Chapter 117
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: 12th Floor - Lv. 445 Fairy Mafia (2)
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While playing games, there are times when you can feel the developers' malice.
That malice is usually sensed when you encounter enemies placed in spots you could never have imagined, with strength beyond imagination. But in roguelikes, since the map layout changes every time, you don't really feel it from placements.
So how do you sense it? The opponent blasts out intense precursors. Signals like, "You're in deep shit right now."
For example, they give bizarre habits or traits to dangerous, powerful named monsters.
Sharkma, the great human archmage and [Hero Unit], was just like that.
Sharkma was a near-mutant genius born with an abnormal affinity for mana.
Thanks to that, his mana was so distinctive you could recognize it without even identifying it.
From a magical perspective, it was identifiable like floating pollen even without special gear.
On top of that, Sharkma didn't die of old age like ordinary beings.
As powerful old mages often attempt for immortality.
In this era, he would have become a mighty lich or demilich.
And like many human Hero Units, he had a flaw: he was a mad mage.
A cranky, headache-inducing lich with absurdly overwhelming power.
That's the state of Sharkma you'd typically see if he reached this era without any Exile interference.
It was fortunate that Proboy had made it this far.
"Don't you know anything more about the Fairy Mafia?"
"Like what, exactly?"
"That they have backing, or that they were brutally murdered."
"I think I know about the former, but not the latter."
What he heard next was like an urban legend.
In truth, the Fairy Mafia was holding more Exiles captive, and someone somewhere was pulling the strings.
"Have that many Exiles shown up here?"
"Not really. But they pop up occasionally. Ah, of course, 'occasionally' from my perspective. For humans with normal lifespans, you might not see one in a lifetime. Compared to other places, the frequency is high, though. Maybe..."
"That's probably it."
The Labyrinth provides even unfortunate Exiles with misfortune under certain rules.
Exiles can appear truly anywhere, unless something special is going on.
But if probabilities shift due to some ongoing event, or if you're just cursed with rotten luck and the difficulty spikes to extremes...
They appear in somewhat predictable spots.
For difficulty to be that high, the environment has to be brutal, or there need to be seriously threatening enemies—and such places are limited.
In other words, the more dangerous the place, the more Exiles show up.
In that sense, this planet was plenty dangerous, enough to attract lots of Exiles.
Right beside me, the vampire swordmaster was oohing and aahing as he recalled the info he'd learned, and even he couldn't predict the outcome if he fought properly again.
The dwarves were the same.
But if that's all there was, it felt lukewarm compared to Floor 11.
We'd beaten them easily, after all.
Considering the difficulty with the Girl in the mix, it felt a bit too smooth.
So, the presence of stairs here was now pretty much confirmed.
Stairs are usually in the most bullshit places possible.
"We need to hurry. Once we pinpoint the exact location, head to the next floor as fast as possible."
The Girl reached out, trying to grasp the floating pollen-like mana, then spoke.
"The owner of this mana seems really dangerous."
"Maybe not if he were still human, but a lich is a high undead—basically a higher race. Think of that Saintess becoming an angel."
"Let's run. Fighting seems like a really bad idea."
NPC mages are especially dangerous since they're not implemented via skills.
Even I couldn't predict custom spells.
It was an enemy that could pop in and out unpredictably.
Proboy didn't know about the lich's existence.
"But he's here, right? With mana this flashy, it'd be known."
"This phenomenon has been around forever... I mean, it was already like this when I settled here. I thought the fairies did something since it looked like pollen."
"How many years ago was that?"
"Right after the planet was abandoned. A bit over a hundred years?"
"The Alliance had already pulled out by then?"
"Yes."
Hmm, I should've thought of that. No one knew why the Alliance abandoned it. Honestly, there wasn't much reason to.
The location was awkward, no real advantages, but a little renovation could've made it a decent outpost.
But what if the Alliance was pushed out by something?
And what if the Fairy Mafia were actually someone's private army?
Cranky liches typically had minions. Like a proper villain boss.
Given Sharkma's named traits, that was common.
And the usual reason for building such an organization...
"No Exiles ever left via stairs, but a lot vanished, right?"
"Well, yeah. Figured they just died."
I quickly scanned for traces of rocket facilities piercing the planet.
Almost none. It had been abandoned for ages, managed by robots.
From the remnants, the Fairy Mafia probably didn't even know this facility existed.
The distinctive drifting mana was faint too.
Like it had seeped in bit by bit over long years in a sealed space.
'O Nature, know anything about this?'
"I know even that the lich's whereabouts are mysterious. And that the fairies who betrayed me wouldn't have many places to settle."
Cases of fairies who betrayed Nature and ended up serving the God of War were recorded in history. Most fairies in the Greenskin Empire weren't happy.
But fairies have ridiculously long lifespans. With nowhere to return, they had to find alternatives.
"Expecting them to be friendly would be insane."
This was a running issue. Somewhere, somehow.
I looked at Proboy.
"Let's go to the next floor together for now."
"Pardon?"
"You can come back."
Proboy's thinking was pretty lighthearted. He hadn't imagined he couldn't escape the Fairy Mafia on his own.
But now it was impossible.
He understood after the explanation, but the ancient vampire's face fell.
"How about joining the Federation while you're at it?"
"Is that allowed?"
"The Goddess will permit it."
"...The world runs on money."
"Communism doesn't outright ban private property, you know."
"Anyway, no thanks."
I could practically see the Goddess giggling without even looking.
The fairies had lived on this planet for quite a while. Over a hundred years—even for long-lived fairies, that felt like a human's decade.
They built unusually insular cities even on a closed artificial planet.
The population was surprisingly large. There weren't many places in the universe for displaced fairies to settle.
Even fairies from ancient times who hadn't betrayed the God of Nature flocked here.
Humans, though short-lived, held power—and their jealousy was immense.
Exquisite beauty, eternal youth, innate talents in all sorts.
Objectively, fairies were a perfect race.
If not for their ten-year pregnancies making population growth excruciatingly slow.
Thus, some wandering fairies picked up brutality along the way.
Baseless hatred, unsolvable grudges—they easily stain a blank canvas.
A Grove Fairy on patrol, chewing gum sloppily, spat roughly.
It was phlegm.
One comrade beside him walked casually, smoking a cigarette.
Such acts were forbidden under the Gods of Nature and 'Purity.'
As eras advanced, more fairies deviated like this.
Fairies must be beautiful, pure, and noble.
The 'Purity' suffix especially emphasized that.
And fairies were born that way, without anyone commanding it. But not every individual could be.
From ancient war traitors to modern Alliance deserters.
With eras flooding in stimulating entertainment, it was inevitable.
Even while deviating, their core was diligent.
Patrolling the same spot for ten years, polishing the floor shiny, yet still checking every corner diligently.
Sometimes using magic.
In this era, 'mage' meant one skilled with magic cartridges.
Yet Grove Fairies were true mages.
That diligence uncovered something unusual.
"Was there a door here?"
"Nah, definitely not."
Magic swept the floor. A spell to detect recent traces.
Mana flowed, sensing biological reactions from minutes ago. A large group had passed through.
No intruders here now, so they had to check inside.
The interior was an unfamiliar facility.
One Grove Fairy frowned and concluded.
"Weird stuff, right? Probably Exiles."
Exiles oddly appeared often on this planet, in this fairy city. Their employer had explained it drew Exiles due to its existence.
"Report! Let's report it!"
"What about patrol?"
"Finish the round?"
"Yeah, let's."
The city's residents all had endless lifespans, so they were laid-back.
Neither superiors nor employers obsessed over trifles in their long lives, so the report was delayed a few minutes.
A bony hand moved. The ancient lich dipped a finger into the Exile's healing potion.
A sizzling sound rang out as the bone began to corrode.
But there was almost no pain.
No real damage either.
This didn't mean full immunity to holy attributes. But it signaled one major weakness overcome.
"Pain is a sensation undead shouldn't have, yet this liquid—not even holy water—does it."
He knew some law governed it. And that the law was profoundly inscrutable.
But the lich wanted to claim that law for himself.
Ever since learning the Labyrinth wasn't some cranky entity with a personality.
"More Exiles would be nice. Ideally strong, ancient ones."
He'd love to capture a god. Gods were the oldest Exiles, having endured more than any.
But he hadn't found so much as a [Kingdom] entrance.
Just inferred one existed somewhere in the universe.
"Tch, that last party died of old age. Not good."
Sample shortage was a big issue. He was intrigued by the [skills] in their bodies too.
"Need more from that Kingdom."
For some reason, incoming Exiles were all weaklings. As if dropped here by Labyrinth whim despite lacking the chops.
Not good.
Research subjects were better the stronger. The more Labyrinth laws infused in them.
"If not gods, then those."
There was a legendary Exile party in this universe.
Heavily involved in founding the Federation, always saving it from crises.
Their leader was the Chaos Goddess's champion and high priestess.
No creature here wouldn't know.
The Federation blabbed about it endlessly.
As the lich shook his head and stretched, a puppy-eared leaf fairy knocked.
"Come in."
The fairy spirit user, with an eagle-shaped spirit on her arm, reported intruders.
A fairly large group of presumed Exiles.
"No reports of stairs found?"
Anything but stairs was irrelevant; stairs reports went straight to him. That's what patrols were for.
The lich tilted his head. Then a hunch hit.
He hadn't used the bedroom in ages. Undead don't sleep, naturally.
So he went, opened the door—and there sat the stairs, plain as day.
"Hoo."
The skull clacked its teeth eerily. It was laughing.