Cutting the Bridge

I studied the quest, organizing my thoughts.

So the "hero" they kept talking about... is me?

At first, I'd assumed the hero was supposed to slaughter every monster first, and only then would the quest proceed. But the one who actually had to kill the monsters was me.

Five hours of survival.

I had no way of knowing whether the monsters would rank above or below E. On top of that, I couldn't even tell whether I'd be granted so much as a minimal window of rest between battles.

For now, I'll start by probing them.

Checking the level of the monsters that came at me had to come first. Unless they invaded from some other direction, they would have to cross the moat and the bridge that lay before me.

Should I just cut the bridge entirely?

If I did, the monsters could still come around through the moat and back up into the castle grounds. The bridge might aid my own movement, but it also opened the door far too wide for an invasion.

Bridge goes. Now.

Having decided, I moved to act immediately. I drew my dagger and reshaped the hilt into the grip of a hatchet.

No reason ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to cling to the form of a knife.

The weapon was barely a week old, but a new way of using it had already occurred to me. If I conceive it as a blade, then it is a blade. Not every sword looks the same, after all. There are blades with wickedly curved edges, blades with stubby profiles, single-edged blades of every make. So what was wrong with a "blade" shaped like an axe?

"Hah."

I drew a breath and swung. Thud! Thud! With two dull impacts, the pillars anchoring the bridge toppled. Then, with a mighty crash, I heaved them both into the moat.

Not getting across that now.

My assigned quest was survival, yet I was moving to defend the castle. The reason was simple: bonus rewards. Just as wiping out only demon slimes on the first floor had boosted my quest reward by fifty percent, going above and beyond would pay off here too.

The first floor's quest was killing a boss monster — and this one's a siege, after all.

The quest description clearly stated "monster extermination." Which meant I was the one expected to hold the line. And if I fail to defend it, there might be a penalty.

In the Tower of Trials, every single one of my actions mattered. I gathered mana into my legs and leapt across the moat.

The moment the message appeared, goblins began pouring out of the forest ahead.

"Kiehk! Kiehk!"

Thirty goblins shrieking as they charged — they brought a swarm of insects to mind.

Basic Footwork: Break. I stepped through the form and shook the ground beneath their feet. But the technique's wide reach meant I couldn't shatter them completely. That's fine. It was enough.

Mere goblins. With footwork and mana, they were easy pickings.

Basic Footwork: Surge. I danced into their midst, then forced mana into my dagger. The blade stretched, venting the mana it could no longer contain. I'd been wanting to try this at least once. Before regressing, I'd never owned a weapon that could pull it off. But that was then.

"Whirl Wind!"

Shouting the name of every man's romantic dream of a technique, I spun like a top. Shhk! Thirty goblin heads hit the ground in a single motion, and the system message chimed in.

I checked the message and made my way back toward the moat. For all my talk of playing it cautious and gathering intel, my body had moved the instant I laid eyes on the goblins.

Thirty goblins now... so what comes next?

Two possibilities came to mind: elite monsters, or E-rank monsters. God, I hoped not the latter. I didn't know how many waves there'd be, but if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ranks kept climbing with each one, I might end up facing an S-rank monster eventually.

Anything but that. If the current me fought an S-rank monster, there wouldn't even be powder left to scrape up.

Elites. Come on, be elites.

I waited, silently willing the time away. Five minutes passed, and the message returned.

Wave 2 had arrived. The moment I laid eyes on the monsters, I let out a breath of relief. Ten elites had joined the ranks, sure — but this much was within my expectations.

"Kieh! Kiehk!"

This time, just like before, the goblins spilled from the forest. The difference was that they came in formation.

A shield formation, huh.

Monster combat patterns could be roughly split into three types, and this was one of them — the "shield formation." Shaped to protect the shamans. Perhaps because the elites ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠possessed real intelligence, they'd begun guarding their casters.

What difference does guarding them make? No — absolutely, it made a difference.

Basic Footwork: Surge. I flowed to their flank. Basic Footwork: Veil. My presence vanished into nothing. One heartbeat I'd been right in front of them; the next, I was gone, and the goblins fell into confusion.

"Kiehk! Kiehk kiehk!"

Then one of the goblin fighters lingering at the rear stepped forward and settled the ranks.

Tch. Of course they won't make it easy for me.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

If the confusion had held a little longer, killing the shamans would have been far simpler. Still, I couldn't complain — no, this was actually good news. The fighter has drifted away from the shamans.

The fighter who'd just stepped forward had been guarding the shamans from the back line. If he was out front now, then only common goblins remained at the casters' sides.

Thanks for the meal.

Slipping behind a goblin shaman in that very moment, I swung my dagger.

"Kieeehk!"

The shaman died shrieking, and every goblin's head snapped toward me. Could you at least die quietly?! I grumbled at the corpse. What was done was done — attention had already turned my way.

Fine. Then I kill as many as I can.

Where was I standing? Dead center of the goblin formation. Which meant escaping from the elite goblins intact was impossible. So what was the best option? Kill them. Lots of them. Carve enough of a path through the bodies, and one would open on its own — and the extermination rewards would come pouring in on top of it.

Dagger in hand, I sprinted for the densest knot of goblins.

Basic Footwork: Illusion. The moment I stepped through the form, the goblins lost their wits entirely, swinging their weapons in blind, panicked arcs. Even the most disciplined army in the world means nothing once it's caught in an illusion.

Shhk! Shhk! Shhk! In the chaos, I cut down three more shamans.

One shaman left. Where are you hiding? But no matter how I searched, I couldn't find the last one — as if it had never existed at all.

Never existed?

In that instant, a fist came screaming at my face. I swept my dagger into its path.

CRANG!

Flesh meeting steel makes a sound like that? Absolutely not. That was the sound of metal slamming into metal with brutal force.

"Kgh!"

The thing was barely an F-rank elite. And yet its fist carried hardness on par with my mana-forged blade.

Physical enchantment from the shaman. Nothing else explained it. And if the fighters were receiving the enchantment, then the shaman's position could only be one place. It was on the front line from the very start.

It had simply been beyond my sight. That shaman had been there the whole time.

This is exactly why I tried to kill the shamans first.

With my current stats — C-rank, and only the low end of it — I could win. But C-rank elites? Unknown territory. The shaman's special ability was enhancement of its targets. Those goblin fighters, barely F-rank elites moments ago, now had to be treated as C-rank elites.

Five C-rank elites...

Just thinking about it made my head spin. The one way to turn this situation around was to kill the shaman. Straight through those goblin fighters.

Time to run a test first.

Until I gauged exactly how strong the fighters had become, I couldn't devise a countermeasure. And the worst-case scenario is Wave 3 crashing down on top of all this. Waves, once begun, tended to arrive at fixed intervals. The Tower orchestrated them artificially, but a rhythm had to exist.

Fine. Let's fight.

The moment I set my stance, Fighting Spirit ignited.

As if to declare that the real battle began only now. With my focus sharpened, the fighters' ki came into view.

Basic Footwork: Surge. I stepped through the form and dove at the fighters. My objective, above all else, was to kill the surviving shaman before the next wave arrived.

Left, right, right, left.

Fists and kicks flew at me without a moment's rest. Under the onslaught of the goblin fighters, the common goblins could do nothing but watch me weave between them.

"Kiluk keruk keruk!"

Then the shaman began chanting something. I was no shaman, so I couldn't tell what incantation it was — but I felt, with absolute clarity, that it had to be stopped.

Faster. Go faster.

I flooded mana into my leg muscles, forcing them to activate. They felt like they were about to tear. Thirty seconds is my limit. Push any further and I might lose the use of my legs entirely.

Basic Footwork: Surge — Forced Activation. On reinforced footwork, I blasted toward the shaman. What I'd just used was a technique that overdrove my leg muscles to reproduce a fraction of Surge's ultimate form, Extreme.

Got you.

I closed the distance at terrifying speed and swung the dagger in the same motion. There should have been a crisp shhk of a clean cut — but no such sound came. Instead, the creature whose neck I'd just severed began chanting even louder.

An illusion?

What I'd cut down was an illusion of the goblin shaman. I spun to the right — and there it was, dark energy gathering into a sphere in the shaman's waiting hand.

Basic Footwork: Surge — Forced Activation.

I hurled myself at the shaman — and the shaman, in turn, hurled its spell at me.