Organ rental company in another world

Norn and Arno emerged from the Drunken Bear Tavern, as night had completely enveloped the village of Desert.

Dim yellow lights shone from the houses lining the street, casting dappled patterns on the uneven cobblestone path. In the distance, intermittent laughter and shouts, mingled with the smell of alcohol and cooking smoke, drifted on the night breeze. Several drunken adventurers walked past them, arms around each other, mumbling unknown tunes.

They didn't enjoy the meal to their heart's content.

To be precise, Norn was not full at all.

After Arnold stole his steak, the bald, burly man was not angry at all. Instead, he smiled and sat back down in his chair, crossed his legs, and slowly ordered a "Dragon's Breath" from the menu with his finger.

Norn was unaware of the price of the liquor until the owner brought him a glass of liquid flaming with blue flames and wrote down a number on the bill that shocked him—eight silver coins.

Eight silver coins.

Adding the cost of the steak, Norn's meager assets evaporated by more than half in an instant. His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out the last silver coin and a few copper coins from his purse. The bald, burly man took the change, weighed it in his hand with satisfaction, then downed the glass of dragon's breath liquor in one gulp. Flames burned down his throat, and he let out a smoldering burp before walking away contentedly.

Norn stared at the bald back of the head and cursed his ancestors for eighteen generations in his mind.

In the end, he and Arno only ordered a bowl of vegetable soup and two pieces of black bread, which they quickly ate with the free water before leaving.

As he stepped out of the tavern, the night wind brushed against his face, carrying a chill. Norn touched the few copper coins left in his pocket and sighed.

"Arno," Norn said, looking up at the large man who was a head taller than him, "Don't steal other people's food anymore, understand?"

Arno lowered his head, his pale eyes peering at Norn through the gaps in his tattered mask. He uttered a muffled "hmm" before turning his head back to look around at the streetlights.

Norn knew it wasn't listening.

"I'm serious," Norn emphasized, "Look, we could have had a nice meal today, but because you grabbed something without thinking, we ended up with a belly full of vegetable soup. If you do this again, I won't take you out to eat."

Arno didn't even bother with "hmm" this time. Its attention was drawn to a barbecue stall on the street, and its pace slowed down noticeably. Its gray nose twitched slightly under its tattered mask, as if it were sniffing the aroma of meat wafting over.

Norn reached out and tugged at the tattered cloak pieced together from thieves' clothes, drawing its attention back to the creature.

"Let's go, let's take care of business first."

They walked back along the way they came, passing through several fairly bustling streets, until the tall stone building of the Adventurers' Guild reappeared in their sight.

It was already night, and the guild hall was much less crowded than during the day. Two oil lamps by the door flickered in the night breeze, casting an uneven glow on the steps. Norn pushed open the door and led Arno inside.

Only a few scattered people remained in the hall.

An old man sat dozing on a bench against the wall, a staff in his arms, soft snoring. A fireplace still burned in the corner, its orange-red flames reflecting on the polished stone slabs, bathing the entire hall in a warm, languid glow.

It was quite lively at the counter.

An adventurer party had just returned. Several of them were still covered in dried blood and dirt, but their faces wore satisfied smiles. On their shoulders were several purple lizard carcasses, each as long as an adult's arm, their scales gleaming a dark purple in the firelight of the fireplace.

"Six rock venom lizards, all intact and undamaged." The leading adventurer was a middle-aged woman with her hair tied in a neat ponytail. Her voice was loud and clear, like she was issuing orders on a battlefield. As she spoke, she poured several magic cores out of her bag, which clattered onto the counter.

The clerk was a young rabbit-person whose long ears twitched with her movements. She carefully counted the number of magic cores, flipped through a few pages of the register, then took a heavy money bag from the drawer, placed it on the counter, and pushed it across.

"Here are twelve gold coins and four silver coins in total. Please keep them safe."

The middle-aged woman weighed her money pouch, nodded in satisfaction, and grinned at her teammates, "Let's go to Drunken Bear Tavern, it's on me tonight!"

A few people cheered and carried the lizard carcasses out, their footsteps echoing in the hall and creating a gust of wind.

Norn watched them leave, then turned and walked toward the quest log.

The task board was located on the left side of the lobby, a huge bulletin board made of dark oak, densely covered with task lists pinned to it with thumbtacks. The white paper and black ink were mixed together, some edges yellowed and curled, others still smelling of fresh ink.

As soon as Norn reached the task board, he saw a familiar figure standing on tiptoe, posting a thin stack of task sheets onto the bulletin board.

It was the female employee who helped them register their adventurer status that afternoon.

She clearly recognized Norn as well. She paused in her act of posting the notice, glanced at him and Arno, and then asked, "Are you here to accept a mission?"

Norn nodded, his eyes already searching the bulletin board.

"These are all B-level and A-level missions," the staff member pointed to the central area of ​​the bulletin board, then turned to the other side of the hall and gestured, "The mission board over there is for C-level and D-level missions, suitable for you Bronze-level players."

Her tone was calm, without any sarcasm, simply stating the facts.

Norn glanced in the direction she was pointing, then looked away and said calmly, "I know."

He reached out and tore a task sheet off the bulletin board.

The white paper was pinned tightly with thumbtacks, making a slight tearing sound. Norn held it up to his eyes and, by the firelight of the fireplace, could see what was written on it:

[Rank B Mission: Defeat the Rock Armored Pangolin inhabiting the second level of the Howling Dungeon and collect three pieces of its carapace. Reward: Eight gold coins.]

The employee frowned slightly when he saw the task sheet in Norn's hand, but didn't say anything and continued posting the task sheets on the bulletin board.

Norn folded the task list, stuffed it into his pocket, and continued browsing the bulletin board.

Then he spotted another task sheet and was about to tear it off when he suddenly remembered something and turned to the clerk, asking, "Do you have any S-rank tasks here?"

The employee paused for a moment, and his hands stopped moving completely.

She turned around and looked Norn up and down again.

The guild doesn't stipulate that Bronze-level adventurers can't take on high-difficulty quests; after all, there are always some hidden talents who switch careers to become adventurers. These people might have been elites of a major power, retired soldiers, or veterans transferred from other dungeons. They carry Bronze badges, but their actual strength far exceeds that level.

However, for the safety of adventurers and to improve the efficiency of completing difficult tasks, staff always require these people to demonstrate their skills, lest some people be arrogant and lose their lives needlessly.

"Yes, I do," the employee put down the task sheet in his hand and wiped his hands on the apron in front of him, "but you have to show me what you've got first."

Norn didn't waste any time.

He raised his right hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread.

A silvery-white magic circle appeared in his palm, with fine arcs of electricity leaping around it, emitting a soft "buzzing" sound and illuminating half of his face. In the center of the magic circle, a thin, white arc of electricity coiled like a snake, ready to burst forth at any moment.

The employee's eyes widened instantly.

Lightning strike.

This is high-level magic, not something any magic apprentice can master. Let alone bronze-level mages, even among gold-level mages, very few can skillfully execute lightning strikes.

"That's enough, that's enough." The employee quickly waved his hand, a knowing look on his face. "I understand you're not ordinary Bronze-level players. There are no S-rank missions today, and there haven't been any for the next few days. If you're interested, you can come and check every morning; sometimes there are."

Norn put away the magic circle and nodded.

Just as he was about to continue browsing the bulletin board, a man's voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Lightning strike? Interesting."

Norn turned his head and saw that the adventurer party that had just finished their quest hadn't all left. The leader—a burly, middle-aged man with a short beard—was standing a few steps away, arms crossed, watching him with interest.

The man's leather armor was still stained with lizard blood, and a broadsword hung at his waist. The hilt was wrapped with anti-slip hemp rope, worn and obviously quite old. A silver badge was pinned to his chest, gleaming softly in the fireplace firelight.

Mithril-class adventurer.

"My name is Mur," the man stepped forward, extending his right hand to Norn with a seemingly sincere smile. "Mithril-rank, all the adventurers here know me. Are you new here?"

Norn shook hands with him and introduced himself: "Hohmann, Bronze level, this is my companion Arno."

Mur's gaze lingered on Arno for a moment, but he didn't ask any further questions. He glanced at the folded task sheet in Norn's hand, and the corners of his mouth widened even more.

"Rock Armored Pangolin? This quest is no easy task," Mur said, his tone carrying a hint of someone who had been there before. "This quest has been posted on the bulletin board for three months now. Three teams have taken it on, two failed and returned, and one—remained forever in the dungeon."

He lowered his voice, as if he were telling a terrible legend.

"To be honest, even I'm not entirely confident I can do it. But if you could join us," Mur pointed to the mithril badge on his chest and gestured with his chin toward his teammates walking out the door, "I'm willing to take a risk for you."

Norn looked at Mur's enthusiastic face, smiled politely, and then shook his head.

"Sorry, this task can be done by the two of us."

After saying that, he turned around and tore off another task sheet from the bulletin board.

This time it's grade A.

[Rank A Mission: Venture into the third level of the Howling Dungeon and collect ten Moonlight Grasses. Reward: Twenty Gold Coins.]

Mur's smile froze.

Not only him, but even the clerks behind the counter stopped what they were doing, their eyes scanning back and forth between Norn and the two task sheets. The old man who had been dozing in the lobby woke up at some point, his cloudy eyes narrowed into slits, staring at Norn's back for a long while.

A bronze-level adventurer, accompanied by a mute who can't even speak, actually claims he'll complete two high-difficulty missions alone? One of them is even an A-rank mission?

This is rare even in the history of Motu Village.

Mur's expression turned somewhat grim.

He thought he'd been quite polite, personally extending the invitation and even offering to lower the mission standards for the newcomer. Anyone else would have been speechless with excitement at a personal invitation from a mithril-level adventurer. But this kid, without even considering it, refused outright, and in such a provocative way.

In his eyes, Norn's behavior was showing off—look, even a Bronze-level character like me can do A-level missions, what are you, a Mithril-level character?

"Little friend," Mur's voice deepened, and his smile faded slightly, "aren't you a little unfamiliar with the rules here?"

Norn turned his head to look at him. "What rules?"

"Low-level adventurers should give tasks to high-level adventurers; that's the rule." Mur pointed to the task list in Norn's hand, his tone leaving no room for argument. "So that you won't fail to complete it, which would be embarrassing and would also drag down the people who are truly capable of completing it."

Norn looked at Mur's serious face and remained silent for two seconds.

Then he handed the A-level mission sheet in his hand to Mur, "Here you go if you want it."

Mur was taken aback, clearly not expecting Norn to be so decisive.

He reached out and took the mission sheet, glanced at it, and only after confirming that it was the A-level mission to collect Moonflower Grass did his expression soften slightly.

Norn didn't say anything more, turned around, and tore two more task sheets off the bulletin board.

One grade B, one grade A.

Mur looked at the two blank sheets of paper in Norn's hand, his lips twitched, and finally he let out a contemptuous sneer.

"Hmph," he folded the quest sheet and stuffed it into his pocket, then turned and walked towards the door, muttering to himself as he went. His voice was just loud enough for the people in the hall to hear him, "The guild really should set a rule that Bronze-level players can only do low-level quests. Otherwise, there will always be some vain guys who will take on quests just to show off, and then they won't be able to complete them, wasting resources for nothing."

His teammates were already waiting outside. When they saw Mur come out, they all crowded around him, asking him all sorts of questions. Mur waved his hand and led them away into the night.

Norn ignored the veiled insult.

He took the three task sheets to the counter and spread them out on it.

The employee glanced down; three task sheets were neatly arranged, two B-grade and one A-grade. Her brows furrowed again, and she looked up at Norn, hesitating to speak.

"Is there a problem?" Norn asked.

"No problem," the employee carefully chose his words, "but... are you sure you want to take on so many at once? While the guild doesn't restrict Bronze-level players from taking on high-difficulty quests, it also doesn't stipulate that you can take on three at once. It's mainly considering the time span for completing the quests, in case—"

"I know," Norn interrupted her. "We'll take one today, and put the rest on hold for now."

He pulled out a B-grade mission from the three mission sheets—the one for defeating the Rock Armored Pangolin—and folded the other two back into his pocket.

The staff member recorded the mission number and Norn's name in the register, and then handed him a certificate stamped with the guild seal.

"The task has a seven-day time limit. Failure to complete it within the time limit will result in a deduction of reputation points. If the reputation points are too low, it will affect the ability to accept high-difficulty tasks in the future."

Norn nodded, put away the voucher, and turned to leave, but then suddenly remembered something and turned back to ask, "Where is the entrance to the Howling Dungeon?"

The staff member pointed to an iron gate at the back of the hall. "Go through that gate and walk straight to the end, and you'll see it. But it's night now, so I suggest you go down early tomorrow morning."

Norn thanked him and led Arno toward the iron gate.

Behind the iron gate was a straight corridor, with torches stuck every few steps on the stone walls on both sides. The orange-red flames flickered in the corridor, casting the shadows of the two people into varying lengths. At the end of the corridor was an even larger stone door, half-open, through which the sound of whistling wind could be heard.

Norn pushed open the stone door, and a bright and open space appeared before him.

The moonlight poured down like mercury, illuminating the entire basin as bright as day.

Before him lay a massive circular pit, at least several hundred meters in diameter, edged with a stone railing bearing the emblem of the Adventurers' Guild. The pit walls were steep, with zigzagging stone steps carved into them, leading deep into the earth. Looking down from the pit's opening, all he could see was darkness, with only a few firefly-like green lights flickering in the gloom—the glowing moss unique to the dungeon.

The entrance to the Howling Dungeon is at the very bottom of this sinkhole.

A night wind blew in from the pit opening, carrying a damp, musty smell and an indescribable chill belonging to the underground world. Norn stood by the stone railing, glanced down, then turned and patted Arno on the shoulder.

"Get a good rest tonight, we'll go down first thing tomorrow morning."

Arno tilted his head and made a muffled "hmm," it was unclear whether he understood or not.

Norn sighed, led Arno away from the pit, and headed towards a nearby inn.

With only a few copper coins left in his pocket, he would probably have to share the cheapest room with Arno tonight.