My Parasite Skill System

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After some research, I'd found that Guild Bureau.

It was there I was supposed to be.

The very Guild Bureau within which I still find myself, but stuck, this time about…

I couldn't have gotten it wrong. There were writings, you know. Just like those many writings I'd found written on every tiny plate, telling about names of places, or simply directions.

These were just about the same.

These very writings were to be read aloud by me, too, y'know.

And when I got to read that very plate,

"G-u-i-ld Bureau!"

But that facility was a very big one. Very high, and very large.

Just like me when I'm strong.

(I'm always strong, but not always that big, though).

As a simple way to illustrate that, a way that fascinated me, too, at that: there were many entrances.

It may sound like a normal thing, for a house or whatever to have many entrances, but to me, it was something 'woah.'

It was the first time I saw as many entrances like this.

And yet the houses, all of them down here, were only feeble and meager structures built up and laid out from one day to the other, really.

On a plate below the biggest plate, "P-l-a-y-i-n–no, I must've gotten it wrong, rather it reads … t-r-a-d-ing grounds!–it must be there!"

Many adventurers forming three lines.

And to each line's end, one entrance throughout the leathery walls.

Then again, it strikes me how weird that all is! It seems kind of enormous, for a thing they must've built and entertained for a matter of a few days, only.

Or maybe has the conflict between these two races (or rather, three races, when one thinks about it; weren't the elves back in the forest partaking in this conflict, too?) been going for so long they had to make themselves houses and stuff?

Nah, nah.

Even if it has, it's as though they've made themselves a new village or town, at this point–surely, any of that isn't necessary, no, no.

Or maybe is there some kind of royalty present here, hm?

Remember the young human from back with the orcs, Tattooed, and Chief (that still accompanies me even now)?

'I'm the prince of Rinceville, behold me!' he said. 'My sister is going to save us with her army and heroes!' he added then.

Well, whatever.

What's that anything to do with me in the first place.

Am I really one to be daydreaming about my way up here, in any case?

Observing the rows the adventurers were forming, quickly, I ranged myself behind one of them.

And people coming after me simply ranged themselves behind me, completing the row in length.

Then … time simply did go by.

Up till it was my turn: trading my head for pieces of silver, it seemed to me.

And stepping into the structure, I was warmly and funnily greeted by some humans, who guffawed at 'this kid who's barely got a thing to do here, simply coming in with his sack of heads that he gets his share!'

I was asked to come on in, and to come on in, again.

And I just did so.

Mostly, a few stools, a few tables, and a counter; that was about it.

Other openings leading to the (maybe, I didn't really know) other rooms of this poorly strengthened building.

How did go my time out on the battlefield? Was it scary? Or did I only cower away and hide behind the other adventurers of my party in order to stay safe and get away safely, obviously?

Questions greeted me too, after their waving arms and mocking in a burst of friendly laughter.

I wasn't certainly used to this. Laughing along with them awkwardly, I did follow along with them up till a high stool was brought in front of the highest counter.

Many laughter, again, and I sat down my butt on top of itself after a jump.

Where was this going? I only was there in order to exchange my head for money.

Then, I'd be heading back to Old, and tell him the quest was done with, that being the end of it.

But from the looks of it, the simple matter of exchanging that fatigued and decaying head before it turns spoiled sure seemed like a tedious task.

I only expected to be getting money from it after I'd have tossed it on the ground to the general's feet.

But no, it didn't go that way so far.

Let's just wait, and see?

A sheet quickly was brought to me and placed against that wooden counter.

The responsible of this place stopped his talking and chattering.

My eyes got on that sheet.

They analyzed it.

Once, twice, then thrice.

My name, my party's name, and my mana print … plus so many other words, talking about stuff about adventurers and whatnot, that only required from me my adventurer's license.

… yes?

I didn't know a thing about, that, humph.

Swinging to my right, my pupils asked the big man beside me about this.

Wasn't he also waiting for something to be happening, too?

Well, let him know that I, too, am waiting for his lead on that particular matter.

The rest, you can see how it went without a problem whatsoever.

What did I mean, what was that about?

What did I mean, I only want money to complete the quest?

What did I mean, hurry it and bring about my monies?

What did I mean, I respect whomever I please, and disrespect whomever I please, too?

The air grew tense, and agitation settled in: since the big person, who was getting super angry, at this point, thought and saw well too clearly that this would be taking up too much time; he ordered and asked for another trading chamber to be opened up that the other adventurers aren't retained too long.

And now back to the present moment–

"What was that? Don't you tick your tongue at me, son–hey, listen up, it's simple. And … you know what, I'm gonna go about it again so that we all get this straight together … all right?"

"But…"

"All right? I'm tryna help you, son."

Trying to help me my ass.

"… Sure, okay, do go about it again."

But what can I do, though?

"I mean, c'mon, now! Colleagues! We oughta go about it again, ain't we?!"

Slam!–and as frantically as suddenly, the man turned around and now leading his two colleagues into taking part in this, "Ain't we gotta do that, huh?

"Troublesome kid's okay with that himself!"

They were two. They weren't the same people as when I first entered this lion's den. Two people: one with documents and inks, seemingly writing, scribbling, and rewriting, he'd been busying himself in one corner of the room ever since he entered it; most likely a young clerk.

Which left one other person, dressed and armored in the same manner as the shouting and not polite one.

His looks were stern and dead serious. And pacing through this room, with a hand on his chin, and the other on his sword; upon sighing, he took some words out of his silent self:

" … Don't turn to me for answers, Raleg… Too cringe."

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