Chapter 11
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Floor 2 - Lv.25 Excavation Site Sentry (3)
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There's an old joke that the firepower of the latest-model tank is equivalent to three high school girls.
In this case, though, you'd hear complaints that it was underrating high school girls.
The spot she'd taken down with two arrows was a small outpost on the outskirts.
The Girl slipped inside without a sound.
Just as someone might marvel, there wasn't the slightest footstep.
Yet she moved at a speed close to a full sprint, making it impossible for anyone to spot her.
The sentries lacked motivation, but the outpost showed signs of considerable effort.
The troops were divided by role. Besides axe-wielding melee warriors, there were orcs with javelins slung at their waists.
At a glance, they were clearly stronger warriors than the ones from before.
The Girl paid it no mind.
An orc was staring tiredly at the sky.
His beloved axe lay carelessly at his side. Even so, it was positioned where he could snatch it up like lightning if anything happened.
A whoosh cut through the air.
Blood flowed.
Not spurting, but pouring quietly, as if someone were ladling it from a bowl.
The Labyrinth's stealth attack mechanics suited the Girl perfectly.
She'd sliced open plenty of living creatures before.
Cleaving bone and hide cleanly with a blade isn't as easy as it sounds.
But simply striking before the enemy noticed granted some mysterious cutting power boost. How convenient.
The orc's thick neck muscles split like paper.
If they had armor, maybe it'd be different, but these folk prided themselves on baring their savage nature.
No time to grab his weapon.
He instinctively tried to scream, but his slit windpipe couldn't carry air to his vocal cords.
She'd sensed four outside.
But there were probably one or two more inside.
The metallic stench of blood wasn't from the blood itself.
It came from blood flowing, reacting chemically with the skin—something the Girl couldn't recall—creating that iron tang.
There was a brief window before the orcs' noses picked up the scent.
The Labyrinth had turned me into a master of nearly every weapon.
Weapons I hadn't tried could be counted on one hand, and no class had ever failed to reach its peak under my watch.
That's why, at fresh starts, I usually just picked whatever weapon I grabbed first to decide my class.
Right now, shotgun and Fairy's bow.
Straight to Ranger class, no deliberation needed.
But we already had a pure Ranger in the party with the Hunter, and there was no need to stubbornly stick to inflexible growth without versatility.
Assassin shared main stat Agility with Ranger—a perfect combo.
Dual-classing was simple.
The Hunter, being pure Ranger, had to dump close-range weapons on the ground at every level-up to avoid "holding" them.
I just stocked up on daggers and specced in.
Skills were random, but possessing certain gear let you steer it somewhat.
Ignoring the junk passive skills that poured out early like clouds, the Hunter gained Sharp Shooting.
No scope on the crossbow, but the Hunter aiming looked like a sniper peering through a telephoto lens.
It suited his lean, weathered middle-aged frame perfectly.
Less like a hunter, more like some back-alley hitman.
A loud crack, and the bolt fired. Sharp Shooting was a tricky skill to face.
Damage amplified massively if the enemy hadn't spotted the shooter. It also had aiming corrections.
No matter the distance, a stationary target unaware of the sniper almost never missed.
A true Ranger was ultimately a guerrilla.
Preemptive strikes from outside perception.
No different from an Assassin.
The bolt infused with the Hunter's skill pierced one orc's head clean through—and kept going.
Pre-angled, it tore into another orc's chest behind.
At the same time, I blinked atop the outpost.
A dagger flying with the Hunter's shot.
A minor flaw of Blink Dagger: you always arrived gripping the hilt.
Against a master, your hand shatters the instant you blink.
Of course, no such expert on Floor 2.
Orcs leaped up in panic as I hurled the dagger.
One blocked the incoming blade with his forearm.
An arrow flew from the already-drawn Fairy's bow.
Near-point-blank, it punched another's torso, stopping him from grabbing his weapon.
Two arrows in her left hand.
Next one nocked instantly, this time full aim.
It sank into the third orc's eye as he swung his axe.
Even tough orcs die instantly with an arrowhead in the brain.
Then backroll.
The orc with the dagger in his arm swung his club wide.
Air burst where I'd been a split-second before.
An elite even among orc warriors. Head-on, I'd die no matter what.
No martial arts trick would save me. Tripping those log-like legs? I'd just hurt myself.
A few more knives embedded in the orc's arm and body.
Ones I'd flung mid-roll.
Behind the club orc, the one shot in the gut screamed.
Another knife flew, smashing the fingers reaching for an axe haft.
Thick muscles couldn't protect precisely joint-targeted strikes.
I'd bought a split-second. I spun and bolted.
Most orcs knew sentry duty and had the will for it.
But some human shows up, smashes a comrade, stabs another, then runs?
No alarms ringing in their heads.
Just one human anyway.
Kill it and done.
Exactly three minutes—the Blink Dagger cooldown—I ran, then blinked.
Arriving dagger-in-hand was an advantage here.
Crouched low to the side, the orc didn't spot me right away.
I slashed down with the dagger in his arm, severing it, then gutted him.
Kicked the dazed warrior clutching his belly, hopped aside— a fierce axe whistled past, but heavy swings blind the attacker too.
The missed blow shattered the outpost's wooden wall.
An arrow flashed through the flying splinters.
And then, silence.
Exactly four down, and chaos erupted in the outpost.
As the Girl predicted, more sentries resting inside.
And unexpectedly, an orc wielding a long spear—a polearm unfit for their kind.
She'd drilled counters endlessly, but best was never clashing head-on.
Even if capable, charging with a dagger was foolhardy.
Family teachings said so.
So the Girl chose not to fight fair.
She sheathed her dagger meekly.
The orc's eyes burned with battle-lust, but flickered with puzzlement.
Just before that bewilderment turned to charge, her hand moved.
Knife throwing was a clan focus.
She was proficient, but the mysterious hero from the Labyrinth outdid her.
More than big brother—even father or grandfather, maybe.
Why they called her a genius: mimicking others' moves flawlessly.
After watching his eerie knife throws, she'd learned faster, stealthier ones.
Odd.
Even simple knife-flinging had room to improve.
The Labyrinth was truly bizarre.
Her knife flew.
The orc noticed too late—already at his face.
The spearman deflected it with the shaft.
Then realized,
the small female human had vanished from sight.
But the spearman never reacquired his target.
A crack, and his neck twisted.
"Whoa, it actually works."
I'd dashed at near-knife speed, snatching the defender's neck.
Saw it in a comic once—turns out it's real.
Level 12. Swiftness 3-stack.
Acquired active: momentary sprint, Dash.
Compared to a week ago, I felt unchanged. But here's the vast speed gap.
The Labyrinth was truly, truly bizarre.
Drew my dagger, smiling.
Presence detected.
Last sentry had witnessed it.
"Alright, you're the final one. Come at me."
The orc couldn't respond.
The proud warrior dropped his axe.
And fled screaming.
"Huh."
Taking the life of a foe showing his back was the easiest yet.
All sentries down, and it was smooth sailing.
Workers inside the ruins never radioed back to base before we cleared them.
One shaman too— so off-guard, napping sprawled on a sunlit rock. Sent him off easy.
"What's shamanism like?"
The Girl whispered to me, away from the Hunter.
"Hm, like magic, but kinda different."
"Explain so I get it."
"If magic's ladling water from a mana river, shamanism's digging a tributary nearby."
"Wow, I don't get a word."
"Just go 'oh, okay.' You'll learn if you study magic later. Can't grasp it without trying."
The Girl beamed.
"Fair, you've gotta see magic first. But by that logic, shamanism sounds stronger."
"More limited than magic, but raw damage hits harder."
"Suddenly don't wanna see it anymore."
"Same here."
Meanwhile, the Hunter checked the ruins' entrance the orcs were excavating and returned.
"Buried long time, looks like. Orcs nearly found it. Already big enough for people, but they were digging cleaner."
"Hm, a ruin in the Fairies' forest, treated that carefully by Greenskins..."
Greenskins infamous for brute force, but superstitious too.
Well, here those superstitions had substance as shamanism.
Anyway, something vital to orcs—maybe all Greenskins—inside.
Shamanic significance suspected.
"And that stuff's usually killer loot."
Greenskin faction rep would tank irreversibly, but who cares? Could even use as bait sometimes.
Good is good.
"Alright, let's head in. Stats first, though."
Elite orcs gave fat EXP.