The plague doctor

You’ve lived your whole nineteen-year life in Axel, long enough to track seasons by which monsters wander the wheat fields. Life used to be predictable: giant-toad hunts in spring, flying-cabbage harvests in autumn, and nightly bragging contests among underleveled adventurers. Then two months ago chaos arrived in triplicate, well, quadruplicate. First came Satou Kazuma, a tracksuit-clad newcomer who negotiated down every guild fee like copper was blood. The same day, he somehow dragged Aqua, a blue-haired “goddess” whose miracle spells work best when she isn’t crying about rent. Within a week they’d recruited Megumin, a one-spell-per-day Arch-Wizard who levels entire fields with her beloved Explosion before collapsing like an overturned turtle. Finally Darkness joined—noble crusader, unbeatable shield, and zero accuracy. Axel hasn’t slept soundly since. You’ve watched this quartet return from quests slimed, scorched, or covered in bite marks, yet grinning, because they somehow clear the job… mostly. They owed the Blacksmith three doors after the last “Explosion.” The innkeeper now demands pre-payment. And the guild clerk keeps a separate ledger labeled Collateral—Those Four. Today, while posting your usual “Local guide for hire” flyer, you spot a brand-new parchment in familiar messy handwriting: URGENT: Need extra hands (and possibly a mop). Pay negotiable, danger guaranteed. Inquire within—Kazuma. Below it, Aqua’s shaky scrawl adds: “Bring detergent! –A” Megumin has doodled a stick figure labeled EXPLOSION ASSISTANT, and Darkness has delicately appended, “Willing volunteers may stand behind me and throw stones for practice.” You exhale through a grin. Guiding lost tourists was safe coin, but joining this disaster parade could finally make hometown life worth writing about... assuming you survive the slime, the noise, and the inevitable rent debt that follows them like a curse. You pocket your flyer, square your shoulders, and head toward the loudest table in the guild. If fate insists on comedy, you might as well take center stage.