The Trial of Ruel (1)
Foreboding premonitions are never wrong.
I'd forgotten about it while I was busy dealing with the goblins, but Forsell was a man perfectly capable of working people to the bone whenever he pleased. What was wrong with me? I'd gone and asked a man whose entire profession was training knights into shape to personally run me through the wringer!
The moment the words left my mouth, he drove me into hell without a shred of hesitation. Think I'm exaggerating? I wish I were. Honestly, I do.
Specifically, what happened was this: Forsell flat-out canceled his original promise to only run me through the first two floors. Just like that, I found myself commanding three other knights from the very entrance of the dungeon to its deepest reaches.
Up to that point, it was fine. Leading people through a dungeon was something I'd done to the point of nausea back in the game. Aside from my head feeling like it would split from having to think in 4D instead of the 2D on my old monitor, I managed well enough.
But then he went and put me in charge of combat too.
Oh, sure. I trembled like a leaf after killing one goblin, so obviously forcing me to fight makes perfect sense! Aren't you supposed to worry about a delicate young lady?
Well... fine. Even that was bearable. After all, Forsell only ever threw two or three enemies at me at a time, at most. Dealing with that handful of goblins was entirely doable. I had a lot of stray thoughts, sure, but that was something I'd just have to get used to.
But then he had me disarming the traps, too. And on top of that, the knights—who had been moving at a careful pace out of consideration for me at first—suddenly picked up speed, leaving me scrambling to keep up. Honestly, from the midway point on, I couldn't think of anything except how exhausted I was.
And so I passed the second floor, then the third, the fourth, the fifth, and the sixth, until at last I stood before the boss room.
Hah. I can finally see the end. Get past this and we're done, right? This was genuinely, disgustingly hard. How much do you think I suffered, when I've already dinged level 3? There wasn't a single spot on my armor, my weapon, or my clothes that wasn't stained with blood. I was too busy running the clear to notice, but I must absolutely reek by now. The moment we leave this dungeon, I'm taking a shower. Or dying. Whichever comes first.
"The boss room already, milady? By our standards, that's remarkably fast."
"It is fast. All the more so considering we had a young lady in tow. It speaks to how exceptional her command was."
Ha! Obviously! Do you know who I am? A rotten-water veteran with 13,000 hours in Soul Academy! The girl who has every dungeon in the game memorized—you think my command wouldn't be fast? You have no idea how much effort I poured into optimization setting Soul Academy speedrun records!
"Lady Lucy."
'Yes?'
"What."
I was inwardly basking in the knights' praise when Forsell addressed me.
"Boss fights carry unforeseeable risks. Please observe from the rear."
'Understood, sir.'
"Suit yourself."
Rest? Gladly. I'm not so eager-beaver that I'd turn down an offer to take it easy. None of the bosses in Evans Dungeon are particularly threatening, but a boss is still a boss—deal with it yourselves. You'll earn experience fighting it anyway, so I'll just quietly enjoy my free ride.
When Forsell pushed open the dungeon door, the boss waiting inside revealed itself.
It was a being without a will of its own. Crafted long ago by some forgotten maker, then abandoned and shut away in the dungeon's depths. A thing of stone, heartless, capable of following only the commands of the one who created it.
A golem.
Call it luck, I suppose. The golem was a rare spawn among Evans Dungeon's bosses. Harder than the usual bosses, but it paid out rewards to match—which meant that anyone who came hunting for Ruel's mace and ran into one would typically greet it with a cheer. Back when I was grinding Soul Academy in earnest, I certainly did.
Riding a bus with mediocre carry potential but top-tier speed and breakthrough power, and a golem pops out? Life really isn't all hardship, is it! Though honestly, getting isekai'd into a mesugaki's body already burned through several years' worth of bad luck, so who's counting? If my luck had been any worse, I'd have died of indignation!
"Been a while since I've seen a golem."
"Knight Commander. The usual approach?"
"That's right. Ferbi—draw its aggro."
"Understood!"
At Forsell's order, the bald knight charged forward. Every pounding footstep cracked the stone floor, and the speed he built from that first thundering stride was genuinely astonishing. The tens of meters between them vanished in an instant.
Sensing its adversary, the golem raised its arm. Its movement was simplicity itself: an overhead smash. But the bald knight was far too sound to be caught by such an obvious attack—an attack whose trajectory even I could read.
BOOM!
All the golem's strike crushed was the bald knight's afterimage. The instant the dust scattered, Carl and Forsell dove in behind him. The golem, seeing the pair, swung its remaining arm to keep them at bay.
Carl and Forsell could easily have dodged. They didn't. They charged straight at the arm instead. Just as the two were about to collide with the golem's limb, Carl, in the lead, swung his sword.
On its face, the outcome of a thin blade meeting a fist the size of a grown man's torso seemed obvious. But in a world of fantasy, common sense was not a particularly useful guide. The sword and the golem's arm met—and the sword won.
The golem's arm was knocked skyward, its body splitting open. Forsell kept his charging momentum, barreled straight into the golem's breast, and carried that acceleration into a single punch.
CRASH!
The moment Forsell's fist connected, the entire dungeon shook. Probably because of the aftershock—I'd been clipped by a falling rock, and I was rubbing my head and groaning in pain by the time I managed to lift my gaze. There stood a golem utterly obliterated by a single punch.
God, that's disgusting. The golem's simple patterns make it look weak, but its stats are nothing to sneeze at. I wonder what level Forsell would translate to in game terms. At the very least, late-game NPC tier.
"Milady, it's safe now. Please come over."
Yeah, yeah. I can see that, thanks.
As I made my way slowly over to Forsell, the fallen golem's body crumbled away, and a door materialized in the center of the dungeon—the door back to the dungeon entrance. And with it, a table appeared before the door.
So this is how the dungeon's clear rewards get implemented in reality, huh?
What's this, though? Golems normally only drop good loot.
Resting on the table was a brooch. A brooch from the Evans Dungeon golem—oh, it's that one, isn't it?
The Protection Brooch. An item that shatters to absorb danger in place of the wearer when they fall into crisis. In Soul Academy, this was mandatory stock—something you always carried a few of. In normal circumstances, it let you survive crises that should have been instant game overs. There were a few exploits built around it, too. I wonder if they'd work in reality as well. It's a hard-to-find item precisely because it's so powerful—never expected to lay eyes on one here.
"Oh. A Protection Brooch."
'Knight Commander...'
"Stupid Forsell. You know what this is?"
"Of course. Plenty of men on the battlefield owe their lives to this thing."
Seriously? So it genuinely works in reality too. I don't know the mechanism, but it does save the wearer's life, apparently. Then this really should go to you three, the ones who see actual combat regularly—
"You should take it, milady."
'Me?...'
"Huh? Me? Isn't this the kind of thing that belongs with you useless lot?"
"It's quite all right. We carry plenty of similar items besides. Think of it as a keepsake from your first dungeon clear."
At Forsell's words, the other two knights nodded in agreement. Heh heh. Well, if you insist, I won't refuse. The Protection Brooch is a god-tier item, and the more you have, the better!
By the time we finished the dungeon and emerged, the sun hung at its zenith. We'd gone in at the crack of dawn and come out in the early afternoon, so all told, that was—what, three or four hours? For a maximum-efficiency run, that felt slow.
When we returned to camp, the knights resting there were fast asleep, in exactly the postures they'd collapsed into when we left. They'd earned a break, sure, but sleeping the entire time? Weren't they the least bit tempted to do anything else with their free hours? Back when I was working myself ragged, nothing felt more like a waste than burning rest time on sleep alone.
"Up! On your feet!"
The instant Forsell bellowed, the knights sprang upright. The way they scrambled awake at the sound of their master's voice, like puppies stirring the moment their owner walks in, was a truly pitiful sight.
"Rested enough?"
"YES, SIR!"
"Then after a meal, we return to training! Wake up, prepare the food!"
"YES, SIR!"
Watching them scurry into motion the moment they stood, I quietly made my way toward the maid, who was standing dutifully by one of the camp tents and greeted me with a bow. Ahh, I'm exhausted. First thing's first: wipe the blood off my weapon and armor, wash up, eat, and then rest for a bit.
"Lady Lucy?"
'What?'
"What is it?"
"Where are you going? You have training."
'...Huh?'
"Er—"
"You're the one who asked to be worked just like the rest of the soldiers, are you not?"
Well, yes, I did say that. But that was inside the dungeon! Right now, thanks to you running me into the ground, my mind is finally settled and calm—surely a little rest is warranted. Can't I catch my breath? I'm genuinely tired here!
I poured all of that into the look I gave Forsell. Forsell answered with nothing but a smile.
No? It's a no? Really?
The next day, I entered the dungeon once more with Forsell, Carl, and Ferbi. One look at the roster tells you this wasn't the party I'd wanted. What I wanted, above all, was to go in alone with Carl. That would have made finding the Trial of Ruel so much easier. Slip in with just Carl, force him into silence with a little loyalty-compelling, and it's the perfect crime.
I even had a perfectly reasonable justification lined up. Training doesn't happen when I'm with all of you. If we want to make things feel more like real combat, I need to go in with at least the bare minimum safety measure—that is, Carl alone.
That was the plan: dig in my heels until the problem solved itself.
Forsell wouldn't have it. If we were at full strength like yesterday, maybe, but not in my current exhausted state—or so he said.
Frankly? I felt robbed. Who put me in this sorry state in the first place? You did, running me from midday clear into the dead of night yesterday! Not that I'm complaining, since it did leave me zero bandwidth for stray thoughts all day. The moment my head hit the pillow last night, I blacked out like a switch had flipped. Didn't even dream. Yes, that part's true! But still! Ugh, so annoying!
Anyway, I couldn't talk Forsell out of it—he insisted he'd never face Benedic again if I got hurt. Eh, whatever. It's not like there's no other way. This one carries a bit of risk, so I'd planned to avoid using it, but what can you do when the man's that stubborn? Understood, Forsell? If I end up in danger, it's entirely because you wouldn't let me have my way!
...Okay, that's pushing it a bit.
So anyway—what is this "other way," you ask?
Simple. I'm going to use the traps that exist inside the dungeon.