Chapter 64
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Floor 8 - Lv. 159 Brigade Headquarters (9)
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The knights were grateful that the wyverns and ogres charged in such a brainless manner.
The lord wisely refrained from overestimating his own combat prowess and headed into the shadowed back alleys under the knights' escort.
It was absurd, but anyone who reached a certain status knew the truth: vampire society existed overlaid atop human society like a veneer.
Vampires were akin to parasites that fed on humans as hosts, which meant they had to protect those hosts above all else.
Assigning bodyguards to the lord in emergencies wasn't even an unspoken rule—it was a formal agreement.
To prevent any abuse, it was even enforced through magical oaths, known only to those in key positions.
Of course, the escort knights knew. It wasn't as if they were supposed to, but it was impossible not to.
While the other knights strained to hold the line, the escort captain followed the lord into the darkness.
"To think such a noble guest would grace our humble abode."
A figure greeted them—a shadow leaning casually against the dilapidated ruin as if the darkness itself were an extension of his body.
"I believe the pact still holds."
The lord replied, struck by how familiar the voice sounded.
"Thanks to that pact, the kingdom hasn't launched an all-out war against us. We must honor it, then."
The tone was one of mild annoyance, the voice thick with fatigue.
He'd heard it before.
But why?
Ignoring the lord's confusion, the vampire stepped forward.
"Our role in this castle is rear-guard support. You do understand that, right?"
Just before the face emerged from the shadows, the lord realized whose voice it was.
"East Gate Defense Captain?"
"That's my title when I'm pretending to be human. Don't worry—my deputy handles the work better than I do. He's the type who's genuinely devoted to his duty. And he's a real human, too. Make him your successor."
At this unexpected revelation, the escort captain's hand went to his sword.
He tried to draw it, but it wouldn't budge—as if the hilt were weighted with lead.
"No matter how surprised you are, you can't just go drawing your sword like that, Escort Captain."
The captain shuddered, realizing a faint thread of mana extended from the man's fingertip toward his blade.
As far as he knew, the vampire clan that claimed this castle as territory was purely a martial faction.
They possessed no such magical abilities and didn't cultivate them.
He'd heard as much from Night Crow.
Clan master-level vampire lords each possessed bizarre unique powers.
Which meant this man—who daily racked up complaints of negligence and poor performance...
"If the ogres or wyverns were the type to use metal weapons, I'd handle them alone somehow. But even I can't just plunge into that horde of monsters..."
The East Gate Defense Captain—no, the master of the Provoy Clan—said with a friendly grin.
"I'll escort you to safety first, then join the fray. Get back safely and call for reinforcements."
The lord clutched his head but nodded anyway.
"I will."
The Goddess of Chaos gathered the entire party—or more precisely, clustered them around the Girl.
The party's leader wouldn't be reachable for a while.
She couldn't bear the thought of losing one of her precious companions in his absence.
So she had to keep an eye on them.
'Goddess, you could just honestly say you like me.'
「You've learned nothing but bad habits from that guy. Can't you show me a little more respect?」
'But Uncle's not in danger this time, right?'
There was a sharp edge to this question.
The goddess flinched but drew on millennia of divine experience. The Girl was still too young to see through her bluff.
「I pulled some strings. The God of Nature can't exactly be chummy with the God of War anyway.」
When bluffing, always hide it within a kernel of truth.
Fortunately, unlike the habitual offender 'Uncle,' the goddess still enjoyed the Girl's trust.
The Girl nodded repeatedly as she kicked off a wall to leap over an incoming fireball.
A dagger flew at her.
Her movements were now a blur. She was on par with any of her teacher's peers.
A dagger might only scratch an ogre's hide, but a well-placed strike could still be serious.
The ogre clutched its ear hole, grimacing, then puzzled at the approaching ground.
Then it ended its life crushed beneath its own collapsing bulk.
"Thick necks make it hard to get a clean ambush kill. Spinning it around's a pain. Maybe I should use a longer sword myself."
"A true warrior doesn't cling to one weapon. Versatility across many is the mark of skill."
You couldn't always choose your weapon.
"Says the Hunter Uncle who only ever uses his bow."
"I can handle blunt weapons and spears as well."
"You think that'd be enough against an ogre?"
"That's the last thing I'd ever want."
"Pfft, if that's all you've got, you don't really know how to use them."
Her standards were absurdly high. The Hunter smiled without replying and nocked an arrow.
The ogre lunging at the youngest member jerked its head away in surprise as an arrow whistled toward its eye.
The Hunter tossed his bow upward briefly and drew the pistol from his belt, squeezing the trigger.
A round bullet sped forth. Not modern firepower, but faster than any arrow.
The bullet burrowed into the ogre's eye socket. No time for agony.
Its head exploded.
"It's all about firepower."
The Hunter nodded in satisfaction. In his exile life, ogres and trolls had been objects of terror.
He prided himself on his archery, but raw archery power always fell short against massive monsters.
Reloading was cumbersome and rapid fire difficult, but this magical firepower suited him perfectly.
And it didn't even require gunpowder like a real flintlock. The scales used in its making already carried fire and explosive properties.
Gear truly trumped skills and stats. Archers were devastating in the opening salvo but became extremely vulnerable afterward.
Try drawing a bow point-blank, and your own head splits first.
Labyrinth monsters were superhuman to begin with.
Even special arrows had limits, which coincided with the Hunter's own.
He'd rarely visited far-future eras where timelines jumped wildly.
He frequented the kingdom in his daily rounds, but had never actually been there.
Even so, the self-crafted firearms from pre-kingdom eras packed sufficient punch.
In some ways, these magically enhanced guns might outshine pure physical ones like anti-materiel rifles.
"I need to learn the crafting method. Diligently."
The Hunter sighed as he said it.
A twinge of doubt crept in: was it right to invest so much time and effort into mere tools?
"The Temple of Time..."
The term "spirit" might evoke images of sentient beings with full self-awareness.
But Labyrinth spirits lacked true ego or thought.
They were natural phenomena incarnate.
Did a typhoon or drought possess a mind?
Spirits were akin to natural occurrences born in a world of magic and mana flow.
Aggregates of ambient energy scattered across the world, incarnations of elements.
Spirit arts concretized them through contracts, borrowing a spirit mage's consciousness to grant them a semblance of self.
First, one had to find a spirit.
Crystallized elements were like the corpses left by spirits that had exhausted their lifespan.
This size meant it was undoubtedly from a high-rank spirit.
The magic circle activated with the crystal as catalyst. Countless leaf fairies gathered, finding their places.
I sat at the circle's center, flanked by the fairy mage.
I was the contract's subject, but the fairy mage shared the burden, powered by the mana from hordes of leaf fairy spirit mages.
Frankly, this was shaky even for attempting a spirit king contract.
In my memories of farther-future continents, such events drew crowds like clouds, with spectators galore.
Researchers seeking insights, tycoons drawn by the spirit king's prestige.
Spirit king contracts were grand spectacles advertised worldwide as "contract ceremonies."
This was bare-bones even for a rushed version—like a wedding with holy water and a peck on the lips.
As always, this world lacked teeth. A top exile mastered chewing with gums.
I was plenty skilled.
The gem in my hand trembled.
My mind entered the spirit realm.
The spirit realm felt like... what was it, the Digital World?
Physical senses like sight and sound became meaningless.
One merely swam through seas of intuitively implanted information.
Yet humans visualized it via sight.
My spirit realm appeared as a Minesweeper grid packed with squares.
Elements swirled everywhere: flames roared, lightning crackled, earth quaked, chill seeped.
I chose a direction—the catalyst was a wind crystal, so the wind spirit king it was.
Step by step, toward where the wind blew strongest.
A small pop of explosion rang out.
The priestess's eyes widened in shock, but the blast came not from the contracting human, but the mage beside him.
Fire licked his arm. Water spirits rushed in to douse it.
Remaining wounds healed via the miracle spring water already in his mouth.
Then lightning struck again.
This time his head. His body convulsed violently, hair burned away.
Healing magic couldn't interfere—artificial mana might disrupt the ceremony itself.
The leaf fairies, priestess included, held their breath watching the circle's center.
A rare silence from the usually chatty leaf fairies.
Meanwhile, troll roars slowly approached from afar.
The mage suppressed the urge to complain: Can't you take it easy?
This authority from the God of Magic was meant for unity in group grand spells.
Not one-sided burden. He'd forced most of it onto himself via prayer.
The God of Magic's blessings often came with knowledge suffixes. This run was no different.
Satisfied to observe a spirit king contract through his follower's eyes, the god had resisted his throne to enable it.
Chill gripped his body. The fairy mage consciously blocked the freezing pain, pondering.
Why had it come to this?
The initial event was too massive; containing it demanded equally grand measures.
He'd never seen such rapid upheaval before the server's second month.
Most exiles were mere bystanders at first.
Thus, early continents maintained relative stability.
Tense, perhaps, but not full-scale war.
Even victory here would send ripples far and wide.
Veterans from the kingdom might get dragged in.
Some seeking their [Racial Mainstream] but wandering lost.
Not just rushed, but time-limited too.
If he saw the Goddess of Chaos again—no, he'd march there himself and bonk her till she cried.
Wouldn't retreating and dealing with Floor 10 later be smarter?
Success would add an ace up the sleeve, sure.
But was Floor 10 really that scary just because it was even-numbered boss floor?
This might be harder.
That thought crossed his mind as he misstepped.
His body remained seated, of course.
The "misstep" was just visualized info.
Darkness bloomed. He'd touched a darkness element. Bad for mental health.
He grimaced.
Even if he pushed through, could the old man beside him endure?
The priestess quickly dragged the mage out. Darkness had suddenly welled up, and he collapsed.
Long-lived fairies knew darkness's terror well.
Exiles even more so.
For fairies, it dredged shameful memories into depression.
But an exile's memories harbored far worse horrors.
Yet the fainted mage's face was serene.
He'd knocked himself out preemptively. Wise, whatever the method.
Lightning crashed down.
No mere spark this time.
The ceremony's magic circle defenses shook.
He'd gone deep. Touched some high spirit in the realm's depths, perhaps.
How much time had passed?
Even a fairy's stretched time sense tensed human-tight now.
A small fire spirit bird, counting time aloud, cried out.
Five times.
Only 5 minutes?
Ceremonies could last days.
Spirit king hunts especially.
Faith deepened anew.
God of Nature, you are ever righteous.
The grid was now a minefield of lethal traps everywhere.
Several penalties had triggered, but none fatal.
A demon would've ruined everything. Good none had appeared.
But from here, such risks spiked.
Top-tier spirits began appearing sporadically.
Lurking, eyeing intruders.
He headed windward.
Slower pace.
Rushing here summoned disasters none could handle.
Exactly as he thought that, he slipped up.
A boom, and space tore.
Spirits swarmed. Four high spirits from standby sealed the rift.
Flames licked from within. Hell's maw cracked open.
Not a greater demon—devils or demons would've been worse than the incoming trolls.
Spirits pushed back the emerging fiend.
The rift narrowed.
Stronger things might follow.
Relief washed over him.
Was this enough?
A door appeared.
Great Wind Spirit.
This level could plug the gap decently, right?
He hesitated, then pressed on.
Following the wind.
Chasing its currents.
The forest edge finally crumbled. Grove Fairies had retreated to the contract site.
A few leaf fairies asked their differently eared kin.
"Couldn't you lure them toward the human castle?"
"We tried, but they'd already scented fairies and charged. You leaf folk have a stronger aroma."
"You saying we stink right now?"
A leaf fairy's head got smacked.
"Ignore it, Grove friends. We're joining you now."
Mana flowed abundantly into the circle—the human's slowed pace helped.
The priestess summoned multiple high spirits with squeezed mana.
A troll peeked through trees.
Ice shards pierced its eye; it howled.
A Grove Fairy eyed the circle.
Then the human at center.
"Huh? Isn't that...?"
"You know him?"
"Yeah, he saved our village."
Exiles popped up everywhere.
The priestess just nodded.
Mana supply cut off. Slow pace meant no issue, but something happened outside.
Troll riders arriving? Should've moved secretly.
No—delaying would've been worse.
Sigh. Focus. Advance bit by bit.
The grid was gone now.
Only great spirit-level ones had doors.
Doors everywhere.
Time to burn all crystals.
Decision made, storm winds howled.
Crystallized wind poured back through him into the realm.
Spirits buzzed amid the gale.
To them, he looked delicious.
Find a path deeper before winds died.
Something sucked in wind.
Spirits stirred.
He looked.
Fake.
Just densely packed.
Not a king. Falling for it meant failure—and mortal peril.
Wait, then...
Go opposite.
Instinct.
Direction with oddly few high spirits.
High spirits formed from merged mid-tiers.
Kings from great spirits.
This wind-saturated zone had a bizarre void.
He ran.
Stepped on wrong paths anyway.
Demons outside or abyssal exile—catch the king, and it'd resolve.
Felt body convulsing from penalties, kept running.
At the end, a nascent colossal power emerged.
He sprinted faster. Mana drained rapidly.
He'd aimed for 5 seconds initially.
With God of Magic and fairy support, maybe 9.
It dwindled.
3 seconds left to activate the king—reached it.
He shouted. Or barked.
"[It's super urgent right now, so let's make it quick and sloppy. Any name's fine? Yeah?]"
Before the spirit king could respond, he named it.
[Sylphid! Sylphid it is!]
Before reaction, forced form.
[To look super strong, gotta be a dragon!]
It shifted to silver dragon shape. Newborn, instincts weak.
A pity for weakness, boon for speed.
[Out to material plane, now!]
Preempted resistance. Named, shaped.
Slammed headfirst.
[That's me. Got it? Contract, stat!]
Overwhelmed, it consented.
Mind yanked back to body.
With immense new power.
Eyes opened to trolls and dinosaurs.
Some fairies already clubbed down or cowering.
All in one glance.
Had to wield the king from that posture.
3 seconds runtime left.
Smash the distant brigade HQ outpost. Who knew what else lurked.
Trdongt and saintess not there? Please.
Fuck, even if they were—whatever. Stick to fairies.