Chapter 30

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Translator: Ace

Chapter: 30

Chapter Title: 4th Floor - Lv. 55 Straggler Clan (2)

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Of course, that doesn't mean the native human NPCs have any reason to look kindly on Exiles.

They're human, at least, so establishing friendly relations should be far easier than with other races.

But they've surely had their share of run-ins with Exiles in the course of their lives.

From an Exile's perspective, native NPCs are just fleeting presences.

Phantoms you brush past now and then amid the fragmented shards of worlds scattered across each floor.

But to the native NPCs, Exiles are unwelcome intruders who barge into their lives and cause trouble.

You have to approach them with caution.

And this isn't even a standard fourth-floor encounter. They're definitely higher level than us.

The moment I spotted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the smoke from what looked like a campfire—clearly lit by living people—I halted everyone and explained the situation.

"Boss, what does that mean?"

The most seasoned of them, the Hunter, seemed to already know, but the newbie was causing issues.

In the end, the kid got dragged off by the ear again for some private instruction from the Hunter.

Boss? What was that about? The title felt a bit off.

The Girl caught on quick.

"So sometimes they're our enemies too?"

"You could say they're way stronger than the orcs or fairies on the second floor. These guys came all this way on an expedition to subjugate something."

"How bad could the worst case be?"

"Them turning their subjugation target on us?"

I can generally infer the big-picture situation on each floor.

But the fine details—like individual personalities—always vary every time you meet them.

That's not something you can predict.

If that camp has someone with a massive grudge against Exiles and a nasty temper to boot...

And if that jerk happens to be their leader...

Things could go south fast.

Preparation is always key.

First up: prioritizing potion use.

The Hunter's go first since his position keeps him safest.

The top priority is the newbie.

The Mind Map I set him up with is built around drawing aggro and tanking hits, so he's destined to get pummeled no matter what.

Couldn't find a proper shield, so he's lugging around a door from the third floor.

I even processed it a bit and added a solid handle.

It's crude and tough to wield, but as thick solid timber, its defense is nothing to scoff at.

Good thing his natural strength makes it manageable.

He looked thrilled when I tweaked his skill set and taught him basic blocking.

"Boss! I feel power surging through me. Feels like I could bash a guy with this thing alone. Wahaha!"

That's the effect of Mastery, the most crucial stacking passive in the Labyrinth.

Getting [Shield Mastery] up quick was lucky. Not as fast as the Girl, but his raw strength stat gave it a big boost.

The truly shocking part? Our high school girl's base strength is even higher than his.

If we arm-wrestled now, those skinny arms would strip him clean.

How's a squishy char supposed to outmuscle a strength build?

Party marching order shifted too as we moved.

Undead mean the Hunter leads with [Poison Resistance].

But against people, it's the newbie up front.

"Die once, die twice—what's the diff? Wahahahaha!"

True to his rough background, he accepted without complaint.

Sure, everyone dies multiple times here, but it hasn't sunk in yet.

Still impressive he can throw himself into the fray like that.

Or maybe he's just thoughtless?

Anyway, as we crept toward the camp...

"Leader, that thing."

"Field boss, probably."

The undead swamp's defining trait: most monsters slumber beneath the muck.

Stir up a racket, and it'll be chaos—but otherwise, they just sleep.

How many horrors lurk buried in that opaque, muddy water?

Some are right out in the open.

"A crocodile?"

"Like a dinosaur or something."

Not a living croc.

It was a massive bone structure, ancient crocodile on steroids or whatever.

Judging by the ribcage, it'd hold its own against a second-floor griffon.

"Let's swing way, way wide."

I do plan to take it down eventually, but poking it awake now? Nah.

Unlike living beasts where you target vitals, this is just bones.

Even dumping all my explosion fruits and special arrows from the abyss might not cut it.

"Shove a Healing Potion down its throat? Who knows. Better gimmick it later."

We detoured wide around the croc.

"Wriggle wriggle~ Crawl along~ ♬"

No rotten ghouls in sight, so the Girl's in high spirits, humming some weird tune to herself.

Sounds nice, so let her be.

The swamp made circling tough enough. A little hum helps the mood.

Straight-lining across the water means skeletal hands grabbing ankles from below.

Sticking to solid ground toward the camp was turning into a maze itself.

"Why are those people camping in a dump like this?"

"Probably an island in the swamp."

"Not that—why come to a gloomy hellhole like this?"

"Oh, good point."

Surprisingly, newbie Exiles often don't see native NPCs as real people.

Fail to grasp they have circumstances and lives of their own, and you're headed for disaster.

Even back in game days, plenty of players ignored affinity. Solo rampages weren't impossible then.

"Huh? What? Why?"

"Good call. Keep thinking like that."

She doesn't mind head pats, so I ruffle her hair freely.

"To us, each floor feels like isolated worlds. But they have an outside to this map."

The broad story's always the same.

Something in a distant castle preying on humans, nearby village... nah, probably city-scale.

A mere village wiped out? They shrug it off.

"This is likely a forbidden danger zone left unchecked, letting whatever nest in that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠castle."

"So that shaman from before could be somewhere on this floor too?"

"Grove Fairies don't live near swamps like this. Climate's off, and spatially distant. Unless timelines are way off, unlikely."

"Complicated. But I get it. Unlike Exiles, the NPCs here are residents of their own world."

The Girl nods eagerly.

What was her Intelligence stat again? She always picks it up perfectly—such a good kid.

The Hunter smiled warmly at the sight.

Reminded him of himself, probably.

The guy who lived ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with fairies in that village because he loved them.

Lost his comrades in the end, but if he hated it, he'd have died and restarted. You see the attachment everywhere.

Obsession, maybe?

He's fiddling with the fairy's bow even now. Already worn from handling.

Gloomy swamp, but the camp had a cozy, cheerful vibe.

Just the thing to lower your guard.

"B-B-Boss! What the hell is this?"

Something grabbed the newbie's ankle.

Not sinking into the swamp—the Hunter was guiding properly.

Bad luck for the kid. But failing to spot it was my and the Hunter's lapse.

A bone slowly rose from the mud.

"Eeeek!"

"Shh! Quiet! Hush!"

Big guy, big voice. The Hunter tried shushing, then straight-up smacked him.

The newbie panicked anyway, out of his mind.

Guy didn't even know the word "undead." Told him "moving skeletons," but panic's fair.

Hunter's eyes went cold.

Planning to kill him to shut him up.

I stopped the Hunter.

Got a better idea.

Stomped the skeletal hand gripping his ankle, shattering it.

Undead all around stirred, bubbling up.

I yelled.

"Run! To the camp—run!"

Plan was stealth approach, scout, negotiate.

But this felt better.

Loaded an explosion arrow from the abyss and fired at the ancient croc's ribs. Boom.

Didn't expect breakage, but maybe a crack?

The massive bones upheaved mud, rising behind us.

Earthquake-like roar echoed everywhere.

Fort's distance was a blessing. Even heading here would take time.

Ignoring behind, camp neared fast.

So did the waking undead horde.

I hung back deliberately, ensuring no one lagged.

The Girl glanced, then stuck by me, covering together seamlessly.

Hunter was busy with the newbie.

Camp grew rowdy. This racket had to rouse them weapons in hand.

I bellowed at full volume.

"Sirs! Save us!"

Whatever, they're human subjugators hunting human enemies—can't ignore that.

"How many? Everyone okay?"

The hoped-for response.

A band in black cloaks rushed from the island camp.

Dozen or so—movements screamed pros.

Not paladin order attire.

Vampire hunters, then. Black cloaks, black hoods. Classic.

[Night Crow]

Not guaranteed spawn, but if they show, always in black garb and hoods. Named group.

Purpose: purging vampires, demons, humanity's foes.

Guardians of mankind. Spotting them confirmed my judgment.

Fight here? We'd lose hard. Play victims.

One unhooded led the charge, blisteringly fast. High-level warrior.

Right eye patched.

Subjugator leader, but no matching traits—random gen, not fixed NPC.

Our party brushed past Night Crow's leader.

I halted, turned to support.

Field croc's manageable, but better back them up.

That croc ain't weak.

Grab some XP too...

Did I see wrong?

The one-eyed swordsman leaped like gravity broke—boing.

His raised blade wreathed in will-o'-wisp flames.

Sword Master?

Then castle has a vampire lord at least. Not clan master level, though?

If so, gotta poke with Akasha's Eye. Hate to.

The croc got diced pathetically easy.

Sword Master is a top-tier Mind Map class.

Needs dual Intelligence/Strength for Aura Blade unlock at minimum.

Performs like a mana-fueled burst DPS magic swordsman—peak game attack power, but otherwise trash-tier pervert class.

Not great for Exiles, pure romance, but common among natives.

You know: sucks if you main it, OP on enemies.

"Name's Dustbin. And you folks."

The Sword Master eyed our motley crew sharply.

Races all over—no hiding.

"Exiles, huh?"

I prostrated flat.

"Aigoo, sirs. We're Exiles adrift the worlds, sure—but victims too, no?"

"Hm, true. Exiles are human at the end. Hahaha!"

"Hahaha!"

Good. This badass Sword Master doesn't hate Exiles special.

Might sweet-talk Miracle Spring water for a free ride this floor.

Please! Let me coast this layer!