Two weeks had passed since the deadly fight with the Goblin Lord.
Tajima Yuuto's life had shifted—dramatically, yet quietly. The change began with his new apartment: gone was the dim, thirty-year-old one-room flat. Now he lived in a clean, well-secured unit near the station. It wasn't luxurious, but it offered peace, light, and comfort enough to wash away the day's fatigue.
His meals had transformed too. Balanced home cooking replaced convenience food, and his body had grown leaner, sharper. It wasn't just the stat boosts from leveling up; daily conditioning had honed his endurance, the true foundation of a professional explorer.
"...Alright." Yuuto checked the balance on his freshly upgraded monitor and gave a satisfied nod. The line of zeroes glowing back at him would have stunned the man he'd been the day he got laid off.
With practiced fingers, he sent a portion of his earnings to his parents' account—a habit from his salaryman days. Back then, he'd scraped together every yen just to send them a little help. Now, the figure carried two, maybe three extra digits.
With this much, they could afford proper treatment... maybe even move somewhere with cleaner air. Still, I should keep earning until I can leave them a trust big enough to last a lifetime, even if something happens to me.
The worries that had once gnawed at him—rent, groceries, filial duty—had faded. But freedom from worry didn't mean freedom from responsibility. If anything, the power he'd gained had multiplied the weight on his shoulders. That awareness kept him grounded, steering his focus toward his next goal.
He never let himself get complacent. Risk management—the one skill his SE days had branded into him—still shaped his every move.
Stability never lasts.
Dungeons were fickle. The profitable ones might close overnight. Injury could end a career without warning.
That was why Yuuto worked harder when times were good, always thinking one step ahead. That was his creed.
His days split neatly in two: diving into dungeons or training and gathering intel. No wild nights, no indulgence—just quiet, repetitive work to sharpen the odds of survival. His life ran with the precision of a well-calibrated machine.
The Adventurer's Guild had long become part of his daily rhythm. When he stepped inside, familiar chatter filled the air.
"Yo, Yuuto-danna! Got any good stuff today?" Matsuda called from the exchange counter, waving him over with his usual friendly grin.
"Good afternoon, Matsuda-san. I brought these."
Yuuto placed a cloth pouch on the counter. Inside glimmered flawless Slime Cores and fine, powdered Mana Stones.
"Beautiful quality, as always! I'll pay top rate again today," Matsuda said, eyes gleaming as he began his appraisal.
Whispers drifted through the nearby crowd.
"Hey, look—that's the 'Solo Rookie.'"
"E-Rank, but cleared a beginner dungeon alone, right?"
"Every material he sells is top-notch, man. Freakish, honestly."
'Solo Rookie.' That was the name they'd given him somewhere along the line—half mockery, half legend. An E-rank who'd done the impossible. The imbalance made him a subject of endless curiosity.
Yet few dared approach. His calm intensity and quiet aura of danger kept people at bay, tinged with something like awe.
"Here you go, danna. Today's payout." Matsuda slid his card reader across the counter. A soft chime confirmed the transfer.
Once again, Yuuto earned more in a day than most made in a month.
"Thank you as always," he said, bowing his head slightly.
"The pleasure's mine," Matsuda replied with a grin. "So, tell me—planning your next step yet, Yuuto-danna?"
Yuuto's eyes widened, just a little. "...How did you know?"
"I don't see your face every day for nothing," Matsuda said with a knowing grin. "Lately, when you bring in low-tier dungeon loot, you've got that 'routine job' look. Like you're itching for a real challenge."
Sharp as ever, Yuuto thought, smiling faintly to himself. Matsuda was right. For two weeks, he'd ignored every other dungeon, returning only to the familiar tunnels of the Goblin Cave. It wasn't laziness—it was strategy. Mapping every corridor, memorizing every spawn pattern, and mastering every route had turned it into a controlled training ground. The safest, most efficient way to ready himself for what came next.
Now, his experience points hovered just below the next threshold. But even efficiency had its limits. The Goblin Cave no longer offered thrill or danger—just routine. Slimes and goblins had become nothing more than resources, stripped of meaning.
"I've been researching mid-tier dungeons," he admitted quietly.
Matsuda's grin faded, replaced by the sober look of someone who'd seen too many funerals. "Mid-tier, huh. Well, I figured you'd end up there eventually. But listen, danna—those places aren't like the beginner holes you've been clearing."
"I know," Yuuto replied. "The monsters are stronger. The layout's more complex."
"That's not even the half of it," Matsuda said. "The biggest difference is this: party play's mandatory. Mid-tier dungeons are built to stop soloists dead. Puzzles that need multiple people, monsters that demand coordination. Going alone? That's just suicide."
Concern tightened his tone. "I've seen what you can do, Yuuto. You're exceptional. But promise me—don't get reckless."
Yuuto bowed his head slightly. "I'll keep that in mind."
Leaving the counter behind, he climbed to the second floor of the guild, where rows of glowing terminals lined the information room. Each screen offered detailed data on dungeons across the country—monsters, maps, and survival rates.
He selected Astoria's Lost Forest. A dense, fog-choked wilderness filled the screen, overlaid with layers of data: monster entries, recommended levels, records of cleared parties. Every line confirmed what Matsuda had said—solo attempts were suicide.
He's right. This is harsh, Yuuto thought, scrolling through pages describing poisonous plants, illusion mist, and barriers that required rare items to bypass. Exploration itself was as lethal as battle.
Forming a party would be the logical move. But logic and trust weren't always the same.
Party, huh...
Faces from his office days flickered through his mind—Suzuki and the others. The backbiting, jealousy, and lazy excuses. Cooperation had always felt like shackles to him, a trap for efficiency. He preferred his own pace, his own judgment, his own solutions.
I'll see it for myself first.
Theory meant nothing without experience. He'd analyze it firsthand—then decide whether it was truly impossible.
Nearby voices broke his concentration.
"Hey, check it out. That's the 'Solo Rookie,' Tajima."
"Yeah. Looking up mid-tier dungeon data again, all alone."
"You serious? He's not actually planning to go solo there, is he?"
"He'll die for sure. Clearing that beginner cave was a fluke."
"Typical E-rank arrogance. He's dead meat."
Yuuto recognized the voices—the muscle-headed party he'd crossed paths with before. Their laughter reached him, but he didn't flinch. Their opinions no longer mattered.
What mattered was the glowing screen before him and the vast, uncharted forest that waited beyond.
He rose silently and walked straight toward the guild's exit.
The next objective was clear.
Astoria's Lost Forest.
First comes preparation.