Floor 23, The Road of Ascent (1)

The reason I was putting off dealing with the slave traders was simple.

I had to escort some unknown target to a destination within a time limit of thirty-six hours.

It was likely the case, but if my earlier guess was true, then one of the slaves was the one I was supposed to escort.

Which meant that whether the slave traders lived or died, an enemy attack was coming.

There were roughly thirty slaves.

But I had no way of knowing the enemies' numbers, their scale, or how strong they were.

Striking down the slave traders now would mean dragging people with no combat ability through a battle in the middle of a burning desert.

Marching into an ambush from unknown enemies without knowing which of the thirty-odd slaves was my escort target — that was a risk I couldn't afford to take.

The escort target might get hurt.

So either way, I had to move with this caravan until we drew near the destination.

Of course, since this was a hidden mission, the destination might change if I freed the slaves...

But that was a question I'd have to settle after seeing who was doing the attacking.

Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will never be defeated in a hundred battles.

If the situation left me no choice, so be it — but wherever possible, it was better to move with a grasp of the floor's level and information.

Floor 23 — like a personal floor, the trial had been changed for me alone.

Taking a reckless gamble while working from less than one hundred percent certainty was bad play.

I can hold out for a while.

This was for the sake of the people held as slaves.

That said, walking across the desert, my feet sank deep with every step, making it far more of a slog than I'd expected.

The soles of my feet burned too — it was like walking across heated floorboards in winter.

Is this only bearable because I have fire resistance?

Without it, I'd have felt like I was walking on a hot griddle.

But honestly, the most miserable thing was the sand collecting inside my shoes.

Two hours had passed since the fine sand kicked up by the person ahead of me began slipping in little by little with every step.

By now, a good handful of it was rolling around inside each shoe.

I frowned down at my feet a couple of times, and Comet, walking beside me, struck up a conversation out of nowhere.

"Givin' you a rough time, are they?"

"A little. The armor's fine, but it keeps slipping and letting in sand. And a lot of it gets into my shoes."

"Fair enough. Those shoes of yours don't look made for the desert, I'll say that. Even a top-grade ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mercenary can't ignore a blisterin' foot. Hold on a moment."

With that, Comet rummaged through his backpack and pulled out something shaped like a thick sock.

"What's that?"

"A spare pair of desert shoes. Well, we've got another day's walk to the destination, so I'll lend you mine."

So they were shoes, not socks...

Comet tossed them over without ceremony.

The moment I took them, I could tell they weren't leather. Cotton, or something like animal fleece.

Hmm, no matter how I looked at them, they seemed like socks?

At my puzzled expression, Comet added an explanation.

"We call 'em desert shoes. They're made of sheep's wool. Judgin' by the fact you don't know that, I'd guess you're from the north."

"I see. Thank you."

"Heh heh, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠don't just say it — if a dangerous moment comes up sometime, look after me a bit, eh?"

"Will do."

"Ah, that's a relief. One less thing to worry about."

Hearing my answer, Comet grinned broadly.

I stepped briefly out of the column to change into the shoes, and instantly understood why they were called desert shoes.

I had no idea how they were made, but at the very least, I could no longer feel the heat.

Better yet, my feet didn't slip at all when I stepped on the sand.

Well, it was still a desert, so I couldn't stop my feet from sinking entirely — but even that was noticeably less than before.

I thanked Comet again, with genuine feeling this time.

"Thank you."

"Ah, it's what us mercenaries do — look out for each other. Nobody else is gonna care about the likes of us."

Comet waved it off with an easy laugh.

Just then, the dagger hanging from Comet's belt caught my eye.

It hung from a single leather cord, its teeth chipped and missing in places — not rusted, but badly faded.

As payment for a favor like this, giving him a dagger seemed only right...

My inventory was full of weapons I never used anyway.

I'd sold off most of them at the rest stop, but I kept one of each type in reserve, just in case.

I slipped my hand into my waist pouch and drew out a dagger, careful that Comet wouldn't notice.

Receiving desert shoes and then rummaging around at my belt — given the situation, Comet had already caught on and was watching me with curiosity bright in his eyes.

Expectation written all over his face. Now it was my turn to be generous.

"It's nothing much. Think of it as a return favor for the shoes."

"Oh my, somethin' this fine..."

I held out the dagger without fanfare, and Comet snatched it up as if he'd been waiting.

Feigning indifference, he ran his eyes over it quickly. Even if it wasn't a magnificent blade, it was a merchant's-quality dagger.

Perhaps noticing that, Comet bowed his head deeply.

"Thank you."

The careful way he stowed it away suggested he was quite pleased.

For an hour and a half we had walked across a sandy wasteland where even a single blade of grass was impossible to find.

It wasn't boring. Sharing the water I'd stored in my Mimic with Comet, I listened to stories of this world.

Nine kingdoms, each with its own culture.

I kept my guard up, but listening to tales of an unfamiliar world, it almost felt like I was on a trip.

Ever since facing the overseer — a being of truly anomalous strength — something like mental breathing room had opened up in me.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"So the most famous mercenary band in the west is the Blade That Never Returns, you see."

"Connected to the east's Plundering Spring, right?"

"That's right. Now, the lyrics of the Blade That Never Returns go like this — cross the river Rezhen, and then..."

And at that very moment.

Just as Comet began humming, about to sing the first verse of the western mercenary song, the attack began.

The caravan even employed camel-mounted scouts, yet it was powerless to respond.

Because the attackers erupted from beneath the sand itself.

The mounds of sand surrounding the caravan burst upward, surging into the sky like geysers.

A wave of sand. Between the swirling dust, strange shapes writhed.

Before the field of vision had even cleared, the order to charge came down like a thunderbolt.

"Kill them all!"

"Leave the slaves untouched!"

At last, the attackers burst through the dust.

Giant scorpions, with riders astride them, were closing in at terrifying speed.

Even excluding their tails, the scorpions looked to stand about two meters tall — smaller than Nepella, but nothing to dismiss.

But that wasn't the whole problem.

What in the world is that...

A giant worm the size of a small building thrust its head up out of the sand.

A Great Worm.

The name the notification window gave the monster.

The description below noted that its tough hide boasted outstanding magic resistance — so lightning alone was unlikely to take it down.

One proper thrash of its body would kill half the escort guards.

The attackers could wait; that thing had to be dealt with first.

To split its head open with an axe, I'd need to leap ten meters, though...

Damn it, should I have put on the Sky Shoes of Kashatum instead?

But it was too late to change shoes now.

No help for it. I'd just have to jump.

"Aaagh! It's a Great Worm!"

"Hold the line! We're surrounded! Form the defensive square like we drilled!"

"Reserve squad, support the right flank!"

Amid the desperate chaos, the shouts of the caravan's frantic members rang out.

Through it all, I turned Comet's shoulders back around — he was staring blankly at the Great Worm with a dopey look on his face.

"Comet! Snap out of it!"

"Ah — right!"

"Don't push yourself. If it looks like you're going to die, run!"

"Understood!"

"And stay close to Comet, Dobby."

"Kkiik! Got it!"

Dobby answered with gusto, drawing his sword. That was the greatest kindness I could offer Comet.

The moment the words left my mouth, I threw myself at the Great Worm.

It was the perfect timing — the worm had just bowed its head to crush one of the mercenaries beneath it.

Urging on my feet as they slipped in the sand, I ran.

Directly ahead was a single attacker mounted on a scorpion.

It seemed better to use him than to kill him outright.

Matching the scorpion's projected path, I kicked off the ground and leapt.

A step onto the scorpion's body, and up again.

As the attacker's half-moon blade sliced through empty air, the scorpion's upright tail was right at my feet.

The instant I pressed down on the tail with my toes, it bent sharply.

Bowed to its lowest point under my weight, it sprang back up like a coiled spring.

Riding that recoil, I cut across the sky once more.

Its hide boasts outstanding magic resistance, the description said.

Bury the axe in its skull and pour lightning through it, and I'd have myself a grilled worm.

The Great Worm must have sensed my attack, for it gaping its hideous mouth at me.

Tens of thousands of razor-sharp teeth turned my way.

Too late. I was already above the Great Worm's head.

And then a strange sensation washed over me.

Even though I hadn't used Flash Step, the world began to flow in slow motion.

A feeling I'd known before.

The first battle on the lower floors.

It had helped me enormously. And within that slowed world, I had always struck with the perfect attack.

In the dilated time, I locked onto my target.

The Great Worm had no eyes, no nose, no mouth on its faceless bulk — and yet I knew its vital point instinctively.

The worm's enormous mouth chased after me in slow motion. Its long, massive body was coiling, trying to catch me.

Not a chance, you bastard.

And I drove my axe into the Great Worm's head with everything I had.

Kwajik— With the sound of a carapace splitting, its hide crumbled apart.

The axe tore into the red flesh beneath the shell.

Brown fluid welled up through the roughly shredded meat.

And in the same instant, I used the axe as a conduit and poured lightning down into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the wound.

"Gwoooaaaoooh—!"

With a low cry like a cave moaning, the Great Worm convulsed in midair.

The hide of the Great Worm, cooking from the inside out, darkened to a deep brown.

As the reek of burning pus spread through the air, I yanked my axe free and leapt for the ground.

The thing was more disappointing than I'd expected. Or was I simply too strong now?

The moment I landed on the sand, I felt an enormous weight of eyes on me. I glanced around and realized everyone on the battlefield was staring.

Apparently the Great Worm's death cry had drawn every gaze. Then one of the caravan's mercenaries shouted.

"The Great Worm is down! Push them back!"

"Kill them!"

And with that cry, the battle began in earnest once more.

I watched the fighting for a moment, and concluded the attackers were unlikely to be much of a problem for me.

Even though my trial had been changed, this was still a standard floor — so were the enemies simply weaker than on a personal floor?

Well, we're only at the opening.

The attackers might grow stronger later on.

For now, deal with the rest of them first. I readjusted my grip on the axe and charged at a scorpion.

At the same instant, its tail came slashing in. A half-step to the left, twisting my upper body — I slipped past it.

Deflecting a thrusting spear off my axe, I kicked off the ground and leapt.

Rising through the air, I split the giant scorpion's skull with a vertical axe strike.

Then, wrenching the axe free from below and hauling it upward, I carved through the attacker's jaw.

The attacker, jaw shattered, tumbled from the scorpion's back.

I stepped on the scorpion's shell again and swung my axe into another attacker's back.

There was no time to breathe. The enemies still had numbers to spare.