.

I imagine those trees help regulate traffic flow.

A road that busy means there must be a lot of horse-drawn carriages passing through.

And…wow. This place is huge! It has the feel of a city full of culture!

How many rounds has it been since I last entered a city? If I can’t remember, it’s probably been a long while since I had the chance.

Wandering around at night might lead to the city guards stopping me.

With no identification, that’s a big risk.

So I found an area where some vagrants were hanging out and settled down somewhere unobtrusive.

Bandits and vagrants look more or less the same. No one’s going to mind my smell in this area either.

By late morning, I started moving.

My desires aren’t anything grand.

I just want to avoid dying too frequently even if I respawn.

What can I do to live longer?

Employment that doesn’t involve being a bandit.

Maybe port work isn’t a bad option, but pure physical labor is boring.

You’re calling me picky for saying my wishes aren’t grand?

When life isn’t a one-time thing, you get spoiled and lazy with this “try again if it fails” mentality.

That said, if there’s a bit of thrill involved, even simple tasks might be alright…

Maybe the Adventurers’ Guild or the Thieves’ Guild.

I vaguely remember the latter requires an introduction.

That thought brings up memories of getting killed for showing up without one.

Yeah, no Thieves’ Guild for me!

So, that leaves the Adventurers’ Guild…

Might as well try my luck.

If I get killed, then so be it.

With nothing to lose, I casually knocked on the Adventurers’ Guild door.

They said I need to undergo an interview to join.

I apologized for my smell in my head, but the interviewer didn't show any reaction.

They’re used to handling people like me, I suppose.

“Can you read and write?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Then, please fill this out.”

They handed me a paper and a pen.

I’m supposed to fill in my name, age, special skills, and self-declared profession…

My name… could I be on a wanted list?

Writing it honestly seems dangerous.

Let’s go with a fake name.

I glanced around. There was a small dining space in the facility.

At the counter, various dishes were lined up with their prices.

It looks like a bulk food counter. Gram… that’ll work.

“Gram.”

Age… 28, and my skills?… Lockpicking, acrobatics, throwing… that should do.

Self-declared profession? What’s that about?

If I don’t know, I’ll just ask.

“What does ‘self-declared profession’ mean?”

“It’s your role when you’re with a group. Like ‘swordsman’ if you’ve trained with swords, or ‘magician’ if you can use magic. If you’re unsure, we can run a test for you—”

She glanced over at my form from her side.

I’ve got sloppy handwriting, but she read it in an instant.

A pro.

So, identifying roles is something others can assess.

“From your skills, ‘scout’ would be fitting. If you’d like, we can arrange for an assessment, but…”

Her words trailed off.

Ah, it costs money.

I don’t have any, and I’m not particularly curious about my profession.

“Got it, thanks for the suggestion. I’ll go with that.”

Alright, I’ll put down “thief.”

Wait, that’s wrong.

I was supposed to write “scout.”

Ah, the interviewer made an awkward face.

Too late now; I already wrote it. No changes.

“Here’s your identification token. The reissue fee varies based on your rank if you lose it.”

They give the usual adventurer spiel.

Now free to take on jobs, I’m told the most important thing is experience.

Adventurers need guts. Just gotta dive in and give it a shot.

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