Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: What the Heck Is This? It's Scary. (8)
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All the gates wouldn't activate if you turned back.
So all we had to do was turn around, open the door, head back to the magic gate, and recover.
The magic gate, overflowing with mana among all the gates, was practically the perfect spot for mana recovery.
After recovering like that, we cleared the fog gate in just ten minutes. The next gate was the fog gate with a few more traps added, so we cleared it even faster.
But the problem started after that.
The black fog in the eighth gate uniquely deprived two of the five senses: it completely took away sight with even thicker black smoke, and then...
"...This tastes awful."
It stole taste.
Unless we were utterly exhausted, we camped overnight in the gates.
Fortunately, unlike when entering, once cleared, the gates didn't activate, so we had no choice but to camp.
No matter how much stronger we'd gotten and easier to pass, we instinctively didn't want to challenge the first gate again!
So unless it was a major injury or fatigue, we camped, and naturally, meals were simple rations.
Compared to the daily war over food, that single piece of jerky felt delicious, but from the seventh gate, we'd lost taste and couldn't feel any flavor!
Once No. 1000 realized that, she bulldozed right through the seventh gate.
Grabbing my hand and No. 17's, she ran through where we couldn't see an inch ahead!
"Hey, hey, wait!"
"What if a trap triggers? It'll be bad!"
"There are no traps."
As No. 1000 said, there were no traps.
It seemed the gate's challenge was just dealing with the lost senses.
The next gate was the same. But this one took all five senses. No, it made my very existence feel gone.
"You there?"
"Say something."
"Hellooo?"
No response no matter how much I called, so I gave up.
I assessed my current situation.
Whether I was standing, sitting, or lying down—nothing felt real.
It went beyond just not seeing ahead; I couldn't sense anything at all.
I thought I stretched out my hand, but with no sight or feeling, I couldn't even tell if it had extended.
Then it hit me. Damn. Does that mean I can't even go back?
Like the previous room, would I need No. 1000's help? But even if she did, could I feel it?
If going forward restored the other senses the moment we turned back, it might work, but would No. 1000 really want to go back to that taste-less room?
Traps wouldn't trigger, but the fog lingered in the room.
From the sixth gate, these fogs were the real trials; other traps were just aids. The previous gate had no traps at all.
To rest again, we'd have to go back to the end of the seventh gate, but would No. 1000 go for that?
She might prefer pushing forward. But if the next gate was similar? Would I end up blindly relying on No. 1000 without even knowing when we reached it?
"That can't happen."
Hadn't I declared No. 1000 my rival?
Looking pathetic at her back just that once was enough. I couldn't keep doing it.
I used all my body's mana to sense myself.
Thanks to this sticky black fog clinging to my body, I could clearly make out my own outline.
Trying to sense surroundings with mana only made the black fog stick tighter and interfere.
How the hell did that damn instructor expect anyone to move in this godforsaken space! I wanted to scream, but knowing the instructor's style, there had to be a way out.
How much time passed like that?
In a space with nothing to feel, even time lost meaning. A minute? Ten minutes? An hour?
As I circulated mana through my body and observed it, a sudden thought struck.
'If nothing feels real, what if I need to pee...'
It was a question I'd never think in normal times.
When holding urine, was I tensing my bladder? Sending signals from the brain to hold? I didn't know. But one thing was clear.
'Like this, I'll just go.'
Big or small, with no sensation, I ended up doing it. Goosebumps prickled on my insensate body.
Damn instructor bastard. Why does he keep testing human dignity like this?
Are you even human?
I poured mana into my body to the limit. The longer I delayed, the riskier it got.
Not just me—there were two others. I didn't want awkwardness from me going, or from them going.
Someone had to step up in this situation. But how? How? Seriously, how?
"Ah."
A gasp escaped my lips. It was a flash of insight.
This black mana in the air was artificial. That's why it repelled my mana.
But it was mana from equipment, not someone personally created. No. 17 had been amazed passing the gates.
"Each one's the pinnacle of imperial magic engineering. They operate tools with minimal mana by harnessing ambient mana."
She kept spouting suspicious stuff about her background, but I wasn't one to talk, so I let it slide. Clearly, No. 17 had exceptional talent and deep magical knowledge.
With tech that amazed even her, using magic stones to harness this space's mana—it was artificial but also natural mana.
So where did my body's mana come from?
All living beings are born with mana. But as they grow, they accumulate worldly mana to grow stronger.
That applied to humans, all creatures, even demons with different creators.
So couldn't I use this mana too?
I infused my mana into the sticky clinging mana. It repelled, naturally. But over time, the repulsion lessened.
As if saying I'm like you, my mana started resembling the surrounding mana.
Once assimilated, the surroundings began to distinguish themselves, and eventually, I perceived the entire room.
"Lost again."
No. 1000 stared blankly at me—she could definitely sense me.
No. 17 in the corner, eyes closed, emanating mana, was probably solving it differently.
"No door in the room, huh."
After grasping the layout, I saw no door—instead, a fairly large hole in one corner to exit. The instructor's malice hit me again. No accidental door-opening escape.
-What are you doing? Let's go.
Lost in thoughts of past impressions and wondering what the next gate held, No. 17 tapped my shoulder—unfelt, but her voice echoed in my mind.
"How are you talking?"
-Roughly, infuse will into mana and send it to the other person.
I struggled a few times, but it didn't work well. This is tough. Felt like it cut off before reaching.
-What are you doing? Hurry up. If the next one's similar, we'll just head back to the seventh.
Sadly, No. 17 was right.
No idea how long, but I was exhausted. We'd decide after seeing the next gate's difficulty—rest or challenge.
Finally, No. 1000 first, then No. 17, then me—we jumped into the pit.
Oddly, the black fog, or black mana clump, couldn't enter the pit. But the shift in ambient mana made it feel like something drained from my body.
"Doesn't look like we need to go back to the seventh."
The pit was short but enough for a temporary base.
"Shall we secure the spot first? I wanna rest."
"How about drop gear, scout, and if fog, shut door and rest?"
"Yeah, that's a good idea."
Excluding No. 1000 munching jerky on one side, No. 17 and I coordinated.
Hm. What's the tenth gate? Curiosity piqued, I opened the door.
"Hi, underclassmen?"
Bang!
"Let's rest."
"Yeah."
No. 17 and I slammed the door and trudged back to prep camp.
What I'd seen: a wide room. Seven people striking quirky poses, staring at us.
And center-most, with a beautiful smile—slightly smaller than we'd seen, but unmistakably the Intelligence Bureau Deputy Director.
No clue what gate it was, but the next one's difficulty was top-tier no matter what.
We ate, laid out sleeping bags, pondered tomorrow, and slept. Ah, pray first before bed.
"Serimir, who always watches over us. Fuck, may the instructor be cursed."
If Serimir truly aided the good, it'd surely come true.
***
"Impressive."
What the hell is this?
Just four months. Four months to reach the tenth gate.
Even the previous generation—the organization's strongest, my worst-rated—took eight months to get there.
That was shocking years ago, and now halving it!
Plus, they were seven; these kids are three!
Half the numbers. Half the time.
Doesn't make sense logically?
And clearing the ninth like that.
That gate made your body senses vanish, passing if you unwittingly tumbled through.
I'd made it thinking, "Don't panic in any situation—but this one's bound to fluster!" And they brute-forced it.
"They're my greatest creations."
"As expected, sir."
But bragging outright is amateurish.
I couldn't show fluster to the guy beside me, watching the trainee monsters via magic tool with interest.
"Tenth gate... tough one. And fewer numbers this time?"
"They halved your eight-month course to four. They might handle it easy."
The smug-smiling jerk—my former disciple like Sia, the most normal one, Havel Lane—now under Sia in the organization's oddest intel spot.
And that oddest spot...
"Of course. More useful than some idiot host fleeing over women."
"H-Haha... nothing to say."
A club. Among countless fronts, best treatment, surprisingly best intel source.
This guy's exploding in popularity at the empire's top club—not just noble ladies, but young noble misses too!
And this real-life otaku got too popular, tangled in love fights, now on the lam.
Probably noble misses shaking the manager's collar looking for him at his club, but not my problem.
"Of all people, you..."
"The organization doesn't idle people. Your favorite saying, Instructor."
"True."
I'd asked for any previous-gen disciple, but this guy showed up.
Pure combat-wise, he's no pushover.
Looks it, but last gen overall rank 7—single-digit, nicknamed single-number. Combat unit love calls poured, but face dragged him to intel.
Flip side: weakest of my seven disciples.
Farthest from fieldwork too.
Meanwhile, current trainees grow at unpredictable speed. As senior, asking him to "train" juniors—he might get trained instead. Unsettling.
"But they're strong. Need Rud or Ragnar at least."
"I've grown a lot too."
Slightly piqued tone. How does a host grow? Learned techniques from busty big sis like some book's no.1 host?
No, that protag learned steel-cutting swordplay but stayed weak. Never saw wins. Epitome of connections power.
Later went dark and stronger, but this guy's not dark yet—weak.
"Grown a lot. But think you can really beat them?"
"Honestly, scary. Even if limited, us at graduation time."
Tenth gate: fakes combining peculiar demon doppelganger tribe and alchemy homunculus.
But combat traits and skills extracted directly from pre-grad selves—serious power.
Weakness: 50% of real's combat, expensive so recycled, low durability.
Thus, door opens to X-poses for intimidation! X-pose max pressure!
"Proving you're the weakest—your doppel's getting beat most."
"Ah, wait! Mine's not getting thrashed like that!"
Check magic tool: his doppel getting peeled by No. 1000.
As expected of No. 1000. Bit weakest first.
"But snagged by kids under a year in. You were always weak."
"Kuh... Th-they were just too monstrous! And I wasn't far from Maren!"
"Yeah, desk-job natural Maren in finance—not far, but even that fool who couldn't beat Maren better than yearling rookies, right?"
"Haa... Still the same, Instructor."
Trembling briefly, sighing, then eyes blazing—he stood.
Still weak to taunts. Scratches right, performs above level, but always first to fall—like demon king's weakest Four Heavenly Kings.
"I'll show my power."
Seeing his resolute face, I prayed he wouldn't get thrashed.