Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

For a while after that, the riverbank echoed with the clinking sounds of metal striking against hard shells.

The two of them worked with clear division of labor.

Lance was responsible for prying open the back shells with brute force and sawing off the crab claws—only he had the strength for such physically demanding tasks.

Meanwhile, Cecilia endured the fishy stench as she searched through the viscous cavities for those yellow stones.

Lance’s movements were swift. The skinning knife in his hand seemed almost alive, each cut precisely finding the weakest connecting points of the crab shell.

In contrast, Cecilia beside him appeared somewhat absent-minded.

She mechanically rinsed a freshly dug-out yellow stone in the river water before placing it into her storage pouch.

But her mind was still replaying the battle from earlier. The more she recalled it, the more she felt that her senior was incredible.

“Senior…”