Menesteil (12)

I tore my eyes away from the worthless Chief God's message and glared ahead, where a giant made of fire was raising its hand high.

Alsaetin!

"Info broker!"

"On it!"

The moment I screamed his name, he drew back his bowstring. The arrow he loosed was tipped with the magic stone of Eternal Winter.

That stone normally did nothing but radiate its own chill into the surroundings, but against a flame approaching the extreme, it produced an entirely different effect.

The instant the barrier keeping the cold sealed inside shattered, the stone went boom!

The moment the magic stone exploded, ice began to crust over the fire giant's outer shell. Back when this was a game, that single detonation was enough to erase the giant of flame entirely — but how about now?

I waited, divinity wreathing my shield, until the ice that had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠locked the giant in place began to melt away.

Just like I thought!

I raised my shield and sized up the giant. The magic stone had clearly dealt it serious damage.

The raging flames had visibly dwindled — anyone could see that.

At this level…

I can block it, even as I am now.

I gathered the divinity channeled into my shield toward its center. The light compressed into a single point, then burst outward, forming a brand-new shield in front of my shield.

This was my reward for a week of brutal training with Halbae after entering the Menestale Dungeon.

A defensive art that hadn't even existed in the game.

The instant the giant's fist struck my shield, I drove every ounce of strength into my legs.

My arms trembled and shook. Blood seeped from my clenched lips. Every muscle in my body was screaming.

My feet slid back bit by bit, carving a trail of stone debris across the floor, and hairline cracks began to spider across the divinity standing guard before my shield.

But at the end of it all, the first one to vanish was the fire giant.

The flame that had blazed so ferociously scattered away as quickly as it had been born.

I had blocked the giant's attack.

The divinity lingering before my shield dissolved, my strength gave out with it, and I crumpled to the ground.

Whewwww. God, that was brutal as hell. Thank god Halbae taught me a new technique — otherwise I wouldn't have even dared to try stopping that thing.

"So the mouth you were born with wasn't just for show after all. Cheeky brat."

Still fighting to catch my breath, I forced my head up at the voice drifting from far away.

Karia stood atop the altar, looking down at me as if appraising a piece of fabric.

Isn't this a bit much?

Once the fire giant's pattern ends, it's supposed to enter a groggy state, isn't it? And even that weakness vanished when it got buffed? Seriously?

Ha. Goddammit, for real. If content like this exists, you hand it out while it's still a game. Why the hell does it only break loose after reality kicks in?

Having recovered my health with Touch of Armadi, I dragged myself upright. If I kept lying there like an idiot, my neck and my body would be parting ways before I knew it.

Before long, Karia's afterimage vanished once more. We were granted no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time to rest.

Karia pressed the assault relentlessly. The one piece of good fortune was that, thanks to my constant taunting, her target stayed fixed on me alone.

Had that not been the case, Alsaetin and I might never have even figured out who she was aiming for, and we'd have crumbled under the chain of ambushes.

I strained my ears to the endless warnings of the Iron Wall, doing everything I could to keep pace with Karia. I gave my all to catch the smallest prelude to her every movement.

The moment Halbae's cry hit my ears, I pulled a prepared bottle from my inventory.

Holy Water of Purification. Its effect: it bars the approach of anything bearing a negative effect.

It worked on the poison bottle Karia had just deployed, too.

"Curious. How did you know?"

Relief had barely settled in before her voice came from behind me — but I didn't turn my head.

Because the Iron Wall had sounded no alarm.

I heard the ring of my father's blade turning aside Karia's dagger at my back.

Moments where I couldn't afford to lose focus for even a breath came in an unbroken chain.

From a distance, dozens of daggers wrought of flame came hurtling. Alsaetin tore open a Scroll of Storm and scattered them all.

Karia's combo drilled straight through that storm. As I caught it on my shield, my father and Alsaetin converged to launch a counterattack — but Karia vanished in an instant.

An attack.

Another attack.

Yet another attack, one after another.

This wasn't a battle.

It was Karia's hunt.

She was toying with us — her prey — slowly tightening the leash around our necks.

And honestly, I ought to have been grateful. If she had truly resolved to kill us, we would have been blown apart ages ago.

Then, glancing at the time, I realized only a single minute had passed.

A laugh slipped out of me at the sheer, damned absurdity of it.

I'm starting to hate how useless our worthless Chief God is.

As I endured minute after agonizing minute, Karia's movements began to grow familiar to my eyes.

It was still true that if she committed to a burst of speed, I couldn't track her with my eyes — but the small pre-tells that came before that moment? Those were another matter.

Those I could read even with my current internal power.

I held a dagger in my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right hand and watched my enemy. She'll go for a melee strike next.

Wreathing myself in divinity, I waited for her. Left hand holding the dagger, right hand hidden behind her back. Dagger throw. I had already asked Alsaetin to have a scroll ready in advance. The right fist clenched tight, empty of any weapon. The pattern where she detonates flame at point-blank range. I ordered my father to press in and deny her any chance to cast magic.

Karia had become far stronger than the version I remembered — but even so, she was still just this place's boss.

A puppet dancing on the Evil God's strings.

A doll with no will of its own — one that could never have one.

And so her movements, too, could only ever be limited. Just like in the game.

I never imagined all those hours I once spent researching how to beat her bare-handed would actually come in handy someday.

A laugh escaped me at the thought of ten thousand hours of effort finally paying off, and I steadied my shield.

The speed at which I responded to Karia's movements kept climbing. So did the speed at which I called out my orders. So did the speed at which my father and Alsaetin reacted to them.

And with that, a small measure of ease and trust took root inside a standoff that felt like walking on thin ice.

None of the harsher truths had changed. One slip, and calamity would come crashing in. We were still at a disadvantage. We still hadn't managed to land a single wound on Karia.

But none of that mattered.

Because our goal wasn't victory. It was stalling.

As the message bloomed before my eyes, a magic circle spread out around us.

But it was no ordinary spell circle — it was etched with the worthless Chief God's divinity, and a hollow laugh spilled out of me on its own.

You wanted to make it OBVIOUS that you were the one helping?! Look! You teabag, and the person down there gets THIS mad!

I mean, it wouldn't matter anyway since I'm about to be kicked outside, but when that person glares at you for real, my skin prickles, you know!

Hey! Stop dicking around and get me out of here already! I don't want to be in the same room as her one second longer!

…Huh? What?

Are you kidding me? Why is the text suddenly glitching out like you hit an error? Chief God? This is NOT the time to be sulking and pulling pranks — your Apostle's life is on the line here! Hurry up and—

Ah.

So it was you.

Haah. No wonder you were sitting so quietly the whole time we worked through this dungeon. You were waiting for the decisive moment, weren't you? You little bastard. Still, I'll give you this — for an Evil God, you sure know how to pick the most dogshit timing imaginable.

…So we're screwed, huh?

If I couldn't escape the dungeon, I'd have to face Karia. But right now, we couldn't beat her.

We were somehow holding on for the moment, but collapsing was only a matter of time.

Is this how I die? This pointlessly?

Unable to process it, I just stared blankly at the message window — and then the letters began to warp once more.

Watching the messages flicker in and out of existence, I understood.

Our worthless Chief God was wrestling a petty Evil God for control.

Seriously — worthless Chief God, petty Evil God, every last one of them is a perverted lolicon or a masochist or both. So this is why pretty people have such a hard time, huh? No thoughts of their own, and everyone else just keeps obsessing over them.

With a snicker, I tightened my grip on my shield.

Hope hadn't vanished.

That alone was enough. That alone was plenty.

I'm not thrilled that our useless Chief God is the final hope, but what can you do? You believe anyway.

Steady the shield. Raise the divinity within my body. Take a deep breath. And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then, I spoke.

"You worthless losers♡ Hold the line♡"

At those words, my father let out a hearty laugh.

"Understood. We'll give it everything we have."

Alsaetin exhaled a sigh.

"If that is how we survive, then survive we shall."

While we settled into our stances, Karia simply stood staring up at the ceiling, blank and motionless.

What is she doing? That's not any pattern I know. Something new. Please, please let it be a malfunction from the Chief God and the Evil God's pissing contest. Then I could just coast, right?

Naturally, that hope was a vain one.

Karia lowered her head and locked her gaze onto us. Her eyes — which had held emotion mere moments ago — had gone utterly expressionless.

The instant I met those machine-like eyes, terror crawled up my spine.

Emotion vanished, then returned, then vanished again. But fear, once carved into the mind, never fully erases — no matter how many times you scrub, the stain remains.

Goosebumps broke out across my skin. My teeth chattered. My muscles locked rigid.

The moment I forced my frozen brain to move, Karia's afterimage disappeared.

Clang!

Only after hearing something strike glass did I see it — Karia's dagger, already arrived before my eyes.

The Protection Brooch.

The very thing I'd received as a reward from the last Field Trip had just saved my life.

What? The Iron Wall didn't react. No — I never even had a chance to move my shield in the first place. If not for the brooch, I'd be staring down at my own headless body right now.

The instant that truth hit me, terror came crashing down like a ruptured dam, and it would have swallowed my mind whole—

"PROTECT!"

A woman's voice rang in my ears, followed by another thunderous impact, like knuckles rapping against a pane of glass.

I tore my eyes from Karia's tsking face and stole a glance to the side — there was the Face-Connoisseur Fox, having taken human form, glaring with all its might.

"Have you no eye for beauty, you blockheaded fool?! How DARE you raise a hand against this exquisite face!"

"Shut up."

While they traded barbs, Karia swung her daggers faster than the eye could follow, and the Face-Connoisseur Fox's fingers never once stopped moving, weaving something over and over without pause.

Me. Alsaetin. My father. None of us could do anything but stare, dumbstruck, at the awe-inspiring clash before us — and into that stunned silence, a new message window bloomed in front of me.

Untwisted. Untouched. The same window I saw every single day.

Armadi's divinity washed over us.