Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: I Want to Go to the 2nd Floor (6)
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The farthest cave in the Ant Den's third floor.
The place we'd stealthily tailed a hobgoblin to was a small warehouse.
I peeked inside cautiously. No swords or spears—just a bunch of armor, jewelry, and even gold and silver coins.
Found it.
And there, in the corner, was a gleaming helmet. Perfect. Zirnier's helmet.
Right next to it sat my 17-silver-coin axe and 40-silver breastplate, neatly placed.
Only the two hobgoblins who'd just gone in were inside the warehouse.
I crouched low in the corridor beside the cave entrance.
The moment they come out, I strike.
The plan was to rush them the second they emerged, careless after stashing whatever they'd carried in, and sever their necks.
Luckily, no hobgoblins were passing through the corridor. They were all too busy screwing.
Every pockmarked cave echoed wildly with men's groans and hobgoblins' mating cries, so the noise would barely register.
Here they come.
About thirty seconds later, I heard hobgoblins emerging from the warehouse cave. I spotted their shadows too. They were right in front of me now.
I was about to lunge—when the shadows flickered oddly.
The hobgoblin that stepped right up to the cave mouth swung its arm sideways like a baseball batter.
Fuck. Busted.
My judgment was swift.
These hobgoblins had been shuffling mindlessly, rummaging through stuff.
There was no way it'd suddenly act like that. Had it noticed me tailing it? Lulling me into complacency for a counter-ambush?
Definitely smarter than first-floor goblins.
Sure enough, a blade appeared from inside the cave along its swinging arc—a stick with a razor-sharp edge at the tip.
Claaang—!
I ducked immediately. The blade struck the cave wall, the clash of metal on stone reverberating through the tunnels.
The hobgoblin, having whiffed and hit the wall, shuddered from the vibration rippling up its stick. I didn't miss the opening and charged.
"Kerruk—!"
It wasn't alone. Another hobgoblin beside it swung an axe at me. Perfect, thanks.
With Agility 17, I dodged nimbly and smashed my fist into its temple.
Thwack!
Its larger frame meant more mass, so unlike first-floor goblins, it didn't fly from one punch.
But it took solid damage. It staggered, dropping the axe.
I snatched the falling axe and swung at the spear-wielding hobgoblin.
Craaaack!
A deep axe mark scarred the spear hobgoblin's nape.
Tough hide.
I'd swung to decapitate, but fell just short.
Still, it collapsed clutching its spear without even screaming.
"Ke... Kerruk..."
The surviving hobgoblin trembled at losing its kin so fast. I moved to finish it—
"Keruk?! Kekeke!"
"Kerilrukruk!!!"
—when murmurs rose from outside.
The fervent mating cries had halted as confused hobgoblins poured out of their caves.
The spear hitting the wall. Damn it.
The noise had been pretty loud.
Shit. We were screwed. Dozens of caves lined the path here.
If that many hobgoblins swarmed us, it was game over.
The commotion would spiral uncontrollably, drawing hobgoblins from the first and second floors too. No escaping that.
"Ke, keruk—"
That's when I noticed the hobgoblin pinned beneath me.
A brilliant idea flashed through my mind.
A bit humiliating, but solid.
For goblins whose heads were filled with nothing but men, dicks, and sex, it'd work.
Clang!
I slammed the axe right beside the hobgoblin's face.
"Feels so good! Ack!"
I bellowed at max volume, loud enough to echo through the entire cave.
Fuck. So damn embarrassing. Did I have to go this far just to survive?
Clang!
"Ack! Feels amazing!"
Of course. Gotta live to do anything.
The pinned hobgoblin looked utterly bewildered—or as much as a monster could.
Hard to read expressions, but what if I pressed the axe to its throat?
"Keruk! Kekekekeruk!!!"
Smart bastard. It seemed to grasp what reaction I wanted.
"Kekekekeruk! Kerullruk!"
"Feels too good!"
Clang! Clang!
A man's loud moans, hobgoblin mating cries, and axe strikes rang out.
The wary murmurs outside faded.
"Keruk? Kekkeruk!"
"Kerukkeruk~"
Like, Oh, just sex? Kinky room play. Can't let them outdo us...
"Kerukkekkeruk!"
Sure enough, deafening mating cries erupted from the next cave. Majorly stimulated, apparently.
Once reignited, the rutting spread across the entire third floor of the Ant Den—like a contest of who fucked best.
"Sa-save me! Please! Heek—"
"Dick pound pound! More dick pounding please!"
The pink-drug-addled men's responses intensified too.
Sorry. Too busy surviving to save you now, but I'll come back someday if I remember.
I offered hollow condolences and finished the pinned hobgoblin.
Good job, my yas sound partner. For your efforts, I sent you painlessly in one go.
Then I ransacked the warehouse. No shirts or pants, but plenty of vital armor.
I grabbed Zirnier's helmet, slipped on the breastplate in my underwear, and recovered my battle axe, Kakchi's dagger, greaves, and backpack.
With my gear secured, I eyed the scattered equipment around.
Probably from the captured men.
No idea when they were nabbed, but I could put it to good use.
Armor sizes rarely fit, but I snagged a snug arm guard.
I strapped on a rolling round shield for my left arm too. Wood, but better than nothing.
Looting done, I rummaged through the backpack.
Hard rock bread... take it. Moldy bread... just in case, take it. Map? Not an artifact, but fifth floor, so snag it.
Food was my top priority. I'd come aiming for the second floor, so rations were light.
Even surviving the fifth, it'd take at least two weeks minimum to reach the first.
I needed supplies to last. Hunger and fatigue were the Labyrinth's worst threats.
Searching other packs yielded a week's worth of food and water. Rationed hard, maybe not quite two weeks.
...Gotta make do.
Grateful for what I had, I unrolled the map.
Not as good as the armored knight's artifact map, but decent quality.
A rough layout of the fifth floor.
First, my position. Not exact, but a circled star-marked zone.
Below it: [Where we gotta go! Target: Shaman Hobgoblin's staff!]
And "Hobgoblin Village" inscribed.
Exit the first-floor plaza's straight tunnel corridor, and you'd leave the village.
Problem is, the village isn't the end.
The fifth floor was vast. Unnaturally, bizarrely so.
The map showed five monster villages: Hobgoblin, Kobold, Mud Golem, and more.
Four more villages this size?
Grim news, but silver lining: the hobgoblin village was closest to the fifth floor's end.
And at that end? A fountain illustration.
[Healing healing!]
With a green cross memo, like a hospital sign.
—Heading to the fifth-floor fountain!
Derusio's words resurfaced.
...What the hell's so special about a fountain?
Fountains were park decorations. One in the Labyrinth? Out of left field.
Why head there mid-party wipeout?
Fountain. Derusio. Injuries. Near-death comrades. "Healing" memo. Fountain again...
Does the fountain have something to heal party members?
Even so, one issue remained illogical.
Can't choose teleport trap drop points.
Fifth-floor traps land you on the fifth, but location's pure random portal luck.
Hobgoblin village, kobold village, or lucky fountain drop.
But banking 100% on luck? No. That sneering glare wasn't a loser's desperate flight.
More like a hunter plotting revenge.
But his party was half-dead.
If intact, sure—fifth-floor explorers could push through. But I'd nearly killed two minions and half-wrecked Derusio.
How'd they judge breaching a fifth floor with five villages to reach the end fountain?
Did they have a direct warp to the fountain?
Anything else, and that call made no sense.
Summing my guesses:
If Derusio's party had a way to warp straight to the fifth-floor fountain, and it heals wounds...
Head tilted, but it fit.
Shaky with holes, but scant info left no choice.
Felt off. Questions bred more questions.
Felt it regaining consciousness on five: unresolved doubt.
Why'd I black out?
Portals always brought odd floatiness and unfamiliar tingles, but never knockout.
Trap difference? Nah. Kakchi trap-dropped to three without passing out.
Fifth floor special? Meh. Just another layer, right?
...Map said otherwise: weirdly vast, monster villages, funky fountain gimmick. Definitely not standard.
Something... something I'm missing.
Why faint only on five?
Did other explorers? Just me? Why?
[◆ ???'s Blessing]
The suspiciously vague blessing caught my eye. Always stirred unease.
Maybe one I'd had since Earth.
But no connections surfaced, no matter how I pondered.
...Dunno. Focus on surviving now.
I reined in the endless speculation.
If I sneak to the first floor, breach the tunnel, and exit the village...
Possible. Escape angle emerging.
No hobgoblins came to the warehouse. Excluding the two I killed, none had visited since.
So I holed up inside for a day.
Prepping for detection, I catnapped in the darkest corner, nibbling portioned bread.
Peeking out occasionally to observe yielded hobgoblin village intel.
No traps inside the village.
Hobgoblins romped carelessly: running, walking, crashing into walls, tripping—everything.
No traps triggered.
Outside maybe, but village interior seemed trap-free.
Hobgoblins sleep mornings.
Mating cries nonstop all night.
Diana's watch showed rutting till about 5 a.m., sleep till noonish, then day restart.
More rutting.
And they guard in shifts.
At the plaza's end, stretching toward village exit: a permanent hobgoblin sentry like a guard post.
Rotated every three hours average.
Five-minute shift change—prime escape window.
Map calc: tunnel about 2km.
Even at my speed, detection inevitable mid-escape.
But like any operation, not everywhere reacts instantly to incidents.
Current time: 4 a.m. Rutting noises still echoed. They'd crash soon.
Execute at 8 a.m., during guard shift.
Deepest sleep for troops, weakest vigilance.
Timing it right boosts odds.
I killed time awaiting the hour. Packed backpack, geared fully—ready.
Around 6:35 a.m., prepping to descend to second floor—
"Kerelerelerelerelererek!!!"
Fuck, what?
The massive roar snapped me alert.
"Hey, you fucking guard hobgoblin shit! Shut it!"
"You've got the men totally wrecked. Jealous of goblins. They rape men without punishment, huh?"
"Get a grip. You some outlaw? Thinking like that?"
"Gregor, third-floor great warrior. Watch and learn how the seventh floor's top party hunts."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Five women registered in my senses.
"Kerrrrrruk..."
The village lord emerged at the sudden uproar: the shaman hobgoblin.
"Kuh. That staff looks pricey."
"Fifth-floor shaman goblins wield special staves that magically replicate male-corrupting pheromones. Client's got weird tastes requesting that."
Dialogue suggested explorers targeting the shaman goblin's staff.
Labyrinth moneymakers: kill monsters, clear requests, farm relics.
But why now, of all times.
"Kerulkekekelererek!"
The shaman hobgoblin bellowed fiercely.
Then the third floor—no, the entire hobgoblin village—shook with massive vibrations.
Hobgoblins fucking and passed out in caves bolted up, rushing to answer the shaman's call.
"Krek, krek!!"
They moved with military precision, like a midnight-raided army.
And like soldiers grabbing rifles in emergencies, they dashed for their weapons.
That somewhere was surely the armory.
I scanned around.
This is the weapon warehouse.
"Krelerk! Krek!"
"Krekrek!"
Thud thud thud thud thud.
A horde of footsteps swarmed toward my hiding spot.