Chapter 17
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Floor 2 - Lv.185 Great Shaman (3)
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"Whoa."
The Girl stopped searching for the exit and muttered in a slight daze.
She could feel the heat starting to build.
It was coming from the direction where the suddenly appearing orc horde was clashing with the griffon.
A massive torrent of flames was pouring from the giant eagle's beak.
The Girl couldn't find anything in her memories to compare to the scene unfolding before her.
If she had to think of something, maybe a massive fire disaster?
It was a hellish sight that made her understand why fires were called "flames of calamity."
Stones and steel alike were charring equally in the blaze, crumbling away step by step.
"How do you even fight something like that..."
The flames spilling from the beak had a texture somewhere between liquid and fluidity, sticky and flowing.
It was alien to see fire spreading like water without anything to burn as a medium.
The Girl recalled Uncle's warning.
[Even grazing the breath will kill you. That fire can't be extinguished.]
She knew from Uncle that magic flames weren't quite the same as physical "combustion," but something different.
Yet seeing it in person, it was destructively real, shattering any illusions.
Less like fire and more like translucent lava, perhaps.
But despite its majesty, the breath did nothing to the orc horde.
The old orc shaman held his staff aloft.
All the flames engulfing him were sucked into the orb at the staff's tip.
Only the residual waves spilled outward.
And even those couldn't pierce the faint barrier blooming from the fingertips of the other young orc shamans.
The fierce orc officers trembled in fear within those barriers, looking utterly out of place.
The Girl's sharp eyes caught their fur singeing and curling.
Soon, they dropped their weapons.
Smoke began rising from the wooden handles.
How hot was it down there?
The Girl shook her head at the dizzying sight.
She felt like a foolish rookie for thinking just moments ago that it seemed easier than expected.
The ruin's guardian wasn't easy.
Uncle's plan had simply been perfect.
Her confidence evaporated in an instant.
And what was with that orc?
What even was shamanism?
She'd seen it, but still didn't get it.
The Girl smacked her lips and ducked behind the pillar.
The world she'd grown up in wasn't exactly peaceful.
But nothing like that existed there. If it did, just witnessing it would be the stuff of legends, a tale for the ages.
The entire boss room was heating up.
Sweat poured from her body, something rare even in intense fights.
It was a scorching wind that felt like it would cook her skin.
[In a boss room this size, the whole area will heat up from the breath. Best to retreat to the entrance; second best is hiding behind the highest pillars possible.]
It was part of the "strategy" Uncle had emphasized repeatedly after realizing the breath weapon's potential.
For the second option, he'd said he'd lure the breath's direction himself.
What trick had he planned to pull?
Seeing the breath in action, she wondered if it was even possible.
Or maybe? Since he'd cut it down in 30 seconds without giving it a chance to use it, perhaps that level was doable.
She'd felt it over the past few days, but this hit different.
This wasn't something to grin about.
Uncle was starting to seem less like a regular guy and more like some kind of wizard.
Just before, he'd been smugly stuffing bomb fruits into the beast's maw, proud of his handiwork.
She'd thought he was overexplaining something so easy.
Even resented memorizing it all for nothing.
But those long explanations had been packed tight, without a single superfluous word.
The Girl wrinkled her brow uncomfortably.
She reflected on her earlier cockiness.
Carelessness had no place in battle.
It was a lesson drilled into her at home.
[In the Labyrinth, you get strong way faster than outside. That can lead to misconceptions.]
Even that arrogance had been preemptively warned about.
[Remember this: this is the Labyrinth. No matter how strong you get as a human, there's a limit. The deeper you go, the more monsters that can crush humans like ants.]
"Seriously, what kind of person is he?"
He suddenly felt distant. The Girl slid down the pillar into a slump.
She sat the Hunter down beside her.
He was still out cold.
"This is normal."
She knew that.
The Girl was well aware of her own uniqueness.
Her family was built for combat.
She was born to fight.
Innate bloodline, a body deviating from the norm.
Plus brutal training piled on top.
So her abnormality was normal for her.
But Uncle?
She'd learned the basic Labyrinth rules.
When an Exile revives on Floor 1, all prior training resets to zero.
Back to the state when they were first dragged into this Labyrinth from the outside world.
Uncle's outfit: white tee, jeans.
Not exactly adventure-ready.
No signs of physical training on his body.
She had none either, but that was her special bloodline hiding it.
Otherwise, there should be muscle or calluses on his palms.
Actually, he did have calluses.
The kind from gripping pencils or pens long-term, a bump on the ring finger's first joint.
Calluses under the wrist from all-day mouse use.
Finger calluses from mechanical keyboards.
She'd been trained to read lives from such clues.
Various tells about how someone lived.
Long-time office worker glued to a computer.
Indoor type, estranged from exercise, judging by his health.
Indeed, his stamina was abysmal at first.
Still was, really.
By her standards, he'd barely reached "human" level.
And that was with Labyrinth stat buffs.
Outside, he'd be a textbook civilian she had to protect.
But the Labyrinth grants experience.
That ordinary body overcomes everything with terrifying skill.
Even to her, raised as a combat expert, the bottomless power dwelling in that average man's frame was overwhelming.
That's why she was so shocked.
How much experience had this guy accumulated?
How many years in this endless death loop for a former normie to ingrain such otherworldly technique?
Having trained herself, she knew better.
Decades wouldn't cut it.
Maybe a lifetime outside.
That's what felt off now.
Why? That's the weird part.
The elderly Hunter began groaning.
The sauna-like heat was brutal even unconscious.
This was a normal person. An average one.
Someone struggling to carve out a nest in this endless abyss.
Challenges aren't humanity's duty.
Seeking comfort and peace isn't a sin.
In this mad world, living like that is probably the norm.
So why?
How could Uncle surpass those horrific years and still challenge onward?
"Seriously. Really. He's insane. Weirder than me. Weirder than my family. A total madman."
The Girl said that and unwittingly broke into a grin.
A step ahead. Always out front, running.
Someone who'd never look at her with disdain, no matter what.
Unlike the shadow over her confidence.
Finally, she fully realized it.
Her flushed cheeks weren't from the heat.
The smile on her lips was unmistakably springlike, obvious to anyone.
"Hoo..."
The breath's aftermath was physically powerful, but magically even more so.
[Stealth] shattering in one hit was why.
I had no mana-sensing stats or skills right now, but countless experiences handling it remained as intuition.
I could sense the mana flow clearly.
My fingertips tingled from the dense mana crashing like a torrent.
I let out a long sigh.
Time to think.
How intuition works? No idea, even after ages.
But one thing was sure: it was a trainable ability.
I originally had no combat sense. Closer to a total klutz.
Not just glad soulslikes weren't involved.
I'd died in so many ways I couldn't count.
Eventually, I just started knowing.
Strictly, it was memorizing every possible move from human or monster skeletal structures.
Anyway, no delay means intuition, right?
And mentally too.
This Labyrinth was subtly philosophical.
Staying here makes you ponder: Why am I doing this? What's life? What's after death? Why do they suffer?
Stuff like that.
Eh.
Boils down to wise-after-battle daze.
But even unanswered questions yield insights from pondering.
Constant worry leads to realizations.
Mind-reading is just talent for reading psychology.
So, through endless rumination, intuition hit me.
Why the relief.
What I feared.
The source of my recent unease.
Experience's insight works on myself too.
Forgot it had been so long since last time.
A possibility from early runs.
A ghost from decades-or-more ago, buried.
Think about it.
Assuming this Labyrinth is a game.
I know.
Everything.
What can happen, what can't.
All just probabilities.
Always within my assumptions.
No blind spots.
There can't be.
Otherwise...
This might be reality, not a game.
I'd have to face that possibility.
What about now?
I'd failed to judge the Girl clearly so far.
NPC with unseen settings.
First blind spot in game knowledge.
My subconscious sparked "what if?" anxiety.
But not anymore.
One possibility.
This game's lead dev was quirky enough to invite me to company dinners.
Overheard stuff.
[There's an encounter you'll never see.]
[What now? Stop making trash. Users are fleeing.]
[No, one YOU can't see.]
[Why?]
[100-year limit, remember? Some only spawn after exhausting it.]
[...That's just backstory, right?]
[For now. Oh, data mining won't reveal it yet. Patches backed up forever.]
[You bastard. Stop dummy data, do balance patches!]
Something like that.
A memory resurrecting from the hazy past.
I never learned what it was.
Tons of scheduled stuff.
So I had to conclude.
This jerk patched it without telling me. Stealth drop, you son of a bitch.
Not unlikely, actually.
But good.
This world is a game after all.
That fact, that belief, brought relief.
It sustains me too.
Right or wrong.
"Eek?!"
"What was that scream?"
"Blink timing was too friggin' off!"
She must've been really startled.
But is that a normal scream? Tough call.
Her pronunciation's off too—bit her tongue? That's the only way for that 3D sound.
"Thongue thtingth."
Yup.
"Find the exit?"
The teary-eyed Girl shakes her head vigorously.
"Tried 'em all, none opened."
Bad. Need to get these two out fast.
I peek at the Great Shaman between pillars.
Obviously, barely scratched.
Worse, mana flames roiling at his staff tip spell trouble.
That's why amateur breath weapons against shamans are suicide.
Shaman class specializes in borrowing power from elsewhere.
Skilled ones hijack low-tier breaths.
Breath weapons are uncontrolled elemental torrents—fatal flaw.
The revived griffon, though recovered from death, lay feebly panting.
Last gasp? Even so, orc officers take time without damage input. He'll probably redirect the absorbed breath.
Hit by that fireball? Griffon'd ash regardless of resistances.
Ah, any way to snipe the kill shot? EXP's too precious.
Pondering greedily, I turn—Girl yelps.
"Uh-oh, big trouble."
"What?"
"Just locked eyes with that old shaman."
"What?"
I whip back.
Surviving orc officers grab smoking weapons.
Disciple Orc follows.
The Great Shaman...
Didn't land the final blow on the griffon.
Condensed fire element slowly floated our way.
Why'd aggro switch?
No, wait.
He sensed the lightning, disrupted spells.
Definitely botched aggro management.
"Come on. Please. Seriously."
Talk like that, but this game's like this.
Always spare points for such contingencies.