Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Vol. 9 Read online

  Copyright

  IS IT WRONG TO TRY TO PICK UP GIRLS IN A DUNGEON?, Volume 9

  FUJINO OMORI

  Translation by Andrew Gaippe

  Cover art by Suzuhito Yasuda

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  DUNGEON NI DEAI WO MOTOMERU NO WA MACHIGATTEIRUDAROUKA vol. 9

  Copyright © 2015 Fujino Omori

  Illustrations copyright © 2015 Suzuhito Yasuda

  All rights reserved.

  Original Japanese edition published in 2015 by SB Creative Corp.

  This English edition is published by arrangement with SB Creative Corp.,

  Tokyo, in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2017 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Ōmori, Fujino, author. | Yasuda, Suzuhito, illustrator.

  Title: Is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon? / Fujino Omori ; illustrated by Suzuhito Yasuda.

  Other titles: Danjon ni deai o motomeru nowa machigatte iru darōka. English.

  Description: New York : Yen ON, 2015– | Series: Is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon? ; 9

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015029144 | ISBN 9780316339155 (v. 1 : pbk.) |

  ISBN 9780316340144 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316340151 (v. 3 : pbk.) |

  ISBN 9780316340168 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316314794 (v. 5 : pbk.) |

  ISBN 9780316394161 (v. 6 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316394178 (v. 7 : pbk.) |

  ISBN 9780316394185 (v. 8 : pbk) | ISBN 9780316562645 (v. 9 : pbk.)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Fantasy. | BISAC: FICTION / Fantasy / General. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.O54 Du 2015 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015029144

  ISBNs: 978-0-316-56264-5 (paperback)

  978-0-316-44244-2 (ebook)

  E3-20170819-JV-PC

  Contents

  Cover

  Insert

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue: Chance Meeting

  Chapter 1: An Irregular Girl

  Chapter 2: Daily Life With a Vouivre Girl

  Chapter 3: The World and Reality and Monsters

  Chapter 4: Mission

  Chapter 5: Heretics

  Epilogue: Boundless Malice

  Afterword

  Yen Newsletter

  PROLOGUE

  CHANCE MEETING

  Sharp, labored breaths rang out.

  The ceiling, walls, and floor in this area of the labyrinth were all tree bark. Moss thickly covered its surfaces, illuminating the passageway in a bluish-green light. It gave the impression that not a soul had ever set foot in this part of the Dungeon. The reverberations of distant monster howls made leaves tremble, prompting beads of silver to dribble off sundry fantastical flora.

  In this giant tree labyrinth that was completely removed from the world up above, a lone shadow ran with every bit of energy it could muster.

  The figure had supple, delicate limbs that closely resembled those of a young girl. Azure-silver hair glistened in the light of the moss.

  Besides its long, silky tresses, the being possessed skin of a bluish-white hue.

  The many scales covering its shoulders, lower back, and the long ears framing its face, tapering to even finer points than those of elves, were similarly colored. But the most notable feature by far was the glimmering crimson jewel embedded in its forehead.

  Blue-white skin and a crimson jewel were just the first of many features that proved this creature was a monster.

  Thump, thump, thump! The monster held its thin, branch-like arms against its chest as it ran through the Dungeon.

  Why?

  It was bleeding.

  Claws, fangs, and blades had inflicted many wounds on its body. Deep-red blood trickled from open gashes with every step. The attacks had ripped entire scales from its shoulders, dyeing its cerulean skin completely red.

  Why?

  Terror showed in its eyes. Confusion. Grief.

  Several water droplets accompanied the blood on its way to the floor below. The clear liquid flowed from the monster’s stunning amber eyes as its thin throat began quivering.

  “Why…?”

  The sound that escaped from its small lips was not the crude howl of a monster but a single hoarse, mournful word.

  The voice was like that of a sobbing child. As if disdaining the sounds strung together to make a word, the barks of monsters echoing through the labyrinthine Dungeon closed in. The lone figure’s bluish-silver hair and slim shoulders trembled in fear.

  Sorrow had distorted its face, which was out of place on a monster and attractive enough to leave a person breathless.

  The monster—the “girl” was crying.

  Why, why is everyone…?!

  She was alone.

  She was only a newborn, recently delivered from the Dungeon walls, but everything she had encountered rejected her.

  She had memories of her birth, of breaking out from the wall before falling to the floor. Still unable to tell left from right, she wandered the Dungeon, trying to make sense of her dim surroundings. While she was anxious at not knowing her location, she picked up a familiar scent—one of her own kind. Her instincts drove her to follow it.

  It led her to a different corner of the Dungeon, where a creature much larger than herself stood. She approached it to ask:

  “Where am I?”

  The creature’s response was a monstrous roar. After raising its voice in anger, the monster slashed her with sharp claws.

  Skin torn, she ran away without understanding why.

  As confusion seized her body, the red blood seeping from her wounds and the first-time sensation of pain inspired terror in the newborn.

  Since then, she had been attacked again and again. The beings that shared her scent, no matter their shape or size, threatened her life. There were no exceptions. She fought desperately to hold back something that threatened to flow from her eyes as her injuries continued to increase.

  Rushing out from the depths of the Dungeon, the exhausted “girl” next encountered creatures of a completely different species.

  They were humans equipped with swords and bows.

  Accompanying them were a fairylike male and female. The long-eared pair
nestled close together, protecting each other.

  She approached them, unaware that her eyes betrayed her envy.

  Not wanting to startle the newcomers, she hid her sharp claws from view and opened her mouth to speak.

  “Help me.”

  In an instant, a blade opened a new wound on her body.

  The group appeared more confused and shaken than she, but most apparent was their terror as they rejected her.

  Faced with this new animosity, she fled once again. The men scattered as they swung their swords, and the pale-faced women readied their bows with muffled shrieks.

  Arrows streaked at her from behind as her tears finally spilled over.

  Pain. Suffering. Sadness.

  The scales on her back deflected the arrowheads but cracked with each impact. Her torn, lacerated shoulders felt as if they were on fire. The world excluded, alienated, and rejected her; it had branded her an outcast.

  She questioned herself over and over. Why, why?

  Cries of I’m scared, I’m so scared slipped from her mouth.

  Her weeping did not stop.

  What…am I…?!

  No matter how many times she asked, the Dungeon, her mother, gave no answer.

  She fled for some time, but in the end her pursuers appeared again. Astonished by her beauty, they adopted unfamiliar expressions as they gruffly yelled, “Stop!”

  The hunters, wetting their lips and gazing sadistically at her, had no reason to halt their advance. The madness in their eyes as they stalked her was far uglier than anything she had seen from her fellow monsters. She tried to escape on her two slender legs, having already learned to fear everything.

  The reason she was regarded as a beast lay in the latent power she used to shake off her pursuers, dodge other monsters in the Dungeon that continued to attack her, and race through the arborous path alone. The lonely echoing tap, tap, tap of two feet hung in the air of the seemingly endless Dungeon.

  Translucent tears spilled from her amber eyes again.

  “Ahh!”

  A downward slope.

  She lost her footing like a child and tumbled heavily down the hill crisscrossed in tree roots.

  After falling to the very bottom, the “girl” noticed she had injured her leg. She couldn’t stand.

  Distant monster howls and the footfalls of people prompted a shiver in her body. She examined her surroundings before setting off, dragging her immobile leg along. Her wounds had already clotted enough to stem the flow of blood, allowing her to hide her trail. In one corner of the Dungeon, she found a single tree and an abundance of plants. Using the leaves as a shelter, she hid within.

  Her back pressed to the wall, she held her breath. Trembling, she squeezed her badly injured body tightly with both arms and fought back against the endless waves of terror.

  Then she realized something was approaching.

  Her breath caught again.

  She could hear steps coming closer and closer with each passing moment. The crescendo of footsteps made her recall the biting pain of a sword, almost as though the memory itself radiated heat, paralyzing her with horror.

  Her body shook uncontrollably.

  Her cheeks still wet, another wave of fear crossed her face.

  Looking up at the human figure drawing near, the girl hugged herself with all her might.

  Then.

  The “girl’s” tearful eyes looked up as the newcomer appeared.

  “A monster…a vouivre?”

  White hair and rubellite eyes.

  In a dim corner of the Dungeon, she had a fateful meeting with one boy.

  CHAPTER 1

  AN IRREGULAR GIRL

  It all started with a certain quest.

  “Firebirds are overflowin’ on the nineteenth floor. Little Rookie, you’re gonna lend us a hand, too.”

  We, Hestia Familia, had just arrived on the eighteenth floor when the adventurers of Rivira came to us unexpectedly with a request.

  From time to time, there are unpredictable outbreaks of many monsters unique to the Dungeon. These erratic, unusual phenomena are referred to as Irregulars.

  The specific species involved this time had been confirmed as firebirds, a rare kind of monster normally found on the nineteenth floor and below. Just like its name suggests, they have the appearance of birds and predominantly use flame-based attacks. This is a problem because the nineteenth floor is the start of the “Colossal Tree Labyrinth” in the Dungeon.

  Apparently these firebirds can turn an entire area into a sea of flames if left unchecked. What’s worse, I’ve heard they sometimes come up to the eighteenth floor—which should be a safe point—and soar through the wide-open skies, putting even the lakeside town of Rivira in danger.

  Upper-class adventurers who stage expeditions from Rivira weren’t about to let their base go up in flames, and we had arrived just as they were setting off to exterminate the monsters. The residents were seeking help in suppressing the outbreak and soliciting every upper-class adventurer who happened to be passing through.

  The war against Rakia had ended three days ago. Having returned to our regular activities in the Dungeon, we had finally made it all the way to the safe point without relying on anyone else for the very first time. Lilly was quite unhappy when this quest was forced on us upon arrival, but given the handsome reward and the fact that a flock of firebirds in our way made it impossible to comfortably progress any farther, she grudgingly gave in.

  The adventurers of Rivira provided robes made of burn-resistant salamander wool as an advance payment to all cooperating participants. Meanwhile, the organizers temporarily assigned me to a different party because of my high agility. They wanted to finish the monster subjugation as quickly as possible, so I was deployed in a group that stressed speed.

  With my salamander-wool robe wrapped around my shoulders, I left Lilly, Welf, Mikoto, and Haruhime for the time being and followed my assigned group of burly adventurers through the entrance leading to the nineteenth floor.

  Just when I thought things were going well, I realized I had ended up separated and alone.

  The Colossal Tree Labyrinth was completely different from the other floors I’d seen before, and I had no experience with its structure and paths. Since we were chasing after and sometimes running away from firebirds in unfamiliar territory—not to mention my possibly detrimental position at the rear of the formation—the other adventurers totally left me behind.

  I found myself in a deserted corner of the Dungeon, trying to get my bearings, when it happened.

  I glimpsed something that resembled a human silhouette.

  It dragged an injured leg along the ground and hid itself in the lush undergrowth of the Dungeon, suggesting it was attempting to evade pursuit.

  At first, I thought it was an injured fellow adventurer and started running over in a panic, but then I suddenly felt as if something was off. With as much caution as possible, I approached.

  Then—

  “A monster…a vouivre?”

  I’m shocked by what I see.

  It’s a humanoid monster with delicate, slim limbs and bluish-white skin. When I spot the jewel in its forehead that could be mistaken for a third eye, I reach back into my memory and find a type of dragon called a vouivre.

  “Vouivre.”

  On par with the unicorn, it’s known for being the rarest of rare monsters even in the Dungeon.

  I’ve heard it’s known to appear between the nineteenth and twenty-fourth floors, and its drop items, whether scales or claws, fetch tremendous sums on the market. However, these are nothing compared to the red gem set in their foreheads, known as “Vouivre’s Tear.” Its value promises such immense riches that adventurers often refer to it as the “Prosperity Stone.”

  But extracting the jewel from a vouivre’s forehead causes it to go berserk—and slaying the dragon inevitably shatters the precious item. There are records of innumerable adventurers who have been cut to pieces trying to obtain one. Vouiv
res are a species of dragon, the greatest monsters in the Dungeon, and their combat strength is unmatched.

  Usually, vouivres would have a humanoid upper body with a snakelike lower body, like lamias. Overall, they resemble women attached to a dragon tail, but…

  …Is this really a monster?

  The creature’s face seems surprisingly human, and there are tears leaking out of its breathtaking amber eyes.

  It’s not wearing anything at all, just the bluish-white skin it was born in.

  I notice it has thin legs where the dragon tail should be, and a pair of modest breasts sits on its chest.

  Apart from its complexion and scales, it could very well be a girl about my age.

  “…, …!”

  The vouivre…is crying.

  Arms wrapped tightly around its trembling body, it looks up at me from its spot on the floor.

  Like it’s forgotten that it’s a monster, showing fear like a person.

  I don’t believe it, comes a whisper from a corner of my mind.

  I can’t even think clearly. My confusion is only building. Even seeing it with my own two eyes, I simply can’t understand.

  I mean, monsters are our enemies, after all.

  Monsters are born killers, baring their fangs at us and taking every chance they get to attack. They possess such atrocious destructive urges that there’s no room for reason or emotions to intervene.

  Monsters are, well, monsters.

  —At least they should be.

  I don’t feel any of the hatred and disgust that a monster is supposed to summon within me.

  These enemies unconditionally drive us to fight back, but I can’t sense even a fragment of the instinctual animosity I would expect.

  Right now, it’s the exact opposite. I’m reluctant to thrust a sword at this humanoid figure before me.

  I’ve never seen a monster like this.

  “Uu, aah……!”

  “!”

  The vouivre’s eyes are glued to the tip of the Hestia Knife. I quickly hide it behind my back. The hell are you doing?! I scold myself. The tiny bit of relief passing over the monster’s face bewilders me even more.

  Is this specific vouivre a subspecies?

  A product of sudden mutation that could be considered an Irregular itself?