Staring at the assortment of weapons in the basement, Najin found himself lost. He imagined himself in a few scenarios.
Wielding these weapons, approaching monsters big and small, in encounters hot and cold, in wide and narrow spaces, and in advantageous or disadvantageous settings.
Simulating the battles between himself and a few goblins, keeping their little hands at bay and avoiding their lunges.
Dreaming of fighting those War Shadows, whose long arms and claws were deadly if he so much as swung a little too far forward.
Trying to predict how his battle with the One-Eyed Black Dragon would go, hoping that his weapons could break through its scales.
Dread settled in his guts.
How could he win each one… and how could he do it without so much as a god-forsaken scratch?!
The impulse to pull out his hair washed over him. His arms tensed, fingers curled, as he barely caught himself from clawing his face.
"…Okay, that was bad."
Najin shook his head and tried a different approach. In all of the scenarios he imagined, he died because of some random inevitability:
A piece of sharp rock that the goblin threw. Shrapnel from the War Shadows blasting apart the shaft of his spear. Or even the high-velocity winds born from draconic flight.
"Maybe it's not the weapons,"
Maybe it was him.
"…An issue with my own skill."
Najin blinked, realising that this approach could also work.
Who was he? What was he capable of? What was a human body designed to do? What strategies could he use? What was his most powerful weapon?
By answering this question, Najin would know which weapons to bring with him on his first descent.
After all, there was a set of "ideal" warriors in Earth's history. Their weapon composition was as fearsome as it was simple.
Thus.
Najin wished to mimic their terrifying, unyielding battle spirits.
First, he found a spear, with a sharp tip and an appropriate counterbalance.
Then, a round shield that could cover enough of his torso.
Third, he hung a short sword at his waist, just a little more than a foot long.
For his armour… well…
"I think I'll stay light,"
Najin choose leather bracers and greaves, wrapping himself in sufficient cloth.
Either way, a cut on his hand would be the same as his heart being stabbed. He would be dead no matter what kind of injury he was going to get.
If he protected one part of himself with metal plate armour, his brain would short-circuit and scream:
'PROTECT EVERYTHING YOU BRAIN-DEAD BASTA—'
"Ah…"
…It seemed like it was already screaming those words.
"The shield should be enough." Najin tried to convince himself.
He could not allow himself to get hit, so he planned to block and parry the attacks he could not dodge. There would be no such thing as tankingan attack in his dictionary.
Obviously, failure wasn't an option at all.
And these weapons could help with that.
…For now.
* * *
After leaving the Thresholdings shop, Najin handed the old book and pouch to a young woman named Elisa. She accepted the items with a small smile while averting her gaze at the same time.
As he walked away, he felt a curious gaze on his back and hushed whispers caressing his ears.
"H-hey, did you see the way he…"
"…"
"…"
After hearing the first few words of the sentence, Najin decided not to care about what they were talking about and continued on his way.
Feeling the weight of the spear and shield on his back, along with the sword at his waist, Najin calmed himself. Having just acquired [Augur Milefili from his endless anxieties, he admired his ultra-high definition surroundings.
The rhythm of every breath, the manifold footfalls, and the rustle of weapons.
The rustle of clothes, of dragging shoes, of items being retrieved from pockets.
Facial expressions of happiness, joy, worry, and excitement.
The forceful movements of adventurers at Level 1 and 2, the rare aura of those at Level 3, as well as a Level 4 whose movements Najin could barely track from the fluttering of dust and dirt.
The person was straight up invisible to him, moving at speeds much greater than what he could perceive.
'For all I know, they could be at Level 5.'
A shivered ran up his spine, realising his frailty. The paranoia once again taking hold of his heart.
Just.
One.
Shove.
And his journey would end.
So, Najin stayed far away from that person's path and stuck to the side of the road, keeping most of the dangers of high-level adventurers to his left. His mind, augmented by Augur Milefili, was much sharper than it was.
Though he walked out of earshot, conversations continued to flow into his brain, delivered by the lips that spoke them. Body language alone spoke to him:
He figured out what some people wanted to buy, even before they pointed at the item, analysed merely from their gaze.
A fight even broke out between members of the same Familia, and he had guessed at it a few seconds before it erupted. The scuffle ended quickly when their captain suddenly appeared to stop them, which was something he expected as well.
Najin was enjoying the process, as his prediction accuracy had skyrocketed.
It was barely viable for combat.
In this state of comprehension, he arrived before the Guild.
A carved stone doorway loomed over those who entered. Colourful banners fluttered in the slight breeze. The light-green and ivory motif gave off a homely impression despite the flamboyant stone carvings.
And the adventurers themselves, eager to explore the dungeon, were boisterous and raucous.
Najin followed them in and lined up, admiring the blue, pattern-filled tiles beneath his feet. The line swiftly dwindled, and Najin eventually found himself standing in front of a lady in a black vest and white collared shirt.
The air around her was poised and professional, but the vibrant pink of her irises and hair spoke of a little mischief.
Najin walked up and opened his lips to speak.
"Good afternoon,"