Dark Mage Clichés 2
Every monster had grown a little stronger and mutated upon reaching the 60th Floor, but the biggest headache of all was still the suicide goblins.
Perched on the backs of centaurs, they hurled sling stones threatening enough to crack steel helmets, and if you got close, those elongated arms would latch onto a person and detonate without a second thought. The blast damage was no joke—if several of them latched on at once, even a 5-star Candidate Saint's secondary barrier would shatter. That said it all.
Thanks to them, the Empire's apprentice commanders pioneering the 60th Floor and the mercenaries who'd signed on for paid soldier-play were all wearing the same miserable faces. The monster waves up north came pouring in from sky and ground alike, sure—but at least those things didn't blow themselves up.
And then there were the viewers arguing that a sling stone with no mana behind it couldn't possibly be that scary, versus the ones donating videos of real-world sling shots shattering helmets and caving in skulls.
"Everyone looks like they're having a rough time."
"Still, they've managed to set up a base, so it seems they can hold out even if it's hard."
Bit by bit, the viewers were starting to grasp that these long-armed goblins were a far more terrifying enemy than they looked.
Mana or no mana, these were goblins whose arms had been grotesquely modified. The stones they flung with those remodeled limbs were already a threat—and then they latched on and self-destructed in a style uncomfortably reminiscent of the Saibamen from Dragon Ball. Even seasoned veteran mercenaries were looking thoroughly wretched.
Intermediate or advanced, every last one of them was coated in dirt and soot, faces twisted into grimaces as they muttered curses under their breath, and the whole atmosphere had gone thoroughly grim. Nobody was dismissing them as "just goblins" anymore.
"Hey, you find anything?"
"You want something, you put something on the table first."
"Son of a bitch, why do these damn goblins keep exploding?"
"For goblins, their grip strength is no joke. Might as well call them orcs that look like goblins."
"Still, if you cut them down before they grab you, they just blow each other up."
"These magic stones look a little weird, don't they?"
"The Magic Tower'll pay good money for them. By the way, is the priest doing all right?"
And so the people who'd naturally gathered in the safe zone near the gate fell into three groups.
The Empire's apprentice commanders, who needed to share information but couldn't stand the sight of anyone else doing well and so spent their time jockeying for position; the mercenaries, who'd been thoroughly wrecked by the suicide goblins and were now grumbling in their filthy state; and the tiny handful of top-tier adventurers who could handle suicide goblins without breaking a sweat.
Still, everyone except the Empire's apprentice commanders shared information freely and without hesitation. Unlike the Imperials, who faced monster waves while defending their own territories, the Kingdom's people had to gather inside the Tower itself.
Whether you were a mercenary or an adventurer, if you held back what you knew here, someone who never heard that information would die. Word would spread through the already tight-knit trade, and just like that, your reputation would be finished.
The moment you tried to monopolize information and slipped away looking shady, you'd be treated as no better than a bandit who preyed on his own colleagues—so of course information flowed freely. There was a reason I put so much effort into image management.
"Still, those Imperial bastards are so damn rigid. If they're going to be commanders, they'll end up fighting monsters as comrades eventually—so why are they drawing lines like that?"
"The Empire's territory is massive. Once you part ways here, you'll never see each other again. Or you crush the other guy and climb over him."
"What a rough way to live."
So the commanders got treated like idiots by the mercenaries and tight-fisted egoists by the adventurers, yet still doggedly did their jobs. At least a few of them seemed to have working brains—I could see some clustering together and whispering conspiratorially.
Just what kind of person was the Empress, to force kids like these into the Tower by sheer brute will? With that thought, I traded information with adventurers whose faces looked vaguely familiar. Most of it was about the monsters, but I still learned quite a bit.
For instance: a merchant caravan had set up shop east of the gate; the goblins' suicide bombs were so unstable that if you grabbed a goblin and threw it, they'd set off chain explosions among themselves; and palisades and land mines alone weren't enough, so the strongholds now fielded ballistae and makeshift catapults.
"Makeshift catapults?!"
"When a boulder came flying over the palisade out of nowhere, I nearly jumped out of my skin."
Reaching the 60th Floor meant this adventurer party was already a veteran group that had broken through mine-type magic tools and palisades. Maybe that was why he could laugh so heartily while recounting a near-death experience, his bushy beard twitching and dancing with every chuckle.
Well, the stone dwarves of the underground city bored tunnels with laser beams—so of course a monster army could field siege weapons. And look at that: a few exchanges of conversation and we were already getting along like some kind of capybara party.
"Mines, ballistae, catapults, suicide troops… these bastards really know how to be a pain."
"Still pays well, though! Ah—maybe not something I should say in front of a Hero's party."
"Nah, even a Hero's got to make a living!"
The information we'd picked up while restocking supplies turned out to be more accurate than expected.
"Boulders incoming!"
"Don't block them—dodge! Don't rely too much on the barrier!"
Because actual boulders were flying out of actual catapults.
High-packed earthen walls topped with heavily reinforced palisades. Step toward that place and the now-familiar land mines would be waiting to greet us.
Of course, before we even reached the minefield, we first had to slip past the boulders dropping dead on our path and the heavy ballista bolts streaking through the gaps between them.
At that point, leaving everything to the Ice Cross Knights just because it was a hassle felt wrong, so I raised my shield and charged forward myself. Stepping on mines didn't matter to me, and no matter how strong a ballista bolt was, it wasn't punching through my shield.
"No way, there are actually rocks flying at us!!"
Our party wasn't about to get taken out by a few flying boulders, so everyone was keeping up just fine on their own.
Grace and Katie weaved around the rocks with agile footwork without losing any speed, while Han Se-ah and Irene advanced more slowly, deflecting incoming boulders with protective holy magic and Earth Control.
…No, wait, what the hell was she even doing? Pushing aside catapult-launched boulders with Earth Control?
"Aren't you supposed to be covering the rear?"
"Break the ballistae past the palisade! Standing there showing off in front of those boulders is the real problem!"
Watching Han Se-ah's bizarre little stunt that I never would have imagined, I reached the palisade just as the Ice Cross Knights timed their leap onto the earthen wall almost perfectly with me.
They kept glancing back—apparently uneasy about charging ahead and leaving the mage and priest behind—but once they saw the two of them expertly deflecting the rocks, they looked reassured and vaulted cleanly over the palisade.
"Ack, mine!"
"Jump farther forward, you idiot!"
A few of them stepped on mines mid-leap and got blasted backward, but they were under Irene's makeshift barriers, so there was nothing to worry about.
"Roland! I already cut the ballista strings—what about the catapults?"
"Katie, can you take them?"
"I think I can!"
And so, pushing through the monsters' spiteful resistance from mines all the way to catapults, our party members finally made it up onto the palisade.
The ballistae mounted on the watchtowers were neutralized as Grace's arrows shattered their strings, and the catapults launching boulders from inside were casually sliced apart by Katie's hands, blue aura streaming from her blade in thick ribbons.
I wondered for a second how she'd managed to cut down even the orc soldiers operating the catapults—then remembered that Katie's sword had already been enhanced with a Special Enhancement Stone. We'd been pushing through so fast this time that we still hadn't fully farmed the mutant ogres, though.
Aside from the catapult boulders being a nuisance, there hadn't been any real difficulty, so I was fretting about Special Enhancement Stones as I hopped over the palisade—and found chaos waiting on the other side.
"Hey! These bastards blow up too!"
"Their waists! Miss Grace! Please snipe their waists!"
Apparently this had been a garrison for a centaur cavalry unit, because goblins came charging out of the tents inside, using those elongated arms to launch themselves off the ground.
Unable to mount the centaurs, the lunatic goblins went straight for suicide without a second thought. Tower monsters were driven more by hatred of humans than fear of death, sure—but this was a bit much.
Thinking that, I drove deeper into the garrison, and they latched on instantly.
…I could tank a mere suicide blast with my body, sure, but getting hugged by a goblin was a mood-killer I was not about to accept.