My D Rank Skill is Actually SSS-Rank

Chapter 8: The Aftermath of Honesty and a Very Awkward Escape

Alaric froze, the joyous, perfectly pitched cackle of the transparent slime echoing in his ears. Master Elara's operatic confession about his "perverted comments" and "optimizing robes for flexibility" had just shattered his last shred of plausible deniability. This wasn't just embarrassing; this was a public, SSS-tier exposure. His face, which had been pale with shock, now flushed a furious red.

Oh, god. Oh, god, oh, god. She actually said it. Out loud. And she's singing about it! This is worse than that time I accidentally posted my fanfiction to the guild chat! My reputation! My carefully cultivated image of cynical detachment! Ruined!

The crowd, which had been roaring with laughter at Sir Grady's squirrel phobia and Guild Master Bartholomew's badger pelt, now turned its collective attention to Master Elara's impromptu aria. A few adventurers, still under the elixir's influence, began to sing along, their own voices surprisingly melodious as they harmonized with her.

"Oh, the robes, they bind my soul! But freedom calls, to make me whole!" a burly warrior with an axe suddenly belted out, tears streaming down his face. "My armor chafes, my helmet's tight! Oh, Alaric, make my future bright!"

Alaric wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Or, failing that, to refine the entire Grand Festival into a pile of harmless, self-composting confetti. He shot a desperate look at the transparent slime. "You! You knew! You absolute menace! I'm going to refine you into a perfectly clear, perfectly silent paperweight!"

The slime merely jiggled, its perfectly pitched cackle somehow growing louder, more triumphant. It's enjoying this. It's actively mocking me. I created a sentient, SSS-tier troll.

"Alaric, my boy!" Guild Master Bartholomew, still wiping tears from his eyes (possibly from the elixir, possibly from laughter at his own confession), boomed from the stage. "Your elixir! It truly brings out the essence of heroism! And... honesty! A truly magnificent creation!" He then cleared his throat and launched into another verse about his secret love for cross-stitching.

Sir Grady, meanwhile, had recovered from his squirrel ballad and was now staring at Master Elara with a look of utter confusion. "Master Elara? You... you find his comments intriguing? But he's just... a boy! And he talks about... flexibility!"

"It's for optimal mana flow, you oaf!" Master Elara shrieked, mid-aria, her face still flushed. "And sometimes a mage needs a little... comfort! You wouldn't understand, you just swing your sword!"

The chaos escalated. More people took sips of the elixir, more secrets spilled, more impromptu musical numbers broke out. A noblewoman confessed her secret crush on a stable boy. A grizzled adventurer admitted he'd never actually fought a dragon, only very large lizards. The festival had become a giant, public therapy session, set to a bizarre, multi-genre soundtrack.

Alaric, seeing his reputation (and potential future pervy exploits) rapidly circling the drain, knew he had to make a tactical retreat. This was a critical failure. His social stealth was at zero. He needed to re-evaluate his build.

He subtly began to back away, blending into the bewildered crowd. The transparent slime, however, seemed to have other ideas. It jiggled, then slowly, deliberately, began to bounce towards Master Elara, as if trying to get closer to the source of the opera.

"No, you idiot! Get back here!" Alaric hissed, trying to mentally command it. The slime ignored him, continuing its slow, deliberate bounce towards the stage. It's trying to get me caught! It's a double agent!

Master Elara, still mid-aria, suddenly noticed the perfectly clear, jiggling blob approaching her. Her eyes widened. "The transparent slime! You... you're here too! Did Alaric... refine you to be his little spy?!"

The slime jiggled. It then emitted a series of rapid, perfectly pitched hums that sounded suspiciously like a series of giggles.

Alaric groaned. He was doomed. He turned and bolted, pushing through the bewildered festival-goers. He could hear Master Elara's voice, now infused with a new, terrifying determination, rising above the cacophony. "Alaric! You will not escape! I demand answers! And perhaps... a demonstration of your 'flexibility optimization'!"

Oh, god. She's coming for me. And she's still singing.

He burst out of the Grand Hall, sprinting through the streets of Silverhaven. He needed a hiding spot. Somewhere dark. Somewhere without any D-Rank materials he could accidentally refine into SSS-tier liabilities. He needed to rethink his entire strategy. This world wasn't just about optimizing items; it was about optimizing survival from his own broken skills.

He ducked into a narrow alleyway, tripping over a discarded bucket. D-Rank. Resist the urge, Alex. Resist the urge. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. The sounds of the singing festival were still audible, but thankfully, Master Elara's operatic pursuit seemed to have been momentarily delayed.

He leaned against a grimy brick wall, panting. This is not how I envisioned my Isekai life. I should be fighting demon lords, not running from a singing mage who wants to optimize her robes. He pulled out his Adamantine needle, twirling it idly. What now? I'm exposed. My pervy thoughts are probably public knowledge. I'm a D-Rank pariah with SSS-tier problems.

Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness of the alley. A figure emerged, cloaked and hooded, their face obscured. They moved with a silent, almost ethereal grace. This wasn't an Adventurer's Guild member. This felt... different. Dangerous.

System Notification: Entity Detected: [Shadow Broker - ??? Rank]. Skills: Obfuscation (A), Silent Movement (B), Unknown Intent (???).

Alaric tensed, his hand instinctively tightening around the Adamantine needle. A 'Shadow Broker'? What kind of NPC is this? And '??? Rank'? This is either a boss fight or a quest giver for a very shady side quest. Please be a quest giver. I am not ready for a boss fight.

The figure stopped a few feet away, their hidden gaze seemingly piercing Alaric's very soul. A low, gravelly voice, barely a whisper, emanated from beneath the hood.

"We have been... observing your work, young Alaric. Your 'refinements' have not gone unnoticed. The Guild may call it 'optimization'. Sir Grady may call it 'miracles'. But we... we see true potential. Potential to disrupt. To change. To... exploit."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. Exploit? Now that's a word I understand. "Who are you?" he asked, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The figure tilted their head. "Let us just say... we are interested in your unique 'D-Rank' talent. The world of Aethelgard is... stagnant. Too many high-rank skills, too little true innovation. But you... you understand the hidden meta. The power in the overlooked. The value in the 'useless'."

Alaric felt a flicker of intrigue. "What do you want?"

"We require... certain items. Items that are deemed 'worthless' by the common eye. Items that only your 'Basic Material Refinement' can truly unlock. In exchange, we can offer you... resources. Protection. And perhaps, a path to true, unconventional power, far beyond the petty squabbles of Guilds and festivals." The figure extended a gloved hand. In its palm rested a small, tarnished, utterly unremarkable copper coin.

System Notification: Quest Offered: [The Shadow Broker's Deal - S-Rank]. Objective: Refine 3 'Worthless' Artifacts for the Shadow Broker. Reward: Access to Hidden Market, Advanced Material Schematics, ???.

Alaric stared at the coin, then at the cloaked figure. An S-Rank quest? From a '??? Rank' NPC? This is it. The real game starts now. No more polishing counters or making dolls. This is the big leagues. And it comes with 'Hidden Market' access. Sweet loot!

He glanced back towards the distant, chaotic sounds of the festival, the faint, operatic wails of Master Elara still echoing. Yeah, definitely time for a new game plan.

He reached out and took the tarnished copper coin. It felt surprisingly heavy in his hand. "Deal," Alaric said, a slow, predatory grin returning to his face. "But just so we're clear, my 'optimization' methods might be... unconventional. And occasionally involve accidental public humiliation. Just a heads up."

The Shadow Broker's head tilted slightly, as if amused. "We expect nothing less, young Alaric. Chaos is often the catalyst for change. Welcome to the shadows. Try not to refine yourself into a problem."

As the Shadow Broker melted back into the darkness of the alley, Alaric was left alone, the tarnished copper coin now gleaming with a faint, almost imperceptible golden light in his palm. He looked at it. D-Rank copper coin. What could this possibly become? A perfectly balanced throwing star? A miniature, self-replicating gold coin? Or perhaps... a 'Coin of Infinite Perverted Wishes'? Now that would be an SSS-tier exploit.

He chuckled, a low, cynical sound. His journey had just taken a very interesting, very dangerous, and very Alaric-esque turn.