Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Floor 7: Freeze
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Floor 7. The tropical rainforest zone felt a bit different from the other areas when it came to clearing it.
The reason was that the NPCs appearing from floors 7 through 9 were divided into factions, just like in package games or online games with multiple storylines.
Of course, this genre didn't demand strict adherence, so the divisions weren't overly rigid.
It was more like you could tackle a faction's sub-quests in a linked format.
However, to join a faction, you couldn't kill any enemies that were kin to that faction's NPCs until you actually met one of them.
That's why, the moment I descended to floor 7, I spotted these green lumps and timed my intervention just right.
'What the hell do these guys eat around here to bulk up like this?'
Their rough, menacing looks, the grotesque muscles bulging on their arms and legs, post-apocalyptic hairstyles, and above all, that camouflage-green skin that stood out like a sore thumb.
These four were the orc scouting party NPCs, known for helping you gain entry into the orc faction when teamed up.
"Hah!!! We came to share some meat out of pity for you bugs roasting scraps! And this is how you treat me?!"
In truth, they were probably grilling that stuff because they liked it, but it couldn't compare to the fatty, juicy meat, so they let out a fake cough in awkward agreement.
Those weapons in their hands.
Crude, but hefty iron clubs made of solid metal—getting smacked by one of those would hurt like hell.
To avoid getting beaten to death by these thick-headed brutes, I had to talk my way out.
"The meat's appreciated... but! Why's a human here?!"
Luckily, the largest orc in the group—who looked like the leader—didn't seem intent on smashing down his raised club right away. He scrunched up his already ugly mug even more and growled the question.
Was that supposed to be intimidating? It just made him look even uglier, but I let it slide.
Not everyone in the world could look as perfect and handsome as me! Hell, I still pulled it off even with this tacky conical hat on!
"You just take our gifts and treat a guest like this? The forest elves never acted this way!"
"Great forest? Elves? What's that?!"
Oh. Wrong guess.
Makes sense—D.D. never featured elves. I just threw out "elves" since they go with orcs in fantasy, but strikeout.
Fantasy setting that doesn't know elves? Terrifying.
"Uh... they exist, you idiots! Anyway, all I want is to get out of this damn human-hating jungle. And while I'm at it, maybe help you with some of your headaches."
At that, the scouting party glanced at each other's faces.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Having successfully gotten the orcs—who'd lowered their terrifying clubs—to sit around in a circle, I handed over the tasty meat from the crate and heated up some canned goods.
They eyed the cans curiously but passed, deeming it not to their taste, and instead brawled over the roasted meat.
"You thieves stole my lizard tail! I'm the hungriest!"
"I'm the biggest, so I need the most to build strength! The strongest warrior like me has to stock up!"
"Let's settle this!"
"Just what I wanted!"
Whack—crack—
As they started swinging fists at each other's ugly faces from their seats, making their mugs even more entertaining, I spooned up some of the warmed canned stew and watched.
'Morons.'
The winner was, predictably, the biggest orc who seemed to be the leader.
The size difference between him and the others was huge from the start. Makes sense—he's big and tough, so he's the dangerous scouting party's boss.
Even so, he didn't take the others lightly; a nice purple bruise bloomed around his eye. But he ignored it, grinning contentedly as he tore into a massive hunk of meat. I set down my half-eaten can.
"I need to get out of this jungle. Mind helping?"
"Hrm... Tough to offer much help. Lately, iron-armored humans have been raiding our weaker kin, so everyone's on edge."
"...Iron-armored humans?"
I had a pretty good idea who that was.
A stern-faced, graying knight, Albert, flashing an angry grin and throwing up a V-sign, flickered in my mind's eye.
"Luckily, no kin died, but even our war chief only managed to take an arm."
Albert had apparently failed to join the faction.
And in the ensuing hostility, he'd suffered a gore hit that severed the war chief's arm.
"That knight... he still alive?"
"Dunno. War chief said he fled to the lower floors, armless. Lower floors are lizard territory—doubt he survived. They're sensitive to blood scent."
Gore hits slash stats hard, and without handling the heavy bleed debuff, you're basically dead.
Plus, heading to floor 9 crawling with scent-tracking lizards? No chance.
I didn't know his exact crime, but it wasn't minor. No pity for his end.
Just a nagging feeling since we'd teamed up briefly, however short.
'Guy could fight weirdly well, but oh well.'
He might've lucked into a healing spring, but since I'd never seen one, odds were zilch.
Rest in peace.
"Still, I gotta go down. Let's trade. Got any village headaches? I'll handle 'em for some help."
"Hrm... That much, I can probably convince 'em. We've got upper-level pains too."
I inwardly cheered at the sub-quest start text. The sub-quest to exterminate floor 7's semi-boss, a trash-tier enemy.
Clear it and descend to floor 8, and I could enter the orc village without hostility.
I'd worried Albert's earlier blunder might block the quest, but false alarm.
"That thing's barely kin! Betrayed his raisers—can't even die an honorable warrior. Shame!"
The orc scouts spat venom about him, each venting their grievances.
Weapons they'd carefully maintained stolen, shiny trinkets meant for lovers snatched, cherished honeycombs swiped, shaman's loincloth pilfered...
The last one got pummeled into the dirt.
"Ahem! Not just that—he sneaks stuff from other races visiting the maze too. Nimble fingers, that one."
Unlike kin: puny, unwarrior-like build.
Unlike kin: pointy, unattractive nose.
Unlike kin: pudgy belly, no muscles.
At that point, not kin at all? But no, it checked out.
They were orcs; he was a goblin.
Phantom Thief Goblin, floor 7's semi-boss and map gimmick like the Past Specter.
Hang around a floor too long, he pops up, smacks you, steals bag items, and bolts. Plenty died losing scrolls or potions.
And my onaholes count as items—prime theft targets.
'Gotta nail him with this quest.'
Eyeing Hero II, but losing Severa or the Wanderer? Catastrophe.
Plus, their massive size ups steal risk.
Good news: accepting the scout quest lets you catch and kill the thieving goblin. Most D.D. players did.
"Alright. I kill him, we're good?"
Leader orc nodded, trying a stern face to look cool—but with greasy lips shining oblivious, he just looked dumb.
"He's quick. Hard solo. We'll help trap him."
Thus began my alliance with the orc scouting party.
I smacked my lips thinking of the silver chest rewards he'd carry.
Rustle.
A bush rustled—leaves brushing.
Scouts and I whipped heads toward it—
Swish—
Expecting the phantom thief, I'd wedged my bag between my legs. A tug yanked my hand.
To keep it, I toppled, covering it with my body.
"He's here! Die... by my hammer!"
"No! My meat's gone! Only one bite!"
"Raaagh!! Grasha's bracelet—stolen!"
Ignoring the orcs in goblin-reality-shock yelling losses, I turned toward the presence.
Half my height.
Green-skinned like orcs, huge hooked nose, but clad in black cloth unlike their primitive garb—this goblin.
He chucked stolen loot into his backpack, giggling mockingly.
"You lot never learn? That's why I rob ya!"
Awkward phrasing, dumber than the orcs, laced with scorn.
Phantom Thief Goblin shifted from stunned orcs to glance at me.
"Human's sharp. Next time, yours."
"Fuck off."
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Sanctification Fwoooosh—
The humid, pitch-black green hell filled with radiant holy light.