"First—"
"I have to make this clear to you in advance. The stability of the new potion is very poor, and I have already been arranging adventurers to test its side effects."
"It's just that there haven't been any results yet."
"Why?"
"Because the adventurers I found never returned safely from the Dungeon."
Airmid explained, in an extremely calm tone, the tragic end that the vast majority of Orario's adventurers might ultimately encounter in the Dungeon.
Developing new potions was inevitable.
Many people simply could not afford the exorbitantly priced "Panacea".
However, lowering the quality of the materials or altering the formula would inevitably lead to unstable effects, and rashly using the injured as test subjects could even result in irreversible consequences.
After comprehensive consideration,
providing compensation to adventurers and having them report the side effects of the new potion was the safest method.
The girl did not know what kind of predicament would drive Ron, a novice adventurer, to take such a risk and use this dangerous method to make money.
But what Airmid could do was only to truthfully inform him of the consequences.
"The method for testing the potion is rather demanding. After you are injured, you need to use it in as safe an environment as possible, and then record all your sensations."
"The healing effect, the side effects, and so on…"
Other adventurers, when facing ordinary monsters, would find it difficult even to get injured.
As for his own soul-type Dungeon, not to mention being "injured," even Remake was the norm—as long as the injuries were not life-threatening.
Airmid's new potion happened to have a healing effect.
Then he could still make use of his Revival uses to continue exploring the Dungeon, killing as many monsters as possible and earning precious Soul Shards.
A win–win.
Meaning that he won twice.
Earning money for testing the potion, and getting a new potion for free—guaranteeing the sustainability of his Dungeon exploration!
Ron's gaze was firm as he looked at the delicate, doll-like girl in front of him.
"I think I should be able to take on this potion-testing commission."
"Alright."
"Wait here for a moment."
Seeing how serious Ron was, Airmid felt there was no need to continue persuading him. She turned and went to the warehouse, packing the new potions that needed testing into shockproof containers.
She did not forget to add: "After you finish using the healing potions and return safely to Orario, compile the information you obtain and give it to me. I will analyze it based on the specific circumstances."
"I'll pay you a reward of 200,000 to 1,000,000 Valis."
Wasn't that faster than earning money by working in Orario?
Ron readily agreed. This commission was extremely dangerous for other adventurers, but the Revival skill he possessed could completely avoid that risk.
As he picked up the potion box and prepared to leave, the slightly cold voice of the silver-haired girl made him pause in his steps: "There is a green healing potion in the box. If you really encounter danger—"
"It can restore part of your injuries."
"I've already looked for many adventurers, but none of them have brought me any useful information. I hope Mr. Ron can bring me a surprise."
Airmid's cool eyes remained utterly calm.
Only when her gaze fell on the grateful-looking Eina did the girl give a slight nod. Not all adventurers who tested the potion received this kind of preferential treatment.
It was purely for Eina's sake that she provided some help.
"Consider it done."
"And also, I want to thank Miss Eina. If it weren't for you, I might not even have had the chance to come into contact with this kind of special commission that makes money."
Ron's tone was quite frank and cheerful.
Even though he acted relaxed, he still could not dispel the half-elf lady's worry, until the boy's back completely disappeared from her sight.
She still could not be sure.
"Was it the right choice to let Ron come into contact with a potion-testing commission with extremely high risk?"
Actually—if he was truly short of money, she could also provide a bit of help.
...
After returning to the communal dormitory, Ron put the potion box into the storage trunk to avoid Hestia noticing it; when the time came, no matter how he explained it, it would become a problem.
As for the remaining time, he did not waste it, but trained alone in the courtyard, doing basic training.
Until evening—Hestia, who had gotten off work, came home carrying a custom-made heavy brass shield. A slight sheen of sweat appeared on the girl's forehead from carrying the equipment.
Yet it still could not conceal the joy that rose from the bottom of her heart.
"Ron."
"I brought back the shield you custom-ordered for you!"
"The materials are absolutely solid. It will definitely be able to help with your upcoming Dungeon exploration. Come and try how it feels in your hands."
"Thank you, Lady Hestia."
'Shield Thrust Style.'
It did not require particularly complex techniques.
The left hand held the shield to block the attacks of monsters, while the right hand—his dominant hand—used brute forward momentum to attack the target.
A rapier with a blood groove could effectively make up for the lack of damage.
Following the methods in his memory, Ron experimented with this brand-new fighting style. What he was currently worried about was the sheer size brought by the Roman great-shield design.
It could not be lifted with one hand.
However, this worry turned out to be unnecessary—after becoming an adventurer, although his attributes had not yet undergone a qualitative leap, he could still lift it with ease.
'The effect isn't bad.'
'If I had a Shield Slam combat skill like in World of Warcraft, would that make me a qualified battle tank?'
'You must attack targets that carry taunting effects first.'
After adapting to the wheelchair-style tactics of the Shield Thrust Style, Ron did not continue training. Instead, he took the gains from the past two days and brought Hestia to a nearby restaurant.
He used treating her to a meal as a way to thank Hestia for her care.
Limited by financial constraints, the dishes were not particularly lavish, but he could still feel her heartfelt joy through the girl's lively tone.
After filling his stomach, Ron chose to rest early.
Orario did not have much of a nightlife. Coupled with the physical exhaustion from Dungeon exploration and daily training, staying up late had become a kind of luxury he could not afford.
Accordingly, his biological clock was extremely stable.
When dawn had just barely broken in the early morning, Ron controlled his movements and got up lightly, avoiding disturbing Hestia, who went to work at the weapon shop every day.
After a simple wash, he first put on the repaired fine steel armor, then fastened the bracers and greaves, with the short sword and the rapier hanging on either side of his thighs.
As for the key to the 'Shield Thrust Style,'
the heavy brass shield—whose weight was quite substantial for ordinary people—was bound to Ron's back with cloth straps.
'No problem.'
'With this much equipment, it really gives a full sense of security!'
Even so, Ron still felt it was not quite enough.
If it was said to be a sword, it was far too heavy; if it was said to be a slab, it was far too thin—what he lacked was a door-plank greatsword that could be wielded with both hands.
And a hand crossbow to deal with ranged monsters.
If he wanted to forge a full set of weapons that also possessed 'traits,' the biggest problem was a lack of money!
Thus—
On the road toward the central plaza, under the astonished gazes of the adventurers along the way, the boy ignored them as if he did not see them, his steps firm as he headed toward the Dungeon.
'Damn soul-type Dungeon.'
'Just wait for the invincible Shield Thrust master to ruthlessly tease your sensitive nerves, and turn all the monsters blocking the way into fuel for the Firebearer's ascension!'