Academy Dungeon Conquest (4)
"Waiting beyond this door is a pathetic little dragon."
A dragon.
It was less a living creature than a phenomenon — that was the more accurate way to describe it. How could anyone call a being capable of annihilating an entire nation single-handedly a mere "creature"? It existed on the same plane as storms, earthquakes, and tidal waves — a phenomenon, a calamity. It was no accident that the nations of the continent had banded together around the Church of the Main God to form the Anti-Dragon Pact.
And that thing was waiting beyond this door?
For an instant, the word false flashed through Phoebe's mind — and just as quickly, it vanished. Lucy had said countless things over their time together that had sounded like lies, yet not a single one of them had been.
This time would be no different.
"To be precise, it's a raggedy-ass patchwork dragon made by stuffing a dragon's soul into a golem's body♡ Total garbage compared to the real thing — an utter scrub of a dragon — but a dragon's still a dragon, so it packs a punch."
If even a degraded copy was regarded as powerful enough to count among the world's calamities, then naturally, no matter how watered-down the version, it could not help but be strong. The proof was that Lucy, even while lacing her speech with words like scrub and trash, still conceded its strength.
For first-year Academy students like them, it would be a foe far beyond their means.
Phoebe swallowed hard, picturing the dragon waiting on the other side of the door.
"There's no way to clear it the normal route. I'd be fine on my own, but I've got a washed-up sorry excuse for a swordswoman and a clumsy ditz of a fake saintess tagging along like a couple of lost puppies."
"Get to the point."
Perhaps the jab about being washed-up had stung. Frey, who had been listening quietly from behind, cut in with a razor-sharp voice. It was the kind of tone that made the word menacing feel insufficient, but Lucy only let out a weary sigh, long since used to it.
"Because this whole thing is basically one creepy-ass necromantic ritual, that's why. Even a brainless little fake saintess should get it by now, right?"
"Purification."
The moment she heard the word necromancy, Phoebe understood Lucy's intent.
Even with a golem's body, a dragon was still a dragon — a difficult opponent by any measure. In that case, the answer was simply to stop fighting the golem at all. They didn't need to defeat it. Banish the dragon soul dwelling within, and the golem, robbed of its core, would collapse on its own.
"Of course, even for a dragon that got butchered by humans, purifying its soul isn't easy. Most self-proclaimed priests wouldn't even dare to try. But lucky us — we happen to have a saintess here. Fake, but still a saintess♡"
Purifying the vengeful soul of a dragon.
It was a feat that would be impossible even if you gathered tens, hundreds of ordinary priests. A dragon, no matter how short-lived, lived for centuries at minimum — and all the while it scattered calamity across the world. Could the lingering soul of such a creature ever be light? In the past, it had taken three bishops united to purify a single dragon raised from death as an undead; even if the thing beyond this door was weak for its kind, at least a bishop-class priest ought to be standing in this room.
Under normal circumstances, it would be impossible for an Academy first-year to possess such divinity. No matter how extraordinary one's talent, a lack of accumulated years could not be helped.
But the one standing here now was a saintess.
The living symbol of the Church of the Main God, a girl who had worked miracles in countless places. However young she was, however incompletely she could wield her power, the divinity dwelling in her body had not faded. The divinity she carried was vast enough to purify a dragon's ancient soul.
"We're just going to freeload off her. Who cares how much those pathetic Academy professors suffered to build this place? That's what free labor is for, no?♡"
Lucy's plan, delivered through a snickering laugh, looked utterly flawless.
Just as it always had.
Inside the dungeon, Lucy had never once been without a plan. Not when descending through the floors, not when facing the bosses that guarded the gates every ten levels. It was as though God Himself had handed her the strategy guide to this dungeon.
Which meant—
If.
If the Apostle of the Evil God had spoken true, and Lucy really was Armadi's Apostle.
If every plan that spilled from her lips had truly come down from Armadi—
Then was my name written in them, too?
Does Armadi still trust me, even after I made a bargain with the Evil God's Apostle?
Does he believe that His little lamb, though wandering, will find her way back to the righteous path?
I'm sorry, Lord Armadi.
I don't have faith. Not in myself.
This foolish little lamb, who could not overcome the trembling of her own heart and fell to the Evil God's temptation — I fear I will not live up to what You hoped I would be.
"Fake saintess?"
At the voice calling to her, Phoebe lifted her head and met the eyes of Lucy Aln — eyes brimming with absolute certainty as they regarded her.
"You can do it, right?"
Phoebe stared blankly back at that gaze, which seemed to ask, surely this isn't beyond even you?
Could I?
Phoebe had performed the Prayer of Purification countless times. She had traveled far and wide in her work as a saintess — and the places she visited held more unhappiness than happiness, more varieties of weeping than of laughter. Consolation of the restless dead had become something she was expected to perform at every new site.
But never before had she purified a soul of such rank. Work like this was always handled by bishops and cardinals; Phoebe had only ever watched from behind.
If this were the Phoebe of before her enrollment at the Academy, she would have agreed without a moment's hesitation. Armadi had sent her to this place — surely that meant He had entrusted this task to her. She would have clasped her hands together, placing her faith not in herself, but in Armadi.
Now, though, it was different.
Now that she doubted whether she was loved by Armadi at all. Now that she had bargained with the Evil God's Apostle and carried darkness in her heart.
Phoebe could not bring herself to say the words I can do it.
"Can't you?"
But at Lucy's next words, Phoebe shook her head before she even realized she was doing it.
"No. I can do it."
Heat had crept into her face at the provocation, and she had reacted on pure emotion. Realizing her mistake, Phoebe scrambled to correct herself — but it was already too late.
"Then let's go. Sorry-excuse-for-a-swordswoman, you stay back there and guard the saintess. If you bumble around, you'll just be in the way. Fake saintess — the moment we're inside, start preparing the Prayer of Purification. The second you're ready, cast it."
Lucy swept her gaze over the group once, then pushed open the massive doors to the boss room without a shred of hesitation.
— KUOOOOOH!
The instant the doors parted, a wind surged through the gap carrying a thunderous roar that rattled her eardrums. What filled that sound was resentment, pent anguish, and hatred.
Can I really do this?
Can I truly embrace everything carried in that voice?
Lord Armadi.
Please, answer me.
Give your wanting little lamb an answer.
Seriously, what a deafening racket.
I think my eardrums are about to burst. Even blasting movie-theater speakers was quieter than this. Guess a dragon's a dragon, huh.
The moment I stepped through the doors, they slammed shut behind me, and darkness flooded the boss room. Before long, a rush of wind stirred somewhere high above, and something planted its feet upon the earth — the room shuddered like an earthquake as a faint, dawn-like light seeped into the chamber.
— KUOOOOOOH!
Only then could I lay eyes on the enemy.
Standing atop a mound of rock at the very center of the boss room was a dragon. A body sculpted from stone, and within it, the soul of a dragon that had once been hunted down by humans and had been toyinged with by mortal hands ever since.
Ah, it's been a while.
I almost never fought Academy dungeon bosses in the first semester — the rewards were insultingly small for the effort involved. I think the last time I saw this thing was during that challenge run where I cleared every boss barehanded?
Either way, no problem. I have this thing's hunting route memorized perfectly. And besides, we've got a saintess on the team — the ultimate cheat code. A saintess you couldn't possibly recruit into your party at this point in the game unless your luck was maxed out.
So what if your grudge runs deep? You can't do a single thing except get purified. Yeah? You little scrub.
Die quietly and hand over your loot like a good boy.
Once I confirmed Phoebe clasping her hands together and beginning the Prayer of Purification, I opened my mouth at the dragon.
"Hey there, you raggedy-ass lizard♡ How's it feel, getting butchered by humans and treated like their plaything?♡ Hm?♡ How's it feel getting trash-talked by a girl like me♡"
The dragon's crimson eyes locked onto me, and exhilaration surged through my body. The aggro had landed cleanly — there was no chance of it threatening Phoebe now. All that remained was to hold out until she finished purifying it.
That's it? Easy.
The reason this dragon is such a pain in the early game is that it flies. The little bastard is petty and cheap, and it almost never comes down from the sky. To knock it down you need to barrage it with ranged attacks, but early on you don't have many options for that, do you? Hunting it usually turns into the most tedious grind imaginable.
But not this time. Phoebe purifies the dragon's soul and everything's solved. All I have to do until then is hold the line?
Light work.
"Oh right♡ You've got no brain, so you can't talk, can you?♡ My bad♡ I forgot you're a pathetic♡ scrub♡ broken♡ lizard♡"
The dragon unleashed a furious shriek the instant my taunting ended, spread its wings, and rose toward the vaulted ceiling of the cavern.
Come to think of it, the Academy professors who built this place are utter scum too. They pit students against a dragon — and left the dragon's greatest advantage, the sky, fully intact.
Not that it means anything once a veteran gets hold of it.
The dragon's patterns fell broadly into two categories: the breath it spewed while circling the air, and the relentless spell-barrage it cast through the Dragon Tongue. There was also a ground pattern it used when knocked down by sufficient damage, but that was none of our concern — this thing would stay aloft until the moment it simply dropped from the sky.
Alright. First up.
Shield raised, I stared at the dragon in silence — and the moment its maw began to yawn open, I broke into a sprint. Not long after, the dragon's breath incinerated the spot where I'd been standing, and flames that reduced everything on the earth to ash came chasing down the path of my run.
This pattern's easy. You just run. That's it.
The flames linger on the ground for a while, so pick the wrong route and you'll die screaming — but that doesn't apply to me. I'm a veteran, after all. I know the escape route well enough to run it blindfolded.
I used to dodge this pattern effortlessly on a level-1 bald character. With stamina like mine and this speed? No way I fail.
I tore across the chamber until the cavern had become a sea of fire, at which point the dragon finally stopped breathing flame and drifted toward the center of the room. There it spread both wings wide and opened its maw once more.
Second pattern. The spell barrage.
The type of magic it spams changes depending on its health, but at full HP it's about three spells. Lightning. Spears of Earth. And Ancestral Spirit Summoning.
The counter for each of those is—
<The Prayer of Purification is about to begin, is it.>
Grandpa spoke up just as I was working out how to handle the incoming spells.
She's ready already? Man, that's a saintess for you. Carrying her all the way to floor 100 was worth every step.
I'd been waiting for the dragon hovering overhead to drop like a lifeless statue — but alas, my patience went unrewarded. The dragon began unleashing its magic.
I rolled sideways past a spear erupting from the ground and turned my eyes toward Phoebe.
Her gaze, fixed on the floor, had nowhere to go.
...Don't tell me the prayer failed?
Phoebe?