Chapter 14: Capitalism, Ho! (And Other Bad Investments)

The morning after a victory is a dangerous time. It's when the adrenaline fades, the hangovers set in, and the terrible financial decisions are made. For Kazuma's party, it was Tuesday.

They sat at their usual table in the Guild hall, which was now unofficially their table. No one else dared sit there. It was a space tainted by chaos and victory. Before them was a mountain of coin that represented their combined earnings. It was a beautiful, shining monument to their success, and Kazuma was guarding it like a nervous dragon.

Across from him, Deadpool was not admiring the money. He was hunched over a napkin, sketching furiously with a piece of charcoal.

"Okay, I've worked out the floor plan," he announced to no one in particular. "The entrance hall will feature a rotating pedestal displaying the 'Sock of the Week.' We'll need dramatic lighting. The east wing will be dedicated to 'Hosiery Through the Ages,' a historical retrospective. The west wing is the modern art exhibit: 'The Argyle Period.' And the basement… the basement is where I keep the really weird stuff. The cursed socks, the ones that whisper, the ones that are still slightly damp for unknown reasons."

"You are not spending our money on a haunted sock museum," Kazuma said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He had moved past anger and into a state of weary resignation. "We are going to do what normal, successful adventurers do. We are going to upgrade our equipment."

The suggestion was met with a chorus of groans.

"My equipment is perfectly fine!" Darkness insisted. "My armor has been masterfully crafted to absorb every blow, to dent in the most satisfying of ways!"

"Why would I need new equipment when my divine power is the only weapon I need?" Aqua added haughtily, using a gold coin to admire her reflection.

"My staff is a conduit of supreme destructive power," Megumin sniffed. "A new one would only be a frivolous accessory."

"See? They agree with me," Deadpool said, not looking up from his blueprint. "This money should be invested in cultural enrichment for the town. The 'Axel Museum of Podiatric Fashion' has a much better ring to it than 'Slightly Shinier Sword.' Think of the tourism we'll generate!"

"We are going shopping," Kazuma said through clenched teeth. "And that is final."

The shopping trip was, as Kazuma had predicted, a catastrophe of epic proportions. Their first stop was Axel's premier blacksmith and armor shop.

Darkness immediately gravitated toward a suit of armor that was on the discount rack. It was covered in rust and had a massive, conspicuous dent in the chest plate. "This one!" she declared, her eyes sparkling. "It has a history! It has clearly failed to protect its previous owner! The exquisite vulnerability is palpable!"

The blacksmith stared at her. "Ma'am, that's because an ogre sat on it. It's scrap metal."

Meanwhile, Aqua was trying to commission a solid gold chalice, insisting it would make her holy water "taste more divine." Megumin was asking if they could attach a purely cosmetic, oversized crimson gem to her staff that would do nothing but "increase its dramatic presence."

Deadpool completely ignored the weapons and armor. He was deep in a negotiation with the blacksmith's terrified apprentice.

"Look, kid, it's simple," he was saying, holding up his napkin sketch. "I need velvet ropes. About fifty feet of them. And some little brass poles. The kind that say 'Look, but don't touch, this is high-class stuff.' Can you do it? I'll pay you in… exposure. And a sock. A really nice one. Only slightly used."

Kazuma dragged them out of the shop before they could bankrupt the entire party or traumatize the apprentice further. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of similar failures. They couldn't be trusted in a potion shop, a general store, or even a bakery without trying to make some kind of insane, irresponsible purchase.

Defeated, Kazuma herded them back to the Guild hall. His dream of a well-equipped, professional party was dead. They were a force of nature, and you couldn't give a hurricane a better sword.

He scanned the quest board, looking for a distraction. Anything to get them out of town before they accidentally bought it. His eyes landed on a dusty, overlooked parchment.

Quest: Investigate and Cleanse the Catacombs of the Forgotten. Details: The old catacombs beneath the West Hill have seen a recent surge in undead activity. Skeletons and zombies have been spotted. Low-level ghouls may be present. Clear out the primary burial chambers. Reward: 75,000 Eris.

It was perfect. It was indoors, limiting the potential for city-wide collateral damage. It involved slow-moving, stupid enemies. It was a classic dungeon crawl. Straightforward. Simple.

"This one," he said, ripping it from the board. "We're doing this."

"Catacombs?" Aqua wrinkled her nose. "It sounds dusty. And dark. Not very flattering to my complexion."

"Does it require a large-scale, single-target explosion?" Megumin asked hopefully.

"Probably not," Kazuma admitted. "We might need to be quiet. Strategic."

This was clearly the wrong thing to say. Megumin and Aqua immediately lost interest. Darkness, however, perked up. "Close quarters… the crushing press of the walls… the musty air of the grave… the possibility of being swarmed by mindless ghouls in a narrow hallway…" A familiar, blissful look crossed her face.

But it was Deadpool who had the strongest reaction. He had gone completely still, his head cocked as if listening to a distant symphony.

"The Catacombs… of the Forgotten," he repeated slowly, tasting each word. A dangerous, greedy gleam entered his eyes, a look Kazuma had come to recognize and fear. It was the same look he'd had before the great sock tithe.

"What?" Kazuma asked warily.

"Don't you see, Kazuma?" Deadpool whispered, his voice filled with a manic reverence. "This isn't just a quest. This is a pilgrimage. This is an archaeological expedition of the highest order."

He grabbed Kazuma by the shoulders, his grip surprisingly strong. "Catacombs! Full of dead people! Not just any dead people. Forgotten dead people. That means they've been down there for ages! Centuries, maybe! And how were people buried back in the day? In their Sunday best, my friend! Their finest clothes! Their most cherished possessions!"

His voice rose with excitement. "This isn't a tomb! It's a time capsule! A vault filled with priceless, vintage artifacts! We're not just fighting skeletons, Kazuma. We're liberating ancient relics! We're rescuing history from the cold, bony hands of the undead!"

He finally said the magic word, the one that made Kazuma's blood run cold.

"Think of the socks, Kazuma! Ancient socks! Spectral socks! Socks that haven't seen the light of day in five hundred years! The historical value! The sheer, unadulterated prestige!"

Kazuma stared into the white, soulless lenses of Deadpool's mask and understood. He had not chosen a simple quest. He had chosen a quest that perfectly aligned with the deranged priorities of his most chaotic party member. He had inadvertently pointed a guided missile of insanity at a new, unsuspecting target.

"So," Deadpool said, releasing him and turning to the rest of the party with the air of a great general addressing his troops. "Who's ready to go grave-robbing for fashion?"

Darkness was practically vibrating with excitement. Megumin and Aqua, seeing the crazed look in Deadpool's eyes and sensing the potential for a big payday to fund their own terrible ideas, reluctantly agreed.

Kazuma just sighed. He was beginning to think that barrel back at the town gate was looking like a pretty attractive long-term housing option.