Chapter 24
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Floor 3 - Lv.18 Gamer (2)
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Once decided, the forest theme persists until the boss battle on the fifth floor is cleared.
That said, the specific type of forest changes every time, so even with the same theme, it's never the same old thing repeating.
The third floor is a subtropical jungle.
Trees everywhere, beasts aplenty, and bugs galore.
If you're weighing pros and cons, it's one of the dud forest themes.
The jungle beasts are vicious despite scant edible game, and the soil's too busy sustaining endless vegetation to be any good for farming.
It's lousy land for settling down.
Of course, if Sudden Death is in play, settlement's off the table from the start.
The problem is there's no way to check.
Refugees with no drive to push deeper often end up praying their way through the third floor.
Hoping a Sudden Death-free layer shows up here someday.
It's been a month already—they're probably starting to see some hope.
Think about it: even-numbered floors without Sudden Death are exceedingly rare.
That's why the Fairy's traps don't snag just anyone.
Our Hunter's a veteran by any measure, having made it this far.
24th-floor Fairy Village, was it? With the number of layers to the kingdom varying every Run, I can't say for sure.
Maybe just a bit farther, and the kingdom's gates would've been waiting.
I never told the Hunter that story.
Exiles rarely tell trapped souls to their faces that their time's worthless.
I get it.
Still, calling their lives delusions wouldn't make the challengers' lives all that different.
The Labyrinth is a place of futility.
The Girl and the Hunter stayed at camp after seeing off their party leader.
They needed rest.
The Healing Spring water they'd stocked up on had all been guzzled as drinking water in the Abyss, but it never had stamina-restoring properties anyway.
The assigned cabin was among the sturdiest in the sprawling camp.
Unlike the bare-roofed shacks elsewhere, it evoked a proper forest ranger's hut.
"Uncle will be back soon, right?"
The Girl hummed as she spoke.
How overjoyed she'd been to see sunlight again. The Abyss monsters had mostly been nightmare fuel.
For a split second, the Girl nearly recalled her pre-Labyrinth days, pre-school, her very early childhood.
She didn't want to.
How hard she'd worked to bury those shadows of the past.
The Girl halted her thoughts and turned her head.
The Hunter sat beside her. The middle-aged American often wore a wistful look.
That nostalgic gaze—what lay beyond it?
A home in California?
The Fairy Village on the 24th floor?
Which was the Hunter's true home?
The Girl imagined how she'd feel in his shoes.
Snuggled up in some cozy forest with Uncle, hee-hee.
Whoa. Hold up—too much happy-circuit overload. Cut it out.
They were enjoying a rare moment of peace like that when...
"Miss."
The Hunter called the Girl quietly.
It was a title he'd agonized over before settling on.
Most Hunters took orders from Uncle and asked only him questions.
The Girl was no different.
Being alone together without Uncle felt awkward.
Even the form of address felt off and unfamiliar.
Still, he was someone she'd grown fond of. A good guy, too.
She decided to greet him with a smile.
Her best bright-eyed grin.
"Yes?"
The Hunter stared straight at her.
"How many years in, honestly?"
The Girl's smiling face froze solid.
Busted.
Let's probe what we can.
In any world, the third-floor camp for late arrivals screams refugee camp.
Not war-displaced, but everyone's faces scream unhappiness.
About thirty people, give or take?
The female archer balks at my approach.
"Better to head downstairs. Taking care of folks here is tough enough."
Harsh words, maybe, but most are the type who'd die and get helped by others somewhere else.
They barely grasp what the Labyrinth is.
Some even massacre them for being obstacles or XP farms.
Too cruel a price for just stumbling in by chance.
"And you're feeding all these with your party and a few other vets?"
"The jungle's surprisingly lush with edibles. But a month's wearing thin."
Too kind for a ninth-year Exile.
Yet undeniably capable. She's got this sizable camp under control without chaos.
Say what you will, but Exiles short of a decade often turn out like this.
Folks with exceptional adaptability, using the Labyrinth's gifts altruistically.
Not that it's universal.
I'm less inclined to help juniors for their pluck and more...
"Hiding something?"
I ask.
"Ah, figures. Fifteenth-year, huh."
The female archer gives a wry smile.
"Nah, it's obvious. You size up skills right off the bat. Spill all the awkward truths slyly. It's blatant begging for help."
"Too obvious, got it. I'll reflect on that."
Cheeky. She's on the side of justice now, but flip a switch, and she'd advance just fine.
Her non-excuse excuse begins.
"Heard you were Assassin class, figured you'd slice 'em up easy..."
"In a fight, you'd wedge in and snag the kills, right."
XP and gear. They know I spent ages on the second floor.
Means our party's second floor had goodies, and we've got goodies now. Easy guess.
Shrimp eyeing a whale fight.
Time for advice.
"Be warier next time. That's how you get duped. Then planned to scoop up the refugees after?"
"No, not yet..."
Hold on—is she nuts?
'Not yet?'
Hell, hypocrisy might be better. She's a primed Exile, no mindset shift needed.
The refugees would riot if they heard, but seniority lets her say it.
I chuckle and let it slide, like she figured.
"Fine, whatever. I'll clear the stair-guarding punks. Don't butt in."
Her reply comes after some thought.
"Got it. But you sure no help needed?"
"Whatever we loot, we ain't sharing. Move after we're fully gone."
I'm fair in these matters.
The female archer gives up entirely.
No more schemes brewing.
I smile and hand over an arrow from the Hunter.
"This is...?"
"Gift. [Lightning-Guided Arrow]—ring a bell?"
"Stunned. How'd this drop on floor two?"
Truth? Picked it in the Abyss. Floor two had drops aplenty, but nothing salvaged.
Blame Trdongt. Why'd it spawn there?
"Hard graft pays."
She picks up the thread naturally.
"Labyrinth rewards the grind. Ha."
Leaving, I make sure she sees the bow on my back. One of the few intact gears from the Abyss.
And the quiver's rainbow arrows.
Vets will clock it; newbies' ambitions deflate.
Especially dual-class flex like this.
Power show earlier; now gear parade.
Play nice. Push it, and die painful.
「Why not just kill 'em all?」
The Goddess of Chaos chimes in.
'Tried that. Later, folks ran too scarce.'
「True, Exile XP ain't huge anyway. High-level or not, it doesn't spike much.」
Exile XP doesn't scale with their levels.
Early on, popping a couple's lucrative and easy, but deeper, you need masses.
Problem is, like these refugees, it's easy pickings.
That road leads to murder addiction, crossing lines. Common enough.
No one's blood-free. But how much blood matters plenty.
'Goddess kill many too?'
「Didn't clock it then. Even post-human ditch, a few haunt dreams. Can't recall names or faces.」
'Same here.'
I'm no saint of justice. Never was.
Just a guy who's thrashed long.
Call it godly, still just one such soul.
Funny—no god of justice in the Labyrinth, nor justice-god suffixes.
Back, and the Girl and Hunter's vibe is off.
Always awkward duo—what happened?
"Sorted the talk. More rest? Day here seems fine."
Solo, I'd speedrun ages ago. But with a newbie we're raising from scratch, take it slow.
Second floor fine, but Abyss cracks showed.
Had to hit third pronto.
Her very existence draws weirdos—fourth could blow up.
Rest on odd floors.
The Girl replied listlessly.
"Little more rest."
"Yeah, sunlight's been ages. Stay put then."
Glance at Hunter—he nods.
Just us two again.
"Scout the Healing Spring first. Lose it, next world's instant."
Probably why other parties stall—it's occupied. Healing Potions too OP.
Outside, far enough Girl won't hear, I ask quietly.
"Clocked her?"
"Yeah, hard not to."
Hunter shades eyes like sunlight's blinding.
"Maybe... fixed NPC?"
Looks like he asked solo. Girl spilled truth.
First Run, freakish stat monster.
Makes sense to think.
My take: probably not.
Can't swear though.
Stuff I don't know.
Stick to natives or peer Exiles, you cling to 'human' self-belief.
So how doubt creeps in?
Life blurring self-NPC? Universal Exile thing.
Unless game-view like mine, first doubt hits meeting 'named fixed NPCs.'
Same Run, same memories, any world, any time.
Too fixed for real people—their time's static.
King Arthur: same look, power, every world.
Always 33rd-year Exile.
Absurdly tough.
Anyone sees: NPC with Exile wrapper.
Never human-seeming.
Just their existence sows doubt seeds.
Eventually, suspicion blooms. Who's human? Am I?
Hunter asked if Girl's one.
I say for now,
"Nah. Not that."
Wishful thinking.
Meet Girl in another Run, same face and personality tailing me? Would sour mood hard.
Already attached.
Easy check though.
'Chaos, ever seen that Girl?'
「No.」
'End of century, weird happenings?'
「Dunno. What're you getting at?」
Times like this, real relief.
All these fuckers NPCs after all.
Me protagonist.
Only special one.
Can believe that.