The ale was terrible. That was Kaito's first, distinct thought. It was bitter, yeasty, and left a foul aftertaste. But Roland, with his boisterous, inescapable camaraderie, had shoved the tankard into his hand, and the expectant look on the spearman's face made refusal feel like a social transgression Kaito wasn't equipped to handle. So, he drank.
The first few gulps were a struggle. Then, a strange warmth started in his stomach, a pleasant heat that spread outwards, loosening his muscles and softening the sharp edges of his anxiety. The raucous noise of the guild hall became a comfortable din. The worried thoughts about Seraphina, his F-rank status, and the weight of his own forgotten past began to feel... distant. Manageable.
[Sage, I feel... strange. Light.]
[Analysis: The ethanol in the fermented grain beverage is acting as a neurotoxin, inhibiting synaptic function and altering neurotransmitter levels. This is the state known as "drunkenness." It is impairing your cognitive and motor functions.]
[It's nice,] Kaito thought back, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. The analytical voice in his head suddenly seemed overly serious.
He took another long drink, emptying the tankard. Roland, spotting this, let out a triumphant roar and immediately had it refilled. "That's the spirit, F-rank! Now you're one of us!"
As the alcohol seeped deeper into his system, the careful, conscious control he maintained over his own energy-the containment [Sage] helped him enforce-slipped. Just a little. It wasn't a violent release, not the soul-crushing void that had withered the forest. This was a gentle, passive exhalation.
A soft, almost imperceptible shimmer distorted the air around him for a radius of a few feet. It wasn't threatening; it felt like the air in the room had become richer, thicker with potential. To the non-magical, it was nothing. But to the spellcasters in the hall, it was... remarkable.
A D-rank fire mage, struggling to light his pipe with a flicker of flame from his thumb, suddenly produced a clean, steady jet of fire without any extra effort. He stared at his thumb, bewildered.
An C-rank enchanter,painstakingly inscribing a rune on a dagger, felt the flow of magic into the metal become as smooth as ink on parchment, the complex pattern stabilizing with an ease she'd never experienced.
Even Seraphina,leaning against the far wall, felt it. The slight, ever-present drain of maintaining her personal defensive wards simply vanished. The ambient mana around her felt hyper-charged, eager to be shaped. Her analytical mind, momentarily distracted from Kaito, was now cataloging this new environmental phenomenon. Her eyes narrowed, tracing the subtle energy gradients in the room, which all seemed to gently swirl towards the slightly drunk, smiling F-rank adventurer.
Roland, feeling invincible from his victory and the ale, clapped Kaito on the back again. "See? The guild hall is the best place in the world! Even the air feels charged tonight!" He had no idea how right he was.
Kaito, blissfully unaware, just felt good. Warm. Accepted. The staff in his hand didn't feel like a cosmic secret, just a comfortable weight. The beautiful women behind the counter-Lyra laughing at a joke, Anya smiling warmly at him, even Elara looking up from her ledger with a slightly less severe expression-seemed to glow with a friendly light. His earlier embarrassment was gone, replaced by a pleasant, drowsy appreciation.
He was drunk. And in his inebriated state, the boundless, axiomatic truth of his being was expressing itself not as annihilation, but as a gentle, supportive embrace for the magic of this little world. He was a god, not on a throne, but at a tavern table, accidentally making everyone's spells work a little better, and feeling, for the first time, like he truly belonged.
------
The second tankard went down much easier than the first. Kaito was now fully immersed in the warm, fuzzy blanket of intoxication. His worries had not just faded; they felt like they belonged to another person entirely. He was just Kaito, the new F-rank adventurer, sharing a drink with the legendary Roland. It was simple. It was wonderful.
He let out a soft, contented sigh, and as he did, the gentle aura around him pulsed almost imperceptibly. The "boost" the mages were experiencing intensified from a subtle help to a tangible wave of inspiration.
The D-rank fire mage, now emboldened, was showing off to his friends, making intricate shapes of flame—a dancing bird, a leaping fish—that held their form with a stability far beyond his usual skill.
The C-rank enchanter finished her dagger with a flawless,gleaming rune. She held it up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "It's... perfect. The mana conductivity is pristine. I've never made anything this clean."
A low-level healer tending to a small cut on a brawler's arm found the wound closing under her fingers not just quickly,but without even leaving a scar, the flesh knitting together as if guided by an invisible, benevolent hand.
Seraphina had stopped pretending to be disinterested. She had straightened up, her wine forgotten. Her sharp intellect was working at a fever pitch, isolating variables. The energy anomaly was localized, centered on Kaito. It wasn't a spell; he wasn't channeling anything. It was an emanation, a passive state of being. And it was interacting with the local magical field in a way that defied every law of mana dynamics she knew. It wasn't adding energy; it was somehow optimizing it, reducing entropy on a localized scale. It was impossible.
Her gaze was no longer merely curious. It was intensely, academically hungry. She began to move, not towards him, but along the periphery of the effect, trying to map its boundaries and properties.
Roland, of course, noticed none of this. He was too busy regaling Kaito with a dramatically exaggerated tale of the Titan fight. "...and then, as the beast's fist came down, I saw an opening no wider than a needle's eye! I put my half mana into the thrust, and my spear, 'Heartpiercer,' found its mark!" He slammed his tankard down for emphasis.
Kaito, his head swimming pleasantly, nodded along with genuine, drunken admiration. "Wow. That's... that's really amazing, Roland." His words were slightly slurred. "You're a real hero."
The genuine, unguarded compliment from the enigmatic newcomer seemed to please Roland more than the cheers of the entire guild. He beamed. "You're not so bad yourself, kid! A bit quiet, and that staff is still weird, but you've got spirit!" He leaned in conspiratorially. "And you've got the Ice Queen's attention. That's a quest harder than any Titan!"
At the mention of Seraphina, Kaito's inebriated brain managed to conjure her image. He giggled, a soft, undignified sound. "She's... really pretty. And smart. Her fingers were... cold." He shivered dramatically, then took another gulp of ale.
Anya, watching from the desk, shook her head with a fond smile. She'd seen many new adventurers get drunk on their first night, but there was an endearing, almost childlike quality to Kaito's intoxication that was hard to resist. Lyra, catching her eye, winked and mimed someone falling over, both of them sharing a silent laugh.
But Elara, the severe clerk, was not smiling. She had been monitoring the guild's ambient mana levels out of habit, and her readings were going haywire. Her silver spectacles glinted as she looked up from her enchanted abacus, her steel-grey eyes fixing on Kaito. It wasn't suspicion of malice, but the frustration of a perfect system encountering an unpredictable variable. This "pacification specialist" was disrupting her data.
Unaware that he was simultaneously inspiring mages, fascinating a genius, and annoying a logistician, Kaito simply finished his second tankard. The world was a soft, warm, buzzing place. He was happy. He was part of something. And for now, that was enough. The infinite, axiomatic truth of his slime nature was content to simply be, for a little while, a slightly drunk and very happy F-rank adventurer, making magic a little bit easier for everyone around him.