63. There Are No Poor Dungeons in the World (5)
63. There Are No Poor Dungeons in the World (5)
Whenever masters faced off in movies or comics, one particular scene always appeared.
A battle of nerves—the familiar standoff.
It was not merely posing and glaring at an opponent. Both sides kept their distance while measuring the other's ability and presence.
It was also the situation I hated most. Once an opponent became wary of my ability, countering it grew much easier. That limitation was inevitable because it was not originally a combat Skill. It was a Skill for making objects and structures that I could actually build.
I wanted at least one simple Skill specialized for combat too.
Something straightforward, like controlling fire or ice. It would have been useful for survival as well.
"...Forget it. This isn't the time to think about that."
My first priority was figuring out how to deal with the hobgoblin and its goblins watching me from almost a hundred meters away.
"Th-that magic that makes walls from the ground or whatever, try doing something with that..."
"It's a Skill, not magic."
"So you were born with a silver spoon when it came to Skills? The world really is unfair..."
Apparently Skills were recognized as such in this world. That was only natural when having a Skill was treated as having talent for Saintesses, knights, and wizards alike. Given how lavish my Skills were, I couldn't exactly deny being born with a silver spoon when it came to them.
...The problem was that even with them, making it all the way to the True Ending and all that shit was still hard as hell.
"Don't you have a Skill too?"
"...How did you know?"
Don't give me that wary look now. Not unless you wanted me to toss you to the goblins. When I glared openly, Sif avoided my eyes and lowered her tail. A stealth Skill was fairly useful, though I didn't know whether it'd help in this situation.
"!)@$#*&)!!"
"Sh-should we run? How are the two of us supposed to defeat that?!"
"Don't get scared. It's still just a goblin in the end."
Purely in terms of brute strength, it was probably around troll level. If I could just get within range where my Skill worked, I could handle it easily after that.
The problem was the thing the hobgoblin was holding.
"If that hits you wrong, your body's getting split right in half."
Where had it found an axe that large? No—if it had been born in the dungeon, perhaps the dungeon had made it. The axe was larger than me, and I was already tall. I doubted an earthen wall could stop a swing from it. If I trusted one and got careless, the axe might split both the wall and my skull.
Still, I had to try. I took a pouch of poison powder from my bag and handed it to Sif. She accepted it with a puzzled expression and asked,
"What's this?"
"A lifeline. Approach quietly and scatter it over the hobgoblin."
"...So it's poison or something?"
"You'd better not even think about using it on me. Before I die, I'll take you with me."
"...I wasn't thinking that!"
Like hell you weren't. Your ears perked right up at the word poison.
"Hide those ears and tail before you say that. Anyway, I'll draw their attention, so get moving."
"...Got it. Blessing of the Moon."
Sif's body began to blur. That was Blessing of the Moon, the Skill she had used to torment players. Its name sounded grand, but all it did was make her body hazy. It had little use unless you were an assassin or thief.
Though right now, it was pretty handy.
I adjusted my grip on the shovel and leisurely closed the distance. The goblins gathered around the hobgoblin were chattering at it. I couldn't understand them, of course, and had no idea what they were discussing.
"Would've been easier if I could understand them."
Even so, their conversation was easy enough to guess. Every goblin was glaring at me warily. What they were saying was obvious.
Kill that bastard.
I clicked my tongue as I watched the goblins each grip their weapons.
Four of them had staves. How was a melee build supposed to survive this misery? I could already picture four fireballs flying at me, and a curse slipped from my mouth. They were playing a shooting game that was only fun for them. Shameless bastards.
Those damn fireballs were seriously annoying. Four at once would be difficult to block with ground this soft. Dodging would be easier. The problem was the hobgoblin.
Because if I dodged the fireballs, that bastard would obviously charge in to kill me.
There was no guarantee I wouldn't get hurt taking a hobgoblin ambush while my stance was broken from dodging fireballs.
Reni could probably swat the fireballs aside at Mach speed and poke holes through the hobgoblin with her fingers, but I couldn't do anything like that. Striking a fireball with my shovel would have been literal suicide.
Still, I had to draw as much attention as possible.
With my shovel planted in the ground, I used my Skill.
"Craft."
I concealed myself behind a wall. The flimsy earthen wall would soon be blown apart by a fireball, but that was enough.
"Craft. Craft. Craft. Craft."
I deliberately raised walls in a wide circle. It was a trick to make it hard to aim the magic coming my way. It wasn't like they had clairvoyance — they couldn't see through the wall to know where I was.
"!*@(&(!#$!!"
Perhaps it disliked the long line of walls, or perhaps every fireball the shamans launched had only destroyed an irrelevant wall. The hobgoblin twisted its ugly face and hacked at the ground with its axe as though venting its anger. Each blow gouged a deep hole. One hit looked capable of launching me straight into the afterlife.
I saw the staves turn toward me and ducked behind a wall again. The fifteen or so walls I'd scattered around completely hid me. I hadn't closed the distance, but they were still plenty focused on me. Since that kept their eyes away from Sif, it was better to play it safe.
"Craft."
I made a foothold. Balancing precariously on top of a wall, I taunted them by leaping from one wall to another.
Their attention naturally fixed on me rather than the invisible Sif. One mistake would kill me, but I had no intention of dying. I gave a confident smile as a fireball flew toward me.
I kicked off the wall and leaped over the fireball. Heat that threatened to scorch my soles brushed past me. A wall exploded behind me. The shamans shouted and aimed their staves at me again. The same familiar pattern repeated.
But there was one piece of intel I'd gleaned during this war of nerves.
They needed nearly ten seconds to launch another fireball.
Ten seconds. Long if you called it long, short if you called it short.
I closed the distance. And watched for an opening. The fact that they kept the goblins clustered around instead of charging them in meant they had some degree of intelligence. If I approached, they'd try to keep their distance somehow.
"Craft. Craft. Craft. Craft."
I raised walls at random. That alone was enough to shield me from the fireballs.
"Repair. Repair. Repair. Repair."
Explosions and repairs repeated. Walls were rebuilt and shattered again. The contest between spear and shield showed no sign of ending. Still, if I held out while drawing their attention this openly, Sif would strike from behind.
Just wait a little. Just a little.
...When was that bitch going to arrive? Her Skill exposed her if she moved too violently, so being slow was unavoidable, but this was too sl—
"Speak of the devil."
"Eat this!"
I looked at Sif, who had appeared behind the hobgoblin and thrown the pouch. Yellow powder scattered over its head and covered its body. It let out a bewildered cry and staggered.
The nearby goblins collapsed as well.
Good. The paralytic worked.
If that hadn't worked, I was just going to use Sif as bait and bolt.
"Then let's finish this."
I slipped out of the chaotic forest of walls and charged at the hobgoblin.
----------------
"Good work."
"Uh, y-yeah. You too, good work!"
I picked up the key submerged in the pool of blood beneath the hobgoblin, whose body was riddled with holes. It was coated in sticky blood and felt disgusting, but all I had to do was open the chest. I stepped over the corpse and approached the treasure chest, with Sif trotting behind me.
Ignoring her, I opened the chest first.
The chest contained several silver ingots and one gold ingot. It was a decent haul. Selling them alone might bring in a tidy sum. As I considered the possibility, a voice came from behind me.
"Uh, um! Since I helped you, can't you let me go now?"
"Why would I?"
"I-I mean, haven't I paid off my debt by now?"
"A life debt can't be repaid even if you pile up gold as high as a mountain."
She had some nerve trying to call it even. I considered cracking her skull with the shovel. When I raised it slightly, Sif covered her head with both arms and shrank back. It was the reflex of someone accustomed to being hit, so I planted the shovel in the ground again.
"N-no... it's not like... Fine. Sigh. But at least spare my life. If I'm gone, my little sisters will starve to death..."
Sif's ears drooped. I fiddled with the shovel handle for a moment, quietly staring at her, then opened my mouth.
"Remember what you said earlier?"
"Uh. Umm... x-ru?"
"Not that."
"Uh... an offer you can't refuse?"
"Yeah."
"D-don't tell me..."
Why was she covering her chest with her arms? What was going through this girl's head? I flicked Sif on the forehead and said,
"It's nothing like that. I just want to make a contract. Agree, and I'll give you this."
I waved a palm-sized silver ingot before her eyes. It alone would let her live comfortably for about a month. As though hypnotized, Sif followed the swaying ingot with her head.
"A c-contract? What kind of contract?"
"Join me as a porter whenever I enter a dungeon. I'll pay you each time we finish one. And whenever you hear anything interesting, report it to me."
"Interesting information?"
"Rumors about new dungeons, nobles involved in shady business, gangs controlling the back alleys—anything will do. Whenever we meet, tell me everything you know."
That was essential for someone like me, who remembered the future only in broad strokes. Outside information would let me determine the timing of events and profit from it. I needed an external informant, and the convenient option of hiring the easy-to-control Sif had appeared. There was no reason not to use her.
"Got it! I'll do it!"
The silver ingot had already stolen all her attention. She had no intention of listening properly to the contract terms.
I gently placed the silver ingot onto the palm of Sif, who was staring at it like she was possessed. That alone made Sif smile a genuinely pure smile I'd never seen before and wag her tail. She seemed awfully happy.
"Hehehe... hehe... a silver ingot, a silver ingot..."
The money-grubbing monster in her had not gone anywhere.
Seeing that, I smirked.
"Then let's get out of the dungeon."
"Let's go! Boss!"
"Boss?"
"Then what should I call you?"
"...Just call me that."
I did not care what she called me.
Together with my newly acquired underling, I left the boss room.