Opening Skirmish 1
Contrary to Caden's worry that clues would be scarce, the forest was overflowing with them.
"These things have no sense of caution whatsoever."
"They seem to believe there's nothing dangerous in this forest."
The named monster of the twentieth floor's forest was the Orc Hunter. Everything else that appeared were the same creatures we had already fought to exhaustion — goblins, kobolds, Moss Wolves, and Helmet Deer. And all four of those species were nothing more than prey for the Orc Hunters.
Which meant that neither the Orc Hunters nor the loud, blustering Orc Warriors had any natural predators here. Of course, if they ever ran into adventurers roaming the forest, they would quickly learn how wrong that shortsighted assumption was… but by then, the orcs wouldn't have any lives left to learn with.
Kwieeek—!
Kwek, kwek!
Walk for even a short stretch and, before Grace could even begin scouting, the forest would erupt with the full-throated squealing of pigs. Follow the sound and you would find orcs hunting Helmet Deer or Moss Wolves.
Of course, no matter how many beasts they brought down, ordinary monsters simply vanished and left behind nothing but Mana Stones. The orcs would rejoice over a fat Helmet Deer kill, then scream and thrash in agitation the moment the corpse dissolved into a Mana Stone. Once the excitement settled, they would set off in search of the next quarry. Like Sisyphus forever rolling his boulder, the orcs' endless cycle of hunting always ended in the same place — Hanna's inventory.
"Somehow this feels way easier than hunting Orc Hunters."
"Right. There are more of them, but they don't even try to hide."
They traveled in packs of three at minimum, five at most. The Orc Warriors moved in groups, but their physical abilities were nothing extraordinary. Stronger than civilians, sure, but thoroughly ordinary by the standards of adventurers who came and went from the twentieth floor. And no matter how many of them there were, five was still just five.
Naturally, no human who had reached the twentieth floor as an adventurer was going to lose a tactical engagement to a bunch of pig-heads. A basic formation — tank holding the front while the rear line provided supporting fire — was more than enough to seize the advantage.
Compared to Orc Hunters who dug traps and did nothing but run, these were easy prey. More bodies, sure, but each individual felt like a lower level.
"Still, it's a good thing."
"What is, unnie?"
"If these orcs had poured into the city the way that Horned Wolf did, a ton of people would have gotten hurt. The Horned Wolf hid and ambushed anyone who got close, but these orcs just stomp around like idiots."
"That's true."
Grace and Hanna chatted as they gathered up the byproducts from yet another orc encounter. Fair enough — if these raucous, chaos-making orcs had shown up in the city, it would have been a real headache.
Whether it was quest design meant to avoid repeating the same scenario, or just a consideration for player convenience, the fact that the orcs hadn't appeared in the city was a relief. Thinking that, I spent a good while chasing the noise through the forest.
Then Grace, who had been leading, flinched and brought the party to a halt.
"…There's something weird up ahead."
"Weird?"
"No, I mean — it's incredibly loud. Way bigger than I expected…"
Heeding Grace's warning, we walked a little farther, and a raucous din reached our ears. The squealing of pigs, the thud-thud of axes striking timber, and the crashing of great trees being felled and dragged.
What lay before us was not a goblin or kobold settlement. It was a village of Orc Warriors.
"What… is this…?"
"Good heavens…"
Caden, who had been to the twentieth floor before as a porter, reeled at a situation that defied all common sense. Irene, the Candidate Saint, was appalled at the sight of monsters gathering beyond the Goddess's sight. Dozens of orcs assembling to raise palisades and form a tribe — of course they were stunned.
This was nothing like the shabby huts goblins and kobolds threw together.
Using the raw strength unique to Orc Warriors, they felled the surrounding trees, stripped them, and raised crude but tall palisades. Orc Warriors on patrol and logging duty, Orc Hunters scouring the area for game — the scene unfolding before us looked less like a monster pack and more like a barbarian army.
"I should check this out."
"Check what?"
"Fighting all those orcs would be a pain, so fall back a bit and stay hidden."
"…Roland?"
The party members naturally hesitated and prepared to withdraw. Tracking Orc Hunters and handling packs of Orc Warriors was one thing — this was an entire tribe. Facing five orcs and facing fifty were entirely different propositions.
While the party, of one mind, quietly prepared to slip away, I set off in the exact opposite direction.
Orc Warriors had started appearing, and we had confirmed the existence of an orc village — but one question still remained. At the center of that half-finished settlement, where the palisades were just going up, stood a large, ornate hut. I needed to find out who was inside.
"Head to the passage leading down to the nineteenth floor ahead of me. Avoid combat as much as possible."
The first to react to my words were the viewers. Hanna, ever hungry for good stream content, gave a small nod at her audience's bizarre threats and stuck a camera on me. After confirming that the party had quietly vanished beyond the underbrush, I slowly loosened up.
Not that my opponent required a warm-up — it was more like an athlete's routine. I drew the slack muscles tight, then layered mana over them. My heart pumped, flooding every inch of my body with mana that paid no mind to efficiency. From that moment on, what stood here was less a human being and more a bipedal tank. The instant I dropped my stance and loaded my weight into my legs, the forest floor caved in, cracks spiderwebbing outward as if the earth itself had gone dry.
Thud. Thud— With every step, dust billowed up, and the corner of my vision where I'd pinned Hanna's stream exploded into chaos.
"Thanks for the ten thousand, but if you don't change that goddamn nickname right now you're getting a one-week paid ban. Looking at how he's just shoving his way in to 'check something,' maybe he's confirming whether there's a different monster mixed in with the Orc Warriors?"
With Grace's scouting ability and the ear-splitting racket of the Orc Warriors working in tandem, the party on stream looked set to reach the passage safely. The orcs' constant squealing was so loud that even Helmet Deer and Moss Wolves were drawn to it like moths to a flame.
Watching the stream, I took one step forward, then another.
The camera drone rose above the palisade and filmed me head-on. Careful not to glance its way, I raised my shield and pressed ahead — stride after stride, until the wall of timber loomed right in front of me. Thick logs, whole great trees felled, stripped of branches, and driven upright into a palisade.
But if even a deep-rooted living tree couldn't stop me, what chance did timber already torn from the earth have? I shoved the palisade aside with my shield as casually as opening a door.
Crrrack—
An ominous sound filled my ears as the wooden pillars forming the wall toppled backward like bowling pins. Beyond the dust that billowed up with a heavy thud, the orcs' frantic howling erupted.
The tall palisade crashed down. Orcs crushed beneath it, orcs tumbling, orcs fleeing, orcs charging the other way — every reaction imaginable. And I had only one gift to offer them.
A shield charge.
A knight of steel, every inch of his body packed with iron, began his assault faster than a warhorse. Fresh dust rose above the cloud already kicked up by the collapsing wall. In the pandemonium, an orc struck by the shield went flying skyward — reduced to a shape too grotesque for the drone to capture cleanly.
It was a method I used often enough outside the Tower, too. Mostly when running jobs with Rebecca. I'd smash through buildings on the advance, Rebecca would cut down the strong ones in the chaos, and the rest of the mercenary company trailing behind would mop up whatever was left.
"Hraaaaaaaaaah——!"
I filled my lungs to the brim, poured mana into the breath, and let it rip. The squealing orcs flung their weapons aside, clamped their hands over their ears, and flattened themselves against the ground. With the palisade down and the warriors paralyzed by terror, something was bound to come out.
If it was anything like the orcs outside, then inside that central hut—
An Orc Shaman, the grotesque thing dangling beneath its leather loincloth leaving a lasting impression.
It wore a robe stitched from Moss Wolf hides, with a hood fashioned from Helmet Deer horn and hide — a striking ensemble. Since Moss Wolves and Helmet Deer on the twentieth floor dropped no materials even when killed, the shaman must have spawned already dressed that way.
The problem was that under the robe cobbled together from Moss Wolf and Helmet Deer scraps, it wore absolutely nothing else. Just a shabby leather loincloth with the robe thrown over it. Dye had been smeared across its skin, but that did nothing to hide the hideous dangling.
Of course, even an orc's swinging manhood couldn't stop a mana-charged charge from a 6★ Paladin.
What greeted the shaman as it stepped out of the hut to assess the situation was a steel shield capable of shattering stone ramparts. Before it could so much as roll its eyes or scream — WHAM — a heavy, satisfying impact, and the Orc Shaman became a green smear of pulp, tumbling across the dirt several times over.
"You think that thing's still alive?!"