Chapter 93
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: 9th Floor - Lv. ? [Cat Gatling Gun](1)
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"Come to think of it! What if we're all just NPCs who think we're real people?"
The Hunter and I turned to her with looks that said, What the hell are you talking about now?
The Girl stared back with a completely blank expression.
Gramps...
"Hmm, NPCs, you say. I've heard exiles spout that nonsense at us before. What does it even mean?"
He started spouting his own bewildered questions.
How do you explain that to someone who's definitely an NPC? It was a headache in itself, but his reaction afterward would be an even bigger one.
It'd be a relief if he went through the five stages of acceptance over the next month or so.
Usually, it ended in a fight, and the rude exile got labeled as such.
Exiles had a bad rep partly because some blabbed about it without any tact.
The worst part of this touchy issue was that there was no real answer in the end.
No one knew what the truth was.
Some NPCs obsessed over it to the bitter end. Everyone found their sense of self-worth in different places, after all.
I was about to change the subject to avoid the hassle when the Girl kept going with her innocent eyes.
"I never thought about it before, but exiles like Blanche are clearly NPCs, right? Though there seem to be randomly generated ones too... Am I really human?"
She'd thought about it quicker than I'd expected.
Wish she'd figured it out even sooner.
I locked eyes with the Hunter.
Gramps was glancing around, utterly confused.
The Girl belatedly noticed him there.
The old orc shaman had been way too chummy these past few days. His guard was completely down.
"Uh, well... Gramps, are you coming with us all the way to the kingdom?"
"The kingdom, eh. I've heard exiles talk about it plenty. If I'd been more curious back then, I'd have asked first thing. Now I'm wondering, though. What's it like?"
Gramps had mentioned it before: a place to grant him freedom.
A land untouched by the gods' gaze, unbound by race.
That was the kingdom, alright.
It was where countless NPCs from various servers came to terms with themselves and lived on.
Not that the gods' eyes truly didn't reach it, but there was no meddling to worry about.
Gramps would find out eventually anyway.
"Hmm, not something you can talk about? Fair enough, then."
The aged orc seemed to have learned to just roll with it.
Come to think of it, most old Trdongts were like that.
Anyone but the saintess he'd picked up late in life didn't rile him up over anything.
In battle, his orcish ferocity showed, but it wasn't personal anger.
I didn't dodge the question, and Gramps's wrinkled eyes widened more than I'd ever seen.
"Hah, so I'm just some created being, then. Well, a creator of all things could exist, I suppose. That's how I've always figured it. The gods have always guarded their domains."
His eyes narrowed again.
"But you say even the gods are exiles? Now I get why they keep popping up endlessly. This place... the layers, right? You said the odd-numbered ones are whole different worlds from the continent."
Gramps wasn't showing it outright, but he was enjoying this unexpected journey. Even here on the 9th floor.
He'd occasionally channel mana like he was gauging something during workouts, slipping into meditation.
But I kept him from going overboard—curiosity could turn into a liability.
"Makes things easier, actually."
"Does it?"
"Yeah. If I exist elsewhere too, and the me you see isn't the first. What does any of it matter? I've already let it all go; this old body's all that's left."
"Glad you see it that way."
"The truth of the world... Back in my youth, that was just youthful bravado, said in jest."
Now it was time to listen to the thunder's call.
With that, Gramps picked up his hammer and headed to a corner. He sat quietly, eyes closed.
Shamans trained in that kind of communion a lot. They drew more on ambient mana than their own power, so it came naturally.
But right now, it was probably for a different reason.
Whatever the case...
"Hey!"
"Eek, but! It just hit me out of nowhere! I had to say it!"
The Girl raised her guard and made excuses. I used my raised hand to ruffle her hair instead.
"Yeah, fair enough. Happens to everyone, really."
The Hunter just shrugged.
"Miss, everyone carries their insecurities. Me? I could barely see what's right in front of me... No room for doubt that way."
Lies. He was the most anxious of us all. The guy who loved NPCs.
The one who feared he might just be scripted that way.
With emotions that intense, the thought they could be fake must've tortured him.
Just the possibility was terrifying enough.
The Girl didn't pick up on it.
"Really? I'm fine with it, honestly."
A bold, confident smile.
Perfectly sunny, matching her bright face.
"My past sucks anyway. Whatever happened before, from the moment I entered here, it was all my choice! I fell for you, Uncle, completely on my own! That's all that matters now."
Maybe she did notice.
This was aimed at the Hunter.
He gave a wry smile. He'd caught it too.
"What, you think they scripted me to like you, Uncle?"
"Hmm, on that point, I'd say it tracks even without scripting."
"The boss makes a solid party leader."
I wondered about the maknae, but the big brute tilted his fierce eyes and chimed in.
"A world where people don't seem human. Where you can't even be sure they are. And it wasn't some distant thing."
His brow twitched as he added,
"That's why faith became even more vital."
I knew it wasn't plain old Earth, but this world felt suspiciously brutal.
Should I ask? Nah. Digging into secrets never ends.
...I'm still treating you all like NPCs, after all.
How do you even say that?
We secured the Healing Spring first. I stayed well away.
To undead, it was like a chemical weapons chamber.
One component—divinity—was brutally potent.
The spring itself was a law-crafted pool infused with every god's essence.
Even greater gods' divinity seeped in, explaining why it wrecked undead so bad.
It was always sealed somehow. Here, dense trees walled it off.
Cross that barrier, and the water vanished. Only potion vials worked to carry it out.
Simple task.
Scoop water, splash it on the sprawled exiles outside.
Healed wounds, but not status effects.
The magically asleep ones lay still.
Blood drained from their wounds, flowing into me.
While at it, I sat the little brat in the shade nearby and fed him.
Like a scared cat in a strange house, he'd huddled in the corner, sniffling without moving. But hunger won; he gulped it down eagerly.
Even cats warm up to their feeder.
The Girl grumbled.
"Boring."
"Grinding's never fun in games."
"If it was me leveling up, it'd be fun."
"Can't argue there."
[The God of Nature praises it as a truly fascinating, wicked, and inhuman method.]
"That's a compliment?"
[The God of Nature retorts, 'Is calling me kind an insult?']
"Should've kept my mouth shut."
Blood didn't infinitely replicate.
Rarely an issue, but chugging potions dulled the effect over time.
Your body picked up some divinity, reducing efficacy.
Normally, you wouldn't use that much, but it limited exploits.
Hell, someone once tried piping it out like a faucet.
The Labyrinth shut down line-crossing cheats hard, even in its exploit-friendly world.
So, once bodies hit regen limits, they got culled mercilessly.
I warned the party.
"Level evenly. Need some balance. Check each other's levels."
Points earned here meant new skills.
Hunter couldn't wield magic normally, but skills forced it.
Girl just needed to keep building her ultra-fast, ultra-close assassin path.
Maknae was already a tank guilds back home would kill for.
The little brat was trickier. Had to train him quick to make him useful.
But as a near-starved vampire, basics like stamina were the issue.
Kept feeding him blood. I could skip some; he needed it more.
"Mmph! Gulp gulp mmph!"
I poured it in rivers. No drowning, just fussing.
Growing kids need good eats.
The female archer couldn't shake her suspicion.
It was a cat.
Yellow fur on top, white on the belly.
Front paws had yellow trailing down to white sock-like tips.
Basking in sunlight inside the cage.
The dwarf leader had opened it.
The cat growled, eyeing them.
They started petting its head gently.
The orc leader watched alongside.
Dead serious.
The rock dwarf petting the cat looked like an elementary kid playing with one.
But everyone was tense. Gulps echoed.
Dead silence, like a powder keg.
Tension, fear, anxiety.
The female archer hadn't gotten the full explanation. The others clearly had.
Atmosphere forbade questions.
Like defusing a bomb.
She wisely stayed quiet.
The dwarf leader offered jerky from somewhere. The cat munched it.
Someone sighed in relief.
Snack done, the cat licked its paws, rubbing them on its face to wash.
Then it headbutted the dwarf leader.
Purring rumbled happily.
The dwarf cautiously scooped it up.
In a picture, it'd look like a cute kid gently handling a cat.
The cat nestled obediently.
But the hold was off. As a cat owner, she almost spoke up.
Left hand gripped the neck, arm extended. Right supported the belly, forward.
Then the right scratched the belly lightly.
She had no clue what farce this was.
About to ask when the orc leader whispered something.
The dwarf nodded gravely and tugged the tail.
The cat growled louder.
Louder still.
She didn't even want to know anymore. Just watched.
Dwarf's fingers tickled the belly again.
Meeeowww.
With the yowl, something fired.
There was sound. Too soft for gunfire, more like a pattering pour.
Rain? Close, but like thousands of raindrops hitting at once.
The result was baffling.
Trees the dwarf had aimed the "gun" cat at? Gone or toppled.
Stems shredded wildly, like a lethal barrage had grazed through.
Everyone sighed in relief.
Mixed with cheers. Murmurs grew.
Orc leader hushed them with a grimace.
Dwarf carefully caged the cat again.
One party member brought a leather pouch of milk.
The cat lapped it up like nothing happened.
Finally, the female archer could ask.
"What the hell is that?"
A human who'd become her senior answered with a weird grimace.
"Dunno exactly, but Labyrinth [special weapons] are all like that, apparently. Sick jokes."
"That's... a weapon?"
"Ignores magic defenses or whatever—pure raw power like you saw. Can't take it out of the layer, though."
She groaned. The Labyrinth was every exile's nightmare.
Incredibly real, yet weirdly unreal where it counted.
But this topped every bizarre thing from her exile life.
Now she got why vets went mad.
The Labyrinth felt like an even crueler, more vivid nightmare.