Chapter 46
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Floor 6 - Lv. 95 Stormhowl Brigade (3)
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Back when it was just a game, stats weren't applied with this level of complexity.
Stats back then were exactly what they said on the tin—simple as that.
Racial bonuses existed as a well-known hidden stat, but having higher base stats didn't mean you got extra bonuses on top of that.
If you tried to apply that directly to a reality where the game had become real, all sorts of inconsistencies would crop up.
Reality isn't as straightforward as a game.
Or maybe games are just simplified versions of reality.
I think about it sometimes.
What came first, the game or the Labyrinth?
Were the developers I knew transcendent beings like gods?
Did the game they created solidify into an actual reality?
Or did they receive some revelation about an already existing world called the Labyrinth and recreate it as a game?
It's a tough question.
The Labyrinth feels like a game, but it's reality. It feels like reality, but it's like a game.
It's endlessly bouncing people's hearts around like rubber bands somewhere in between.
Either way, the game and the Labyrinth are different.
To adapt to that gap, I've run countless experiments, analyzed endlessly, and died more times than I can count.
After endless optimization, I've pinpointed exactly where my base stats stand and how to make use of them.
Sure, I've complained plenty that my base stats are pathetic, but that was half a lie.
As a human Exile, with an Intelligence stat pegged at 15.
That's genuine archmage material.
Thanks to the massive doping boost to my stats right now, my actual magical output is insanely high.
Even compared to a mage fresh out of the kingdom's academy, I'm better.
The experience from killing Quetzalcoatl wasn't negligible—I leveled up by nearly 20 levels.
I'm holding onto the stat points for now.
My current level is 66.
In a world where a solid hit to a vital spot sends you to the next Run regardless of level, sure.
But level is still the most straightforward measure of combat power.
Including the base 3 points at level 1, the total points I have available add up to 68.
Out of that, I've only invested around 20 so far.
On Floor 2, things lined up perfectly, so dumping points in kept me alive.
From Floor 4 on, the enemies weren't something I could scrape by with my immediate stats or skills—my main reliance was Night Crow.
So I barely touched them after that. Dumping points wouldn't have changed much anyway.
Now, I'm slamming them all in.
I don't plan on going full-time mage, but magic is convenient.
Let's call it 'Mage (Temporary)' for now.
Whether I recruit the little mage girl or the little vampire, they won't be combat-ready right away, so no choice.
The Girl and the youngest are starting to get comfortable as frontliners.
I need to handle the heavy firepower.
To dump a massive amount of points at once, some calculations are in order.
Factoring in the Goddess's authority too... let's see.
I spent the time designing my Mind Map while the fairies guided us to a spot overlooking the orc outpost.
I have full confidence in squeezing out performance beyond my specs, but that's only good for a day or two.
Going toe-to-toe always comes with huge risks.
If there's a way to leech a win, I have to go for it with everything I've got.
This floor was perfect in that sense.
Scouting showed no signs of any named enemies in particular.
It was just a very well-trained and organized army.
"Trolls and ogres too. A full Greenskin gift set."
"Ugh, trolls I could handle, but ogres with mages? Hate those."
Ogres are dumb, that's true, but surprisingly, they're a race with talent for magic.
They're not proper mages, though.
The magic they use sits somewhere between shamanism and true spellcraft.
Less a technique and more an innate superpower, maybe.
Either way, a giant idiot hurling lightning or fireballs with a booming shout is plenty threatening.
Unlike regular mages, you can't just close in for melee if you want an opening. Do that, and you'll eat a bat-sized club to the face.
They're a nightmare in terms of hassle.
And what about trolls?
Among playable races, excluding giants, if you want the strongest in close-quarters brawls, it's trolls.
Sure, racial bonuses tank their Intelligence.
Magic becomes impossible, and their actual thinking power drops off a cliff.
But their recovery is so nuts you wonder if healing potions run through their veins instead of blood, and their raw strength is mind-numbing enough to cover every flaw.
If you want to see the limits of a warrior, look to trolls.
Of course, most people still don't want to become one.
Few sign up to get dumber on purpose.
Anyway, ogres and trolls alike—massive monsters, top-tier melee fighters among non-monster races.
"So? What're we gonna do about them?"
"Yeah, yeah. If you tell us to fight, I'm ditching you and running."
"Show us quick. What's the plan?"
Man, they're noisy.
The Hunter seems thrilled just watching the fairies.
This guy's a total perv too.
I shouted energetically.
"It's the Territory Enchantment Array!"
"……?"
The three of them went dead silent, looking baffled, like massive question marks floated over their heads.
They hype themselves up, I match their energy with some banter, and it falls flat again.
But it's not a lie.
"We're gonna circle the outpost and draw a magic circle."
"Magic circle? Magic circle!"
"Prepping a grand spell? You don't look like you've got that much mana!"
"What can we do to help?"
If Grove Fairies represent skilled archers and mages, leaf fairies stand for spiritists and agile warriors.
Spiritists are a magic class, but different from other caster jobs.
They don't weave spells themselves. They just supply mana to spirits.
Their bodies act like transformers, taking in vast amounts of mana and converting it to magical power.
In game terms, max MP and MP regen are what matter most.
Magic attack power doesn't affect the quality or number of contracted spirits.
Basically, becoming a living mana battery is their most efficient role.
Exactly what I needed right now.
The three fairies stared at me with wide eyes.
I smirked and drew a simple magic circle on the snow.
Just big enough for the three of them to sit in.
Even spiritists learn basic magic fundamentals. And magic circles themselves evolved to channel mana more fluidly.
They instantly grasped what I was going for.
"You know that's a huge insult, right?"
"Got it. Got it. You definitely know and you're doing it anyway."
"You've insulted us, human. Treating spiritists like this?"
Of course spiritists hate being treated that way.
They're often dissed as pseudo-mages without real scholarly training, so it makes sense.
Hey, it is kinda true. They don't do much themselves.
"Here. Take one each."
Fruit has its limits on sweetness.
Especially on even floors without selective breeding—the local fruits are even more so.
Without wild time fluctuations, civilization here sticks to medieval levels.
Tech that develops later... pull it forward a bit.
"What's this? Human?"
"I think I know! Candy, right? A snack!"
"To eat? Is it yummy?"
Sure, this era has sweet foods.
But candy at a level where even the Goddess, who's seen every battlefield under the sun, praised it as a fine offering?
The refined sugars I produce as a mage have reached artisan quality.
Tropical fruits make ideal ingredients too.
"……!!!"
The three of them popped the candies in their mouths, eyes going wide at once.
Their grumpiness melted away like snow. Leaf fairies, being wild types, especially love sweets.
'Save some room for the orcs and trolls later.'
'Gotta hide thirty percent of your skills.'
"Ugh, it's freezing."
"What can I even say? You do some really bizarre stuff."
"Necessary evil."
The Hunter tossed out a half-hearted worry. Not much sincerity there.
He's gotten used to my antics outside of combat, it seems.
Damn, it really is cold, though.
It's not that I've suddenly become sensitive to the chill.
I'm drawing a blood magic circle.
I'm steadily topping up with healing potions to avoid dying, but blood constantly leaking out—in huge quantities—is creepy as hell.
The eerie sensation of body heat draining away, bit by bit, as your body dies creeps in.
Blood loss is one of those horrors you never get used to, no matter how many years pass.
Might be better if it was a clean limb loss with some heat.
Recovery's the same either way.
And that much blood is staining the snowy ground red.
"Oops, angle's a bit off."
Then erase and redraw. Doping lets me handle simple spells without backlash.
Flames lick out, burning only the misplaced blood.
But gotta be careful. Magical fire explodes in mana-rich areas.
The circle drawn in my blood right now is brimming with it.
Not complete yet, so the mana churns without direction—mess up, and it'll rush right at me.
The three fairies supplying it would get engulfed too.
The clueless Hunter just watches in awe.
Snow doesn't melt but blood does—pretty novel sight.
Should've brought the Girl? She'd love this.
Eh, it's just prep for the real show anyway.
Circling wide around the outpost keeps us hidden.
The Stormhowl Brigade forces chasing the fairies now aren't overwhelmingly huge.
No big difference from Trdongt's group in size.
Just quality.
Higher ogre and troll ratios, goblins in upper ranks.
More shamans, and two confirmed Great Shamans.
War-minded, so serious forces.
Blunt confrontation? No way.
Some ally fairies and dwarves are positioned as minimal setup, but most aren't a proper army.
Clashing with Greenskin war armies devoted to the God of War? Bad call.
Trdongt's force wasn't even aimed at conquering that forest.
Ruins excavation was the goal—more expedition than army.
Difference now? I've got my snowball rolling to some extent.
The more you've built up, the more options open.
Know your capabilities cold, and solutions are endless.
I always pick the safest path.
The fairies didn't fully know what Karkrish's death meant.
But they affirmed the moss dwarf merchant's rumors.
Details later—wipe the outpost, interrogate survivors.
Great Shamans have good odds surviving tactical archmagic.
"Healing springs are running low."
"Yeah. Gotta draw it bigger than expected. Terrain's not perfectly flat."
Slight miscalculation.
But starting early gives plenty of time.
The Greenskin army doesn't doubt their victory.
Just a boring chase to them.
Fairies have nowhere to run, so not even complacency.
Labyrinth residents rarely consider Exiles in their lives.
We're unwelcome guests.
Not many get slapped by one.
No survivors, probably.
Let's leave 'em an unforgettable memory on their final road.
The sun's finally peeking over the horizon.
The Girl woke up grabbed by Uncle.
Sky still dim predawn.
Light slowly pushing back the night.
Thrilled at 'battle ahead'? Or just clinging excitedly to Uncle? Not sure.
Snow leopards glide over snow. Thrilling speed drowns out the cold.
Uncle saw her excitement, muttered she's got an extreme sports vibe.
Arriving, three new fairies with animal ears and tails sprawled out.
Shivering hard, but sucking on something.
What? Candy.
That good?
Never asked for any since it's an offering to the Goddess.
Hmm.
"Uncle, why are those girls like that?"
"Mana exhaustion. Careful—they get super lethargic, no strength."
"Oh, like that time on the previous floor."
"What? When'd you push that hard? Take care of yourself."
"Heehee."
But Uncle's face was pale too.
"What'd you do while I slept?"
"Lightened your workload."
"Now we fight those guys?"
"Kinda. Just mop up survivors."
What're you planning?
Divine decree from the Goddess.
'Goddess knows what Uncle's up to?'
Goddess's voice tinged playful. Even in decree, a whisper.
'Huh?'
The fairies did great.
Kept the life force and mana in the blood from dissipating.
Like keeping water from drying up.
Magic circle needs mana not to run dry.
Blood conducts mana great, but the circle had to be huge.
Circulating mana kept the blood's properties intact.
Tweaking circuits and details took time, but they pulled it off.
Spiritist class mana capacity is no joke.
'Not bad for a temp patch, right?'
'Oh dear, not on good terms with magic, Goddess?'
Even late-game Exiles usually specialize, maybe dual-class at best.
Even Throne-reachers mostly so.
Few mages hit those heights.
Too hard, too unstable.
'Mages are reckless by nature. For Exiles, life ain't that precious.'
'Nah, just good at everything.'
'Let's get it right. I picked you.'
'Cheek's fine.'
'Learned that from me?'
Enough banter.
It's a grand spell after ages, and a reckless one.
Senses are sharp, but caution first.
Screw up, and I lack stats/skills to mitigate.
Dumped points into magic passives for stability, not damage.
Real mages don't rely on skills, they say.
Bull. Artisans use the best tools.
Knowing how and doing it are different.
No teeth here, so gums it is.
Other mages might call me insane.
Fail, and backlash tops the spell itself.
Mana disaster territory.
Hands shaking a bit from tension.
Then something warm touched my hand from behind.
The Girl.
"What?"
"Dunno. Just... seen that look before."
"Yeah?"
Oddly, felt better. 'Cause she's this Run's hope?
"Got it. Now shoo—dangerous."
"Jeez."
She grumbled off.
Everyone gets antsy sometimes.
Feels much improved.
'Chaos. Second time.'
World stops.
Gently falling snow.
Biting gale.
Party and fairies watching me.
All freeze.
Die rolls.
Random stat redistribution die. Has duration. Meh authority.
But I know the outcome.
Die stops.
Time resumes.
Strength drained from my body.
Strength stat: 1.
Senses dulling, nerves less responsive.
Agility stat: 1.
But.
Mana filling the world crystal-clear.
Reach out, could grasp the mana surges.
Dense magic lingers, hard to breathe.
Doped stats all funneled via die.
Intelligence stat: 471.
All 97 years of magical know-how poured in.
One main spell from past Runs, woven out.
The sky cracked open.
Heavy clouds prepping snow scattered like summer flurries.
Blood magic circle around the orc outpost glowed.
Its vivid, overwhelming mana surge hit shamans first.
Then ogres.
Monsters sensing magic innately looked up in unison.
The massive new mana flow shot skyward.
Veteran Great Shamans realized what was coming.
Clearing sky sparked with lights.
One, two, three—no, countless.
From afar, smaller... it'd be a beautiful meteor shower.
As wide-eyed shamans and rampaging ogres stirred.
The calamity from high above.
Struck the ground.
And the earth groaned in ruin.