#29 #Regression #Inventory #9th Floor Scenario
No matter how deeply I rummaged through my memories, there was no precedent for this. Even the climber communities had no records.
Did they all die without leaving any information? Or is this situation entirely new?
The blisters on my palms throbbed. The three days on the 7th floor still lingered in my body. I tried to check the rebar stock in my #Inventory, but the scenery caught my eye first.
Before me stood a fortress. Calling it a village didn't do it justice. Over fifty houses, triple defense lines layered thick. From the outside: a moat, wooden palisades, trap zones. Inside: double stone walls with four towers. Barricades and shelters within. Twelve watchtowers, four ballistae, four catapults. But more than half were wrecked.
Three sections of the walls had collapsed, patched hastily with barricades. Four watchtowers gone. Two ballistae destroyed. Black scorch marks and dried bloodstains everywhere on the stone walls and ground. And in one corner of the village, long rows of stone graves. Dozens of them. Wildflowers on each.
The eyes of people passing through the village had changed. These were surely the same villagers from Aritas on the 7th floor, but their faces held no ease. Greetings exchanged were short, steps quick. The look of those who'd endured war.
This is the 9th floor, all right.
On the walls, soldiers stood watch in armor that hadn't been there on the 7th floor—reinforcements, no doubt. The tap of a cane grew closer. A limping gait. The Village Chief approached.
His left leg dragged more, his back more hunched than before.
"Traveler... you've come. It took you truly long this time."
"...What happened to the village?"
"While you were gone... a long time passed. They've been coming for six days straight."
The Village Chief's gaze drifted to the graves.
Six days straight. Was this what 'join the final defense' meant?
"The relief soldiers, the villagers... thirty-seven. That's how many we lost."
"...I'm sorry."
"I'm not saying it for an apology. I know you couldn't be here. You're not the type to abandon us."
"..."
"But... now that you're here. Please protect the rest."
"...Yes."
The Village Chief nodded and turned. The tap of his cane on the stone faded slowly.
I followed, asking about the remaining defense forces. Originally 87: 21 militia, 66 reinforcements. Now 48—nearly half.
"What about Torn?"
"He's alive. Leading the militia on the west side, they say. Two nights ago, when orc warriors broke through, that young man bought them time."
"...Good."
"Ilon's safe too. The apprentice. Stuck by Karunda, guarded the forge."
Relief washed over me. They're all still alive.
Heading to the forge, I saw Karunda leaning against the wall, gripping a hammer one-handed. Bandages on his arm.
"...You're here."
"...Yes."
"Held the forge front three times in six days. Got hit on the third, but lived. Good enough."
He set the hammer on the workbench with his one good hand and added,
"...Was tough without you. Honestly."
"...I'm sorry."
"Not looking for apologies. We held thanks to you."
Karunda rummaged behind the forge and handed something over. Reinforced iron spikes. Bigger than arrowheads, black metal chunks bundled in leather.
"Made from the ones you left scattered. My best work."
"...Thank you."
"How's the one-handed sword?"
"Rough shape."
"Show me."
I handed it over. Karunda eyed the blade narrowly.
"...Traveler, you haven't used it since then."
"Circumstances."
"Got it. I'll fix it before it's too late."
He took the sword and went inside. Beside him, a boy sorting nails. Our eyes met; Ilon jumped up, bowing hastily.
"Traveler... you're back."
"You're hurt."
"This is nothing. Master's worse—you saw him swinging the hammer one-handed?"
"I did."
"Haha... but he didn't back down. Neither did I."
"You did well, Ilon."
"...Thank you."
I paused, surveying the village.
Thirty-seven dead. I'd dwell on that later. Work now.
"Karunda, where's Yerina?"
"North watchtower."
A small shadow leaned against the wooden pillar under the watchtower. Bundles of branches on her knees, each sharpened halfway. Sunken eyes, sleepless face. Yerina stared blankly up at me. No tears.
"...Seventy-one."
"What?"
"Days without you."
A breeze lifted her hair slightly.
"Tried not counting at first... but it felt longer."
I crouched to her level. Up close, her cheeks were hollowed.
"...Sorry."
"I know. I know everything. You vanish, come back, vanish again."
Yerina's voice held simple acceptance. No anger, no resentment, no hurt—just heavy knowledge for a ten-year-old.
"...Didn't cry this time. Waited without tears."
Yerina stood. Branches tumbled from her lap.
"...Siege was scary. Orcs over the walls, and you weren't there."
Thud, thud. I followed silently. Yerina's palm caught my eye; I took it. Thumb brushed the red mark. Probably held a branch at the shelter entrance.
Anger rose, then subsided. No one's fault. Instead, sorrow and guilt surged. You endured alone.
"Hurts."
"...Sorry."
I started to release, but Yerina hooked fingers first. No letting go.
They walked. Silence broke from the child.
Yerina stopped, hiding something in her other hand, then offered it.
"This... made before the war. If you wear it, you won't get hurt... probably."
A bracelet in her small hand. Crude grass knots with tiny white petals woven in.
"Leisha said moonwort's good for wounds. So I used that."
Something I'd never accepted before.
"Sis? Don't like it?"
"..."
Trembling, I took it, slipped it on. Loose knot needed wrapping twice. Made these hands, scored by branches. Before the orcs came, before walls fell. Kept it close through it all?
I clenched my teeth. Throat burned, swallowing took time.
"...Thank you. I'll treasure it."
This time, I accepted. From the living girl's hand.
Yerina beamed, then rummaged her other pocket.
"One more thing."
A clumsy drawing emerged. Sword-wielding woman, flower-holding girl beside. Hands clasped.
"This you, this me."
"..."
"...Drew in the shelter during the war."
I studied it long. A quiet smile bloomed. No reason to fight the upturned lips.
Into #Inventory. The paper vanished; Yerina's eyes widened.
"Ah, gone."
"Not gone. Safe place."
"...Really?"
"Really. Safest in the world."
Yerina tilted her head, peering at empty air. Soon nodded—more wonder than belief.
"Sis, after the war... take me with you?"
My face stiffened. NPC, tower creation. Yerina vanishes at instance end. Impossible.
How to tell her?
"Joking...!"
I opened my mouth, closed, opened again.
"...Wish I could."
"Really?!"
"Yeah."
"Promise, like before!"
"...Yeah."
Radiant smile. I etched it in my eyes. Just a wish. Good she doesn't know.
Yerina took my hand, sat in the watchtower's shade. They sat wordless. Yerina leaned on my shoulder, gazing skyward; I stroked her hair slowly.
"Sing? Scared during war, sang it always."
"...Sing for me?"
"Yeah!"
Yerina breathed deep, opened her mouth. Clumsy, but perfect.
Spring comes, flowers bloom.
Summer comes, winds blow.
Autumn comes, fruits ripen.
Winter comes, but we're here.
I closed my eyes, listening. Never heard this before. Pushed her away too soon.
Last note faded; Yerina smiled.
"Good? Sang well?"
"...Perfectly."
"Again?"
"...Later. After it ends."
"Okay, anytime."
"Will."
Yerina grinned wide, then blinked sleepy eyes against her shoulder.
I rose after Yerina slept, called to briefing as sun dipped.
"Traveler, today's the last. Intel says their war chieftain comes personally."
The squad leader spoke. Scratches on his armor told six days' tale.
Forty-eight combat-ready. Her assets: Karunda's spikes, remaining rebar, repaired one-handed sword.
"Sent messenger to Karadin... no reply."
"Karadin... wonder if he'll come."
A memory flashed. Not Karadin, but salvation came before. She'd refused to trust her back—lost Yerina.
"...We'll manage without."
"Understood. All forces to front lines. Walls down in three spots—reinforce barricades first."
"I'll handle barricades. Even deployment per side, please."
"Thank you, Traveler."
Post-briefing, action. Pulled scant H-beams from #Inventory, drove into collapsed walls.
"This enough?"
"Yes, sufficient."
Soldiers shaped catapult stones, tensioned ballista strings. Couldn't restore the fortress in a day, but do all possible.