The good news was that, thanks to Leon's ghostlike sprint, he managed to deliver the Pacifying Agent to his companions right away, freeing them from their abnormal state.
The bad news was…
Because their condition after returning from the dungeon had been so obviously strange, plenty of people had already seen through their excuse about "not entering the dungeon for a while." Their secret training was exposed.
The party's reputation suddenly turned… delicate.
It wasn't a full-blown scandal, but it wasn't trivial either.
At the very least, the illusion of their untouchable, flawless image had been shattered. Turns out, even they could stumble in the dungeon. "Heh, so they're not that different from us after all—just another bunch of losers dying in there."
Some of their blind worshippers had their filters broken, and the way they looked at Leon became… strange.
On his way home to fetch money, Leon passed by the Adventurers' Guild and immediately caught the stares. Just from their eyes, he understood everything.
Good news crawled like a snail, but bad news? It could sweep through the city in less than an hour.
Secret training itself wasn't a big deal. But strutting around like a hotshot, pretending to be a "one-life-clears-the-dungeon" god? That was more than enough to sour public opinion.
Not enough to brand him immoral, but for Leon, it was nothing short of a crushing blow.
He had three great loves in life:
Showing off. Looking cool. And basking in the spotlight.
(Aren't those all the same thing!?)
Because of childhood trauma and other reasons, Leon had grown into someone who craved attention—always wanting to be cheered like a star wherever he went.
So he trained his swordsmanship, studied adventuring lore, and fought through quest after quest, building up his reputation as a seasoned adventurer.
A tale of hard work rewarded with fame—a classic, inspiring story. But he had a fatal flaw: he loved to brag. And the more he bragged, the bigger the lies became.
Most notoriously, he claimed he could clear dungeons in a single attempt, when in fact he had been practicing in secret.
Now that his bluff was exposed, the rest of the raiding party wasn't too shaken. But for Leon, it was as if the sky itself had collapsed.
"Boss, the money…"
Leon stumbled into Maldron's Shop, dumped a pouch of coins onto the counter, and turned to leave—forgetting even to take the change.
A firm hand gripped his shoulder.
"Since you're here, sit for a while," said the voice behind him.
He was practically forced into a chair, staring blankly ahead as if his soul had wandered off.
The Guardian Ape's boss mechanic really was terrifying—it had practically scared this kid stupid, Wade thought with a flicker of sympathy.
Since opening his shop, most of his customers had been ordinary folk, buying small trinkets of little consequence.
The true treasures at the bottom of his chest he had no intention of selling to random nobodies. First, they couldn't spread his name effectively. Second, they couldn't afford them anyway.
He hadn't expected this shop to thrive; it was more of a front, a medium to connect with the outside world and build some reputation.
Still, he'd noticed something recently—interacting with people actually helped stabilize his mental state.
From Aldwin the Undead's memories, he'd learned that many dungeon masters went mad from loneliness. In endless isolation, even he had nearly lost his mind, nearly perished.
Apart from natural temperament, most intelligent beings needed social contact.
Social bonds acted like anchors, tethering the mind to reality and keeping it steady. A certain school of thought held to this theory, and Wade agreed.
These days, aside from maintaining the dungeon in real time, he spent most of his hours in Bedford City's public library, devouring knowledge like a starving beast.
He kept human contact minimal—no need to get tangled up. At most, a bit of haggling with customers when the loneliness crept in.
He knew his body's real purpose: gather information about the outside world, and interact with select individuals of potential—not run around flaunting and showing off.
So Leon stumbling into his shop today was unexpected.
As fate would have it, Wade alone possessed the Pacifying Agent—the only known cure for the Fear status. (Well, likely the only one; this world's magic might have an answer too.)
Since Leon was already here, Wade decided to "guide" this lost lamb.
"What's troubling you? Is it love?" Wade asked, setting a cup of hot tea in front of him.
Leon shook his head listlessly.
"Money?"
Another shake.
"Sickness?"
Shake.
"Career?"
This time, Leon didn't shake his head. Instead, he looked at Wade in shock, as if to say: How did you know!?
"…."
Wade nearly cracked a grin. How did I know? I just threw everything out there like a fortune teller. One was bound to land.
Believing Wade didn't recognize "Lion" Leon, he felt a little more at ease—just enough to talk.
Normally, he'd never confide in a stranger. But with his mind still muddled from the Fear state, he was unusually susceptible.
Finally, haltingly, he began to speak:
"I think… I've made some mistakes."
Wade leaned forward, the picture of a patient listener.
"When I was a child… my mother died young. My sister bullied me. My father ignored me. I had no friends…"
He practically started from the dawn of creation, recounting his entire childhood.
"That's why I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted people's eyes on me. I wanted…"
He lowered his head, muttering half to himself:
"But I messed it up."
All this just because his bluff got called? Wade pitied him. These people really aren't built for social pressure. Nowhere near as thick-skinned as people from my world.
"Do you think you were wrong?" Wade asked softly.
Leon hesitated. "Maybe it was my—"
"Don't 'maybe.' It was your fault!"
The sudden sharpness made Leon flinch.
He bowed his head again, bracing for a lecture about the evils of bragging. But Wade wasn't that type.
Instead, he declared:
"If your power was enough to crush everything—if you could silence the doubters with raw strength—who would dare say you were bragging?"
"In the end, what you lack is…"
He pointed at Leon's hands.
"…my hands?"
"Power! Strength!"
Wade tapped his temple. "Use your head, friend. Think carefully. The root of all this is your lack of strength. If you had enough power—even if a king scorned you—you could—"
"Could what?" Leon pressed.
"Beat him!" Wade slammed the counter.
Leon gawked at such blasphemous words.
"Beat the king? But the guards would—"
"Then beat the guards."
"Huh?"
"If the king resists, keep beating him. If the ministers resist, beat them too. If the guards resist, keep beating them."
"Only by beating them into submission will you become a true star—respected, admired, feared by all."
Leon was dumbfounded, yet a faint yearning lit up his face.
Seeing this, Wade leaned in, his voice slow and deliberate:
"If your father resists…"
Leon blurted before thinking: "Then I'll beat him."
He clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at his own words.
Satisfied, Wade pressed further:
"If your sister resists…"
"Beat her!" Leon snapped.
"If an adventurer—"
"Beat!"
"Excellent—you've even learned to answer ahead of me."
Clapping him on the shoulder, Wade said warmly:
"So you see, you must train your strength."
Leon now regarded him as some master of wisdom. "Where should I train, then?"
"At last, the right question."
Wade laid three envelopes before him. "The path to salvation lies within. Ten gold coins each. Seize your chance."
Leon looked down. The envelopes were labeled:
[Information on Bonfires]
[Information on Ringed Knight Straight Sword and 'Cancel']
[Information on the Guardian Ape]