Chapter 69
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: 8th Floor - Lv. 55 Disciple (4)
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In roguelike games, there comes a point where, whether you like it or not, you have to leave everything to luck.
It's unavoidable.
Seventy percent luck, thirty percent skill. Luck makes up a whopping seventy percent, after all.
Of course, betting without any basis is just idiotic. That basis is the thirty percent that's not luck.
I still don't know what will happen on this floor.
But my future self has prepared some kind of support through the Temple of Time.
In truth, that's solid evidence—worth at least fifty percent.
If I had to pick another reliable ally in this labyrinth besides myself, it'd be the gods who've stood at the pinnacle of the exiles.
But I trust myself more than those gods.
I've never seen an exile better than me.
At least not in the ninety-seven years I've spent here so far—I was always the best.
"Hearing you say that makes me weirdly trust you... But Uncle, can't you explain that Temple of Time thing in more detail?"
The Girl mumbled to herself before asking.
"You've secretly played a lot of games, haven't you? Is it that hard?"
"I don't think there were any time travel games!"
"I see."
The concept of time travel can be tricky for some people.
Surprisingly, the youngest caught on quick, and the Hunter knew about it since his goal was the Temple of Time.
The Girl groaned as she scribbled something on the ground, steam practically rising from her head.
Not literally, but her expression was that intense.
I pressed an ice cube to her forehead. It melted away with a sizzle.
"Eek! It's cold! What is that?!"
"You're burning up."
I tried drawing on the ground myself.
"Once each of us prays once, we can use the Temple of Time. You don't even have to become a follower."
Now I picked up a stick and started drawing on the floor.
The Girl watched the emerging picture with rapt interest.
I drew a straight line.
Then I sketched our party members' faces in the middle of the line.
"Draw me prettier."
Too annoying to ask why, so I erased her face and redrew it with more care.
Even added some shading.
The party members marveled.
I marked ticks on the line and added numbers. Our current party's position: 8th Floor.
Then I circled the 16th Floor and wrote [Temple of Time].
"This line takes us back to past even floors from here. One at a time."
"Couldn't it not do that?"
"It could, if you wanted. But look."
I extended our 8th Floor party up to the 16th Floor. From there, I drew an arrow from my face down to the 2nd Floor.
"This is confirmed by the Grove Fairies who came from the 2nd Floor fairy village and observed it."
"Uncle went to the 2nd Floor, then. But we didn't see you."
The Hunter answered.
"Miss, if you're observed by your past self while traveling back in time, the God of Time revokes their power."
"Meaning you're forcibly sent back to the temple?"
"Exactly."
I nodded too.
"That's why I avoided detection—you didn't see me. And aside from the 2nd Floor, no one's come from the future so far."
"No need to?"
"Yeah. It was tough, but we handled it ourselves up to now."
"It might not be like that going forward. I've felt it getting harder. I wondered if that was right."
If we're judging 'right' or 'wrong,' it's definitely 'wrong.' This shouldn't happen normally.
In that sense, Karkrish wasn't something we could overcome on our own back then—not by a long shot.
There was a brute-force way to kill it, but the risks were insane. So we cheesed it.
Probably why my future self went back. By me going to the past and killing Karkrish, things progressed from the 8th Floor to here.
"So someone's come to the 8th Floor too. The fallout from the 2nd Floor turned the 8th Floor into a mess. No way I wouldn't account for that."
Strictly speaking, things started going sideways from the 6th Floor. But I think we covered the 6th on our own—no external help felt.
"So Uncle thinks one of our future selves is already somewhere on this 8th Floor."
"Exactly. You got it spot on. Probably just one. From the 11th Floor on, it's space, so the others invested there."
The Girl closed her eyes and groaned, her little head spinning furiously—or so it seemed.
"Got it. Uncle doesn't have some method himself—he's betting our future self brings one."
"I like smart kids."
I stroked her head, and she rubbed against it happily. Hanging out with the leaf fairies turned her into a cat.
Of course, that doesn't mean I'm relying on it completely.
Time travel in the labyrinth isn't set in stone.
I recalled the run when I first encountered the Temple of Time.
Actually, I never reached it. If the temple hadn't spawned at the kingdom's entrance, what happened wouldn't make sense.
My future self supported my past self thoroughly back then.
But my present self was an idiot.
How was I an idiot? I treated that future as a done deal.
So I just charged ahead carelessly.
Once traces of my future self appeared, I figured reaching the Temple of Time was guaranteed no matter what.
But nope.
I died and got ejected to the next run.
Maybe it branches into multiple timelines, and only the one that goes all the way counts as fixed?
I've never time-traveled outside the labyrinth, so who knows.
Still, it was a valuable lesson, so the second time I found the Temple of Time, I used it well.
This is the third.
"So we have to do our best. We can't assume we absolutely won't die here."
"An uncertain future? That's too hard."
"[Racial Mainstream] works similarly—you'll figure it out."
The Girl nearly steamed up again, so I rebooted her with pets. It worked.
Honestly, I saw that kind of time travel as proof this world is a game and I'm the protagonist.
My death ends this world. It just generates the next run.
So maybe that's how it functions?
Whatever—no definitive answer. What's important isn't figuring out how this world is structured.
It's tackling the immediate task.
I directed delay tactics against the Greenskin shock troops as best I could and gave elemental spirit lectures on the fly.
The leaf fairy priests were amazed, and the God of Nature sent a pleased message.
[The God of Nature is satisfied with your actions.]
Gods are more bound and restricted by their thrones than you'd think.
So they want veteran exiles as followers to expand their influence on the continent.
Spreading spirit manipulation methods that won't be researched until far in the future is part of that.
The server—er, the God of Nature, who exists beyond the continent—knows it all.
Followers of Nature exist in the future, the past, other continents, even space.
Yet even they can't easily reveal the future through divine revelations unless it's dire.
Gods in stories are depicted as omnipotent, but they rarely show it in practice.
Maybe those gods are prisoners like the labyrinth's deities.
Anyway, I did my best.
By midday, reports came that the ogres and trolls had eaten a hearty lunch and marched to war.
Our party slipped out of the castle and began a wide detour.
Fortunately, we could use the cavalry horses from the fallen knights.
The labyrinth's Strength stat boosts physical abilities. Agility plays a role too.
But sometimes it works weirdly. Like the semicircular canals not getting reinforced?
The Girl complained of horse sickness. I gave her the reins, but then the horse bolted.
I pondered, then magicked it to sleep and tied her securely to my back.
The Hunter knew how to ride. The youngest just rode behind the Hunter holding the reins and did nothing.
No telling how long the castle would hold, but even at full gallop, it was three days to the fortress.
We rode day and night. Grueling march that tired our bodies, but not as much as the horses.
When a ridden horse tired, we released it and switched to fresh ones. After repeats, the horses wore out too.
By dawn of the second day, all horses collapsed from exhaustion. Some died outright from overwork. The fatigue-ridden horse meat wasn't great.
After that forced march, we finally entered orc empire territory.
Greenskins don't build border walls. They don't patrol territory.
Their lives are endless struggle, ending in glorious death at the gods' side.
Staying hidden in their lands was easy. The cold north isn't Greenskin-preferred turf.
They conquered it, but population density's low.
Garrisons are sparse. More troops might be coming from below, though.
No real defenses. They don't fear or lament losing territory even in war.
They just revel in prolonged battle.
Twitches of presence popped up everywhere. We spotted orcs fighting among themselves from afar.
From here, the whole party's mood soured. Enemies everywhere. If spotted, survival's unlikely.
Now we killed horses instead of releasing them. Greenskins use horses only as meat.
They don't breed them. Sudden loose horses would raise flags, even for the dumb ones.
Weather turned harsh. Late summer. Heading south, but no warming felt.
All day on horseback into headwinds—bodies wore down in every way.
Dawn of the third day, the fortress appeared in the distance. I halted the horse.
Cold, barren wasteland. Scattered rocks, no villages nearby.
"Magic's convenient. Sleep spell on it. Everyone sleeps exactly three hours from now."
"What about you, Uncle?"
The Girl asked sharply. Suspicious of overdoing it.
I set up the magic circle while answering.
"I'll camouflage and sleep. Hunter and I will wake if trouble brews, so you two rest easy."
"Mm, alright then."
I put everyone to sleep with magic and slipped out of the camouflage.
I don't know what my future self prepared. But my present self must handle what I can, perfectly.
I pulled out a potion vial I'd stashed and forgotten for ages.
True to its artifact nature, keeping liquids forever fresh, the Angel's Tear retained its divinity.
If Healing Spring water is a solution of divinity and mana, Angel's Tear is pure divinity, no water.
Which is better potion catalyst? Angel's Tear, obviously.
I ate one Transparent Fruit from the 6th Floor harvest. Beneficial fruits usually require eating the whole thing.
Looked weird, tasted fine.
I headed to a nearby goblin village I'd scouted. Gathered materials. Time to brew infiltration potions for the fortress.
The disciple sighed again.
The Stormhowl Brigade was annihilated. The Lavahammer Battalion's commander was a damp, evil troll.
He refused to share command with the orc regiment leader.
It started that morning on arrival. Trolls don't like orcs much. They see them as inferior versions of themselves.
The regiment leader surrendered swiftly. The old orc warrior swallowed the humiliation to withdraw from this battle.
Trdongt's opinion helped.
"As an old friend, my advice: stay out of this fight."
The orc regiment leader was more baffled than angry.
"The god watches, and you say that?"
"He's busy elsewhere now."
"How do you know?"
"I have my ways. Trust me."
The old orc warrior accepted Trdongt's words surprisingly readily by disciple standards.
The Stormhowl Brigade retreated with its routed remnants.
Warriors who wanted to stay did. Young ones eager to fight and join the gods.
"Disciple, even we soften with age. Everything crumbles before time's tempests—warlust, hatred too."
"Not me yet."
"Must be complicated."
The master grinned slyly.
By brigade commander's discretion, Trdongt was temporarily reinstated. Punishment would resume later, but rallying the unit was priority.
Many shamans died; survivors couldn't argue.
Shamans are less aggressive types from youth, if anything.
"Snake-like. Un-orcish."
"Orcs stepping back from physical fights battle for power. Taking throats on the field or in the tent—same difference."
"No different from humans."
"Common to all thinking beings, no?"
The master roared with laughter: 'Un-orcish from your mouth? Hilarious.'
Then he said no more. Instead, he focused on the little vampire kid he kept dragging around.
The kid had recovered enough to walk alone but still wouldn't speak. Like selective mutism.
As a former saintess disciple, even she didn't know the clan well. Didn't match any known vampire clans.
Features hinted at eastern blood. Yet silver hair, red irises.
Further east, milder steppes had humans like that, she'd heard.
Apparently vampires there too.
How'd she end up here, captured by Greenskins?
So pitiful...
Wait—what's this? Mercy?
The thought hit suddenly.
Feeling pity for a vampire corpse-like human-lookalike. Me... Ha. God.
She missed the god's voice, now silent.
Where do I lean now, God? I miss you so.
But as an orc, no path to revenge or returning to God.
Do Trdongt and the saintess resent me? From the situation so far, likely.
But my future self went to the 2nd Floor.
Not just for Karkrish, probably.
I ambushed and caught some goblins.
Gods of War and Savagery disdain goblins.
Physically weak, unfit for war's struggles.
So non-assassin goblins do menial labor. Slave status.
In other words, no one cares.
Constantly dying or multiplying, gods don't bother with proper followers— no divine words, messages, or even verification.
Crushed goblin blood into the Angel's Tear... and unspeakable bits.
Added odds and ends from fairy mages and estate wizards, heated with mana.
Must heat with mana, not fire. Mana fully recovered despite three days' strain.
Transferred to another vessel, simmered weakly with mana for three hours.
Foul smell might alert Greenskins.
I dug a hole, channeled mana through the earth to heat it.
When done, party members stirred awake one by one.
The Girl glared daggers.
"Uncle, you didn't sleep, did you? What's that?"
Her eyes darted suspiciously, curiously.
As her pursed lips opened to speak, I pressed my index finger to them, stopping her, and cast the spell.
Numbed her nose and taste buds.
"Gek! What'd you do? Feels weird suddenly."
I handed the freshly made potion to the Girl snuffling her nose.
One sip, I said. She drank dubiously.
"Hot."
She scrunched her face. Soon, effects kicked in.
Her body shrank. Pale skin turned hideous green, clear eyes dulled to squinty ugliness.
"Kerrrruk? What. What."
Voice rasped goblin-like.
Clothes hung loose, oversized.
An ugly goblin stood before us.
The youngest and Hunter gaped.
"[Polymorph? Goblin] potion—perfect. Excellent quality."
The youngest, staring at the dazed, seated Girl, sneaked over and grabbed my hand.
What was this kid—
「What are you doing to that girl right now!!!」
The goddess chewed me out hard.
No, but—we need to infiltrate.
Meet Trdongt first, then think. Maybe my 2nd Floor future self prepared something?
Or figure it out then.