Chương 17: Chapter Seventeen: Gnoll Shirt, Gnoll Shoes, Gnoll Service.

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Hyena Werks, a Proud Orario Company. DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Chapter Seventeen: Gnoll Shirt, Gnoll Shoes, Gnoll Service. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X I fucked up. Badly. Peeking up to look through my bedroom window, only my eyes and ears were visible to the absolutely massive crowd forming below on my doorstep. The sun had only just crested the horizon, and already there was a line stretching far off into the city and out of sight.

And all of them were here for me. Why the hell did I think making a big production out of Dorumuru's order was a good idea!? Sinking to the ground with a low moan of despair, I hugged my knees into my chest while staring at nothing. Is this what they call 'suffering from your own success'? When am I gonna' get the time to actually build anything if I'm stuck listening to the inane ramblings of customers who don't know what they want all day long?!

I wonder if it's too late to use Disguise Self and sneak out the back and build a whole new life somewhere else? X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X An adventurer in unadorned steel plate standing on my doorstep met my gaze with his own big, hopeful eyes. We stared at one another for nearly a full minute through the window pane in my door before with a sigh, I flipped over the 'closed' sign to 'open' and unlocked the deadbolt.

The second that door opened, the tide outside surged, the crowd piling into my barebones storefront with the explosive clamor of a barely restrained riot. Not bothering to bite back a groan, I stomped my way back to the safety of my counter and parked my fluffy butt on the stool behind it. Leveling a lidded glare at the first one to come cruising up to stand before me, the very same adventurer who had been standing on my doorfront.

A blonde-haired kid who barely looked out of his teens smiled a crooked, buck-toothed grin and said– "Hello sir! How much would it cost to make my armor invulnerable to damage?" –the dumbest shit I've ever heard. Moradin give me strength. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X"No, I can not enchant your weapon to kill Floor Bosses with one hit. Get out."

"But! -"" Get. Out." I growled from deep in my chest, pointing a claw over the shoulder of the idiot Dog-Shifter before me, causing his long floppy ears to droop sadly as he turned around to do the long walk of shame away from my store. Several hours of listening to the bullshit spewed out by these clowns all morning had long since eroded away what little patience I had left.

How in the Nine Hells these people got my job description of "Artificer" twisted around in their heads to "miracle Worker", I'll never know–but for some unholy reason they seem to think I can just snap my fingers and make them a Level Ten Uber Adventurer with my magic doohickies. I've ceased to be the strange not-human slumming it in the outskirts of their city, and am now something they can make a wish upon to make all their little inane dreams come true. … Fucking bullshit, is what this is.

Max didn't bust his ass studying dusty tomes deep within the darkened bowels of Westhall Academy, slaving away over the altar of knowledge just to be treated as a magical item printer. We are an engineer, damnit, and we expect to be treated like one! With dignity and respect! And not like a thoroughly abused retail worker. With the dog sent packing, the next adventurer in line stepped up to the plate; hoping they would be the one to finally convince me to build something for them.

The stupidly smug grin on their face told me that I would be kicking them out on their ass before they even opened their mouth. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X" Can you-""No."" I want you to-""No."" For fifty million Valis, would you-"" No." The word " no" was rapidly losing all meaning, becoming just another noise to grunt out to make the line move marginally quicker. Why l did I put off hiring help for so long?

I had shit I wanted to do today, like getting started on a potion still, or maybe even get a head start renovating the basement to store some of my more volatile experiments." Is there anything you can do to improve the cutting edge of my sword without altering or damaging the blade itself?"

"N-" wait a second … Snapping back from my delightful day-dreamed fantasy of standing up and blowing the next idiot who asked me for a love potion back out the door with Boom Stick, I was forced to actually look at the person standing before me. … Who just so happened to be a dead fucking ringer for Link, straight out of Breath of the Wild – All the way down to the loose blue clothes and luxurious golden sidelocks. Physically androgynous, the elf stood at perfect ease amidst the swirling chaos of the crowded room.

Hands straight by their side and an air of polite neutrality written across their face. If I hadn't just heard her speak, I would have had no idea what her gender was. Based on appearances alone, she could have just as easily passed as an aristocratic woman as she could have your standard elven pretty boy. From out beneath the midnight-blue cloak clinging to her shoulders, the gold-plated hilt of a sword was proudly displayed belted to her hip.

But what forced me to pay attention to her was not her potential for cosplay, nor for any other material reason. No, it was the fact that she was the first person today to actually ask me to solve a problem, rather than just boldly demanding a solution. My eyes naturally fell upon the blade in question.

"Give it here, I'll take a look." Eyes slightly widening in surprise at not being denied out of hand, the elf smoothly drew her blade and spun it around – presenting it to me hilt-first with a flourish that implied formal training. Taking the sword from her and holding it to the light, the first thing that immediately came to mind was – The Picasso Blade.

Because whoever had crafted this thing was either in the throes of a schizo meltdown, or else just your standard Great Value brand of madman who threw a bunch of sword parts into a cauldron and mixed them together like some cackling witch of metallurgy. The blade itself was a bog-standard shortsword, ending in a classic diamond-section point. The real wackiness began at the hilt, which flared out into a spiked cross guard that was far too large for such a small blade; To the point of parody.

You could probably stop the Dragon Slayer itself on the damn thing and still have enough real estate left over to catch Masamune as well. The cavalry-style grip itself was little better, being that it was bare metal with no leather to speak of. How this elf could swing it around without immediately losing her grip was a mystery. Capping off this manic mess of a blade was a single-sided hand guard that looked as if it had been ripped off a rapier and haphazardly bolted on as an afterthought.

But other than the questionable design choices, I had to begrudgingly admit it was expertly crafted. The blade's leading edge was sharp enough to split hairs, and its balance was as perfect as it could possibly be. The only question I had was –"What is this thing made of?" At a glance, it appeared to be pure steel, but there was a slight silvery sheen to the sword that immediately dispelled the notion that this was just some mundane weapon.

The only thing I could compare it to off the top of my head would be stainless steel, but there was no way these guys were utilizing chromium, was there? And if they were, why the hell would they try and make a sword out of it?

"The blade is made from Heroic Alloy, and the hilt is Dir Adamantite." I looked askance at the elf, eyebrow climbing at the non-answer.

"'Heroic Alloy'? Care to be more specific, like an alloy of what, exactly?" The elf only shrugged carelessly.

"I only know of it as Heroic Alloy, along with the rest of the world. The secret behind its creation is a closely guarded secret by the smiths of Elanwood. You'd have to ask them if you want to know more." Deciding to drop the topic for now, I tilted the blade until I was looking down its length, eyeing how much real estate I'd have to work with if I did decide to enchant it. It wasn't much, but I still think I could slap together something fun for her, provided the price was right.

"So, what are you looking for exactly? Do you have something specific in mind, or…?" She shook her head.

"No. I have no idea what your limits are, so detailing specifics would be a waste of time. Instead, I will defer to your expertise. I only want you to improve the cutting power of it."

"In that case…" I carefully set the blade down onto the countertop so I could turn my full attention towards my potential client.

"Could I convince you to let me make you a blade from scratch? I would be able to get a lot more mileage out of my enchantments if I can implement them from the very beginning, as opposed to working them in after the fact." Again, she shook her head–firmly this time.

"I am afraid that is not an option." Her eyes fell to the blade, hardening with conviction.

"It must be this blade I wield. It is all I have left…" This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Her eyes snapped back up to meet my own.

"That is why I have come to you, Mister Maddic. As fine a blade as she is, the closer I come to Ranking Up, the less effective Sylvan Silver becomes; especially against deep Dungeon monsters. After seeing what you accomplished with that dwarf's hammers, I was hoping that you could help us remain together, if only for a little while longer on my journey." I shook my head with a put-upon sigh. Combat equipment and sentimentality should never mix.

"That's why carpenters invented the wall mount, miss. If you want to keep your sword, hang it over your fireplace. If you want to keep your edge, let me build something for you." The elf's lips twisted into a small frown as she made to take back the now-named Sylvan Silver.

"Unfortunately, I cannot agree to that at this time, maybe-!" her words caught in her throat when my paw snapped out–wrapping around the hilt before she could pull it away.

"I never said I wouldn't do the work…" Thinking for a moment, an idea came to mind that would both fulfill her requirements, and hopefully let her blade stay effective at least until she breached Level Four.

"Come back in two days. I'll have something for you then, Miss- uhhh." Realizing with a hint of red creeping into my cheeks that I immediately started nerding out over metallurgy without even asking for her name. An embarrassment that she shared, clearly, based on her own suddenly rosy cheeks.

"Sorry! -" She gave a slight bow, one hand over her breast and the other ghosting over where her sword should have hung.

"Laurier Swall, of the Hermes Familia, at your service." The frown from before was gone, replaced by a small grin mated to a gleam in her eye that I couldn't rightly place.

"And I look forward to seeing whatever madness you concoct next, Mister Maddic." X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X The stars wheeled overhead, the lack of light pollution allowing the cosmos to shine in all their glory. I paid no attention to the unspeakably beautiful sight as I dragged my sorry butt home, fur standing up in messy strands and a box of take-out from Mama Mia's place in-paw. An entire day, wasted. Squandered away on the inane ramblings of fools all wanting their glorious legendary weapon.

In the end, most of them went home with a metaphorical imprint of my hind-paw on their ass, as I only ended up accepting three jobs–including the one for Laurier. One for a Bunny-shifter, or a Hume Bunny, as I learned what the natives called them, wanted a bow made that would have a draw weight to match her Level Three strength. The only caveat being that her budget was only two million Valis. Which meant that I could either make her a well engineered, if mundane bow, or I could just enchant her current one.

She opted for the former option, with the agreement that once she saved up some more cash, she would be back to have it enchanted. In terms of design, I was thinking that a compound bow made from a Dir Adamantite frame would be a good start. I was still considering what to make the limbs out of, though. I'll have to set out some feelers for flexible but durable materials. I remember someone mentioning something about Dungeon Coral once… The other accepted job was for a human Fighter in standard kit.

Steel plate, kite shield, broadsword–the works. His request, while simple on its face, promised to be interesting from an engineering perspective. He wanted something to resist the effects of Purple Moths and other monsters that employed chemical warfare. Some sort of gas mask or respirator immediately came to mind, but the question was whether to make it purely mechanical, or if I should employ enchantments to filter out pollutants from the air.

Using magic would pump up the price greatly, but would definitely improve the effectiveness over mundane charcoal-copper filters. The man has a budget of five million to work with, so I'd have to do some prototyping to see if I could make a magical gas mask at that price range. As much as I was looking forward to the work before me, I was mostly preoccupied with the disaster that I had woken up to. What happened today could not be allowed to happen again. I needed to hire some help immediately.

Someone to run the front store, freeing me up to do the things I actually wanted to do. Now, how the hell does someone go about suckering in some wage slaves in a world without the internet? X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Hestia trudged through the ruined streets, head hung low in defeat. Her normally luxurious hair was a greasy rat's nest, and her dress, formerly fine with artfully crafted tears designed into its hemline, had started developing real cuts and rips from long use without repair.

Another day, another round of refusals. Servant, house cleaner, street sweeper– no matter how low she aimed, no one she talked to would dare hire her. No matter how desperate they seemed for help. Oh, for sure they were always quick to give her some useless platitude as to why– 'We're just not hiring; Someone else just got the job; We are looking for someone with different qualifications'– but she knew the real reason. It was written across all their faces, and woven into the lies that fell from their lips.

'Why the Hel would I hire some bum of a goddess?' Her inactivity, no- her laziness had come back to haunt her. Her tarnished reputation at this point was set in stone. From the whispers of Hephaestus's familia, news of her abusive and slothful nature was a well-known fact in the city now. Going out on a limb to hire a god for a mundane job was already a risky prospect. Hiring a god known to be… difficult?

There was literally zero reason why someone would bother when there were so many other hungry people in the city looking for work. Ones who came with far less hassle. Hestia's hand snapped up to her stomach as it continued to twist in on itself, growling like a savage beast. A low moan slipped from her lips, and her head dipped further down in despair. The only thing she had to eat all day was a deep-fried potato gifted to her by a kind old lady sympathetic to her plight.

Disheartened by her lack of job prospects, Hestia had turned her focus towards building a familia before starvation forced her back to Tenkai. She had parked herself in front of the Guild, and tried to talk to everyone who crossed her path. Not a single one of them would so much as give her the time of day.

Established adventurers scoffed at her obvious desperation, and even the teeming masses entering the city for the first time were quick to shuffle past when it became clear that the only thing she could offer were empty words and false promises. A god that can't even form a familia after being in Genkai for months could only be labeled as defective, worthless, and a waste of a perfectly good spot. A spot that should go to a better, more deserving god.

Slowly, the hand clutching at her growling stomach clenched into a white-knuckled fist. No. Absolutely not. She refused to give up; To let this be how her story ended. Not this early; Not before she had so much as tasted the barest hints of the legendary romance and adventure that was promised to all still trapped up in that gilded cage of Heaven. She was the goddess of hearth and home, the enduring- eternal flame. This was just a slight setback, a hiccup in her grand! - OH DUNGEON BELOW–IT'S HIM!!!

So lost was she in the fantasy of promised glory, Hestia had failed to notice the Not-Monster looming in the shadow cast by the store until she was standing right beside it. The beast's wide, unblinking eyes caught the moonlight above–reducing them down to nothing but twin balls of poisonous yellow light floating in the darkness; Leering at her weakened form. Dread-filled silence stretched between them, the petite goddess staring up in horror at the expressionless monster towering far above her.

An eternity was forced into the span of a single second, one in which Hestia saw her entire immortal life flashing before her very eyes. But in truth, the strained eye contact between monster and god only lasted but a moment before the beast's arm rose up–claws flashing in the night. Hestia staggered back, arms raised in a desperate defense against the impending attack! – when a hideously grisly crunch rang out. She flinched, waited for the inevitable, unimaginable agony of being eaten alive to manifest itself…

but… nothing happened. Slowly peeking open an eye, not quite remembering when she had shut them, she beheld it… still standing exactly where it had been, placidly chewing on something. As she stared, the creature lifted up his arm again, and bit straight through the chicken leg that she had failed to notice in its paw with horrifying ease; disgustingly munching with a wide open mouth on both bone and meat with seemingly no issue whatsoever.

It stared down at her, its glowing gaze assessing as it continued to munch away, before forcibly swallowing. The silence lingered a moment longer, before a cloying, sly grin pulled at its toothy, drooling maw.

"Hey, you looking for a job?" X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Standing before my counter under the warm glow of crystal lamps, Hestia looked less like an immortal deity of unfathomable power and more like a lost stray. Her hair was in stringy shambles, and her dress had certainly seen better days. Deep bags hung beneath her eyes that spoke of a deep exhaustion. In short, she was a fucking mess. It's only been like, what? A week or more since she got kicked to the curb?

She looked like it had been months, instead of a scant few days. The goddess shifted nervously under my gaze, flinching with every sudden move or noise I made. Decision made, I reached down behind the counter and withdrew one of the health potions I kept on display. I haven't had the chance to actually sit down and start making some potions yet, so I wasn't actually selling any consumables, but I thought it was better to display something rather than have empty shelves.

I thunked the blood-red vial down before Hestia, and leaned back in my stool.

"Alright, sell this to me." Hestia reared back in surprise.

"Excuse me?!"

"This is your interview." I grunted, flicking the neck of the vial with a claw, letting the ting of the glass linger before continuing.

"... I need a clerk to run the front of my store. Sell me this potion, and the job's yours." She stared up at me with wide eyes for a moment, before quickly narrowing with determination. With a deep breath, she snatched up the potion and shot me a faux smile that looked more like a painful grimace than any expression of joy.

"Greetings, honored customer! Are you looking for health potions like no other?! Then look no further than one from! – uh…" She forgot my name. The one that's literally written on the wall outside. Unbelievable.

"... Max."

"-the amazing potions master, Max! With just one measly sip of this vial, all your woes will disap-"" Wrong." I viciously cut her off with a low growl, ignoring how she flinched back in terror.

"I do not– Will not embellish, exaggerate, or lie to my customers. The only thing that I sell is cold steel and hard facts. My customer must know exactly what their equipment does, without frills or grandeur, if they are to have any trust in it. I refuse to hire someone willing to lie to the people putting their faith into my work, just to better themselves" Suitably chastised, Hestia stared down at the potion in her hand, biting her lip.

"Well… what does it do, then?" Taking the vial from her, I lifted it up to the light as I spoke." This is the first and last word in magical first aid. Applied either directly to a wound, or ingested orally–my health potions will completely fix light injuries, and lessen the severity of moderate to even potentially deadly ones so that a patient can survive long enough to receive professional help.

Made of a tincture brewed from magically enhanced herbs, my health potions act as a combination of painkiller, hemostatic agent, retinoid, and general antibiotic.

The more distilled a potion is, the more potent it becomes–with a corresponding increase in price and scarcity, of course. They are ranked from low to high based on the concentration of the tincture."" This one-" I said, giving it a little shake.

"-Is low grade, and I would charge maybe… a thousand Valis for it. And now that you know-" I gently placed it back down onto the counter between us.

"-Sell it to me." The goddess glared down at the small vial like it held all the secrets to the universe, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. One minute of focused silence stretched to two, before she slowly tore her eyes away from the potion to meet my own.

"I don't have to." Her gaze only wavered a little as I crossed my arms and leaned back in my seat, looming over her tiny frame. Swallowing nervously, she continued.

"I-I mean, I don't have to sell it–It's a health potion! It'll sell itself! Any Adventurer worth their salt will want a full backpack of things with them at all times. The only thing I'd have to do is prove that they're better off buying them here than somewhere else!.. right?" She finished lamely, losing whatever short stab of bravery that carried her through the initial impassioned outburst. I let the end of her speech linger in the air, tasting her answer for a moment before slowly nodding to myself.

"Alright, you've got the job." Hestia stared incomprehensibly up at me, before her eyes suddenly bugged out of her head.

"I DID!?"

"Hmhm." I nodded again.

"Come back tomorrow morning and I'll have an employee contract written up for you. Then we can go over training and such later. Sound good?" Hestia nodded so quickly I was worried she would break her neck. That terrible fake smile from before was gone, replaced by the genuine article. And I had to say, it looked far better on her. As she walked out into the night, enthusiastically waving goodbye as she did, the smile I had been fighting this entire time broke through my restraint.

An ear-to-ear toothy grin slid across my muzzle as I stood and padded back into the workshop portion of my shop, a pep in my step and a happily swooshing tail following behind. Sucker acquired.