20. Bug

Battles against monsters generally fell into two categories.

The first was sweeps.

Just what it sounded like — combat focused on clearing out hordes of monsters.

Any single creature wasn't especially threatening, but monsters lived in packs. You inevitably found yourself fighting overwhelming numbers at once, which was why a wizard's support was essential in this kind of fight.

The second was subjugation.

This was combat requiring a platoon-sized party or larger to bring down a single enemy. It usually meant facing an elite monster that had awakened a special ability. Unlike a sweep, the warriors' exploits were what mattered here — because no wizard could withstand the overwhelming physical ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prowess of an elite monster.

And then there was the Tower of Time.

Floors one through five gave you sweep missions. But from the sixth floor — where we had now arrived —

— you had to subjugate an elite monster entirely on your own.

"...It's dark."

Lucia muttered as she scanned her surroundings.

Unlike the floors below, bright as noon, this place was so dim that she couldn't make out anything more than a few meters ahead. She moved forward carefully, and then—

Squelch.

Something sticky clung to the sole of Lucia's shoe.

"...?"

It peeled off easily enough when she flexed her foot, but it looked suspicious, so she examined it closely. What she found was a gigantic spiderweb.

Squeeelch.

From the center of the chamber came a sound like something tearing apart.

Lucia turned her head toward the source. Several long crimson lines had been scored across the empty air.

Skree-squelch, skreee-squelch.

The red lines kept multiplying, accompanied by that grotesque noise. Squelch, squelch, squelch. The sound of something splitting open filled her head until it felt like a small insect was crawling through her ear canal.

Sensing that something was off, Lucia looked closer.

"...A cocoon?"

A colossal cocoon sat there in the gloom. It was so enormous that it nearly brushed the five-meter ceiling.

Seeing it in person is way more disgusting than on a screen.

The monster of the sixth floor was the pattern-type boss that the original Chloe would face for the first time in the story.

The Chelicerate Sovereign.

FWOOSH!

One of its legs punched through the cocoon. It was thicker than a human torso, and its length looked like it would easily reach ten meters.

The cocoon twisted grotesquely, something inside it squirming and thrashing.

SKREE-SQUELCH!

With a violent shriek of tearing flesh, the massive spider ripped its way out of the cocoon.

The Chelicerate Sovereign's twelve folded legs pressed down against the floor. Twenty-three crimson eyes, scattered irregularly across its body, all fixed on Lucia.

The creature raked its forelegs against the ground, gouging out a trench, and—

Glub-glub-grrrr!

Flesh boiled up from the crevice it had carved.

Before Lucia could even react, the living tissue seized the entire chamber at terrifying speed. Floor, walls, ceiling — everything was blanketed in pulsing red flesh.

Which meant the battle was about to begin.

I sent a telepathic message to Lucia.

Lucia. From now on, I'll drop the code phrases and just talk straight.

"Yes, Master."

There were only a few things I needed to say to her.

Take it slow. Just do the best you can.

No matter what happens, I'll protect you. And—

It's going to move in five seconds.

"..."

Lucia fixed her eyes on the Chelicerate Sovereign. The creature was loosening itself up, grinding its legs against the flesh carpeting the floor as it crept slowly forward, and—

Grrrrr.

The flesh beneath Lucia's feet swelled into a thin dome.

"!"

She detonated her mana. The instant the recoil shoved her body backward—

KUUUUNG!

Dark crimson spikes erupted through the ground where she'd been standing. A single hit would have been lethal if she'd stayed still.

Any normal person would have panicked, but Lucia was already moving. She sprinted sideways, deploying her mana as she went, and hurled several Mana Bullets at the Sovereign—

KAGAGANG!

Dozens of spikes shot up in front of her and blocked them.

Lucia's eyes narrowed slightly. In the meantime, the ground swelled again. She detonated her mana and fell back—

—and this time, the Chelicerate Sovereign charged in person.

FWUBUBUBUK!

Its body was so colossal that it crushed the flesh clinging to the ceiling as it bore down on her at full speed. At Lucia's pace, there was no dodging it. The Sovereign's leg drove down toward her head—

KAANG!

—and slammed into my barrier.

"...Haah, haah."

While Lucia caught her breath, the ground began to churn again. KUUNG! Blocked by the barrier, of course.

Lucia. How was that?

"...Only a few seconds passed, and the battle was already that complicated."

That was because I'd walked her through every action in detail — in actual combat, an exchange like that took less than three seconds.

You're fine. You'll get plenty more chances, so don't rush. Take it slow.

I gave her a moment to rest, then—

...Alright, I'll drop the barrier now.

I shoved the creature back about thirty meters with telekinesis and released the shield.

The restarted battle unfolded much the same way as the first. The flesh she stepped on swelled. Massive spikes burst through it. Lucia fired spells at the Sovereign, and the spikes rising from the floor blocked them again.

Can she figure out the pattern?

The Chelicerate Sovereign's patterns were genuinely filthy.

Not because there was anything unfair about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them, or because its power was absurdly overwhelming. No — the problem was simply that the patterns were nearly impossible to read.

People complained about this back when it was a game, too.

I'd played the game two years after launch, so I'd just "click-clicked" my way to a strategy guide online. But if you dug through the old records, you'd find more than one or two people who'd gone insane trying to clear this tower as self-proclaimed vanguard scouts.

Difficulty: Extremely Bullshit.

Pattern 1: spikes erupting from the boiling floor-flesh.

This one wasn't a real problem. The spikes popped up once every one to five seconds — you just dodged them, plain and simple.

The truly rage-inducing part was that the official strategy guide read like abstract ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠poetry. You'd finish it and be left asking, "So... what am I actually supposed to do?"

For example, here's how the guide explained the early branching point:

And on and on, forcing you to punch through branch point after branch point after branch point.

This isn't written for human beings.

So I'd been considering just telling Lucia the patterns outright after a bit more practice. The seventh-floor boss wasn't great practice material anyway, and the eighth floor's was a reasonably manageable opponent.

But then—

KAANG!

The moment I raised my 131st barrier,

"Master."

she spoke to me in an earnest voice.

"...Surely if it were you, Master, you'd have already figured out that monster's attacks."

No, I had a strategy guide.

"I'll do my best to become someone like you, Master."

...Right.

Watching Lucia earnestly work to decipher the patterns, I couldn't bring myself to deny her.

...Hmm.

A flicker of guilt started gnawing at me. After all, at every single branch point, I was pausing the game in my head to reread the notepad I kept floating beside me.

Man, I feel pathetic all of a sudden.

KAANG!

That was the thought I had while blocking the Chelicerate Sovereign with my 134th barrier.

The System announced our remaining time.

We'd been given twelve hours on entry, which meant a full nine had already passed. And through all of it, Lucia had fought the Chelicerate Sovereign without a single break.

Most battles ended in under ten seconds — but that made it all the more impressive. She'd repeated ten-second battles for nine straight hours.

Isn't she tired?

At barrier number 3,267, I started genuinely worrying about her mental state and examined her body closely.

She looked a little fatigued, perhaps. But her eyes were still locked on the Sovereign, sharp as ever.

Lucia.

"Yes, Master."

She looked at me with the same expression as always.

Is she really okay?

Just to be safe, I asked her directly.

Lucia, you've been fighting nonstop for hours now. Are you sure you're not exhausted?

"I'm fine. I've been burning mana all day, every day, for years. And..."

Lucia hesitated for a beat.

"...I made you a promise before we came up to the sixth floor, remember?"

She reached out a hand toward me where I sat on her shoulder, and I hopped onto it. Cupping me in both hands, she raised me to eye level.

"As long as I'm able, I'm going to keep challenging it."

Lucia was blazing with such ferocious determination that she could've founded an entire research institute dedicated to the Chelicerate Sovereign. But I read her mana flow.

...Hmm.

She's doing better than I'd expect after nine hours of reckless combat.

Most wizards black out after an hour or two of fighting. By that standard, Lucia was genuinely in decent shape.

That is, if you ignored the part where her mana had gone so berserk it was shredding her mana circuits to ribbons.

...Oh no.

If we'd pushed on for another hour or two, she might have actually died.

Thank goodness I'd read her mana just now. Without skin contact, it was hard to check precisely.

Lucia. I just read your mana, and your body is in a terrible state.

Judging by what I saw, an excruciating pain had to be wracking her the entire time. She'd almost certainly lied to me about being fine.

This, I could not let slide — no matter how cute she was.

"...Is that so?"

Hearing my words, Lucia closed her eyes and checked her own mana for a moment.

"...It doesn't feel that bad? I don't think there's anything really wrong."

?

It didn't sound like she was lying, so I pressed for details.

You're not in pain? It should be bad enough that you can barely endure it.

What she was feeling had to be like running full-tilt with needles stabbed through every inch of her body.

I couldn't fathom how she was enduring it — but her answer floored me.

"I've had this happen a few times before, so I just assumed it was normal. Is something wrong with me?"

This absolute lunatic.

For now, Lucia's combat training was forcibly suspended.

We rested for about an hour with the barrier still raised around us.

...Mm.

Everything around us was bathed in soft blue.

I'd tinted the barrier to hide the view outside.

You'd scare her if she opened her eyes mid-nap and saw a spider face staring back.

Anyway.

Partway through our rest, Lucia spoke up.

"So... are you going to be the one to clear that monster, Master?"

It would've been lovely to keep the rhythm going — Lucia recovering her strength, fighting, resting, repeat — but floors six through nine had time limits. We had roughly two hours left before we'd be ejected from the tower.

Only by reaching the seventh floor would the clock reset and grant us another twelve.

I'll take care of the boss myself now. Dropping the barrier?

"Yes."

The moment the barrier dissolved, the enormous spider filled my vision.

Krrk.

I caught it lightly with telekinesis.

I was about to pop its body like a balloon and end this — when the spiderwebs scattered across the floor caught my eye.

...Hm.

Right. You only trigger the Sovereign bursting out of the cocoon by stepping on those webs.

As I was recalling the gimmick, a pointless little curiosity flickered to life.

What happens if I stuff it back into the cocoon?

If I restored it to the state it was in when we first arrived — would it wait to be released by the webs again? Or, since it had already awakened, would it just tear its way right back out?

...This must be tested.

Kill the thing, and I'd never come back here again. If I didn't run this experiment now, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

Lucia, there's a little experiment I want to run. Could you give me a few minutes?

"Of course. Take your time."

Lucia nodded readily.

This is going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to be revolutionary.

I gathered the cocoon fragments scattered across the chamber with telekinesis and pieced them back together one by one, like a craftsman mending shattered porcelain. About two minutes later, I had a giant cocoon reconstructed. I laid it on its side with the lid resting separately, ready to close.

All aboard the cocoon express for you, sir.

I folded the Sovereign's twelve legs neatly against its body.

Skreek, skreeeek.

The creature flailed its legs, trying to wriggle free of my telekinesis — but resistance was futile once you'd been caught in the eyes of a Great Magic Bird.

Get in the cocoon like a good little queen!

If you didn't want to be experimented on by me, you should've been born as a silver-haired, violet-eyed, cool-beauty girl named Lucia.

In the end, the Sovereign went into the cocoon. I sealed the lid on nice and snug and set the whole thing back in its original spot.

And then—

...

Remarkably, nothing happened.

Nothing changed at all. Not a single tremor near the cocoon.

Huh. So the trigger is set the moment you enter the floor.

Curiosity satisfied, I was just about to erase the cocoon — contents and all — with an incineration spell, when—

FWUBUBUBUBUK!

The crimson flesh that had covered the floor, the walls, and the ceiling vanished in an instant.

Just a few stray spiderwebs left on the ground, exactly as when we'd first arrived.

What in the world is going on?

A legendary bug had just been born.