Princess 'King' Maker 5
Setting aside our hero, who had at some point completely abandoned dealing damage, the rest of us managed to retreat safely into a cave that served as a safe zone. Even with their heads transformed into those of old hags, the harpies retained the intelligence of birds—after a stretch of noisy squawking, they eventually dispersed again.
It seemed like a gimmick where you advanced by ducking into caves to avoid the surging flocks of harpies, much the way you'd slip into a cliff crevice to dodge a rolling boulder.
"There were a few caves along the way, so we should be able to hop between them like stepping stones."
"The black harpies seem pretty dumb, so advancing like this should work."
So not hag harpies and beauty harpies, but black harpies and red harpies? Well, calling them hag harpies and beauty harpies was a bit too on the nose anyway.
While entertaining these slightly offbeat thoughts and listening to my companions' conversation, our course of action was decided quite simply. Since there were caves along every stretch of the path toward that suspicious peak, we'd use them to keep advancing, push into the clouds, and explore the summit.
Then again, BB Games had basically paved a road and hung a neon sign saying "This way, please~," so we hardly had a choice but to use it.
"The closer we get, the more of them are going to swarm us."
"True. No matter how dumb those black ones are, they probably won't just ignore a human hiding right under their noses."
"Still, I don't think we need to push ourselves too hard. Even if we can't confirm there's a nest inside the clouds, we've already found a suspicious location—so we could always call the Brothers for help."
Katie and Grace both nodded at Irene's words.
If it came to that, the money and benefits we could claim right away would shrink, but the actual clear would become much easier. In a way, it was like an Easy Mode for people who'd failed the raid. No matter how violently the harpies rampaged, once the Temple knights started bulldozing a path forward with holy power, there would be no stopping them.
If the enemy was going to annoy us with wings and numbers, we'd simply match them with numbers of our own.
"That last one was a joke that 'almost said' does not cover. While you're banned, go throw that dad-joke humor book on your desk straight in the trash, Father."
The party had naturally settled in to rest, using broad flat stones as makeshift seats. Meanwhile, Han Se-ah zeroed in on the perfect donation angle and dragged the viewer who'd unleashed that dad joke straight onto the execution block.
Even as she rummaged through her inventory, pulled out a campfire kit, and handed it off to Irene, her eyes stayed sharp on the chat window. At least the viewer who'd gotten caught this time seemed like a regular familiar with streaming culture, not some random newcomer.
The sight of someone dropping money without hesitation just to land a punchline and go out in a blaze of glory made Han Se-ah's eyebrows twitch in a complicated way. She probably wanted to laugh out of sheer disbelief, but laughing would feel like losing.
While she battled the aftershocks of boomer-speak and dad jokes, a savory aroma filled the cave. Irene must have been gently warming the skewers Grace and I had bought last time over the campfire—a rich, greasy scent you rarely got to enjoy inside the Tower teased at our noses.
Chicken and pork sizzled and dripped fat over the flickering flames. Irene, who'd been grilling just enough for a light snack rather than a full meal, beamed and held a skewer out to me.
"Roland, do you prefer pork or chicken?"
"I like both, but for skewers, chicken's better."
"Okay, here you go. And Grace, you too!"
Drawn by that irresistible aroma, the party members heaved their heavy behinds up one by one and gathered around. Sitting around a single campfire, taking bites of skewer, it was hard to believe we were even inside the Tower.
To me, the Tower had always been a half-feral experience—wandering sticky, humid swamps without washing or eating properly, exploring passages like the chieftain of some barbarian tribe. With beautiful companions, a clean journey, and a steady supply of fresh food through the inventory, even Floor 100 or Floor 200 wouldn't scare me.
…Still, I'd prefer it wrap up cleanly at Floor 100.
"Hoo, hot. These are the ones Roland and Grace bought back then, right?"
"We didn't buy them—the shopkeeper Roland knows gave them to us for free."
"This many?"
Just watching them chat while chewing on hot skewers was enough to put my heart at ease. They looked like beauties who couldn't swat a bug, yet every one of them was an Upper-grade adventurer. Aside from the fact that Han Se-ah still hadn't learned any offensive magic, the party was flawless.
Though she said she was going to learn alchemy, and she really did nothing but grind alchemy. Was she the type who, once she got tunnel vision, forgot everything else existed?
"Hanna, come sit over here."
"Ehh, again?"
It was too ambiguous for a proper meal, so after filling our stomachs lightly with skewers, I waved Han Se-ah over as she sat blankly by the campfire, basking in fullness and warmth. When I patted the broad flat rock in front of me, her expression twisted into something complicated.
We were resting a bit before moving on anyway, so I figured I'd give her some career counseling while we were at it.
We'd climbed the Tower so fast, and starting from Floor 40 the whole place had transformed so drastically that I could no longer use my Jjanhae-jwa alt—so I had to sit her down for a proper talk, like a parent-teacher conference. She shuffled over with a look that said a skewer was about to get stuck in her throat.
"Now that everyone's reached Upper-grade, Grace and Katie can both channel mana into their weapons, and I've been coaching them, right?"
"Ah, yeah. That's true?"
"You seem to have reached Upper-grade too, thanks to the Goddess's blessing, so I figured we should talk about what to do with your magic."
Contrary to Han Se-ah's worries, this wasn't another endless roasting loop like last time—it was a conversation about magic skills. Naturally interesting enough that not only the viewers but the companions warming themselves by the fire quietly drifted closer.
Suddenly we were all clustered around Han Se-ah, leaving the campfire behind—it looked less like a friendly chat and more like a high-pressure job interview. They swarmed in and each tossed a comment her way.
"Come to think of it, you're right? Hanna's an Upper-grade mage now too? Wow… I saw once that from Upper-grade on, mages going all-out can call down lightning storms or trigger landslides."
"Yeah, when mages hit Upper-grade, it's not their bodies that get tougher—it's the range and destructive power of their magic that skyrockets to absurd levels. So, have you thought about a specialization?"
"Miss Hanna usually uses rather unusual magic the most—inventory spells, mana wedges, and the like…?"
While Grace through Irene each put in a word, the viewers weren't sitting still either. Fire-law advocates, water-law advocates, brainrot enthusiasts—every flavor of chatter showed up and started spamming jokes. Fire attributes were illegal because they were "fire law," water magic was for when your little sister poured you a glass—
"O-okay, stop! Just a second? …I haven't decided on anything yet, but I'd like to learn some kind of AoE—fire, lightning, or ice. Our party has a harder time dealing with swarms of small fry like this than with one strong enemy."
"That's a solid take, honestly."
After getting an earful from both voice and text, in-game and on stream, Han Se-ah spat out her opinion at rap-speed. She seemed to have properly thought through her skill tree as a gamer, because the words came out without hesitation.
True enough—thanks to a shameless tank with a single-target nuke, our party was short on AoE. How a tank ended up packing a top-tier assassin skill, I had no idea.
Which meant that for a party already covering tanking, single-target DPS, CC, purification, and protection, the one absolute missing piece was AoE. Even now, when the harpies swarmed and we fled, we had no way to wipe them out—so here we were, resting in a cave.
"In that case, I'd recommend lightning magic. Depending on your mana control, it can work as either AoE or single-target."
"Really? Lightning magic…"
So that was my recommendation: lightning magic. From what I'd heard from a mage I knew, it was hard to control in proportion to its destructive power—but someone of Han Se-ah's caliber should be able to handle it.
She did plenty of ridiculous things—AFK-ing DPS, turning into a pack mule, accepting quests without thinking—but at least she had never botched her mana control. No Magic Missile had ever smacked me in the back, and she'd never fried Katie while supporting with Spark or Light.
With her skill level, lightning magic—even higher risk and higher reward than fire—felt like the right fit. If eighty percent of the credit for holding world first belonged to me, she still accounted for at least ten percent.
A bus passenger, sure—but not a free rider. She'd paid a little more than the fare, let's say.
"You can take the harpies and the Stone Dwarf ore to Old Man Antenor and learn magic from him. He should be down from Floor 45 right now for food, getting ready to climb again."
"That old man?!"
But as the Tower's difficulty rose, the fare she had to pay was inevitably going up too. One-on-one tutoring with a chatterbox old man who could torture people with words alone—sounds like so much fun, honestly.
Thank god I'm the tank.