Chapter 151
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: 15th Floor - Lv. 3000 Blue Dragon Arka (2)
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Our party's drop point being so close to the Federation fleet wasn't exactly good news.
Considering the Labyrinth's difficulty framework—which seemed arbitrary but maintained a minimum level of consistency—it meant massive hardships lay in wait.
But on the flip side, it also built trust that the Labyrinth's difficulty wouldn't spike out of nowhere in some absurd way.
I'd already gathered intel from the previous floor to prepare for this one, and I had the authority to get the NPCs ready in advance using that info.
Doing so wouldn't suddenly crank up the difficulty.
So, surprisingly, this could end on a peaceful note.
Not a bad thing at all.
Strictly speaking, the Alliance's betrayal wasn't much of a betrayal.
The Federation had unilaterally cut off diplomacy and launched a holy war.
In fact, the Alliance had struck first.
No one had signed any document pledging a temporary alliance.
They shared a mutual hatred for the Empire, and since war with the Empire was already underway—with no turning back—it had naturally formed into a united front.
"No, why'd you handle it like that!"
"We couldn't drag some alliance into a holy war!"
"It's a crusade!"
Right. The secretary was also acting as high priest.
Before being a cool-headed national leader, he was a fanatic, just like the rest.
My mistake might've been assuming each nation would handle their own details.
'Not a mistake. These guys are just too weird.'
'Thanks for saying that.'
The God of Nature chuckled heartily as he said it.
"Still, they have your followers over there too!"
'Don't the fairies know they're victims too?'
"Is the admiral alive?"
'The first planet fell right after, so he made it back safely.'
It was unavoidable.
The Alliance had even less divine influence than the Empire.
Multiple faiths coexisted there relatively peacefully, and they were pragmatic about weighing costs and benefits from the start.
Humans as a race weren't exactly devout.
They weren't as pure as fairies, as steadfast as dwarves, or as brainless as Greenskins.
In that context, the God of Order could wield strong influence only thanks to money, it seemed.
What could you do if their church owned a dominant megacorporation?
And now that massive corporation was starting to snort in fury over a war that was costing them dearly.
The problem was, it was entirely the Federation's fault.
And mine.
"You diverted a fleet handling an entire sector for warp, and that was all you managed?"
"For the Great Warrior! We needed powerful forces to stand against the King of Dark Spirits! Our Federation fleet..."
"I get it, calm down. So I called, you yanked a single fleet from the front lines on short notice, and now the Alliance is pissed."
"Those capitalists could never understand this sacred duty...!"
"Shut your mouth for a sec."
The supreme commander mimed zipping his lips and clammed up tight.
Five Lollipop sure had the restraint befitting a rank earned through rock-paper-scissors.
Let's think this through. The Alliance hadn't turned hostile. They were just getting wary.
The Empire was a juggernaut of destruction anyway—no reason to leave them as a future threat.
The God of Order had to know the Empire needed smashing.
Probably wanted to splinter it into smaller states. Or maybe planning colonial exploitation. Who knows.
That was their business.
Fine, no problem for me then.
Once they saw the performance I'd prepared, the Alliance wouldn't have the headspace for second thoughts.
The share of initiative our party held was obvious from the board the Labyrinth had set. The other side had Exiles too, but they didn't seem all that competent.
"So we just smash that whole thing, right? Simple enough."
No reason to overcomplicate it.
Magic classes always had sustainability issues.
Theoretically, they were the strongest if they could continuously supply mana and channel external mana like their own without issue.
Though casting speed improvements never fully eliminated delays.
And how well you solved sustainability usually came down to prior preparations.
That's why final bosses in so many mediums were often packed with mages.
Right now, I'd mobilized the Federation's full power and finished preparations.
They'd given me bizarre ships designed solely to squeeze out mana.
I'd seen ships like that before and roughly knew their design.
This server's space age had minimal Exile interference, so powerful individuals weren't as highlighted.
Thus, support gear for strong solos hadn't developed much.
My proposed concept must've felt pretty novel.
Rumor had it the Federation scientists were awed, saying, "If we don't have a dragon, we just make one."
Riding a small shuttle, the sight was familiar to me but grotesque to others.
Each ship looked less like a vessel and more like a mana reactor with propulsion.
No armor—just grotesquely exposed oversized reactor cores.
72 such ships linked in a geometric formation.
Chained together like the Linked Rings at Red Cliffs, they formed a single magic circle.
The shape resembled the Spirit King contract circle I'd drawn on floor 8. Inevitable, given the similar function.
I had to inspect it before use. One mistake, and I'd die.
I trusted this era's magitech engineers, but the mages advising them? Less so.
The ogre commanders were mostly optimistic.
The three months since war broke out had been hellish.
They'd cajoled, soothed, threatened, and shoved their dimwitted troops onto the front lines.
The silver lining: innate nature was innate. Even un-Greenskin-like cowards regained their forgotten belligerence after tasting blood on the battlefield.
To make it happen, they'd launched countless melee engagements, but fleet battles were inherently unfavorable for the Empire.
Most involved reckless close-range warps or charges, ramming collisions, then boarding melees.
A strategy that made the Federation and Alliance shudder, but surprisingly effective.
As long as the ogre pilots survived, Empire ships—even scrapheaps—could smash through anything.
Goblin techs just needed to meet deadlines.
Such ships only needed speed and penetration.
Ramming assault ships led, with a few proper carriers hanging back and blasting.
Still, the war situation grew dire.
Amid it all, food shortages hit hard for the Empire's voracious troops.
So when the Orc Emperor—who'd vanished after the capital planet fell—returned with the Dragon King, some commanders teared up.
Loyalty they'd never had surged back.
He'd brought dragons and dragonkin they'd desperately tried to contact.
The tide turned dramatically.
Now dragonkin riders slipped between the idiot ramming ships.
Dragonkin wyverns were the purest beasts closest to their dragon origins.
Monsters flying space via innate magic and enchantments.
The Empire loved big and beautiful things.
Dragonkin on wyverns filled the gap for small, agile strike fleets.
Some ogres, knowing their ancestors once ruled the skies on wyverns, felt their blood boil.
And the dragons—mobile planet-forts.
Leading with them flipped fleet battles on their head.
Now the Empire wanted decisive engagements.
The pursuing Alliance-Federation coalition fled from dragons instead.
A satisfying reversal.
They reclaimed some lost sectors and opened a path forward.
The coalition slipped away masterfully, of course.
But limits would come.
Pushing the front with that hope finally forced the coalition to muster every last ship for a showdown.
The decisive battlefield: an uninhabited system smack in the center of the three powers.
Five gas giants orbited the star—unlivable, undeveloped.
Retreat further, and the Empire could guerrilla via single warp.
Empire's ruthless pillaging was infamous even now. Starving Greenskins would ravage their territory.
The end.
With the tide endlessly turning belligerent, all were optimistic.
The Dragon King of the era, the Ancient Blue Dragon, unfurled wings rivaling a flagship in size.
No Greenskin could gaze unmoved at that majestic grandeur.
Big and beautiful. Dragons embodied the destructive power Greenskins adored.
And legends safeguarding the Empire itself.
The ogres were certain: victory here, and an end to their exhausting feud with insolent goblins.
The Federation techs were top-notch. Could dwarves do better?
Judging by the polish, I wondered if some engineers had worked themselves to death, but decided not to ask.
My doubts lay elsewhere.
"That guy's... the Dragon King?"
"What's the issue...?"
The chattering goblins looked puzzled.
No, but. That thing.
"Doesn't look a day over three thousand. Qualified to be Dragon King?"
I was genuinely baffled, ignoring the murmurs around me.
Dragons were terrifying regardless of age, but I'd expected a monster at least a thousand levels older.
That's what a Dragon King was.
Not some run-of-the-mill Ancient Dragon fresh to the rank.
"If that's the Dragon King, the others must be even younger."
Obvious conclusion, no deep thought needed.
Got it... I must've taken him out!
The God of Nature affirmed it.
'No record in history means it happened somewhere remote. Looks like future you did something. Arrogant dragons probably never announced the previous one's fate.'
Proof this run would go smoothly—great news.
Anyway, future me was a huge help to present me.
For now, though, a dragon that age was no joke.
Some steam leaked, unavoidably.
I boarded the 72 magic-circle ships.
My central seat lacked massive reactors.
Hundreds of tons of fresh blood.
Vast mana to sustain me through potential repeated deaths.
A literal sea of blood, with a red throne gleaming at its heart.
I hadn't asked for such fancy design.
Amused, I waded through the blood sea to the throne and sat.
Ambient mana connected to me richly.
The throne sank into the blood.
Couldn't see out like this, but...
I summoned Sylphid.
Space warped. A mass of wind element—linking countless systems—pushed back the cosmic dark and emerged.
Its form: a silver dragon.
Larger than any ship, the dragon appeared at the Federation's vanguard.
To end this war.
To hurry to the kingdom.
To end my run.