Chapter 78
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Floor 8 - Lv. 1230 Great Saintess (1)
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Where the shadows are deep, the light is strong. Where the flaws are great, so too are the strengths.
It's a fundamental rule that applies everywhere in a well-balanced game.
All Exiles are human.
In the very final moments, the ones qualified to clear the Labyrinth are always human.
It's always humans who slay the monsters. That's how this Labyrinth is designed.
The philosophy of the developers who created this game is, at its core, a hymn to humanity.
That's precisely why the human race is weak.
The human faction is weak as well.
You can find the reason in their racial traits: they're the only race holding the key to the Labyrinth, and the starting point for all Exiles.
But that's not enough to justify why humans are weak as a faction.
That's where you need to consider strengths and weaknesses.
No human Hero Unit is ever in a normal state.
By the time the server is created, they've already defected to another race like the Orcs.
Or they're some child born somewhere, bearing the fate of a Hero whose name and gender are unknown.
Or perhaps a grand archmage who's secluded himself somewhere out of disillusionment with humanity.
Without intervention, none of them will ever devote themselves to humans—instead, they'll wither away in some forgotten corner unknown to Exiles, or turn outright hostile.
The Great Saintess is no different.
In this case too, if no one cares for her and she's left alone, she'll live out her days as a moderately successful Orc shaman and call it quits.
I can't stand by and watch a powerful ally get neutralized like that.
A skilled Exile actively intervenes in the continent's history to achieve the desired outcomes.
If I were siding with the Greenskins, I'd act the opposite.
I'd do everything to prevent the Saintess from reverting to human form and raise her beyond a fine Orc shaman into an Orc Hero Unit.
She might have ended up as a loyal servant of the God of War.
It's a history control tactic that any seasoned Exile has tried at least once. The gods know this too, which is why they try to recruit veteran Exiles.
Somewhere on this server right now, there might be an Exile scheming exactly that.
Desperately scouring for the mainstream Betrayed Saintess event.
Too late. I've already claimed her.
And this is a deliciously sweet payoff.
The reason no human faction Hero Unit is ever intact, and why they draw so much attention from Exiles?
Because they're filthily powerful.
A massive pillar of light crashed down into the heart of the enemy lines.
The God of Nature sent down a message that was clearly in high spirits.
Judging by the content, it seemed thrilled at the sight of the God of War throwing a tantrum somewhere.
All signs pointed to success.
But that wasn't the end of it.
The Great Saintess, restored to human form and regaining her holy clerical powers, was an extraordinarily powerful being.
Still, she couldn't wipe out the monsters from the Lava Hammer Battalion charging after me with eyes rolled back in fury—not within five minutes, anyway.
They had a strong enough battalion commander holding the line over there.
Of course, the Saintess wouldn't lose, and she'd finish them off quickly before coming this way. But I might end up as minced vampire meat first.
A vampire's racial trait, Fount of Blood, was an ultra-high-performance skill akin to infinite resurrection if you had enough stored blood.
But unless you'd gone around massacring humans somewhere, there was a limit to the reserves.
I'd already died a few times.
Thanks to playing the decoy, though, the rest of my party hadn't faced any major dangers.
The Hunter was decent at guerrilla warfare in his own right.
As a ranged class, he'd positioned himself farthest from the enemy lines.
He wasn't providing proper covering fire—just enough sniping to remind them he existed.
Wise choice.
The kid and the youngest mainly relied on the kid's Blink skill to evade capture.
The youngest was running himself ragged, worrying about tomorrow, but he kept nearly getting caught anyway.
In emergencies, I told him to ditch the youngest and save himself.
The two humans could resurrect even if they died.
The two vampires would die for good if their hearts were crushed.
What a ridiculous situation.
And yet, they were still getting chased down.
Even transforming into bats, using Blink, pulling every trick in the book—there were limits.
Our leg lengths were no match; the hulking monsters closed in fast.
Time to collect on that rental fee.
'Lady Delay, can't you do something?'
[The God of Nature retorts, Didn't I save you from the castle?]
'If I die here, won't that waste your investment?'
Vines erupted from the ground without a word. They instantly snagged the monsters' ankles.
Not much effect on most. But not nothing.
The frontrunners, close enough to get careless, tripped and tumbled.
A few more got tangled in the fallout.
A small disruption, but the pursuit slackened for a moment.
Everyone in the party caught a slight breather.
"Uwaaaah, we're dead! Hurry, Saintess, hurry!"
How long until the battalion commander falls? We had to survive until then.
The Girl had planned to bolt straight to Uncle. She didn't care much what happened behind her.
Uncle had told her about the Orc shaman master and disciple she'd briefly encountered—who they were.
But so what?
No matter how much you heard that a Hero Unit was strong or important, it didn't hit home for a first-run rookie Exile like her.
Her party members' safety mattered more.
She couldn't imagine that female Orc doing anything significant.
The ground quaked. Dust clouds billowed from earth that should have been frozen solid.
A tidal wave of brown and white surged toward the party.
The silhouettes of massive ironclad monsters amid it all sent chills down her spine, even after getting somewhat used to the Labyrinth.
If you stuck a seismometer in the ground now, it'd probably register. Magnitude 5, maybe?
As she dashed across the shaking earth, something grabbed her.
A ring of light.
"Huh? Uwaaaaaah?"
Her body was yanked away with a whoosh.
She hadn't looked back while running, but the ring twisted her forcefully to see behind.
A woman with a glamorous, radiant appearance was reaching out toward her.
"Eueeek?"
The ring of light glowed with holy brilliance. The Girl realized this woman had made it—and that she was the Saintess, restored to human form.
Even in crisis, she checked her looks first.
She hadn't thought she'd bow to anyone else, but instinct kicked in.
This woman might join their party, after all.
Her innate sense of danger shone even in that split second.
And the opponent was indeed armed with such weapons.
Pale platinum blonde hair gleamed vibrantly, waving naturally. Her face had a haughty, noble air with a high nose bridge.
She almost reminded her of Blanche, but she looked about the Girl's age.
And for some reason, she was naked.
No—her robe had been stripped off.
The massive troll clutching it was ensnared by light blooming from the Saintess's other hand.
Wow, so holy.
She didn't fully grasp what holy power was, but in that moment, she felt like she understood.
Resplendent golden light took form. Not blinding, but gentle, caressing.
It was a soft light.
She'd learned its essence was akin to mana, yet distinct as "holy." She instantly got why.
Who wouldn't think of divine grace upon seeing it?
It was a scene that made the unusually devout faith of this world's believers click into place.
But that gentle light was harsh to enemies.
The captured troll crumpled like it was being crushed, barely breaking free at the last second with resistance.
The troll planted its foot.
Deliberately stomping, like some ritual.
And a roar.
At the same moment, a god descended there too.
The mighty warrior received the God of War's favor.
Various empowering boons settled into the troll's body.
The Saintess scoffed.
"Trying that in front of a cleric..."
It was a low, not particularly loud voice.
All the boons upon the troll shattered.
She could feel the God of War's rage directed at the Saintess.
Not a twitch in her brow. The god she served was the God of Discipline and Money. Meanwhile, the Girl gaped blankly in the Saintess's grip.
"Ended up grabbing you like a collar. Sorry."
Chills.
It felt less like seeing a girl her age and more like beholding a colossal, blazing force up close.
Was she really human?
This was a Hero Unit?
No... a human hero...
Wow...
It was pure awe.
The Saintess roughly reclaimed the robe the troll had dropped. Tailored to Orc proportions, it hung loose on her now.
For a fleeting instant, she seemed to gaze at the fluttering, worn hem.
That's how the Girl felt.
Then light enveloped the Girl's body.
"Huh? Wh-what?"
She felt her body change somehow. Stronger, faster.
And it wasn't just a feeling.
Holy blessing flowed into the dagger she held.
"Hold that one off for a bit. I'll go rescue your party leader."
"Uh... Okay."
The Girl thought to herself.
This is bad. What if the Saintess falls for Uncle? I can't beat her.
A wave of defeat washed over her. Amid that feeling, she faced off against the troll.
Her mind sank, but her body brimmed with power like never before.
At least she wouldn't lose.
Even with its hideous face, the troll expressed dumbfounded shock in a way humans could recognize.
The Girl agreed.
The Saintess soared into the air.
Wings of light unfurled. How many pairs? Six? Wow...
Fortunately, the Saintess considered our situation faster than I'd expected.
"Oh, my."
A barrage of light poured down. The skill Wings of the Seraph outperformed actual seraph wings.
The difference between a physical angel race's wings and a potent holy spell.
Still, the form was similar.
It was a spell shaped like an angel's feathers that exploded on impact, obliterating surroundings—naturally.
The issue was it was forged from pure holy power.
Physical flesh versus holy power manifested with such intensity—no contest which was stronger.
That's why it dwarfed the fledgling angel's feather barrage from that chopped troll on Floor 7.
The visuals were on another level too.
Golden beams lanced everywhere, gouging the earth.
Ironclad armor meant nothing against it.
That's what a hero is.
I swiftly pulled back.
As an undead, it was my natural counter. I'd die. Die already.
The Greenskins charging us in rage forcibly cooled off.
Being living beings, they couldn't fail to control their fury in the face of death.
They had to get cold and calculated, devising ways to counter the golden glow flying overhead.
After javelins, throws, and magical intercepts failed, a few ogres made independent calls.
This won't work.
Shock troops like them surprisingly treated tactical retreats as standard procedure.
Internally, it was called a "rearward charge," but whatever.
They began a disciplined retreat to the rear.
Greenskins armored enough to overcome instinct came equipped with strategy and tactics.
In such cases, the strongest soldier stayed behind to cover the rearward charge.
It was their duty to ensure the troops' safety. An exemplary role in itself.
Sensing he'd been tapped for it, the battalion commander roared from afar.
Then the Girl came flying. She slammed into the ground like a meteor. Sparkling holy energy wrapped her body.
A shell-like fall, but buffs plastered on her kept her safe.
What now?
"Uwaaaaaah! Uncle! That's too strong!"
"Of course it is!"
Who? The winged Saintess above? Or the troll that flung you?
"Both!"
Fair enough.
The Saintess was holding back plenty, but the aftershocks were still dangerous.
The shower of light from the sky defied metaphors. Like an aurora collapsing, or meteors scattering.
Not even that captured it fully.
Snow began flurrying from the pitch-black thunderheads.
Light flakes drifted down on the wind, only to vanish in the light.
Not a heat-based attack, but the shocks and vibrations generated plenty of warmth.
The frozen earth started thawing, turning to mud.
Retreating ogres and trolls splashed through the field morphing into a quagmire.
Greenskin emotions burned hot but evaporated fast. Fear might now be etched in their hearts.
The undead's impure flesh smoldered bit by bit from the holy power fragments exploding everywhere.
Excessive holy exertion hinted at the field temporarily becoming a sanctuary.
I prioritized the kid and yelled at full mana-infused volume.
If it sanctified here, I'd die.
She couldn't hear.
But the Goddess of Chaos and God of Nature must have relayed it to the God of Discipline.
The Saintess paused her bombardment and approached.
"A vampire, no less. My instincts scream to incinerate you."
"Save it—deal with that troll charging from behind."
"Hm, it's been a while. Grand Cross."
A cross of light fell from the sky. Size-wise, like a gym somewhere.
The roaring battalion commander leaped high and smashed it.
It shattered with a boom, and he cratered into the ground.
"Looks safe now, so ignore us. And please don't let it become a sanctuary."
"I'll try. Grand Cross."
Spells flew, and crosses rained from the heavens—not one, a deluge.
The physical holy spells crushed and pulverized the earth outright.
Crater scars etched into the ground like stigmata—cross-shaped.
Of course, a high-level troll warrior wouldn't perish from that. The Saintess rose into the sky again, approaching the pit.
She extended her hand. Light coiled, dragging the massive troll toward the Girl. Regenerating, but already ragged.
A human of build similar to their party's Girl gripped the throat of a monster easily over five meters.
In midair, no less.
Surreal sight.
Well, Labyrinth gonna Labyrinth.
The Saintess held that pose for a moment.
A conversation began.
With her body touching another god's follower, she could hear the God of War's fury.
She knew it wasn't directed at her.
It was for her own god, unseen for over a year.
"You planning to wage war here too, scum? What of our Second Server accord?"
A low, grating voice like scraping metal. The God of War.
The responding voice was soft and gentle—her god's.
"Servers differ, so calculations must too, no? War. Touching my Saintess first was unwise, I'll say that much."
"Filthy merchant spawn. Let's see who wins. This server won't be easy."
"Then I'll ally with Nature. Good luck."
"I'll crush you all!"
Her god occasionally conversed in such cryptic terms.
No explanations given. None needed.
She was a tool serving the benevolent God of Discipline.
Now, that tool had simply returned to its proper place after so long.