Chapter 123
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: Floor 12 - Lv.1350 Demi-Lich Sharkma (5)
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Having plenty of party members versed in magic was a huge advantage.
The fact that I was a vampire created excellent synergy too.
Vampires could store far more blood than their physical bodies should hold.
And as always, blood was the finest medium for magic.
The little mage, the kid, and the old man scurried about in every direction, etching blood magic circles everywhere.
My blood would be transported in wolf form.
Once the mages moved away, the other party members found themselves in a slight bind.
This planet had no star, so there was no such thing as daytime.
The abandoned wasteland city was forever shrouded in night. Pitch-black darkness, to be exact.
Surprisingly, even vampires—whose night vision was decent—couldn't see worth a damn in such utter blackness.
All they had were their bats, which could navigate via echolocation.
Fortunately, while the city's streets were a maze, the buildings themselves weren't structurally complex.
The kid could creep along cautiously, and the mages lit faint glows for themselves.
Of course, that wasn't the smartest idea either.
If wind spirits were scouting from above, those tiny lights would give away their positions.
But if the search had already begun, mana detection spells should be pinging nonstop—and there was no sign of that yet.
This wasn't exactly good news. More like unsettling.
We were deep in enemy territory, so traps wouldn't be out of place.
And those kinds of defenses were usually tied to alarms.
They'd scouted for magical traces, but found none.
Still, against a Sharkma-level foe, there could be camouflage too sophisticated to detect.
Magic's strength was its versatility—what you could do with it. Its weakness? The enemy could do the same.
The party scattered was at its most vulnerable.
But nothing happened. How badly had Sharkma been hurt by that divine lightning?
Bad enough to need serious recovery, maybe keeping him off the front lines?
That was probably wishful thinking.
The magic-class party members wandered the dark, planting my blood everywhere.
The intervals were tight. They couldn't stretch too far—time wouldn't allow it.
These were just to slow enemy judgment in key moments.
This was a city drowned in darkness by default, and we'd exploit that to the hilt.
In the shadows, numbers didn't always mean superiority.
But when our party regrouped, I realized we were already surrounded.
Sharkma was a cautious mage. If he were just the mad archmage people made him out to be, he'd have been exterminated long ago.
No matter the cost, this era didn't tolerate individuals with overwhelming power.
Especially not ones without allegiances anywhere.
So he pondered for a moment.
The safest approach.
He could always think of one, no matter the situation.
That was the driving force behind his survival into this era, even after heroes faded into history.
Just nuking a city block from here would be the best play.
Skilled as they were, some would survive.
Capturing those remnants would be trivial.
Sharkma knew well how long-matured Exiles grew terrifyingly strong.
Wielding unfathomable power and knowledge to overcome spec disadvantages.
Their experience transcended mere time.
And the fairy mage had identified their leader.
Plus the lesson from that LFV crack.
So even at the last moment, Sharkma hesitated.
A tactical spell here would secure his goals safest of all.
They might not be intact, though.
Truthfully, that was proper mage conduct.
The wise path: never rush into danger, maximize firepower.
But the years he'd accumulated—and his pride—rejected it.
Fear aided survival, but not achievement.
Before him stretched darkness.
The Exiles weren't moving fast. Without abandoning someone, they'd be wandering this sector somewhere.
Fairies patrolled steadily for new Exile traces, but it was still an abandoned zone.
The oddity? Lots of healing springs clustered here.
They'd probably chosen this battlefield with that in mind.
The human skull floating in the air—Demi-Lich form—felt a twinge of unease, despite being more terrifying than anyone.
Exiles from his research were always so inscrutable.
So he'd infiltrate the kingdom himself to see with his own eyes.
I spotted the fairy encirclement through my bats.
As nocturnal creatures, a vampire's blood bats were perfect for this environment.
They'd formed a wall, refusing to press inward.
"More cautious than expected."
"That lich must've taken more damage than we thought."
"Then we stay sharp. He probably didn't embed the LFV in himself this time."
"A solid hit—no, potentially lethal. That's the read."
"Exactly. No complacency. If they pin my location, the rest can break pursuit. Then bolt for the city center."
The Hunter nodded. His mission: take the youngest, the little mage, and the Girl to raid the Exile prison.
"Watch yourself. If they're this cautious, they might have reserves there too."
As I said it, a thought struck me.
The federation's propaganda was hard to take at face value.
So how could Sharkma, blind to our exact situation, act this overly prudent?
Meant an informant. And we'd ID'd one familiar face.
The fairy mage was likely an enemy.
This was bad. A 100-year Exile mage who'd aged another 500.
Could be thornier than Sharkma himself.
And maybe others we knew, beyond her. Fairies lived long, and this server's karma clustered around our party.
Every floor might bring familiar faces.
Not all friendly—that'd be naive.
But I kept it from the party. Told only the Hunter.
Negative intel that changed nothing upfront? Better suppressed.
The fairy net was closing, slow and steady.
Their aim was obvious.
They knew raw numbers might not help here.
Brilliant tactics weren't common.
If I'd thought of it, so had others.
But capability gaps meant knowing didn't save you.
Sharkma, the fairy mage, and the dog-eared spiritist led a contingent forward.
All elites in their own right, fairies Sharkma had prepaid with massive incentives.
Struck by money windfalls, their innate diligence fueled battle fervor.
Capitalism had arrived; money ruled the world.
Fairies realized it too late—now they obsessed more than anyone.
"I wanna orchard!"
"Gonna plant persimmon trees!"
"Quiet. Stay silent."
"They probably know we're coming anyway? Three vampires, right?"
Sharkma sighed, confirming it.
Even optimistically, the abandoned city's total blackout favored vampires.
Mana detection pre-seal would've changed things, but on entry—amid endless pings—he'd sensed it.
In that brief window, they'd set up too much for basic waves to catch.
Darkness blocked skills like [Thousand Ri Eye].
Proper scrying spells? Useless too.
That's when Sharkma realized: this dark wasn't normal.
Facilities ran fine without fairy or his oversight.
He'd considered flipping lights in enemy zones—no light came. Assumed cut wires.
Admired their thoroughness, but it was something else.
Magic.
Fascinating magic—even Sharkma didn't know it. Near forbidden art.
Living darkness. Felt like stepping deeper into a nightmare's maw.
Suddenly, all prior unease vanished.
New magic. Always a delight.
"What the hell is this?"
"Disruption darkness. Main Dungeons sometimes have it layered in."
The blood-etched magic circles flashed, turning darkness into writhing entities.
A dark-affinity spell that manifested shadow not as absent light or elemental concept, but physical substance.
No name. Less a spell, more an environmental hack I'd dissected and replicated.
"Labyrinth residents could never grasp it. Only Exiles peer into that abyss."
Nothing better for stalling.
Lightless environs, shadow-aligned race, ample prep.
Prep shortages covered via the kid—undeath made her a natural magic conduit.
Thus, a narrow-range version emerged.
Mana limits were the issue, though.
It held, but Sharkma's raw power could brute-force it.
A lich prized magic over life—had literally died for it.
No way he'd smash new magic like that.
I wouldn't call this complacency.
Mages were like that. A racial trait, almost.
As predicted, Sharkma flowed right into the dark.
This shadow was my body extended. Scattered droplets monitored every gap.
"Conditions met. Now if the Girl from the future brings enough firepower. Please find us before the lich's patience or curiosity runs dry."
A signal flare launched.
We're here.
The net had shrunk, hugging the darkness's edge.
Fairies summoned fire and light spirits—no dispel.
The eerie dark unnerved them. Unknown shadow magic—even long-lived fairies didn't know it.
Then, trapped Exiles were spotted inside.
The dog-eared spiritist made first contact.
Fierce winds briefly scattered shadow.
Fire spirits danced in sync.
Flame vortices bloomed endlessly in the black.
The vampire swordmaster ignited an aura blade, slashing spirits alongside shadow.
Leapt in tandem. Wolf-form vampires outpaced human shape.
Vision hyper-limited in dark, the spiritist summoned a light spirit forward.
Wolf jaws flashed—rolled desperately.
Sword in jaws gleamed softly.
Defensive light spirit shredded by aura blade, vanished.
Dog-ears drew her sword.
Two high spirits infused it.
Then one, five, ten, uncountable spirits swarmed the dark.
About thirty hers. Seventy from other spiritists.
"Attack!"
Cheerful command unleashed spirit and spell barrage.
Darkness tore for an instant.
Vampire swordmaster defended max, wolfing part of himself to flee rearward.
Left only one sword behind.
Dog-ears twitched her ears.
"Great! Forward to the Spirit King!"
Tipped she couldn't wield it.
No fear in fairy eyes.