Chapter 57
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: 8th Floor - Lv. 159 Brigade Headquarters (2)
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A wide map refers to a layer several to dozens of times larger than a typical even-numbered floor.
If a wide map appears, the map's layout can take any number of forms.
But if you end up dropping right back into the exact same spot, that's a different story.
Such things are rare.
The continent alone is vast, larger than Earth.
The odds of landing in the same place on the same server aren't high.
At most, the same location but at vastly different times happens occasionally.
If the time frame is nearly identical, it becomes exceedingly rare.
In our party's case, I figured it was because so much—from the initial encounter onward—was tightly intertwined.
"It's like this happened because we're pushing too far ahead."
"Could you explain that concept again?"
The Hunter asks, brow furrowed.
If he'd made it past the Kingdom, he'd have at least heard rumors, but for someone who hasn't even glimpsed the [Racial Mainstream], it's no wonder he's lost.
"Did I explain the server concept before?"
"I've heard it once or twice."
I'm gradually filling them in on the details.
In the worst case, even if our party wipes, I'll survive somehow—and I'll drag the Girl with me.
But the Hunter and the youngest? No guarantees.
Someone might call it hypocrisy.
Still, as long as it's within reach, I want to play the hypocrite and give it my all.
So, these little lectures along the way.
"All Exiles before reaching the Kingdom belong to a single server—the pre-Kingdom stretch. Got that?"
Even the youngest nods at this one.
A server is basically a continent.
Exiles call it a server thanks to the Labyrinth's floating TIP messages, but to the locals living on it, it's straight-up a parallel world.
Similar in so many ways, yet completely different.
The Labyrinth has one continent per server.
Once you hit the Kingdom and get assigned a new server, that's when it gets crucial.
Depends on the continent's state, though.
Some servers have wiped out all the anti-Exile factions, leaving residents little better than slaves.
Old servers, sure.
Ones where residents and Exiles alike got culled, then plundered for ages by long-lived races that swapped out their own.
Apocalypse for the locals. Hell, that's exactly what it is.
On the flip side, some servers are ruled by hardcore anti-Exile powers, making any activity a nightmare.
Those get branded trash-tier and shunned.
Exiles who share the same tutorial get locked to that server—no solo transfer possible.
Want another? Party up with someone from there and make them leader.
Not impossible, but a hassle if you can't roam freely.
Even grasping the basics takes time. No matter how often I repeat it, these two—far from gamers—struggle.
The Girl picks it up quick, though.
"Just like it sounds. Feels a lot like a game."
"True enough. Never played myself, but my son loved them."
The Hunter mutters; the youngest picks up.
Everyone freezes.
"Married?"
"Kids too?"
"Huh? Uh? Y-Yeah?"
The youngest flashes a grin.
"He's in a better place now."
The mood sobers instantly.
The rougher your old world was, the more Exiles find solace here in the Labyrinth.
No matter the hardship, worlds harsher and uglier than this exist.
Unhappier souls too.
Tricky business. Blanche is kinda like that, in a way.
"Ahem. Anyway—one server, aka one continent's fate hinges on its central thread: the [Racial Mainstream]."
"Like a main scenario quest?"
"Not quite. The continent's really just a farming ground; true challengers hunt the [Main Dungeon]."
"Oh, right—clear all [Main Dungeons], and everyone in the Labyrinth gets freed back to reality?"
"Exactly. Sharp memory."
The [Main Dungeon] is its own dimensional rift, unlinked to the Kingdom.
For someone who claims she's bad at rote memorization, the Girl's got a steel-trap mind. All talk?
"So yeah, we're likely staring down a [Racial Mainstream] branch point. Normally, this doesn't kick off so soon—or so blatantly."
Other Exiles prowl even floors too.
They nudge local spots here and there.
Locally, yeah.
This server's been open just over a month. Some Exiles hit the Kingdom by now, sure—but not enough time to meddle deep in continental politics.
Me? Our party? We're doing it.
While others network and grind favor, we've snagged the Mainstream and forged Hero Unit bonds.
Post-Kingdom offers picks; pre-Kingdom? No floor choices.
Pure fate pulls you to your ties.
Hence, a [Wide Map] unlocking on floor 8.
Proof positive: no other party's racked up our level of connections here.
We've got sway over this server's—this continent's—fate.
The Girl gasps at the epic rundown.
"Whoa! But doesn't that make it way harder?"
"Spot-on."
I ruffle her hair as a reward. She's probably the architect of this mess—major props.
"Usually, Kingdom vets flood in to steer it. They're itching for fresh continents."
"Like, 'We stripped our server bare'?"
"Could be. Or it's gotten too dicey to stick around."
How a world evolves?
Endless variables. Way beyond old-game simplicity.
In raw reality, server histories butterfly-effect wildly from tiny nudges.
No wonder the God of War wants me erased.
Only way to safeguard his turf here.
To gods, followers mean more the merrier. Losing new ones? Nah.
「Hey, you gonna clue me in yet?」
‘What’s on your mind, Chaos?’
「Couldn’t feed my followers info as some piddly god, so I’ve been eavesdropping.」
‘First time seeing a pre-Kingdom board this blown up, huh.’
「Yeah. [Racial Mainstream] already tangled? From floor 2? War god’s gotta be reeling.」
Small mercy: this God of War seems none too bright.
Greenskin spawn, probably.
Spamming the same message, rage-first? Troll vibes.
The goddess confirms.
「Ugh, shoulda been me on the War throne.」
‘Think you’d win?’
「War god’s a troll berserker. Demon warrior here—think I’d lose to troll trash?」
Demons do pack heat.
「Last Chaos was a demon mage.」
‘And you beat that?’
Damn, that's wild. Demon mage? Peak race-class synergy, Labyrinth-top tier.
The goddess beams.
「I’m kinda badass.」
‘Fair.’
Her voice hits like a teen girl fresh off a manga binge—total wild child energy.
「What blasphemous BS you thinking now?」
‘Oh yeah, spotted a snowflower fruit on scout today. Want it?’
「Ooh, tribute after ages?」
She sniffs out self-shade like a ghost.
Dodged slick, and she still clocks it.
Three days of scouting wrapped.
Labyrinth pulls wild luck BS, but it clings to basic logic.
No blockbuster threats spawning in three months flat.
Still, we swept again for regrown fruits and any new objects.
Zip.
"Can we ditch this freezer now?"
The Hunter gripes.
Only he froze his ass off hard.
Girl's got [Cold Resistance] plus Grove Fairy priest robes; I've got angel-down padding; youngest's built like a tank.
Hunter's the lone shiverer.
Tundra winter's brutal. Dwarf village base made it doable.
"Time to head down. That moss dwarf trader swings by monthly, remember."
No hauling the snow leopard, so hitch a ride.
We're trade buddies; he'll hook us up.
Moss dwarves? Greedy as hell, but merchant honor's ironclad.
Magic cart rolls up silent from afar. Chains wrapped wheels for snow grip.
We wait; he spots us.
"Oi, still kicking? Place didn't crumble?"
"Sudden Death ring a bell?"
"Heard of it. To us, you trip on a pristine plain; to you, world's caving in?"
"Hah, mind-bender."
"Exiles like you? Miracles walking. Southbound? Booze up."
Struck me: How do locals see Exiles Sudden-Deathing?
"Ain't witnessed it. World-crack vibes? Yeah."
"Like what?"
"You'll catch it soon."
Pondered; cart path hints.
Up a tall hill—there.
"See it? Meteor flattened a Greenskin horde. Heh. No fluke—some archmage's work."
Snow-buried, devastation screams.
Snow-choked craters still dominate.
Edges dotted with outpost rubble.
"Flat plain turned basin. Thought quake at first."
Rock dwarves zipped on me.
Nightcrow glow helps, but they're born mumblers.
"Whoa, saw the flash too. Sky lit up!"
"Boom! Miles off, dawn haze exploded. Local panic? Epic. Which mage held Greenskin beef?"
"Area on alert?"
"Yup. Scramble for the mage—mighta been arrest, not escort. Traders like me ate the heat."
"Appreciate it. Remote runs are rare."
"Dwarves stick together. Looks? Whatever. Feels like kin. Heh."
Moss dwarves gab like pros.
Know we're Exiles—no filter, info flows free like wind.
Sipped till nightfall, mostly local lay and current buzz.
Hunter dodges dwarves weirdly, just listens; youngest jumps in lively.
"Cold? Booze. Bundle wrong, freeze faster."
"Smart lad. Oi, skinny—shift. Time for real men's bout."
Cracks another rotgut bottle.
Youngest belly-laughs, pure joy.
I shake head, bail. More risks tomorrow hangover.
Hm. World... spinning?
"Uncle, overdid it."
"Nah, stone cold."
"Dad said same."
"Uh, Dad..."
Girl honors my no-booze rule sweet. Merchant counters with frosted fruit, roaring.
Moss dwarf this generous? Floor 6 fur swap minted bank.
Tap sober Hunter for watch; eyes shut.
Consciousness zips out.
Vampire hunt? Follow the food.
Fairy or orc vamps exist, but non-native blood ain't dinner.
Overwhelming majority? Human stock.
Blizzards whip; magic cart churns snow unfazed.
Winter whites everything; nonstop two-day descent distant walls peek.
But off everywhere.
Castle arrow storm; orcs shield-charge heedless.
Wall mages strain-block ogre spells.
"What in blazes."
"No sign when you first hit dwarf village."
"Orc Empire rumors swirled shady. Attacking humans already? Blindside."
My bad, likely.
Flashed power, vet Exile cred—they're preemptive warring.
War god egged the emperor.
Second Fairy War? Near inevitable; sparks continent blaze.
Prime history fork.
War god's freakout? Obvious.
Karkrish croaked. [Hero Unit]: race-history linchpin named NPC.
Greenskin faction? Pillar yanked roots-up.
Doom piling; squash frailest humans first, corral Exiles.
Exiles start human.
「Troll brainfart or sharp orc emperor? Toss-up.」
‘Gotta be the god. War god knows—post this blatant war cry.」
「Right. You’re out to erase Greenskins from this continent.」
‘Future-jumped; no cosmic orks. Cull early.」
Snagged [Racial Mainstream] first? Solo-dominate the server, duh.
Not 'cause beam-saber troll's nightmare fuel. For real.
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