Preparing the Strategy (5)
Nakrad stood beside Duke Burrow, as he always did. The work of staining the Duke's mind with darkness had long since been completed.
It had been no great feat. Duke Burrow was a warrior far beyond what the current Nakrad could handle — but his mind was another matter entirely.
What strength could a father's spirit possibly possess, still cradling the son who had died over ten years ago, haunted by nightmares every single night?
Like father, like son, indeed. Thanks to that idiot boy, everything had unfolded with such delightful ease.
He could not yet move the Duke at his whim, but that was fine. With the territory's supreme authority standing idle, the range of what could be accomplished widened enormously.
The priests of Tariki were gathering in the territory even now. He would employ them to proclaim Tariki's greatness to the ignorant masses.
By doing so, they would swell Tariki's influence — and in turn, his own power.
Ah, yes. And he must bestow Tariki's blessing upon that fool of a Burrow heir as well, still clinging to the shadow of his dead kin.
The boy's stupidity had been the cornerstone of everything. All of this had been possible because of it.
And at the end of every plan, as the evil god desired — that colossal Academy would come crashing down.
"Yes, almighty Tariki."
The voice had come without warning, but Nakrad's reaction was swift. As though he had been waiting all along, he dropped to one knee and arranged himself to receive the god's words.
The instant he heard those words, the only thing that flashed through Nakrad's mind was the accursed Apostle of the Chief God.
That girl.
It could be no one but that girl.
No other random vagrant could possibly have uncovered what was hidden by Tariki's authority.
I should have caught her and killed her back then. I should have made her scream at my feet, begging for her life.
I should have made that old fossil dwelling inside the weapon weep tears of blood.
Even if I had to push myself... I should have—
"Merciful Tariki. What would you have me do?"
"Ohh! Understood. I shall continue my work, trusting in you always!"
dungeons forged by evil gods almost invariably bear traits that mirror that god's authority.
Naturally, the dungeons created by the Evil God of Darkness carried attributes to match — and with that particular deity, if you didn't know the traits, you'd simply have to eat them.
Traps that could never be detected by ordinary means.
Paths concealed by the Authority of Darkness.
Gimmicks unique to his dungeons that could never be found in any other.
Monsters lurking in the shadows, lying in wait to slit players' throats.
Beyond all that, any dungeon touched by his authority carried something gloomy and insidious, just like its theme of darkness.
There was a reason the community forums constantly warned users to avoid any dungeon connected to the Evil God of Darkness — and if circumstances forced them inside anyway, to at least study the countless strategy guides posted on the forums and on XTube.
Guides? Who needs guides? Raw first-try clears are the pinnacle of gaming! — that was the crowd who'd shout such things, charge into the dungeon, and within thirty seconds be smashing a monitor, a mouse, or a keyboard. It was practically guaranteed.
Take me, for instance. When I first entered an evil god's dungeon, I must have screamed what kind of garbage-ass dungeon is this?! a dozen times over.
But that was back when I was still unfamiliar with Soul Academy.
Years later, fully rotten to the core as a hardcore veteran, I had become the kind of player who could clear any dungeon, no matter how vicious its gimmicks, on the very first attempt. Grinding through every dungeon the community ever churned out had a way of turning you into that.
Whew. Thinking back on those days still pisses me off.
Truly, how malevolent human wickedness can be.
Compared to humans, the Evil God of Darkness was nothing.
At the very least, that entity never locked someone away in an inescapable cell for the crime of taking a single wrong step, screaming just kill yourself, kid!
Well, it's nothing compared to the boundless malice of mankind, but even so, dungeons made by the Evil God of Darkness carry a high difficulty.
Which is to say — not a place the current me could stroll into casually.
Unlike the game, where a wipe just meant hitting retry, here I couldn't afford to think, so what if I fail, I'll just die.
Death in this world was real death.
The horrible kind, experienced while flailing in the grip of ultimate terror and agony.
If only to avoid that, a flawless clear demanded exhaustive preparation.
And the first step of that exhaustive preparation was the near-raid-tier shield I was about to obtain: Ankir.
First, you searched for clues through stone tablets with a drop rate squeezed to the absolute floor. Then, through one of those tablets, you entered a hidden location. Through another, you navigated a labyrinth. Only after conquering the dungeon known as the Trial could you finally claim it — which was exactly why Ankir was such a pain to get, and why it packed such considerable performance.
Infinite durability and auto-repair came standard, the damage reduction rate was substantial, and it carried a whole suite of bonus effects on top.
But among all its useful functions, the one that mattered most to me right now was its power to strip away falsehood.
This shield, said to have been handed down personally by an angel descended from the heavens in the distant past, repels all manner of unholy forces.
In other words — it would let me detect the traps hidden by Tariki's authority.
It wasn't for nothing that the moment I realized my opponent was the Evil God of Darkness, I resolved to get my hands on this shield.
"At this hour? What brings you here, my lady?"
Having met with Isabelle and successfully secured the stone tablets, I skipped the trip back to the dormitory and went straight to find Luka instead.
I needed his cooperation to use these tablets. And while I was at it, I might as well recruit someone to suffer at the front lines when the dungeon assault began.
"The Academy's old building, you say?"
'Yes, that's right. You can take me there right now, can't you?'
"Of course I can, but why that place of all places?"
'Follow me and you'll see.'
"You're letting me, of all people, help a cute girl like me? That's such a gracious gift, isn't it? Oh — don't tell me you're doing this purely because you want to be insulted. Ugh. Disgusting."
"...Yes. I shall keep my mouth shut and escort you."
Soul Academy had both a main building and an old building.
The old building dated back to the Academy's founding, and nowadays it served as the workspace for the Academy's researchers. In modern terms, I supposed you'd call it the prison where the graduate students were kept penned up.
Even at an hour when the sun had long tucked itself beneath the earth, the building was still vomiting out bright light — and the moment I saw it, I understood that grad students got no different treatment in this world either.
Actually, since the people of this world had better base physical stats than the people of my old one, they probably suffered even harder.
"Please halt for a moment."
The old building housed the research of countless scholars under Soul Academy's banner, which meant entry was strictly controlled — no one got in without their approval.
Even a professor like Carl made no difference. With less than a full year at the Academy behind him, he simply didn't hold that many privileges yet.
"It's Luka."
"Ah, Professor Luka! My apologies. Please, go right ahead."
Luka, however, was different. He had spent long years serving Soul Academy, stacking up achievements the whole way — if he wished, he could do just about anything inside these walls.
Normally Luka reserved those privileges exclusively for pulling shameless stunts, but used properly, they were undeniably handy.
Thanks to him, I slipped into the old building with ease. My destination: the Records Archive.
"You have business in this dusty old place?"
Luka tilted his head at the aged door of the archive.
This hall held the history of Soul Academy itself — historically significant, sure, but there was nothing truly useful inside.
It was the same in the game. A scattering of minor items and various easter eggs, sure, but nothing of real importance.
But that was only true once you were inside. To see the Records Archive's true face, you had to prepare a special item from outside the door.
I drew a stone tablet from my inventory and held it out before me — and the archive's door transformed.
From a ramshackle, ancient wooden door into one of aged, stately marble.
"...What in the world is this?"
Luka blinked rapidly, clearly never having imagined such a thing hidden within an archive he'd passed countless times.
Carl watched him for a moment, then clapped a hand on Luka's shoulder and declared:
"Pathetic junior. How unpolished of you. One mustn't gawk at every little thing like this. The paths our young lady walks are always strewn with marvels."
That's a jab, isn't it? He's just asserting dominance over his 'pathetic junior,' right?
Look at that face, so brimming with pride.
Why on earth is he so proud of the fact that he was the one getting called pathetic first?
And Frey — I genuinely don't get her either. Why does she keep grinning while getting insulted?
Left alone, Carl was bound to preen even harder, so I simply yanked the door open.
'Carl. Let's move.'
"Hey, pathetic senior. I'd like to be home before morning? Everyone already knows you're a pervert, so spare me the bragging and just keep up."
"Haha. My apologies. Even if everyone knows, one can always take pride in it one more time."
Watching Carl shrug off the mesugaki skill's abuse without a scratch wrung a sigh out of me.
...And this is exactly why I can't give him the gift I've been preparing. He's always like this — if I handed it over now, there's no telling what he'd do with it.
More banter would only give me a headache, so I stepped into the Records Archive without another word. Carl and Luka naturally fell in behind me, and the instant all three of us crossed the threshold, the door swung shut on its own.
Hm? Did this door close automatically?
I was almost certain it didn't.
"So such a place truly existed. Pathetic senior, your words ring true indeed. One would struggle greatly without time to grow accustomed to it."
"To grasp that so quickly — truly worthy of Professor Luka."
...No. Wait.
Hey. I'm pretty sure that was an insult, wasn't it? That was sarcasm!
Why is he beaming over being called 'pathetic senior'?!
Haah. Where exactly did it all go wrong?
He has a stellar reputation among the knights of the territory.
According to Joy and Arthur, the Academy students all praise him as magnificent and kind.
So why does he turn into this regrettable human being the moment he's next to me?
...Come to think of it, he's not the only one.
Benedict's the same.
So is that face-obsessed fox.
And Phoebe.
Even Isabelle, whom I met just the other day...
Huh?
Wait. Is... is it me? Am I the problem here?!
Is that it?!