The Middle Floor

With Liberid's help, a simple teleportation had brought me to the Land of Azirek. There, Azirek was sprawled across a boulder, rolling about in idle boredom.

"Hn…? Liberid!"

A gorilla of colossal bulk lurched immediately to its feet. This was Azirek — the mid-boss who guarded the gate to the Middle Floor.

"You fraud! Do you have any idea where this is?!"

"As temperamental as ever, I see. Azirek."

Liberid regarded that violent outburst with a slick, unctuous smile.

"You miserable cheating bastard — do you even know where you are?!"

The gorilla was furious, but his pronunciation was perfectly clear. Barring the Gnoll Hero, he was practically the only monster in the Lower Floors you could actually hold a conversation with — the first talking monster a human would ever meet. Of course, once you reached the Middle Floor, orcs and beastfolk made that sort of thing commonplace.

Azirek kept bellowing one-sidedly at the top of his lungs. Liberid fielded every word as if it were nothing at all.

"You said you'd send me somewhere I could fight forever without dying — what the hell is this?! Where in here is there anything like—"

"It won't be more than a few years now. Just wait a little longer."

"A few years? A feeeeew yeeeeears? Ha. You think I'll just dance to your tune? Everyone who comes through here, I'll make 'em eat shit with those so-called quests of yours—"

"Ah. As it happens, this gentleman here is your first guest."

"…Oho? So you brought him here yourself, is that it?"

Azirek looked me up and down, then let out a short, ugly laugh.

"I'm not just going to do whatever you want, you piece of shit. Hey, you. Get over here right now and—"

"Ah. This gentleman is an exception, Azirek. I cannot authorize a quest."

Azirek flinched. His eyes snapped to empty air. He was reading a system message, by the look of it — and he could read, too.

"Y-you son of a bitch, you actually—!"

"Ah, you see, this gentleman is rather short on time. Please fight him promptly and let him through, Azirek."

Liberid beamed in slow, circling smiles. Azirek glared daggers at him. The hierarchy, however, was apparently not in question — he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stood there snorting through his nose, then turned that glare on me.

"I'll beat you into paste, you piece of shit."

I offered a wry smile at the stray sparks flying my way. Even so, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't pretend I wasn't enjoying this a little. This was the same bastard who had openly toyed with any number of trainees in my first cycle. His filthy personality had made life miserable back then, and watching him squirm was a small satisfaction. But the feeling didn't last. Time was more precious than petty revenge. I had gone to the trouble of securing a teleport — I had no intention of wasting another minute.

"Let's wrap this up. Gorilla."

"My name is Azirek, you monkey."

Same old form of address. I pulled a look of irritation, drew my sword, and goaded him.

"Just come at me. Lord Liberid? May we begin immediately?"

"Ah, of course—"

"That's for me to decide, you scrawny little monkey!"

The moment I ignored him completely, he came charging straight at me. A system message appeared in the same instant.

I immediately cycled my mana and slipped past Azirek's rushing ambush. A flicker of surprise crossed his face; then he reset his stance and came at me again. A massive arm scythed toward me. In a single breath I drew out my Sword Qi and swung to meet it.

"Sword Qi?!"

Azirek jerked his arm back, startled. Caution settled over his features. This time, I was the one who closed the distance.

I had the edge in raw speed. On top of that, my Strength sat at sixty — a figure that wouldn't look out of place in the Middle Floor. High Strength fed directly into that kind of velocity. Of course, without a matching measure of Agility you'd lose control entirely — but mine was fifty. A little short of ideal, perhaps, but nowhere near unmanageable.

Wounds began to open across Azirek's body, one after another. His expression grew more agitated by the second. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Losing to someone Liberid had personally brought along was apparently more than he could stomach. He threw his head back as if surrender were unthinkable and came roaring at me.

"GRAAAAAH!"

A roar, however, did not close a gap in skill. I met his frenzied charges just enough to keep him honest, and started grinding down his stamina. The fight was never going to last long. Liberid cut it short almost at once.

"He's no match for you, I see. I'll rule that the trial has been passed."

The system messages bloomed at once, and Azirek's body locked in place against his will. He stared at Liberid with naked hatred.

"…You bastard…"

The look he gave Liberid now made the earlier glares look almost affectionate.

"As I said — he's simply out of your league, Azirek. Well done."

"Is this why you called me here? You're the one who named me the examiner. The whole reason I even belong to that damned system is—"

Liberid's face changed. The man who looked at Azirek now was a different creature entirely from the one who had been smiling a moment before.

"Azirek? What did I tell you. I said he doesn't have time. Shut your mouth. Your role can be filled by anyone else. Do you actually think you're the only magical beast with the intelligence and ability this position requires?"

In that instant, an aura poured off Liberid that set even my nerves on edge. Azirek's face was still twisted with rage, but his body had begun to tremble.

"Do not cross that line, Azirek. This gentleman is not someone you are fit to compare yourself to. I don't care what you do to the rest of the garbage. But toward this man, and the handful of others I have named — you will show respect. You maggot."

Under that crushing presence, Azirek wore a look of utter humiliation — but he had no choice but to bow his head in submission.

Well. Some poor trainees are going to have a miserable time of it.

There was no chance that bastard would just swallow a grudge like that. He would take that resentment and that stress and dump it on every other trainee who came through. Our party had already been exempted, so it was no concern of mine. …The guild members I would recruit later might have a rough time of it, but that was beyond what I could do anything about.

I had taken him for an unusually courteous Floor Master. In the end, a Floor Master was still a Floor Master — every inch the one who ruled his floor.

"Well then, Yoo Shin-hoo? I should like to see you again when you have more time to spare. Perhaps we might share a meal sometime?"

"…Is that even allowed, with a Floor Master?"

"For someone who has advanced to the Middle Floor, there is no issue. You have already passed my trial, after all."

The face Liberid turned on me had nothing in common with the one he had shown Azirek.

"…I understand. I'll be rather busy for a while, but…"

"Ah, if you find yourself with a spare moment, I would be grateful. Of course, you are a man whose original mission takes far greater precedence. I only ask that you not forget."

Liberid bowed his head with impeccable courtesy. It was like watching a split personality. Not that I cared, so long as the courtesy was directed at me.

"…Of course. You've already gone to such lengths to accommodate me. I understand. Well then…"

"Yes. I apologize for taking your time when you are so busy. I shall look forward to our next meeting."

I left Azirek standing with his head bowed and Liberid still smiling, and headed for the Middle Floor.

A sparse little message. Nothing like the one that had greeted me when I entered the Lower Floors. From the Middle Floor onward, the system was no longer so accommodating. There were still districts here, but unlike before, you could come and go freely even without quests or the requisite level. Floor 60, which marked the Upper Floors, still required you to prove your qualifications — that much hadn't changed.

The qualification trial for the Upper Floors was infamously brutal and tedious, but from the perspective of someone who had been slaughtered on Floor 60, even that difficulty felt low. Compared to the tutorial, where you couldn't even move between floors until a mission was complete, the restrictions here were far looser. Starting from the first floor and climbing, it felt as if the constraints kept falling away — which, objectively speaking, was true.

"…Did you not hear what Liberid said? He told you to restrain yourself as much as possible."

"…So I've left you with power to spare?"

The thought struck me as odd — and then, in the same breath, I understood why. Compared to other Hidden Classes, there was almost nothing I actually needed from my Administrator. All I received was the class itself. No skills, no items, no elixirs. I handled all of that on my own. That was why it had Interference Power left over. The Floor Masters weren't happy about that. They'd rather it pinch every last scrap and spend it on helping me.

"…There are Floor Masters in the Middle Floor too, you know."

There it was. Sanctions. And as far as I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knew, more than one Floor Master was active in the Middle Floor. It was probably getting the stuffing beaten out of it right about now.

Anyway. The Middle Floor, at last…

I felt a suspicious presence almost immediately. I turned my head, and found a man staring at me with a look of utter shock. The uniform was familiar — an Imperial regular. Out on reconnaissance, by the look of it. There had been a checkpoint near here in my first cycle as well, so it wasn't particularly strange. I spoke first.

"…Is something the matter?"

"Ah, n-no. Never mind. A mercenary, are you?"

"That's right."

"R-right. Crossing the swamp would mean… you're from the Tidrind side, then."

"Yes, well. Something like that. To be precise, I was operating in that region for a while — for training. Ah, if you need to verify my identity…"

"R-right. Could you show me for a moment?"

"Here."

I held out a mercenary badge I had never bothered to renew — still sitting at F-Rank. I could have updated it if I'd wanted to, but my reputation was already sufficient, and renewing it there would have been pointless. Better to do it somewhere that actually carried weight. Tidrind Castle had been founded by criminals banding together in the first place, so even a high rank issued from there didn't tend to inspire much trust.

"C-confirmed. Place of issue is… somewhere else, then? Never heard of it…"

"Ah, I was in a fairly remote province before I went there to train. It was issued in a small territory in the east."

"…Issued somewhere far off, then. All right. On your way."

"Thank you."

I answered with a puzzled look. The soldier's manner had been a little off. I passed through the checkpoint without incident, and fortunately the other soldiers showed no particular reaction. Only the first one I'd met had behaved strangely, so I didn't think much of it.

Because I punched through the Swamplands alone, maybe?

That could have been it. I wasn't in a position to dwell on the question, and I dismissed the soldier from my mind almost at once.

First priority: renew the mercenary badge. Doing it at the border would have been ideal, but that was too far. The next best option was a reasonably large castle.

The nearest castle was… Eulfe Castle, if I remember right.

I sifted through my memory. Follow the road and I'd reach it easily enough. Even the outskirts here were the real Empire now. If I proved my skill there, I could probably walk away with a B-Rank mercenary badge at least. Credit was another matter — you built that through commissions, or you needed someone's guarantee — so that, unfortunately, I would have to skip. If I'd had the credit, I could have signed on as an escort for a merchant company and hitched a ride on an urgent cargo run, which would have been faster than traveling alone. A shame. This line of work required trust; skill proof alone wasn't enough to get you a seat. Longevity of service was an essential virtue. Even so, the badge itself had to be renewed — because reaching my first destination, the territory of the Magog, required proof of a certain level of ability.

The Magog were one of the Empire's minority peoples. They worshipped strength, and if you couldn't prove you had a certain measure of it, they wouldn't even treat you as a person. In that sense, a mercenary badge was one of the better ways to demonstrate what you could do. They had once been regarded as barbarians, but the orcs — humanity's principal enemy — had forced the Empire to absorb any number of races, and the Magog were among them. They lived in a recognized territory of their own, exercising their autonomy.

And there, the Legendary-rank skills I wanted lay dormant. There were a few other places I needed to visit as well, but I had chosen this one first.

I pulled up my status window for the first time in a long while as I made my way toward Eulfe Castle.