How to Live as a Genius Scholar in another World

Chapter 10 – Sewer Reconnaissance Request (1)

—–CROW—– 

Three days could be long or short.

Three days before enlistment or the end of vacation disappeared in a flash, but three days before discharge or the start of vacation felt like each day was 24 days long.

From that perspective, the past three days had passed quite quickly.

I had spent the time organizing my room and diligently working on the thesis topics I had prepared with the writing materials I brought, and three days had already gone by.  I stretched and got up, bathed in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“Haaaaah…”

As I rubbed my eyes, I saw the thesis on the table.

The level of thesis a master’s student could write alone was predictable. Even that wouldn’t have been possible without the library in Sardis.

‘Well, I came here knowing there was a fairly large library, so there’s no need to worry about that.’

Still, if I submitted a subpar thesis, my research grant would disappear, and there was a high chance I would be kicked out of the academic community after review.  I would end up like a company commander whose subordinate unit had a desertion incident.

However, that was only if I tried to write my thesis solely in this inn room.

‘From today onwards, I can take on adventurer requests.’

Sardis was like the Gyeongju of this world.

A region where Silla pottery would be unearthed if you tried to build a building and Goryeo stone chambers would pop out if you tried to dig a subway tunnel.  Thesis topics would naturally come to me while I worked.

The achievements most highly regarded in the archaeology community were the excavation of ruins and the interpretation of history.

Discovering a ruin with usable artifacts was better than writing a decent thesis.  If I discovered records or relics that revolutionized existing theories, I would be busy reporting my research findings to the academic community for at least six months.

The problem was that the risk of dying while working was also high.

The traps and monsters that emerged from ruins were sometimes too much even for regular knights. There was a reason why scholars, despite knowing this, subcontracted the work to adventurers. Fieldwork was a good way to die from greed.

‘I should build up my specs for the next year or two.’

The “specs” I was referring to weren’t certifications, but the kind often mentioned in online games.  Things like having an attack power of 1 million.

‘I need to reach at least Gold if I don’t want to die while exploring.’

There were eight adventurer classes:

Iron – Bronze – Silver – Gold – Platinum – Mithril – these six,

And above them, Master and Grand Master.

Platinum class and above were practically non-existent.

Just as there were no cases of someone with the right qualifications staying in a small company forever, typical adventurers moved on to other, larger organizations once they reached Gold class.

‘It doesn’t matter for me, since I’m essentially working as both an adventurer and an archaeologist.’

Dual membership in the academic community and the Adventurers’ Guild wasn’t illegal. I just had to become a badass Nord by working as an adventurer until I got my doctorate.

My ultimate goal was to become a man who could say “Too slow” to an assassin targeting my back.

—*Thud, thud.*

So, I quickly slurped down my inn breakfast and headed to the Adventurers’ Guild early in the morning.

The guild was open even though the sun had barely risen.  It wasn’t operating on a 24-hour, four-shift system like a factory; it simply opened early in the morning.  The city gates were closed at night anyway, so there was no point in keeping the guild open then.

“Ah, you’re here.”

The receptionist on duty happened to be the same one I met on my first day. She still looked tired, but thanks to that, we skipped the tedious explanations and went straight to the main point.

“Is my plate ready?”

“Of course. Here you go. This is Mr. Nord’s plate.”

*Sparkle*

The iron plate gleamed even in the dim interior of the guild. It was the size of two fingers held together. A small, indigo-colored stone, smaller than my pinky nail, was embedded in one side.  It was a cheap stone, also used as a dye.

“Please tie this leather strap to the plate and always carry it with you.”

The leather strap I received was a crude thing, hammered and cut from leather. I attached it to both sides of the plate and hung it around my neck.

Professor Brammaton’s book said it was beneficial to use a good strap.  It also recommended wearing it around the neck instead of the wrist to prevent loss during requests.  Replacing a lost plate cost money each time.

“You can officially accept requests starting today.”

The receptionist spoke as I shuddered at the dog tag-like feeling.

“Please check the requests on the bulletin board and let me know.  You shouldn’t remove the posters or request forms on the board unless they’re for solo requests.”

“Understood. Is that the only bulletin board?”

“There’s another one on the second floor, but those are requests only for Gold class and above. You can go up there, but you won’t be able to accept those requests even if you bring them down.”

“I see.”

Did they divide the bulletin board because Gold-class requests were rare? That wasn’t in Professor Brammaton’s book. It was probably because the professor hadn’t worked at the Audhumla Guild.

As I headed towards the bulletin board, fiddling with my plate, several adventurers were already gathered there, even though it was early morning.

“There have been fewer goblin extermination requests lately.”

“Yeah. Are the requests going to other guilds or something?”

“Who knows. Maybe someone’s secretly killing all the goblins.”

“Hahaha. What kind of idiot would do that? They’re just goblins. They’re probably hiding in some cave, plotting some foolish plan.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? If things escalate, we might be able to rank up this time.”

“Bullshit. You’re more likely to die acting tough.”

It was truly a Bronze and Silver-level conversation.  I ignored the chatter of the mixed-gender group of adventurers and looked at the bulletin board.

There were few requests available for Iron-class adventurers.  Herb gathering, kobold extermination, wild animal hunting…  There were many requests that took a long time, didn’t pay well, and were difficult to build achievements with.

Many Adventurers’ Guilds exploited Iron-class adventurers like small companies exploited their employees.  It was fine because they could just hire new ones after the previous ones quit. That’s how things worked in hellish Britannia.

But I knew which request among these low-level ones offered the best value.

The source was, of course, Professor Brammaton’s… you know the rest.

“…There it is.”

I picked up one of the request forms on the bulletin board.

It was a fresh “Sewer Reconnaissance” request.

Our advisor’s book said:

[The fastest way for a newly debuted Iron-class adventurer to reach Bronze class is through sewer reconnaissance requests.]

“Ugh, gross.”

I was lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it—to find the request I was looking for, and I returned to the reception desk. A few adventurers had arrived in the meantime, so I waited in line for a bit.

After waiting for a short while, it was my turn.

“Excuse me. I’d like to take the sewer reconnaissance request on the bulletin board.”

“The sewer request? One moment. Sewer… sewer…”

The receptionist scanned the request ledger on the table with her finger.

“Ah, here it is. Is it the 4-person party request with a reward of 3 coppers?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Damn, 30,000 won per day?  Prices in this world were legendary. I was hoping there was a typo in the request form.

“That’s good. The sewer reconnaissance request isn’t popular, so it would have been canceled if we hadn’t found enough applicants by lunchtime.”

“I see.”

Sewer reconnaissance, as the name suggested, was about scouting the sewers.  It was a common request in most cities.  I heard it was a request issued by the territory for public order maintenance and repairs.

The request wasn’t difficult.  All I had to do was enter the sewers, find areas that needed repair, and report them.

This request was mainly recommended for Iron class adventurers because it was unpopular. Sewers were smelly, dark, and unsanitary. Because of these triple whammy downsides, there were always few applicants.

But there were advantages, too.  Monsters were easily attracted to sewers.

Why was this an advantage?  Because it was difficult for Iron-class adventurers to accumulate monster extermination achievements. No one asked newbies to hunt monsters.

Although it wasn’t stated in the request form, dealing with monsters in the sewers was the adventurer’s responsibility. We had to take care of them, collect proof, and report it to the guild.

‘Extermination achievements were the most valued factor for promotion.’

Therefore, sewer reconnaissance requests were one of the options for quick promotion, according to Professor Brammaton.

“With Mr. Nord, we have exactly four people.”

The receptionist continued after reading the detailed request record.

“The other three are a warrior, a rogue, and a mage. They’ll probably come before the appointed time to confirm party formation and then gather at the specified time.”

“A mage?”

There was an unexpected profession among our party members.

Mages weren’t that rare in this world.  There were many types of mages and magic.  Even ordinary people could learn simple magic if they paid enough.

However, the mages recognized by the Adventurers’ Guild were at least at the level where they could also be registered with the Mages’ Guild.

It was like having a Master’s degree in Business Administration. In other words, someone at the same level as me. It meant they were either a young genius or someone with experience.

“Why would a mage take a sewer reconnaissance request…?”

That was the question.

Low-ranking adventurers were practically like part-time workers in small company factories.  There were few people who graduated from a prestigious university with a degree in Business Administration and then worked part-time in a factory.

Even if they did, it was mostly to earn money while looking for a job.

If it was a short-term part-time job, being an adventurer wouldn’t be bad, but why a sewer reconnaissance request?

This was even stranger than someone with a Master’s degree in Business Administration working a part-time loading and unloading job instead of getting a proper job.

There were plenty of better-paying and cleaner jobs for someone like a mage, right?  The receptionist added a few words as if she understood my question.

“That mage is Bronze rank. They’re the party leader for this request.”

“Party leader? Why?”

“It’s customary.  In many Adventurers’ Guilds, when Iron-class adventurers take on extermination requests, a higher-ranked adventurer is assigned as the party leader.”

“I see. To reduce the mortality rate.”

The receptionist nodded when I stated it bluntly.

“That’s right. It’s difficult to say, but… in unexpected situations, it’s difficult for Iron-class adventurers to handle things on their own.”

Iron and Bronze ranks were both in the trenches. I didn’t understand who was carrying whom.

“But what’s the benefit for the Bronze-class adventurer? They’re not volunteering, are they?”

“It mainly contributes to their achievements.  It’s an opportunity to prove they have the ability to lead a party.”

I see. It was like being a team leader for a group project. Then it was something worth recognizing as an achievement.  It wasn’t easy to carry a team of newbies.

But I started to get a little worried.

Based on the party members’ professions, we had a damage dealer, a tank, and support.  To balance the party, the last member should be a healer.  Or we should have a melee, ranged, support composition and look for a jungler.

‘But I’m the last party member.’

I wasn’t a cleric or Tarzan. I was a pure physical damage dealer with sword skills honed through weight training and sturdy equipment.  It was a disastrous team composition, with Iron and Bronze ranks picking only the roles they wanted, true to their trench-dwelling nature.

The lack of a healer was quite concerning.  How could I not be worried when there was no one to heal me if I got injured?

The fact that sewer reconnaissance requests were low-difficulty wasn’t very comforting.  In these kinds of fantasy games, the sewers of the starting city were usually a hotbed of shady activities.

Corrupt cultists plotting, dark mages conducting human experiments, thieves’ hideouts… I had never seen a case where someone went into the sewers and nothing happened.

“…It’s until lunchtime today, right?”

“Yes. There’s a penalty for absence, so please be careful.”

I was a little uneasy, but I accepted the request.

I figured that with a Bronze-class mage in the party, nothing much could go wrong.

—–CROW—–