Chapter 6
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Floor 2 - Lv.27 Fairies and Orcs (2)
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There are things called random encounters.
It's an effort in fantasy adventure games to implement all sorts of chance roadside meetings.
Whether they appear is up to luck, but once they do, they follow a basic scenario, with minor details randomized.
Among random encounters that can spawn in forests, one of the most exhausting is the Fairy Tree, aka Faction War.
It's not just bumping into a fairy roadside—there's a whole fairy village.
And inevitably, a hostile faction to balance it out.
The exhausting part of this random encounter isn't that—it's the condition to reach the next floor.
One side or the other has to be wiped out before the stairs open.
Usually, you pick a side and steamroll the other.
Another headache: you don't even know what factions oppose the fairies.
Worst case, demons or some near-future military outfit could be waiting.
If that's your low-floor factions, this run is royally screwed.
Fairies and I get wiped equally. At Floor 2 level, options are slim.
So I found high ground first.
Behind the spring, atop a gentle hill, grew a decent-sized tree.
Threw a dagger to tag the top and blinked up.
Fierce wind whipped around. Couldn't see everything at once, but the view stretched pretty far.
The Fairy Tree the Hunter spotted was just barely visible.
What about the sky?
No red thunderheads signaling demons.
Demons skipped.
No orbital elevator in sight.
Thank the stars.
No dodging railgun fire, then.
Situation just got a lot simpler.
Even worst-case enemies here are fightable. They might shred me like rags, but I can win.
Back on solid ground via blink, I waved it off.
"No big deal."
The Girl bought it. The Hunter looked baffled.
"Unless it's a top faction blatantly advertising its position, even worst case is manageable."
"An ogre alone ends this run, doesn't it?"
"Why an ogre? That's doable."
"Uh..."
Tsk tsk. Low-timers, man.
Before clashing with any factions, we agreed to scout around the spring and farm.
Not all forests are the same, even if themed "forest."
The Hunter, sounding nostalgic, said it reminded him of California's conifer woods back home.
A middle-aged guy with a kinda barren look to him, but that ruggedness made his face pretty easy on the eyes.
En route, we swapped some personal stories. Outside-world talk's mostly taboo, so Labyrinth life it was.
The Hunter, who'd fretted over ogres, said his worst faction experience was an undead horde. Sounded upper-mid tier at best, not even top.
I clicked my tongue.
"Twelve-year vet, and that's your worst?"
"Top-tier undead horde. Liches in battalion strength—that's a disaster, right?"
"Not top-tier."
"Pardon?"
Top undead factions treat liches like basic grunts.
I described bone dragons swarming like pigeon flocks. The Hunter went pale.
"Never seen a bone dragon. Things like that exist?"
"Never made it to the kingdom?"
"...No."
Wonder what face he'd make if I told him pre-kingdom's basically tutorial?
Tempting, but no need to crush morale further.
Labyrinth tenure aside, this middle-aged Hunter was forest-savvy.
Marked our trail without prompting—prepping for if we got lost.
Spotted a few beast tracks, too.
Not hoarding food, so no pursuit.
Real-world beasts like bears aren't pushovers early-game, even as "monsters."
Better leave 'em be.
We headed opposite the Fairy Tree, far off.
Pre-kingdom floors boast near-world-scale sprawl, but aren't that huge.
This forest? Ringed by sheer, unclimbable cliffs.
Force a climb, just empty void awaits.
So the other faction's spot—if not fairies—is roughly preset.
Experience counts.
Fairy Tree, Healing Spring, enemy faction: perfect triangle.
Behind the spring? Decent buffer zone.
Far from both forces, it's prime safe farming—no random mobs.
No need to tango with risky factions early.
At heart, RPGs are farming sims.
Left the Girl at the spring, though.
Had her drilling quick Mind Map open/close.
First-run newbie or not, rest was smart. Unknown turf drains stamina—or sanity—faster than you'd think.
Labyrinth's bullshit: it's a game, but you can't play it like one.
Told her it'd take time—nap if sleepy.
"Sleep in this?"
Words say no, but she'd crash hard.
Kept advancing, whispering banter.
Hunter up front signals—he'd caught something.
Sadly, the high schooler and this middle-aged Yank both outpace my base hearing stats.
Innate talent?
Hunter drops low. I follow suit, creep up.
A game trail.
Something lives nearby. I nod.
Rustle rustle.
Small humanoid monsters shuffling from ahead.
Elementary-schooler size, green skin.
Labyrinth's most common hue. Lumped as Greenskins.
Fantasy staple: goblins.
No discipline—wild spawn, faction-agnostic.
Hunter whispers:
"Fairy foes are goblins?"
Wild mobs get influenced by the floor's factions.
I hedge.
"Greenskins. Orcs, ogres... maybe trolls."
"Trolls are nasty."
Usually, goblins are low-tier fodder.
Among burly orcs and such, pint-sized goblins ain't much threat.
But the Labyrinth ain't easy.
Goblins excel at ambushes over frontline brawls.
Mix in a high-level goblin assassin? You'd pray for ogres.
These path-walkers? Lowbies.
Four of 'em. Hunter slings crossbow, grabs mace—spoils from Floor 1 corpses.
Shotgun overkill; save it.
Fight ended in one breath.
My tossed dagger nails the farthest throat.
He flops.
Multitasking's combat 101.
As the first crumples, my second dagger slits the nearest goblin's neck.
Two down.
The middle one, clutching squirrel-ish prey, screeches and rears up.
Next instant? Poof—from his view.
That toss? Blink Dagger.
Blink strikes with dagger to throat. Opponent's POV: flawless backstab.
Head pops clean off, no resistance.
Wild goblin or not, it's a monster.
Normally? No clean one-shot.
But this edge bites too well.
All hits got backstab bonus.
Game-era extra damage now means "shouldn't pierce" does, "shouldn't cut" cleaves.
Tofu-slice? System assist over skill.
Hunter brains his target.
In awe: "How?!"
"How what?"
"Three drop before I swing once."
"Again?"
Re-ran the Blink Dagger backstab.
Hunter's jaw unhinges.
"It works like that?"
"How else?"
Not some rare skill. Twelve-year vet's probably seen it.
"Stashed safe or panic-toss for escape."
"Never thought offense."
"Even if? Tough."
Shakes head—can't mimic despite demo.
Fair. Dagger throws need mastery passive first.
The clearing around the Healing Spring was quiet.
Uncle had dragged the Hunter off.
The Girl eyed the timer floating in her Mind Map's corner.
[Remaining Time: 99 years 364 days 15 hours 22 minutes]
Hit zero, and she'd turn "resident," too.
Not quite like the native NPCs born here.
But "Labyrinth Resident" all the same—eternally trapped.
Title Exiles despise. They crave escape.
Wonder what it's like for birthright NPCs?
No outside-world knowledge for them.
This "Labyrinth" is their universe.
Eh, unknowable stays unknowable.
Girl focused, closed the Mind Map.
Left alone, she'd first drilled open/close as ordered.
Asked why bother—Uncle shrugged like obvious:
"[Points gotta last. Some skills are conditional. Hit the prereq, then spend.]"
"[Uh, sure, but that's not my question.]"
"[It is. Sometimes you yeet into a prereq, pray-spend on a skill. Right one pops? You live. Whole thing in one second.]"
"[Physical game, huh.]"
Polite delivery, horrifying casualness.
Girl realized: this Labyrinth's way nuttier than imagined.
Didn't faze her.
Her old world wasn't sane either.
Family, nation—even school.
Here didn't suck.
Could do what she wanted, at least.
Drew her dagger. She called it a long dagger; Uncle stuck to "dagger."
Weird disconnect.
Heard the pitch: hardcore vet Exile.
But... reality-perception felt off-kilter?
Like he floated solo.
Dared not ask his tenure. Feared the number.
Post-practice, she'd mulled that.
Why?
Average high schooler wouldn't dwell.
Hours acquainted, tops.
Cohabitate, it'd click.
Bigger deal: his face was her type.
"Uncle," sure—but mid-twenties tops?
Could've cringed at "bro," but took "Uncle" smooth. Cute.
Prime age for mature older guys.
Even that screamed tolerance.
"Heroes need heroines. Heh heh heh."
Had Uncle seen her toying with the blade, muttering? Danger alert.
She drifted in fancies.
But that noise? Unmissable.
Spring's tucked behind rocks and trees—save the narrow mouth.
Peek fine.
Girl crept to entrance, ducked into brush.
Arrow's razor whoosh. Roaring battle cries.
A woman bolted right past her hidey-hole.
Blur-fast, but Girl's dynamic vision locked.
Blonde, lithe—pointy ears.
Bow drawn, firing rearward, endless retreat.
Then: massive axe-man bats her arrow, pursues.
Hulking, muscle-packed green-skinned brute.
Wait—what? Uh-oh?
Girl grinned impish.
And a voice:
"What're you?"
The axe-wielding green giant—who'd seemed path-bound—parts the brush one-handed. Stares right at her.