After eating and drinking their fill at the tavern, Zyhark took Yukino to their next stop:
a clothing shop.
After all, Yukino had been walking around the Labyrinth City in her Sōbu High uniform.
It drew eyes everywhere and was hardly practical—especially with the Dungeon next on the agenda.
Before long, Zyhark found a boutique with a fairly complete selection.
Inside, racks were heavy with all kinds of garments, from common linen wear to outfits with a more exotic flair—positively dazzling.
"Pick two sets for everyday rotation. And…"
Zyhark paused.
His eyes, not-so-accidentally, drifted across Yukino's chest, a tease in his tone:
"Underthings, too."
"You can't keep wearing whatever's under that uniform forever, right?"
A faint flush brushed Yukino's cheeks.
Her icy gaze and razor tongue came out swinging:
"It seems a certain kami-sama's eyes can't help lingering on such vulgar places."
"Or is your meager imagination only capable of scraping superiority from shallow externals?"
"For the record, when choosing clothing to deal with someone who lacks basic taste and boundaries, like you, my priority will be how effectively it blocks unpleasant stares."
Harsh words said, she still began to select in earnest.
She chose a deep-blue, fitted tunic and black trousers for daily wear—easy to move in.
Then a light battle outfit: a sleek, close-fitting top and elastic trousers, clearly chosen with combat range of motion in mind.
When it came to the intimates, Zyhark glanced at what she'd picked and couldn't resist a sotto voce quip:
"Mhm, suits your look—slender and refined."
"I can massage you tonight—open the channels, get the blood moving, and speed up growth."
Yukino's hand paused midair.
Her soul-freezing eyes slid his way; her tone was calm and lethally precise:
"Rather than a kami who relies on visual guesstimates to feed idle fantasies, I prefer to focus on practical function."
"As for you, your… extraordinary—and almost perverse—enthusiasm for this topic suggests you may need a few physicians who treat mental ailments.
Shall I fetch them?"
Zyhark touched his nose, struck speechless, and wisely shut up.
In the end, Yukino picked two sets of underwear, one daily outfit, and one battle set.
Zyhark also bought two plain sets for himself.
Out of caution, he added two deep-gray cloaks with roomy hoods.
"Put this on." He handed one to Yukino.
"Before we enter the Dungeon, keep the hood up."
"Helps hide our faces and avoid attention."
After all, a newbie kami paired with a terrifyingly promising rookie adventurer— best to keep a low profile at the start.
At checkout, the total ran about 5,000 valis.
His purse thinned again, but it was a necessary investment.
The tavern bill earlier had been around 1,500 valis.
"At this rate I'll be in debt."
"Tomorrow, we tighten the belt,"
Zyhark muttered to himself.
…
Back at the inn, they paid another 1,500 valis for one more night and stowed the new clothes.
Everything ready.
"Let's go. The adventure—officially begins!"
Cloaks on, hoods up,
Zyhark and Yukino headed for the Dungeon entrance beneath Babel.
Soon, they passed down to Babel's first basement, took the spiral stairs into the "Path of Departure."
The nearer they came to the threshold, the heavier the air grew.
A long, vast rock corridor—like a throat into hell.
The ceiling couldn't have been more than five or six meters high; ugly terrain for a fight.
From within, low monster howls and the ring of steel drifted out.
Adventurers filed in and out.
Some grinned, heavy with spoils. Others limped, ragged and spent.
At the entrance, Yukino tightened her grip on her sword, face cool as ever.
"Remember,"
Zyhark murmured in her ear:
"By the rules, I—being a kami—am forbidden from entering the Dungeon."
"Normally, I can only walk you to the entrance."
"But if I sneak in, I'm just… a regular bystander."
"If anything sudden happens, you'll have to protect me, okay?"
He joked to bleed the tension.
Yukino slanted him a glance, her poison tongue intact:
"Rest assured."
"If we meet a threat even I cannot handle, I'll first select a dignified pose for your eternal rest, to preserve your last shred of divine dignity."
"Assuming, of course, your legs don't give out and slow me down."
With that, she drew a steady breath and stepped into the dim passage first.
"Please. Other kami sprint to the 18th floor; you think I'm backing off?"
Zyhark quipped, following close and suppressing his Divine Pressure to the bare minimum— just to avoid provoking anomalies.
After a shaded descent, the space opened up.
...
Dungeon, Floor 1.
The Grotto Labyrinth.
Rough rock walls exuded a soft, dusky phosphorescence.
The air was humid and stifling; monster cries were not far off.
They hadn't gone far
when, in a wide rock chamber, their first enemy appeared.
"Gobu—ii!"
A short, green-skinned goblin bellowed, hefting a crude bone club.
"Goblin—one of the most common on the first two floors,"
Zyhark whispered at once, ready to observe from the side and guide Yukino's first fight:
"Watch its movement. Clumsy, but that club hurts if it lands. You can start by—"
He never finished "start by probing."
Yukino's eyes sharpened, tension and unease transmuting into action.
No hesitation.
Her feet drove off the ground; she shot forward like an arrow loosed!
Faster and more decisive than Zyhark had expected—
a flash of winter light—
Shrrrip—!
Before the goblin could even scream,
Yukino's longsword split it clean along the centerline.
Green blood and viscera sprayed—then the halves wobbled, crumbled into ash, and a small purple magic stone clinked to the floor.
Neat, instant, clinical.
Zyhark's jaw hung.
Every word of advice died in his throat, shock stamped across his face.
He knew, in Oregairu, Yukino's athletic sense wasn't bad,
but she was nowhere near elite—and certainly not a killer.
That strike—speed, power, precision—
far beyond a literary girl who's never so much as killed a chicken.
"You…"
He couldn't even find the line.
Yukino flicked imaginary gore from her blade,
turned to regard her stunned god,
chin tilting, voice a cool blend of tsun and bite:
"What?"
"In the barren desert of your imagination, was I supposed to shriek like a third-rate heroine, at the sight of some ugly creature, and wait for your 'heroic' rescue?"
"Or are you disappointed I dispatched the trash so… 'efficiently'?" At that moment, rustling rose from the far passage.
Three more goblins burst in, riled by their fellow's last racket.
Zyhark snapped back to himself.
"Careful! With numbers, try using your ma—"
"—gic" never made it out.
Facing the trio, Yukino's face showed no fear—only a flicker of cold impatience.
These low-level pests bored her.
She set the blade vertical, frost seeming to congeal in her sapphire eyes.
A clear, austere song flowed from her lips, echoing through the dim chamber:
"'—Let snow fill the skies, let frost seize all, let chill sweep the world.'"
"[—Ice Soul Bloom.]"
At the syllables' fall—a visible cold wave erupted around Yukino!
The temperature plunged; a rime formed on the rock walls in a breath.
Her sword took on a halo of luminous ice-blue mist, as if forged anew from frozen crystal.
At the same time, a pale blue aura wrapped her—a cuirass of winter.
Countless glinting snow crystals bloomed from nothing, drifting about her, throning her like a descending goddess of ice and snow: chill, exquisite, inviolate.
"This… is the Add-on Magic [Ice Soul Bloom] state…?"
Zyhark was floored all over again by the beauty and might.
Yukino moved.
Faster yet with magic's aid, she streaked in on an ice-blue afterimage to meet the three.
Steel and winter sang.
Crack!
Slice!
Thud!
With crisp ice-splitting and blade-through-flesh, she bisected the front-runner at the waist—frost sealing the wound thick and white— and brushed the second with sheer chill, freezing half its body to sculpture.
She didn't stop.
A quick turn slid past the third's clumsy club, and a backhand thrust took it in the chest.
Szzzt—!
Cold surged down the blade; the goblin locked stiff, ice rashing across its skin, the howl trapped in its throat.
In under five seconds, the three that had charged so fiercely were gone.
None got within a meter of Yukino before steel and winter made them statues— then, with soft pup-pup sounds, shattered into glittering shards, which faded to sooty ash, leaving three small stones to roll on the ground.
Silence returned, save for the breath of lingering chill.
The slow-falling snow crystals proved it hadn't been an illusion.
Yukino steadied her breathing.
The blue aura ebbed; frost left the blade.
She turned.
Seeing Zyhark still petrified, she defaulted to her proud, prickly cadence:
"Why are you standing there?"
"Do you need me to teach you how to collect loot?"
"Or have you been so 'overwhelmed' by this 'trifling' scene you forgot how to bend down and pick things up?"
Zyhark finally snapped out of it.
He glanced from the stones on the floor to the black-haired girl who seemed reborn, and one thought roared in his chest:
"The system did not lie!"
"This SSSR card's potential is terrifying!"
He crouched to gather the magic stones, awe bubbling over:
"So I worried for nothing. I thought she'd struggle against a goblin…"
"Never saw this coming."
The seemingly delicate second daughter, Yukino—
her adaptation and combat aptitude had blown past his imagination.
Excellent.
He'd struck gold.
Now, if only he knew who the second crossover-heroine summon would be…
…
…
(End of Chapter)
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