Chapter 67
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: 8th Floor - Lv. 55 Disciple (2)
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The battle was over, but the war was far from finished.
The Nature God's intervention meant the full commitment of all the fairies.
Unlike dwarves, who worshiped different gods by subgroup, or humans, who enjoyed guaranteed religious freedom, this was a different story.
On Earth, religious freedom was a given right. But in the Labyrinth's continent, it wasn't much of an advantage.
In a world where gods truly existed, lacking a racial deity was nothing but a loss for the entire species.
Yet even when pooling their strength, they might still be outmatched by other races—and for reasons like faith or petty squabbles, they fought among themselves.
That was why every Exile here was human. There was a reason for it.
Humans were the shittiest of the bunch.
Even as factions, not just races.
Games were best when they started from the shittiest spot.
But once it became reality, it just soured the mood entirely.
For now, while I could, it was time to investigate the Betrayed Human Saintess.
This was the first time in this run that I'd encountered humans on a scale that could qualify as a faction.
Up until now, they might've looked human-like, but they weren't actually human.
"You mean Great Saintess Meyrillis of Discipline?"
"She went missing, right? Heard anything?"
The guards and knights were friendly toward me. After a performance that shattered every prejudice against Exiles, it was only natural.
On top of that, the newly joined fairies at the castle were favorable to me too.
No, they treated me like a benefactor.
So the humans had no choice but to rethink their attitude toward me.
They naturally grew more deferential.
Convenient. My reputation and standing were solidified beyond what I'd aimed for.
The soldier, a follower of the God of Discipline, pondered briefly before answering.
"There were all sorts of grim rumors. Some said she was assassinated..."
"And the God?"
The God of Discipline was generally a taciturn deity who rarely sent messages.
Even more so when prefixed with money.
For them, money was the measure of all value. They ignored anything worthless—not even bothering with disdain.
That was why the soldier suddenly clammed up.
It wasn't that he didn't want to speak; his face said he couldn't.
I slipped him a gold coin.
I could've handed it over openly, but in a land of religious freedom, it might look odd to followers of other gods.
Like the guard was taking bribes.
When really, he was just following doctrine.
The God of Discipline had extremely strict teachings.
Reassured, the soldier continued.
"The God was furious. He issued a divine oracle to all believers. The entire church searched for nearly half a year, paid for by the gold He bestowed. But in the end, nothing."
As someone who knew the full story, certain parts sounded different to me.
He'd probably planned to retrieve the saintess slowly.
He hadn't expected things to escalate this fast.
Whatever the residents thought, the gods were Exiles too.
Unlike residents, they weren't bound to the server.
When a new run began for Exiles, a new tutorial server and continent spawned.
Gods, of course, existed before that.
The moment a server generated, gods regained memories of their past actions and gained new followers.
The history created at a new server's birth generally flowed according to the pantheon's whims and the gods' personalities.
Exile gods then watched from a step back, looking down on those inferior to them.
It made residents feel like NPCs in a simulation game, easier to grasp than anyone.
In any case, the Betrayed Human Saintess always appeared as the saintess of the strongest human church.
That meant the God of Discipline currently held the largest following among human factions.
"A year ago, right?"
"Yes."
That explained why the orc shaman's level didn't seem high. A year was very recent.
Sometimes it was over a decade old. Then they'd adapted to orc life, which was a headache.
A year meant she still thought of herself as human. A huge relief.
"So the God's silent now?"
"Yes. Back to normal."
"Got it. Thanks for the help."
I handed over another gold coin.
It'd help his daily life, but more importantly, boost his faith.
For a god of discipline and money, any profit generated faith.
All benevolent gods worked that way. Follow their prescribed doctrines to borrow divine power and wield authority.
The more devout, the stronger the miracles from a resident's view.
In a world where gods existed, faith was far more solid than on Earth.
I thought that every time.
How convenient if I could unify all the fractured human faiths from the start.
It'd turn into some weird theocratic Machiavellianism, but Greenskins and fairies were prime examples it could work.
The war god's iron-fisted rule. The Nature God, mother to all fairies.
In this world, divine dictatorship wasn't necessarily bad.
A true god would be the 'philosopher-king' from The Prince, right?
Still, even gods couldn't dictate every faction detail.
Just having faith as a central pillar made a faction unbreakable.
Of course, that was unlikely to happen.
Humans had another weakness anyway.
The Great Saintess wasn't part of the human faction anymore.
Human factions' hero units were always like this.
Backstabbed and exiled, in need of constant babysitting to avoid dying off somewhere, or straight-up sociopaths focused on their own survival.
It was maddening.
Yet they somehow kept a presence on most continents. Was that human resilience?
Even with fairy reinforcements, the raw power gap against the orc empire was still dizzying.
Even their elite couldn't beat a single brigade without Exile help. This war needed us to win.
Still, it could be a good thing in a way.
Veterans who knew a bit were probably reaching the kingdom by now.
Any chance of kingdom veterans joining?
I asked the fairy mage.
"How far did you go?"
"Up to the 15th floor. Time ran out there. That's why, when we met here again, I was sure you were bluffing."
"You said '22nd floor,' which doesn't even exist."
"Exactly. But damn, you've had it rough, huh? Before the 10th?"
"8th floor."
The fairy mage nodded like he'd expected that.
This old mage's implications weren't good.
"So, is the 16th floor the kingdom in this server?"
The fairy mage nodded again.
Great. A chilling realization.
The shorter the pre-kingdom stretch, the worse it was.
"What's the third theme?"
"What do you think?"
If he was so sure I'd be stuck before the 10th, this couldn't be a theme that let people reach here.
Not many such themes existed.
Like one where the timeline was completely off.
"Space."
"For me, it wasn't too hard to pass through."
The fairy mage chuckled heartily.
He hadn't met any proper armed forces.
Just zipped past dangerous wildlife.
"An extremely short tutorial. Almost no one's making it."
"Space makes squatting tough. Didn't see other Exiles on odd floors either."
The second theme, tundra, would've filtered tons too. Then space? Most were looping back.
Space was a theme where info was everything.
Brutal for non-veterans.
With so few survivors in the theme, PVP wouldn't happen.
The mage passing odd floors easily meant space survivors were extremely rare.
"I just rushed through, so no faction intel. No clue on the Greenskins either."
"Space has a lot of those floors."
Overly harsh environments made the difficulty manageable.
Veterans could pass easier just by knowing threats.
No direct combat meant you could dodge if informed.
But could our party?
I didn't want to see space Greenskins.
The more advanced the tech, the more their raw physical prowess faded.
But their aggression was always a threat, any era.
Over time, defense lagged behind offense.
In a one-shot world, fearless warriors were terrifying.
"Hm, this is... the future... Damn, I really wanna go back."
Time to think. Really mull it over.
The Temple of Time allowed one use per person, only at the tutorial's end.
Effect: Return to a past even floor.
How would I have assigned party members? I definitely killed Karkrish.
The 2nd-floor fairies saw me.
Exclude myself. Time God's rules prevented direct meetings with future me.
So where'd the Girl go? The Hunter? The Kid?
Which floor?
I had to consider that.
I trusted myself. I'd sent them exactly where needed, when needed.
By the time we reached the Temple, I already knew the answer, so it had to be that way.
In game days, the Temple was simple.
Back to 2nd floor meant right where I left it.
No sending allies—just solo back in time, finish business, return.
Simple gimmick, no frills.
Reality complicated it.
Pray at the altar to pick the floor's time and place.
But Time God's rule: No meeting alternate-timeline selves.
Time travel ended instantly.
Constraint to avoid paradoxes? Or just Time God's kink? Who knew.
Maybe direct chats were too convenient.
No point nitpicking; I'd never time-traveled on Earth.
Labyrinth law—shrug and accept.
This was the 8th floor now.
One of my future party members was definitely here or would be.
Had to be.
Wide map open, racial mainstream entangled—impossible I sent no one here.
Who? Girl seemed most likely.
Bottom line: Only confirmed where I went.
After sorting that, I pondered more but gave up.
Too little info. Future me restricted what past me got.
Temple wasn't omnipotent, so unavoidable.
Fine. Trust myself. Whoever I sent would show at the perfect moment.
I designed it, after all.
The fairy mage spoke up.
"Done thinking?"
"Hm? Still here?"
"Can't help it. Gotta prep for the next fight."
The fairy mage pointed toward the Stormhowl Brigade's camp.
I shook my head.
The barrage bought plenty of time. Weak for a Spirit King, but still a strategic asset eons ahead.
"Blasted half the camp to hell. No Far Sight? They won't attack today."
"Half-destroyed? With that Spirit King? Wasn't it summoned for just a second?"
"Five seconds is enough to pulverize."
"Hm. Never tried spirit arts, so no clue."
"Stubbornly stuck to pure mage life?"
"Love magic, y'know. Robe, pointy hat, stroking the beard—looked the part."
I snorted.
"Fairies don't grow beards."
"Nothing heavier than youth. You'll get it when you're old."
"If I get that chance."
"Look on the bright side. You rejuvenate every death."
"Never thought of it that way. Mind-blowing."
The fairy mage cackled like a geezer.
Still mismatched his face.
Naturally, mages were among the guards. Rare and vital, commanders gave them wide autonomy.
Their joint observation confirmed my attack hit the camp, dealing near-annihilation tactical damage.
But the enemy was Greenskins.
Morale drops? Not a thing.
The war god was probably pissed too—no ruling out follow-ups.
"Stormhowl Brigade survivors are mostly trolls and orcs."
"Ogre's size and toughness were middling, huh."
Fairy priests relayed observations too.
A leaf fairy priestess, seemingly representative, broadcast the marching troops' scale through the forest.
"Large troll and ogre infantry advancing. Heading to link with the wiped-out Stormhowl Brigade."
Guard captains' faces darkened.
"No orcs or goblins?"
"No shamans either."
Soldiers sighed knowingly.
"Flags?"
"Hammer wreathed in flame."
One good thing about Greenskins: They never hid.
But that crushed morale too.
"Lava Hammer Shock Troops."
Silence fell. Even I, just standing there dumbly, felt the mood plummet.
The orc empire was an empire.
Endless forces.
Greenskin shock troops.
Modern terms? Like tank battalions.
Not elite troll cavalry in small numbers. Entire unit trolls and ogres.
"Heavy armor like knights..."
"Confirmed."
Trolls and ogres in iron plate fitted to their massive frames—not easy.
And not crude wooden clubs, but refined steel hammers.
They proudly bared flesh but donned armor anyway—trained war machines.
Medieval fantasy tanks, plain and simple.
No shamans with this unit?
Didn't need 'em.