60. There Are No Poor Dungeons in the World (2)
60. There Are No Poor Dungeons in the World (2)
"Oh, this dungeon has the kind of vibe where you'd expect to find a taxi waiting."
A dungeon with the kind of atmosphere that made you expect a taxi straight to the River Jordan—and wish you had a reset button.
I knew the monsters in this dungeon.
"Glad I don't have a fur allergy."
Furballs over here. Furballs over there. Slightly ferocious-looking furballs surrounded me, staring with wary eyes. The furballs, of an ambiguous size—bigger than goblins, smaller than orcs—exchanged glances with one another and let out cries as if trying to figure out the situation. Could they actually communicate with those sounds?
Well, if dogs could communicate by barking, there was no reason kobolds couldn't hold a conversation. I planted the blade of my shovel into the ground and waited until every last kobold had shown itself. My target was the chief. Only after about the time it would take to sing a whole song did the kobolds, having apparently reached some conclusion of their own, finally reveal themselves—including the one that looked like the chief, which had been hiding somewhere.
The chief, wearing a skull on its head as if trying to look stylish, thrust its staff toward me and let out an incomprehensible shriek.
"!@*#*$!!"
What the hell was it saying?
Since I had Auto-Translate anyway, couldn't it let me understand monsters too? Whenever they shrieked like that, I wanted to know what they were saying. It was probably nothing but curses, but still. Before the kobolds could attack, I quietly spoke the Skill's name.
"Craft."
Barricades bristling with sharp spikes burst up around me. Naturally, my immediate surroundings turned into a complete mess. Monsters collapsed, bloodied, amid yelping sounds. I ignored the kobolds that had retreated from the sudden attack and fixed my glare on the one that looked like the chief.
The kobold chief, flustered by my counterattack, shrieked and snapped at the nearby kobolds. At least, that was how it looked to my eyes. But the kobolds just glanced at one another, their gazes darting between me and the chief.
Even monsters apparently had no desire to throw themselves into certain death. I reinforced the barricade with Craft in case of ranged attacks, then rummaged through my bag.
"!@(#ㅕ*!#$(*!!"
"I'm not in the habit of fighting rabid mutts as a hobby."
Yellow would do. I pulled a pouch of paralysis powder from my bag, one of the supplies I'd bought in Lorelai's back alleys. There wasn't much of it, but I saw no reason to tire myself out. I scattered the powder and swept my shovel in a wide arc, letting the wind carry it, then pulled the mask I'd prepared over my mouth.
A mask made from Hydra leather, with absolutely top-tier antibacterial properties. Naturally, it was handmade.
"!@#*&!#$!?"
The kobolds that had been standing around me collapsed, their eyes unfocused. I stepped over the kobolds and walked slowly toward the chief that had been hanging back and watching. Now bereft of its minions, the chief turned its back on me as if it had lost its nerve. But would I ever let prey get away?
"Craft."
I raised a wall across the chief's escape route. With its only retreat blocked, it screamed and charged. But I'd spent ten years living alongside monsters that an entire legion of kobolds could not scratch. Resistance on this level meant nothing.
The kobold's final struggle ended after I beat it over the head with the back of my shovel until the skull it wore shattered. It went limp. I had not killed it, had I? I grabbed the chief by the scruff and shook it. After several shakes, it finally regained consciousness and panicked the moment it saw me.
"!@*!&#!!"
"Hey, do you know anything about the treasure? Or about the one hiding back there?"
"!(@#???"
"Craft."
I shaped a generic model of a treasure chest from earth and pointed at it with my shovel. The chief finally grasped my profound intent, nodding frantically and wagging its tail. Its desperate struggle to survive was almost moving. I tied up Dog Meat, my pet for the day, with the rope I'd brought and said,
"Starting today, it's day one for us."
"Woof?"
As if to prove it really was a dog, Dog Meat tilted its head. I slung it over my shoulder, planted my shovel in the floor, and activated my Skill.
"Craft."
----------------
There was something I had realized while exploring the island's dungeons.
Why bother searching for stairs when I could simply break through? If I used Craft to make a shortcut, I could cheese the entire dungeon. Why waste time exploring it properly?
Of course, wandering around was better if I wanted materials from monsters or useful minerals hidden throughout the dungeon. But if I only wanted the clear reward, stealing it and leaving was far more efficient.
It was safe, fast, and offered a solid reward for the risk.
So I descended vertically through the dungeon, repeatedly building the sort of spiral staircase I'd once made for fun on the island. A dungeon packed with kobolds was naturally noisy whenever I reached a new floor, but I silenced them with my Skill. Reaching the final level didn't take long, though the back of my head prickled now and then.
Was someone talking shit about me?
After descending to the fifth floor, I found myself facing a massive door with Dog Meat in tow.
It was the same kind of door I'd seen in the island's dungeon. The eerily familiar sight brought back those memories. No tentacled bastard was going to pop out here too, was it? If the game remained accurate, the boss of the 'Kobold's Tomb' was...
"Woof!"
"What? Scared again?"
How had this bastard become chief? It was a complete coward. I set the whimpering kobold on the floor and approached the door. The enormous door looked imposing enough to resist even a giant, but its size was all for show. It opened as easily as an ordinary bedroom door.
I opened the door just wide enough for one head to fit through, then grabbed Dog Meat by the scruff and lifted it.
"Time to work."
"Kyiing..."
I pushed Dog Meat through the crack. Having served admirably as a danger detector all the way down to the fifth floor, it faithfully performed the same role again.
"Woof!"
Judging by the wagging tail, it seemed the dungeon boss wasn't any different from the game. Since it had wagged its tail full of hope every time it saw its own kind on each floor we descended, there was a high probability my guess was correct. I kicked the door open the rest of the way and entered the boss room.
"!*@(&ㅕ()#$!!!!"
What was this one's name again? I would just call it the Kobold Captain. The boss howled at me, swung a massive bone like a club, and charged. The floor thundered beneath each step.
At least use your turn signal before barging in.
"Dog Meat, it was fun while it lasted."
"Woof?!"
He had been good Dog Meat.
I prayed for Dog Meat, who had been reduced to chunks by the Kobold Captain's club. Perhaps I should have given him a cuter name. Still, he had fulfilled his duty before dying, so he would probably go somewhere good. Assuming heaven existed.
"!@(&*#!&*(!!!"
That meant the poison coating Dog Meat's fur and the poison in the food I'd force-fed it had splattered across the Kobold Captain. As a dungeon boss, it'd have some resistance, but the poison should still work to some degree. At its bewildered howl, I immediately activated my Skill.
"Craft."
Sharp spikes shot up, piercing through the soles of the Kobold Captain's feet. Unable to move from the sudden pain, the Kobold Captain howled and cried out in agony.
"Craft. Craft. Craft. Craft. Craft."
The best moment to attack was when the target could do nothing. I formed pillars with sharpened tips and mercilessly drove them into the Kobold Captain's body: soles, thighs, palms, waist, ankles... Once deprived of control over its limbs, the creature slumped. Blood had already formed a vast red pool around it.
For the finish, I used my Skill to slam a pillar into the Kobold Captain's head. The Kobold Captain's head burst apart, and a key dropped.
"...Clear."
I picked up the key that had fallen from the Kobold Captain's corpse.
If this had been the game, I might have set a new speedrun record. There probably wasn't anyone else who would dig straight down through a dungeon. Then again, veteran speedrunners using bizarre movement tricks resembling bunny hops might still have been faster.
Whatever.
Now it was time to open the treasure chest.
I approached the treasure chest carefully. With bad luck it might be a mimic, but chests you could open after defeating the dungeon boss were almost never mimics, so it was probably safe. I inserted the key into the chest's keyhole and turned it. The treasure chest opened smoothly, revealing its contents to me.
It was only a beginner dungeon, so none of the contents were especially valuable. Still, cleaning out every dungeon in the area should have earned enough for tuition. I needed to gather everything quickly and move on to the next one—
"Oh..."
Huh?
"I spotted a dungeon so I came down to check it out, and I never expected I'd get such an entertaining show! Hey, hey, want to go into business together? Let's split it evenly, fair and square!"
...Why was this bastard showing up here?
A woman in a coat covered with all manner of tools held out a hand to me. I ignored it and stared instead at her perked ears and gently swaying tail.
A cat beastkin?
No, seriously. Why was she here?
Were random encounters still functioning normally just because this was a game world?
"Then how about 60-40? That's a reasonable offer, right?"
I gave a short answer to the absurd proposal.
"Craft."
"Gwek!"