Ranking Battle (10)
"Hoo..."
I let out a long breath and closed out of the Coliseum-exclusive UI. As always, the little temple and the dwarves bustling about greeted me.
I stared blankly at the dwarves, replaying the trial I'd just watched Iscal endure.
That was really...
Incredible.
I'd known Iscal was a solid tank, but I never imagined he could fight that well with nothing but a buckler.
He had held the line alone against waves that came rolling in like the sea itself. The final wave had been touch-and-go, but the timer ran out and the clear registered automatically.
So Iscal soloed the trial and locked in a ranking spot.
Among the six who attempted it, Iscal had taken first. As expected, anyone who failed dropped straight into the lower ranks — clear the trial, and you automatically sat above the ones who washed out.
I poked at a scurrying dwarf while I thought. There had been an unexpected variable, too.
The fact that some trials lock out my skills is kind of dangerous...
That last wave, when the numbers had been overwhelming — I'd tried to throw Iscal a buff. He'd held out so well; dying on the final wave would have been the most unfair thing in the world.
But then...
! Skill usage is not possible in this trial !
I never saw that coming. This game usually gave me a ton of freedom with skills, so I'd assumed I could always step in. I'd been intervening with skills this whole time, after all.
I'd need to dig into what conditions locked skills out of a trial, but just knowing those trials existed was already a huge win.
If I'd been running a major DPS character like Kenis through a trial, failed because I couldn't use skills, and botched a star-rank upgrade...
I wouldn't have slept a wink that night.
Poke, poke! Drag—
Aigoo?! Save the dw@rf!!
I'd been poking a dwarf absentmindedly and dragged without thinking — and the dwarf came right up with my finger, dangling in midair. Suspended in the void, it flailed its stubby arms and legs.
It was even saying something. They seemed to be cleaning up the scripts a little; it was a lot more readable than before.
"Oh... this was a feature?"
Whoosh, whoosh—
Looking closer, the touch icon had changed into a grasping palm. This wasn't the same as issuing a move order to the dwarves.
The dwarf danced and flopped along with every flick of my finger. Probably just a plain drag-and-drop with no special function. Bored, I scooped up the other dwarves too and waved them around.
Hyaaa@k!!
Save the dw@rf!!
Aigoo I'm dy!ng!!
I played with the dwarves like that for a good long while.
Whooom! Whoooom—!
"Aigoo, save the dwarf!!"
A dwarf hung suspended in midair, soaring through the sky. He flailed his short arms and legs for all he was worth — completely useless.
An irresistible force had seized him by the waist and would not let go.
"G-Great One!! I've done wrong!! Honestly I don't know what I did wrong, buuut—?!"
Whoooosh—!
The dwarf, gripped by the waist, shot across the heavens of the Holy Land like an arrow. He would surely go down as the first dwarf ever to fly.
After a few laps of the Holy Land's sky, the dwarf's face had gone a deathly blue. He already missed the ground more than anything in the world.
Gulp—
Something seemed to resolve itself in him. His expression turned grimly determined — the face of a man who has decided to cut off his own arm.
"Great One! F-from now on, I shall drink no more than four barrels of beer a day!!"
"Huuuh?!"
"Th-that guy!!"
How desperate did you have to be to swear off beer — life-water itself — down to a mere four barrels a day?!
The dwarves watching from the ground went pale and tried to stop him.
"Hey! Have you lost your mind? How is a dwarf supposed to survive on four barrels of beer?!"
"That one's completely cracked..."
"I give him a month, tops."
"Four barrels a day? He won't last a week, never mind a month!!"
Thud!
"Aaaaagh!"
The dangling dwarf hit the ground with a solid whump. The dwarf who had been hanging in the sky pressed his lips to the precious earth and wept tears of gratitude.
"Thank you, Great One!! From this day forward I shall drink only four barrels of beer each day and offer prayers of thanks!!"
"Tsk tsk, you fool. This is why you should've conducted yourself properly like me— AAGH?!"
Whooosh—
"Aaaaaagh!!"
Another dwarf was seized by the waist and hauled into the sky. And so the second flying dwarf was born.
Whooooosh—!!
"Save the dwarrrf!!!"
And thus, over the Holy Land, a rare spectacle unfolded: dwarves soaring through the air in place of clouds.
I should unlock some weapons.
Thanks to the event period, a solid number of adventurers had been visiting the inn. Gold had piled up nicely — enough to unlock weapons.
With a flutter of anticipation, I looked over the weapon list.
Hmm, what to unlock.
I planned to unlock two for now. One D-Grade, one hero-tier weapon. I'd already thought it through. What was my current roster missing?
Two melee DPS, one tank — three melee if you counted Hans — and the Emperor was a buffer, so he didn't count.
No ranged DPS. Zero ranged DPS.
The absence of a ranged dealer. In any game, the ranged DPS was the flower of firepower. Low durability in exchange for melting enemies with raw damage — the pure symbol of dealing.
The front line was solid enough now. Time to pull a ranged dealer.
I skimmed the weapon list, hunting for something suitable. At D-Grade there weren't many options. Basically one of each weapon type, so if I wanted a bow, there was exactly one.
I unlocked the D-Grade weapon without much thought and checked my remaining gold... looks like I could unlock one more around C-Grade or B-Grade.
Let's see... what to unlock.
I scrolled down the list. From C-Grade on, the variety opened up — plenty of options. All kinds of bows appeared. Composite bows, longbows, shortbows, crossbows... I skipped them all.
First priority: something huge. Weapons always had to be massive.
Pecking away from a safe distance was for cowards. One shot from a colossal bow. Big. Heavy. Devastating.
The ultimate glass cannon concept.
That was the ranged DPS I wanted.
"Oh. This..."
After a long dig through the list, I finally found a bow I liked. I unlocked it on the spot.
Extra-Large Weapon Package applied!
Crafting efficiency for Greatbow of the Golden Tree has increased!
Looking at the massive, powerfully arched tips of that bow, I was extremely satisfied. I'd almost forgotten about the Extra-Large Weapon Package — it felt like an unexpected gift.
Gotta craft these right away.
I slotted the simplest one first — the D-Grade Creaking Bow — into the crafting bay and hit craft—
I c@n't make th!s, y'know?
"Huh?"
A warning chime sounded and a dwarf started babbling. Judging by the tone, it was saying it couldn't make it.
"What? Why all of a sudden?"
They'd been hammering everything out just fine until now — and suddenly only the bow was a problem? I hit craft again, half-disbelieving.
I c@n't make th!s, y'know?
Now the dwarf was looking up at the camera and shrugging. I paid gold for this weapon and they couldn't craft it? Why?
"Is this even a game?"
At least tell me why you can't make it!
Shhhk— shhhk—
Late night, after the festival had ended.
Darkness lay over the training grounds of the Pantheon, and the only sound was the quiet scrape of something being sharpened.
Shhhk— shhhk—
Friga sat in a corner of the grounds, honing the edge of her axe. In darkness so deep she couldn't see an inch ahead, she worked by the light of a single small torch.
Shhhk— shhhk—
The low, steady rhythm of the whetstone was pleasant to hear.
Whenever her mind was restless, Friga would sharpen a blade and let her thoughts wander.
Sometimes her mother came to mind.
The little girl who had leapt for joy at a hand axe for her fourth birthday. Her mother had set a whetstone gently into her palm and sharpened the edge with her.
Shhhk— shhhk—
"Here, Friga. Watch carefully. For this part, you hold the stone with your thumb. It's not about force — it's about the angle."
"Here, Friga. Watch carefully. When you go for the neck, swing the axe at this angle and the windpipe severs clean. A major vessel runs right through here."
"Come here, Friga. See this triangular bit of gut? Drain the blood and you can eat it raw. Useful if you're ever stranded."
Memories rose like bubbles with the sound of the stone. Warm, soft moments. Those memories were Friga's treasures.
Hunting bears with her mother, learning to skin a hide, laughing as hot blood spattered them both. Riding the back of a drunken roe deer and racing across the snowfields.
She snorted despite herself. Those days had been so pure, so fun.
And through the haze of memory, a familiar face suddenly surfaced.
Earlier today...
Friga thought back to the afternoon. Iscal, who had refused to quit fighting until the very end. That sudden embrace. And... how surprisingly solid his arms had felt—
Heat flooded her face.
"Ngh...!"
Friga worked the stone faster. She wasn't really sharpening anymore — just scrubbing the whetstone against the blade.
Shk-shk-shk-shk—
She moved her hands like a madwoman. The stone was grinding itself down against the axe edge, but Friga was lost in the motion.
"Hoo..."
She kept at it for a long time.
That dumb face kept surfacing in her mind and vanishing, over and over. No amount of grinding could erase that vacant expression.
Heat rose in her cheeks again. Face burning scarlet, Friga lifted the axe.
She swung it wildly at the stupid face that kept cluttering up her head.
Whoom— whoooom—!
"Y-y-y-you little bastard! Huh?! It's too soon!! Way too soon!!"
Even she had no idea what, exactly, was too soon.