Deadpool Reincarnated: Chaos and Blades in the World of KonoSuba

Freedom, Kazuma decided, was wildly overrated when it came with a nine-digit price tag.

The party's return journey from the capital to Axel was a grim, silent affair. They walked because they could no longer afford a carriage. They camped by the side of the road because the concept of paying for an inn room was now a distant, laughable memory. Every clink of a passing merchant's cart, every glimpse of a well-dressed traveler, was a salty reminder of their new status as the single most bankrupt adventuring party on the continent.

Kazuma spent most of the trip in a state of quiet, simmering panic. He'd done the math in his head a dozen times. 340,000,000 Eris. Even if they took on the most dangerous, high-paying quests every single day, it would take them centuries to pay it off. They wouldn't just die in debt; their ghosts would be in debt. Their ghosts' ghosts would probably still owe the government a few million.

Aqua, naturally, was in denial. "It's a clerical error," she insisted for the fifth time as they gnawed on stale bread for dinner. "Mortals and their flimsy little laws cannot possibly apply to a goddess. I shall simply write a strongly worded letter to the celestial administration and have this entire silly matter cleared up." No one had the heart to tell her that her celestial credit score was probably nonexistent at this point.

Darkness, on the other hand, had a serene, blissful glow about her. "An insurmountable debt," she sighed, staring wistfully into their pathetic campfire. "To be shackled by an obligation so vast it will grind us down, day after day, for the rest of our lives… Forced to labor endlessly, our bodies and spirits growing weary under the crushing weight of our financial servitude… It's a burden of truly epic proportions. My heart trembles with anticipation."

Deadpool was the only one who seemed completely unfazed. He spent the trip trying to teach a squirrel how to do his taxes. "See, Skippy, you have to declare all your nuts as assets," he explained patiently. "But you can write off acorn depreciation. It's all about the loopholes."

When they finally limped back into Axel, the vibe at the Guild had shifted once more. The awe they had commanded was gone, replaced by a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. They were a cautionary tale now. The heroes who flew too close to the sun and got their financial wings melted off.

"Hey, it's the Debt Squad!" one adventurer snickered into his ale.

"I heard they owe so much money the king had to invent a new number," another whispered.

Luna, the guild receptionist, gave them a look that was one part sympathy and two parts "please don't let any of your future paychecks bounce."

Kazuma, ignoring the whispers, marched to the quest board. His face was a grim mask of determination. "Alright," he announced to his deeply unhelpful party. "This is our new reality. No more high-risk, high-reward quests. No more blowing things up for a big payday. From now on, we are grinders. We will take every low-level, high-volume quest on this board. We will kill slimes. We will deliver packages. We will collect herbs. We will earn 100 Eris at a time if we have to. We will chip away at this debt, one miserable, soul-crushing job at a time."

The proclamation was met with a collective groan of despair from everyone except Darkness, who looked positively thrilled.

"That's a terrible business model, kid," Deadpool said, shaking his head. "You're thinking like an employee. We need to think like entrepreneurs! We need to diversify our portfolio and create passive income streams!"

He whipped out a piece of charcoal and began sketching on the back of a wanted poster. "Okay, hear me out. Plan A: 'Aqua's Holy Water.' We bottle her party trick water in fancy vials. We market it as a divine health supplement. 'Cures what ails you! May cause mild sanctimony!' It's a multi-level marketing scheme! Aqua's at the top of the pyramid, you guys are my downline…"

"I will not have my divine essence commercialized!" Aqua huffed.

"Okay, fine. Plan B: The 'Carnival of Calamity'!" He gestured dramatically. "Megumin, the One-Shot Wonder! See her cast the world's most impressive spell, once! Darkness, the Unbreakable Woman! Throw rocks at her for a small fee! See her enjoy it in a way that makes you uncomfortable! It's entertainment!"

"My art is not a sideshow!" Megumin protested.

"I do like the sound of the rock-throwing part…" Darkness murmured.

"Plan C, and this is the big one," Deadpool said, his voice dropping to a reverent hush. "We crowdfund the sock museum. We sell shares. People can sponsor a sock. For a hundred Eris, you get your name on a little plaque next to Hubert the Hob-Sock. It's not just a museum; it's a cultural institution! The return on investment will be purely spiritual, but think of the prestige!"

Kazuma felt a blood vessel in his forehead begin to pulse violently. "We are not starting a cult based around your foot-laundry fetish! We are taking normal quests!"

He began ripping parchments from the board. "'Kill ten giant bats in the south cave.' 'Collect five bundles of moonpetal herbs.' 'Escort a merchant's cart to the next town.'" He held up the pathetic collection of jobs. "This is our life now."

As he spoke, his eyes caught on a strange, new notice tacked to the very edge of the board, almost hidden behind a recruitment poster for the city watch. It was written on high-quality parchment in elegant, feminine script. It was different from the usual monster-slaying fare.

Quest: Investigator Required for Arcane Phenomenon Details: A formal inquiry into the nature of the "Keel's Weeping Woods," a forest south of Axel where all sound mysteriously vanishes upon entry. Seeking a party with experience in dealing with irregular and high-weirdness events. Discretion is paramount. Reward: To be negotiated upon successful completion. Generous compensation assured for a satisfactory conclusion. Inquire with Wiz at her magic shop.

Kazuma paused. It wasn't a subjugation quest. It was an investigation. The reward was ambiguous, which was usually a red flag. But the wording… "experience in dealing with irregular and high-weirdness events"… that was them. That was their entire resume.

"What's that one?" Deadpool asked, peering over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the parchment. A slow grin spread across his face. "A forest where sound vanishes? A silent forest? Oh, the comedic possibilities are endless! Think of all the pantomime! The arguments no one can hear! It's a conceptual goldmine!"

"The reward is 'to be negotiated'," Kazuma said warily. "That's risky. It could be anything. It could be nothing."

"Or," Deadpool countered, a speculative glint in his eye, "it could be a lot. 'Generous compensation assured.' That's code for 'I'm a rich person with a weird problem and I'll throw money at it until it goes away.' This is our ticket out of the grind, kid. This is the side quest that gives you the legendary item that lets you skip the main story."

He looked at the pathetic collection of herb-gathering and bat-killing quests in Kazuma's other hand. Then he looked back at the weird, intriguing notice.

Kazuma sighed, the sound of a man making yet another terrible life choice. He knew, deep down, that taking the safe path with this party was impossible. Their very nature was to be drawn to the strange, the chaotic, the quests no one else was stupid enough to touch. Trying to make them grind low-level quests was like trying to teach a shark to knit.

He dropped the handful of pathetic jobs to the floor.

"Fine," he said, a note of grim resolve in his voice. "Let's go see a lich about a silent forest."