Chapter 148
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 148
Chapter Title: Floor 14 - Lv. 2200 Dark Spirit King (5)
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The process of warping bestowed a bizarre sensation upon the mages.
Research in this world had already uncovered part of the truth about the Labyrinth.
Most mages knew this fact, as well as the notion that the fleeting waypoint during warp—what Exiles called the [Abyss]—was no secret.
That place was hell, the demon-infested demon realm, the underworld reached after death.
It was the true form of that space handed down under various names.
From the moment warp was first developed, its dangers had been consistently raised.
Even if the Goddess bestowed her blessing and declared it her domain, passing through the Abyss could never be called safe.
Countless engineers were skeptical of warp.
But the existence of the Empire and its allies left no choice but to commercialize it swiftly.
Even now, warp accidents occurred everywhere.
Still, with the Chaos One—who kept an enemy in the Abyss—watching over them, the Federation's warps were indeed more stable.
Some early Federation researchers in the warp era had fallen into the Abyss's shallows, only to be guided out by the Goddess, or so the stories went. There were countless legendary tales tied to warp, but for every one who returned, an equal number never did.
Mages could sense all those causes and processes.
Even a necromancer, handling darkness, was still a mage, so they felt that dissonance.
The sensation of shifting to a dimension unlike reality and returning.
And the intense magical feedback that could cause interference, distortion, and nausea.
But a lich wouldn't suffer from warp sickness.
Arcana knew the ship she was aboard was in danger.
Warp was delicate. The slightest deviation bred massive errors.
This time, the target point was awful.
A portion of the universe, warped to the point of being called another realm, was closer to the Abyss's environment.
Its dense darkness made pinpointing coordinates excruciatingly difficult, and a wildly flung coordinate might point somewhere outside real space.
The goblin lich could vividly feel that coordinate distorting.
Darkness was spreading.
The crew tensed at the lich's sudden movement.
Truth be told, they'd been tense from the start. This was just tension on another level, not showing on their faces.
Arcana ignored them.
She meticulously corrected the error.
Or rather, it wasn't correction worthy of the name.
Even her master might question whether such precise mana interference mid-warp was possible.
What Arcana did was closer to brute-forcing the direction with raw power.
Vast mana battered the ship, wrenching it back on course.
The yawning black maw of unknown space clamped shut.
This repeated several times, the hull shuddering nonstop.
It was warp so violent even seasoned veteran crew complained of nausea.
And since they weren't crossing the distance in one go, they repeated dozens of chained warps.
Even without Arcana's interference, the crew was at their limit.
But thanks to that brutal guidance, the ship reached the target intact.
By Arcana's count, after a total of seven crises.
Finally past the endless warp tunnel, free from the Abyss monsters' threats, the crew sighed in relief.
Relief was short-lived.
The moment they arrived, a massive explosion erupted.
The unprepared ship rocked violently in the blast wave, sustaining some damage before barely activating its shields.
As everyone wondered what had happened, Arcana spoke calmly.
[Open the hatch. I'm going to see my master.]
Her will was carried out immediately.
The undead goblin emerged into space and summoned her loyal servant.
Darkness littered the surroundings.
It coalesced, forming a gate.
From the round, black well of darkness protruded bony wings.
The future maknae had been firmly warned.
On Floor 14, pick a small ship.
Submarine-sized if possible.
Because something huge was about to blow.
While everyone else lacked magical insight or was distracted by the miracle before them, the diligent maknae knew her duty.
High-speed evasion maneuver—more precisely, full throttle. She'd already eyed the sturdiest, largest battleship wreck nearby.
This one was in preservable condition too, as long as the undead inside were cleared out.
So it was that tough.
Dark concentric rings expanded destructively.
The old man screamed.
"Wait! Let me see that thing more! Where's it heading?!"
The Hunter glanced at him and smacked the back of his head.
The orc's sturdy neck muscles, even in old age, prevented concussion.
The old man didn't even seem to notice the hit.
The Hunter looked at the Girl, and one more muscled form passed out.
"Aigoo, if the old man had thrown up a barrier, it would've been even better."
Far away as it was, the dark rings hadn't reached the party's ship yet.
Space was vast, and the pseudo-spirit realm where the Dark Spirit King resided was vaster still.
"Can we survive this?"
The Girl spoke, now gradually accepting the Labyrinth less as reality and more as a game.
Her calm stemmed from that mindset.
The Hunter shook his head. No way to know.
The future maknae answered.
"It could get dicey. That's why we need one mage awake for it."
All eyes turned to the little wizard.
"I-I'm completely out of mana right now..."
The future maknae pulled something from her bosom.
A healing potion vial, but different. Bluish, vivid glow. Not just mana and divinity—it swirled with pure, dense mana. The primordial sort, not even transmuted into elements.
"But I brought this anyway."
"Ah, this is..."
The little wizard recognized it. A past run had sparked a fight over it, leading to her death in the chaos.
Blood from certain rare creatures restored mana alongside doping.
For parties with mages, it was crucial recovery.
"Mana potion, huh."
A precious item. Nonexistent on the continent, solely a Labyrinth gift.
With mana recovery everywhere, no class could outshine mages.
Her hand trembled as she grasped it, knowing its worth.
Impatient, the Girl snatched it.
"Ack!"
A hand chop popped the cork into the little wizard's mouth.
"Mmmp."
In that instant, the little wizard realized it wasn't just mana restoration.
Something far grander, immense.
Power surged through her body.
Not just magical stats exploding.
She had to check her stats on the Mind Map—couldn't resist.
Oh my god!
All stats were four digits.
The doping boost dwarfed her existing ones.
Is this dragon...?
Her skyrocketing Intelligence granted terrifying cognition, leading to the obvious conclusion.
The Temple of Time was post-Floor 15.
Right next floor.
But if dragon blood doping existed...
Next boss...
Meanwhile, the future maknae fidgeted, watching her. The Girl, who'd shoved the potion down, eyed the maknae warily, sensing something off.
The little wizard knew her duty and acted.
Mana on a level she'd never handled since becoming an Exile surged.
Not just her restored mana—dark elements swirling nearby bent to her will, like moving limbs.
When the blast wave hit, the tiny sub wrapped in battleship-grade magic barriers held firm.
Blocking the massive dark ring tearing through space was no trouble.
With one core left, focus its power forward.
The blast cleared the ship graveyard.
Countless hulls shattered, scattering.
The Dark Spirit King lurked at his domain's heart, his majestic power from the center shoving everything outward.
Regrettably, no thrilling EXP gain.
Its colossal form heaved in death throes, but the Dark Spirit King lived.
No one thought it'd die.
No spirit perishes instantly from its own element.
This half-baked incarnation of darkness wouldn't either.
But this bought considerable time.
The space monster, looking insane, now bared its full body.
No veil of thick black matter concealed it.
Perfect groggy state.
With obstacles cleared, prime bombardment window.
The God of Nature had foreseen what I couldn't and fulfilled his role.
"I salute what just transpired. Chaos's fleet is arriving."
It was true.
Fleets poured in steadily.
Mismatched affiliations, markings, ship types—but clearly fragments of a grand fleet.
One stood out oddly.
Extravagantly ornate, like the Barbaroia-transport for our party.
Its hatch opened, something emerging.
A skeletal dragon rose.
I knew it.
Even in this era, mages like Sharkma existed somewhere.
The Federation had taught necromancy expecting as much.
Its early days were likely a necromancer state reliant on it.
Plus, by my future standards, I'd taught those goblin twins more each meeting.
That fortress where revolution sparked—back when no one foresaw the Goblitarian Federation snowballing—it was just basic defense then.
Now it'd rolled this far. Having endured the Labyrinth long in game and reality, even I felt moved.
If that friend still lived, she'd be a lich.
Especially as a necromancer.
As the bone dragon approached, pride swelled—then I spotted the goblin skull atop its head.
Captured a dragon? High-level for sure.
Easily over 1000.
The goblin's tiny skull, but its mana blazed like a black sun. The lich dismounted.
A twitch from my back.
Glancing, the kid's eyes were wide.
When'd she wake? Sensitive to mana, probably felt the dragon and master's power.
[It's been ages, Master. Your orders...]
[Ages, and straight to business?]
[I've seen you plenty in the past. Just fulfilling my duty till this body's end.]
Watching those blazing black flames, I wondered how those tiny goblin sisters grew like this.
[Sister or little sis?]
[Sister died.]
[Didn't become a lich, huh.]
[Heh heh heh.]
Some backstory there. But eyeing the still-groggy dark monster:
[Pondered how to use the last core, and here's the solution.]
Plans abounded.
If a flagship appeared, ram it and blast with my jury-rigged turret's superior power for total annihilation.
Physical entities were ideal. That ship'd be scrapped, though.
Or hope for a powerful necromancer.
I'd set things up, so support fleets would have them—darkness experts, numerous enough for core synergy even if not elite.
But with a disciple here, entrust it to her—teacher's way.
The bone dragon gulped the core.
[Dragon's Breath], huh.
[Always gets the heart racing.]
[But can that thing tank it?]
Bone dragons were valuable.
Considering dragon-capture difficulty, irreplaceable subordinate maybe.
[Daughter of the Dragon King. She's got that much.]
What a masterpiece.
What the hell happened?
EXP tallied by contribution anyway.
First hit and finisher both mine, obviously.
Tired now—let reinforcements mop up.
The goblin lich's opulent ship approached.
Boarding, all knelt praising the miracle. Getting old.
Set the kid down inside the ship—sudden vertigo hit.
"No wonder, after that mage-legend feat. Strain's expected."
'Not my first time.'
"Must've caused a uproar that run too."
'Used it on [Moon Lord] in [Main Dungeon].'
"That takes firepower. Success?"
'Caught it plenty. Smaller ones are the issue.'
"Who'd casually name the [Moon Lord] after witnessing it?"
The God of Nature thought.
The Labyrinth might actually be cleared.
A thought never crossed his mind since godhood.
And...
What of the Labyrinth's prisoners upon liberation?
A long-forgotten musing.
Not bad, though.
An Exile igniting fire in a god's heart. How could it not thrill?
Rankers, high-rankers—all dullards.
These kids nowadays. Tsk tsk.
Recalling challenger days made him miss Chaos.
Maybe because he'd glimpsed the incarnation recently.