Suppose a Kid from the Last Dungeon Boonies Moved to a Starter Town Vol. 1 Read online

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  SUPPOSE A KID FROM THE LAST DUNGEON BOONIES MOVED TO A STARTER TOWN 1

  TOSHIO SATOU

  Translation by Andrew Cunningham

  Cover art by Nao Watanuki

  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.

  TATOEBA LAST DUNGEON MAENO MURANO SHOUNEN GA JYOBAN NO MACHI DE KURASUYOUNA MONOGATARI volume 1

  Copyright © 2017 Toshio Satou

  Illustrations copyright © 2017 Nao Watanuki

  All rights reserved.

  Original Japanese edition published in 2017 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 © 2019 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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  First Yen On Edition: November 2019

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Satou, Toshio, author. | Watanuki, Nao, illustrator. | Cunningham, Andrew, 1979– translator.

  Title: Suppose a kid from the last dungeon boonies moved to a starter town / Toshio Satou ; illustration by Nao Watanuki ; translation by Andrew Cunningham.

  Other titles: Tatoeba last dungeon maeno murano shounen ga jyoban no machi de kurasuyouna. English

  Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen ON, 2019–

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019030186 | ISBN 9781975305666 (v. 1 ; trade paperback)

  Subjects: CYAC: Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Self-esteem—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S266 Tat 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019030186

  ISBNs: 978-1-9753-0566-6 (paperback)

  978-1-9753-0567-3 (ebook)

  E3-20191004-JV-NF-ORI

  Prologue

  Everyone in town loved to tell Lloyd Belladonna the same thing.

  “It’s too much for you.”

  He was a good-looking boy with a gentle smile who was much better at cooking, cleaning, and laundry than he was at throwing hands, just as his meek demeanor suggested. Even he agreed with the general consensus that he was the weakest man in town. Not a day went by without at least one village girl commenting on how he’d make a great wife someday.

  No matter how many times he dived into the river, he’d never come up with a single fish. If he went to fetch firewood, it would take him until sundown to gather less than the average man. If he engaged in some friendly sparring with the other men, he’d spend the entirety of the following day in bed—and on and on and on.

  So when he’d suddenly announced that he was leaving town to be a soldier in the royal capital…well, given his earnest, friendly, and gullible disposition, most people felt he should never be allowed to leave the village, let alone join the army.

  Yet where Lloyd usually gave in to peer pressure, he stood his ground this time. A whiff of actual determination emerged from beneath that naive exterior. Biting his lip, he’d insisted this was what he wanted.

  This new side of him flummoxed the villagers. When they’d reached their wit’s end trying to convince him, they held an intervention, hoping the village chief would be able to talk some sense into him. Ordinarily, the only things that brought this many villagers together were event planning, discussions on new laws, and more event planning. This proved just how much everyone cared about Lloyd’s well-being.

  A few days after he’d first started talking about enlisting in the army, the village leaders finished work in the early afternoon and dragged him to the chief’s house.

  On a windswept plateau with a view of the wheat fields north of the village, Lloyd sat cowering like a scolded puppy. On his side was the person who’d raised him and who Lloyd called Grandpa. Around them, the village leaders sat in silence, their faces betraying their worries and frustrations.

  The stress had Lloyd sweating bullets. The spring breeze brushed across his face, carrying the scent of the green wheat stalks, and made a linen curtain sway. A sweet voice came from behind it.

  “Sorry for makin’ y’all wait.”

  A girl emerged wearing a silk robe, her black hair in twin pigtails. She looked to be around twelve years old. She was the village chief, Alka.

  She might be itty-bitty, but don’t let appearances fool you. She was well over a hundred—nobody knew exactly how old she was, herself included. According to her, she “became immortal to save the world, blah blah blah.” But not a single villager believed this, and the entire concept had become a running joke. Basically, she was your typical loli grandma…but if she heard you say that, you’d end up buried neck-deep in the field for three days and nights.

  Regardless of her actual age, Chief Alka spoke and acted like a middle schooler. Clutching the excess length of her robe off the ground, she pattered over to the seat of honor and plopped herself down into a legless chair made of woven bamboo. It creaked as she sat, breaking the silence.

  After a brief pause, she spoke to Lloyd as if she was catching up with her grandson.

  “Lloyd…I hear ya want to be a soldier in the capital, eh?”

  Before he could reply, his guardian erupted, “Please talk him out of it! It’s too much for him! He’s always had a stubborn streak, and it shows up at the worst times!”

  Lloyd wasn’t about to let that pass. “We won’t know…if it’s too much for me…if I don’t even try…”

  “Do you even hear yourself?! You’re a fool! You can barely gather firewood; you’ve never caught a fish… The army would never take you!”

  “S-sure, I’ve never succeeded in catching a fish. But I’m sure they have other food in the capital. I’ll be fine… And yeah, I’m not great at diving, but…how often will I need to dive in the city anyway?”

  His rebuttal was answered by a plump older lady, who scolded him like he was her own son. “Lloyd! That’s not what your grandpa means. He’s worried about how feeble you are!”

  His grandfather nodded vigorously, grunting. “Indeed.”

  “Darn tootin’. I reckon ya can’t be a soldier if you can’t do even these simple tasks. And there’s a limit to how no-account you can be.”

  “Seriously, dude. Stop looking for loopholes.” Next up to berate Lloyd was a stoic young man with an old sword at his hip. “You gotta admit you’re the only one to blame for not rising to the occasion and overcoming your failures.”

  “Urp.” Lloyd hung his head.

  But the young man was rel
entless and scowled as he spitefully added, “I mean, to begin with, how can you do anything if you can barely stay underwater for an hour?”

  “That’s right, three hours is the clear minimum. When your grandfather was younger, he could stay under for three days!”

  “Four!” his guardian boasted, holding up four fingers.

  (Side note: Professional pearl divers can stay under for an average of five minutes without equipment, and the world record is just over twenty-two. FYI.)

  Lloyd’s grandfather spent a few moments basking in the praise of the other villagers, but he soon resumed his stern expression and glared at Lloyd once more.

  “Listen up, Lloyd. Ya can’t be struggling to kill a fish just because it’s got a few fangs and some horns. I’m sure they’ve got more gnarly ones in the ocean!”

  “But in novels, they talk about fish in the capital having no fangs or horns, and they apparently eat those!”

  “Don’t talk nonsense! How’s a fish supposed to survive without ’em? If anything like that existed, I reckon they’d have been all caught immediately and gone extinct years ago.”

  “Erk, good point…”

  (Side note: The organisms they’re calling “fish” are actually monsters called “killer piranha.” Sturdy horns, giant mouths, and a row of teeth capable of consuming a whole cow in three big chomps—even a hardened warrior would be helpless against them underwater.)

  Spying Lloyd’s resolve flagging, a woodcutter dressed in work clothes joined the pile-on.

  “Even if you aren’t much of a swimmer, I think you oughtta be a bit better at cutting or gathering wood…” He spoke softly, patiently, trying to get through to him.

  Lloyd’s grandfather mimed an ax swing. “Yes! You’ve gotta sneak up on the treants and take ’em down with a single blow!”

  Lloyd leaned forward with an objection of his own. “But, Grandpa, in books and novels, they say they don’t have to use treants in the capital, just normal beeches and cedars!”

  “Sigh… You believe everything you read in books?” His grandfather shook his head, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “Lloyd,” the woodcutter interjected, frowning. He couldn’t let this slide. “If you use a normal tree for firewood, it would only last for three hours, tops. Treants burn for three whole days! You see the difference, right?”

  “Yup. Even an idiot knows which is better! You’d never make it through the winter burning them piddly or’nary trees.”

  “I know treants are better, but…”

  (Side note: Treants are terrifying monsters in the shapes of trees that stab passersby with their roots, sucking nutrition out of them. Normally, these treacherous trees vanish when they’re cut down, but if you fell them before they notice you or if you get very lucky, they leave wood behind that is extremely valuable and sells for a high price. It wasn’t normally used for firewood. If any merchants saw someone burning treant wood, they’d let out a bloodcurdling shriek for sure.)

  The woodcutter leaned back against a pillar, folding his arms, speaking at length about his trade. “Woodcutting is a hard profession. This town has homes and warm places to stay in winter thanks to the sweat of our brows. Whether it be firewood or fish, you can’t just dismiss it by saying you’ll buy it! That attitude alone makes you unfit to be a soldier.”

  That hit Lloyd hard.

  When he saw that, the woodcutter hastily added, “Er, that is…I’m not saying you have to learn all the tricks of my trade before you can go to the capital. Walking without making a sound, blending perfectly into the forest—these might not be skills you need in the city.”

  (Sorry to burst your bubble, but woodcutters shouldn’t need those skills, either.)

  “…I apologize. I got a little worked up,” he continued.

  Lloyd kept his head down, starting to regret his rash decision to announce that he wanted to enlist.

  The young man with the sword spoke up again, his tone pointed. “The problem isn’t what kind of fish they have, dude. The biggest problem is that you’re trying to become a soldier even though you’re super weak.”

  “I know you’re much stronger than I am.”

  “When we were sparring together the other day, I held back a lot, you know. But you were still in bed for a full day afterward! …Everyone thought I was the bad guy, like I’d been bullying you or some shit.”

  “Urp…”

  The young man shook his head. “Sigh… Plus, you should be able to heal a broken bone in an hour, max.”

  “It wasn’t just one! I had compound fractures all over the place! That’s why it took a full day!”

  “Listen to yourself! Everything should heal in three hours, and I’m being liberal here! Your grandpa used to heal them with one long scream!”

  (Side note: A broken bone is usually considered a serious injury, and it’ll leave you stuck in a cast for at least a month…although I think you know that already.)

  The young man drew his old-timey sword with a hilt decorated with two snakes, brandishing it as he lectured. “For one thing! A blow from this old thing shouldn’t be breaking bones! What was this dull lump’s name again? Girlsbar?”

  “Something like that. Currybar? Excalibur? No, maybe Klondikebur?”

  (Side note: This ancient blade’s name is definitely Excalibur, the mystic sword that the legendary King Arthur used to cut down 960 enemies. It’s a pretty famous sword that went by other names—including Caliburn or Callibrand.)

  “That’s right, Klondikebur. Yum. Sounds like a frozen treat.”

  The mystic blade was not getting much respect. No one even noticed that the real name had come and gone with the wind.

  “I swear, if my dad hadn’t foisted this thing on me, I sure wouldn’t stoop to using anything this dull… Anyway, if you get hurt from crap like this, you’ll never get anywhere.”

  Jumping off of this point, his grandfather tried a new angle. “And, Lloyd, it isn’t only yer physical strength. Your magic is useless as tits on a bull!”

  “Oh, right… Can you cast anything?”

  Lloyd had winced the moment this topic was mentioned.

  “Uh,” he started, reluctantly. “I know the procedural stuff, but…the only spell that really works is that one that makes it rain…”

  The young man shook his head dramatically. “Geez, rain falls on its own even if you don’t do anything! You oughtta at least be able to make boulders fall from the sky like the chief… What were those called? Meteors?”

  “Darn right,” the chief purred. “Oh, shucks. That sure takes me back! I remember using ’em to drive off those monsters that appeared in the mountains ’round back.”

  “Those things were really something. They kept going on about how they were gonna ‘destroy the world’ because there were ‘too many humans.’ Ha-ha-ha!”

  Hmm, it seemed this started a stream of reminiscing.

  “And get a load of this! The other day, one showed up in human form, yapping on and on ’bout something. When we had it backed into a corner, it was all, ‘It’s been a long time since I assumed this form!’ and turned into some sort of lizard thing! I laughed my ass off!”

  “Why not show up that way in the first place? You took it down while we were fetching the chief, right?” someone asked the older lady.

  “Yeah, I just gave it a few whacks with my broom, and that was all she wrote. But it took forever to clean up and—!”

  They veered so far off topic that the general vibe was starting to resemble a banquet, so Alka clapped her hands a couple of times to get everyone back on track.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

  “That’s enough of that,” Alka said. “Lloyd.”

  “Y-yes?”

  “Ya heard everyone out. But I reckon you’re not changin’ your mind, right?”

  “Right.”

  She took a long look at the quiet passion in his eyes.

  The time has finally come, she thought. I was hopin’ maki
ng him read all them books about soldiers would get his imagination going.

  That certainly sounds like an ulterior motive. She gave Lloyd a kind smile that betrayed none of the satisfaction of seeing her plans pay off.

  “All righty. I’ll let ya leave this village and become one of them soldiers in the royal capital.”

  ““Chief!”” the entire crowd yelled as they leaped up to their feet.

  “Quiet down,” Alka ordered, raising a hand. “I reckon ya experience true growth by gettin’ out of your bubble. Lloyd needs to widen his horizons.”

  “But, Chief…!”

  “And once a man makes his mind up, who are we to argue?” With that, Alka turned back to Lloyd, like a mother looking at her child. “But if it gets too hard, you come right on back, you hear? …This is your home.”

  “Th-thanks!”

  Everyone who saw her face knew the chief was taking this harder than anyone.

  Meanwhile, Alka herself was thinking… I reckon it’ll be hard to not see Lloyd every day, but…I can secretly teleport over. Darn right. And the other villagers ain’t gonna be there to interfere when I flirt with him!

  …If the other villagers had known what was running through her head, they’d have been left speechless for a very different reason.

  And thus, Lloyd was permitted to leave for the big city.

  Once Lloyd’s departure was set in stone, the days flew by, each moment a bittersweet reminder of how much he loved the village and how much the villagers loved him.

  And finally, the big day arrived. The sky was an unbroken sea of blue, as if celebrating the start of his new journey. Beneath the sun stood Lloyd, wearing sturdy canvas pants and a lightweight linen shirt, a small knapsack slung over his shoulder—the sort of outfit that would make you go, “Wait, are you taking a day trip?”

  He had on an apologetic expression.

  This was largely because the entire village had put off their work to come see him off. The beautiful carved wooden (treant) arch over the town gate was surrounded by villagers.

  At the center of the crowd was Alka. She took a step forward, looking Lloyd right in the eye. “I’d love to escort ya part of the way, but…this is where the learning process begins. Ya gotta go by yourself.”