Chapter 50
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Floor 7 - Lv. 32 Ordinary Exiles (1)
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If it's like pro wrestling's Royal Rumble, with new exiles continuously thrown in, we could get ambushed the moment we descend the stairs.
I wrapped mana around myself, ready to react on a dime.
The Hunter did the same, rolling into position to scan our surroundings before aiming toward the source of the noise.
In the end, we made noise ourselves and ended up aiming at each other.
"What are you doing?"
The Girl asked, utterly baffled.
Feeling awkward, I scratched my head unnecessarily and stood up.
"You saw the tip message pop up, right? PVP's enabled on this floor. Just prepping for an ambush."
"Huh? Why didn't you tell me something that important!"
"I did tell you."
"When?"
"I tell you this and that every chance I get."
"Fine, you win. Counting my school grades from the bottom was always faster."
I mumbled something about how she was especially weak in memorization subjects. But PE was probably full marks.
"They banned me from the PE festival. I just watched every year..."
"Hmm, yeah. Floor 7's PE festival—you can join in too."
"Really?"
It was ridiculous, but the Labyrinth's PVP floors really did feel like school sports festivals.
PVP on Floor 7 didn't demand an insane time sink, either.
Exiles like me, racing against the clock, were rare. For most challenging the kingdom, it was still time they could afford to waste.
Unless they'd been exceptionally unlucky.
That's when everyone starts thinking the same thing.
Even floors have limited size.
Resources per floor are finite.
You can't farm endlessly respawning mobs like in some online RPG.
Even if reinforcements might arrive from off-map, those maps always trigger sudden death fast.
Most parties without a Girl like ours wouldn't even be tangled in narratives that big yet.
My speedrun record for kingdom entry in a normal state was under a week. That's the difficulty level.
This game—the Labyrinth—is all about snowballing.
Gains roll like snowballs, growing bigger.
You have to roll them faster and bigger than everyone else.
Being strong early accelerates growth. Rolling and building on that is the core.
Same after the kingdom.
So the tutorial zone before the kingdom ends, and your power level as a kingdom newbie, is crucial too.
Because you keep snowballing those gains in the kingdom.
Now the problem arises.
What do you hunt on odd floors?
Refugees don't make it this far.
Resources are limited.
Right.
To exiles, other exiles are prime prey.
Not just XP.
Whatever luck they hit on even floors different from mine.
Valuable gear.
High-end consumables.
Maybe even an unused race card they've been saving.
Just Floor 7. No reason not to gamble if you're solo.
From the second theme onward, odd floors can be prime hunting grounds over any even floor.
The snowfield theme doesn't change just because it's an odd floor.
Even accounting for that, Floor 7 was nasty.
It was atop an endlessly flowing glacier.
No proper land anywhere—just a handful.
The glacier was so vast it felt like solid ground, but the gimmicks could make it crack and crumble plenty.
Beneath? Icy-cold ocean.
Prime hook-shot terrain.
I decided to find a secluded spot to hole up as our base.
Not all the glacier was flat.
Terrain was complex, riddled with what you'd call ice caves.
More like an ant-hill maze built from tangled massive icebergs and floes.
We'd moved decently far, but no people. Just traces like footprints.
"Let's just pass this floor quietly, no incidents."
"Yeah? Why?"
The Girl's question came with a vague tone.
"Whatever the others got on even floors pales compared to the floors we've cleared."
"I'm new, so I don't really know."
"Remember that vampire lord on Floor 4?"
The Girl shuddered.
"Ugh, it showed up in my dream last night."
"No wonder you were thrashing. Woke me up kicking. Normally, that's a 20+ floor boss."
"Eh, so this place is..."
"Floor 7."
"Right? Why's that? Feels like we're the weird ones."
I couldn't exactly say it was her fault.
I gave the answer I'd prepped.
"Must've triggered something. Abnormal progress. But the gains make it worth it."
"Gains? Why? Seems too hard."
"XP's on another level. Other exiles are barely scraping Lv. 50, if that. What's your level?"
The Girl blinked lightly before answering.
She'd gotten pretty familiar with opening her Mind Map.
I'd trained her to do it with just a casual blink, and eventually, she needed to open it freely anytime.
"72."
"I'm 89."
"You soloed everything last floor..."
"Tsk tsk. Pretty words, kid. Gobble."
"You gobbled it all up..."
Strictly speaking, Lv. 50 on Floor 7 was near the limit for reaching without killing exiles.
Assuming average difficulty without spikes, you'd have to near-solo bosses like I did.
"Factor in gear too."
The purple dagger still radiating an ominous aura.
Cacriish's relic now. If the kingdom learned I had it, my life expectancy would tank.
[Hero Unit] gear, after all.
"That's the only special one!"
"Nah. Our equipped gear overall is tiers above other exiles'."
Every party snagged Kukulkan scales, sure, but few met dwarves right on Floor 6 to craft gear from them.
Even the armor we'd looted from the abyss wasn't low-tier.
The Girl frowned, recalling other exiles she'd seen.
"Hmm, yeah. Pretty ragged. Some dude in jeans..."
If your outfit looked remotely like a medieval fantasy local's, you were lucky.
The elf archer's party was like that. Mage in robes, archer in leather.
Pretty dresses or snazzy suits? Useless in combat.
"Our lineup's got no gaps, right?"
If anything, we were overspecced. That's why Sir Dusban's pendant alone cleared all suspicion in the Floor 6 dwarf village.
Ignoring the race confusion, we looked no different from continent locals anywhere you checked.
"The leaf fairy priestess robe you're wearing now? Wouldn't be weird if someone saw it and lost their mind."
She'd gotten a spare from the grove fairies instead of the stump fairy's fading magic clothes.
A priestess outfit blessed by a god of nature, no less.
Aakash's Eye, Cacriish's dagger, had a divine blessing too.
Hard to call them equal, but blessing gear was precious pre- or post-kingdom.
Back in game days, it'd have a orange unique icon on hover.
"Yeah. So we can beat everyone?"
I shook my head.
"In a fair tournament, maybe."
Think back to whatever went down on Floor 3. Or mid-boss fight on Floor 5.
"Right now, we're golden goblins."
"...Killing us and looting's a total jackpot, huh?"
"Yeah. If you're fighting anyway, better take out exiles with superior gear. Coalitions form too."
A Labyrinth problem born of cheap death?
I didn't see it that way. Humans make all kinds of calls in extreme spots anyway.
The "not full murder" caveat just makes it easier.
Floor 3 outlaws weren't kingdom reachers, let alone Labyrinth clearers.
Floor 7 exiles aren't outlaws, but they're seasoned enough to navigate the Labyrinth with basics that eclipse them.
Even good ones won't hold back where legal hunting's fair game.
"Starting soon?"
"Looks like it."
The Hunter answered, eyeing the footprints in the snow.
Luckily, no convoluted rules here.
Party battle royale structure.
Lay low till numbers thin out, and the stairs open.
Funny thing about exiles: fighting stops like a lie the instant stairs appear.
Most know not to make grudges.
It's a gesture: we kill out of necessity, not lawless thugs.
PVP floors have an implicit pact: human-hunting exiles okay.
Go beyond, get branded outlaw and dogpiled.
Really like a sports festival.
The Girl cut in.
"How exactly does it start?"
"Countdown kicks off. When it ends, all parties see and can hit each other."
The Girl looked predictably lost.
The Hunter elaborated.
"You've seen footprints and traces everywhere, but no people. Everyone's here, but phased out of interference."
"Countdown ends, phases sync. See 'em, fight 'em."
Positioning's key. Fight starts sudden, no intel on gear or status.
"Going up's a bad idea. Everyone thinks that."
"No footprints that way."
"Good call. Let's find a solid hidey-hole. No need to kill—we won't miss a thing."
Floors had been brutal. At least the last one was physically comfy.
No plan hitches either.
Floor 6 felt like rare peace.
Problem was feeling comfy after forcing [Meteor Swarm] with divine authority drain.
Failure there would've birthed a mana disaster for the ages.
Finally spotted a good spot. Lucky before countdown.
Unobtrusive, no strategic value, secluded enough, with escape routes.
Felt like stepping into a mini igloo.
"Pretty."
The Girl gazed up at the cave ceiling.
"Light filters through so nicely. Clear ice."
Even deep in the massive glacier, light penetrated.
Not enough to spot others, but the faint, ethereal glow was dreamlike.
Earth glaciers weren't like this.
Magic world's nature had sights unseen back home.
"Not seconds, huh?"
"Accommodation for exiles unfamiliar with seconds?"
The numbers ticked down steadily, but it felt like about five seconds.
Hit zero.
Now nothing should happen...
Five people appeared before us. Nine crammed in not-that-big space.
The Kid swiftly raised his shield.
Bracing for incoming attacks.
No one said it, but that's standard. Proof of a rough life.
"Damn, they're still here."
"Wiped the tracks—made 'em think it was empty instead."
Quick chatter from the other party.
Long-haul party like us?
Before trouble brewed, I stepped out from behind the Kid and raised both hands.
"Hold up. You guys. Planning to hide here anyway, right?"
Brief silence, then their apparent leader nodded.
"Yeah, same here. Good's good—hide till stairs open, then split? Deal?"
Our gear screamed threat at a glance.
No way they wanted a fight.
They accepted my pitch without gripe.
Peace. What a beautiful word.
"Issue's how many need to stay for stairs."
Their leader said. I played harmless with a smile.
"Usually 100 cap, around 50. Plenty."
"Oh yeah? Knowing that—you're a vet, huh."
His eyes flicked to Aakash's Eye, then away. No fighting spirit.
Personnel limit should pop soon. Assuming 100 total, clear condition around 50.
It popped as he spoke.
I doubted my eyes for a second. Thought I misread.
"Four...?"
A dazed mumble hung in the air, followed by dead silence.
First things first—wipe these five.
Peace is so fleeting. Damn it all.