God's Provision
The armor used in jousting tournaments was famous shop gear that appeared in the game as well.
Known as the Budget Havel set, it was the finest defensive equipment you could assemble early on — provided you had the gold.
Wearing gear of nearly identical construction, I could roughly gauge the angles once I knew Bloodbane's and Astrape's attack power.
Still, I was a little nervous…
Nearly identical wasn't the same as perfectly identical, and eight hundred gold coins could have evaporated in a single day.
At any rate, the wager had been mine to win.
Thud.
But I was exhausted myself, and I sank down beside the two of them already slumped on the floor.
"Uh, um… are you sure you're not hurt somewhere?"
"It's just the mental strain. Pay it no mind."
Guardians were a Grace whose MP was low relative to their HP from the start. On top of that, Impact Dispersion consumed MP, and the armor's self-repair drained MP as well. Naturally, the headache that came with mental exhaustion was inevitable.
"If… if you need help, shall I call a servant for you?"
A training ground where no one had been wounded.
"Hah… hah… hah…"
"A skill worth three hundred and two gold coins…"
"Aigoo, my head…"
And yet the bizarre conclusion was that there were three casualties.
"Edwin. One month left."
Nearly two months had already passed since our arrival at House Remington.
I had told my brother that three months would be enough to catch up to his three years. Only after confirming the sincerity of that claim did he seem ready to consider returning home.
He's still keeping score on that, huh.
It was in these occasional flashes of ordinary humanity that I truly felt we were brothers.
"One month? It'll be done in three days."
"…What?"
My brother stared at me as if he couldn't believe his ears. Lady Seraphina, who had been gazing blankly into space, turned her eyes toward me as well.
"What do you mean, one month, Edwin?"
Since there seemed to be some curiosity on the matter, I briefly recounted the conversation I'd had with my brother.
"Even so, clearing thirty Trials in three months is impossible, Lord Edwin. Even as a joke, that is rather…"
Lady Seraphina looked at me with the faintly pitying expression of someone listening to pure nonsense.
"If Edwin says so, I somehow feel like it might actually work…"
Lady Ariella said it, yet her face was somehow full of wariness.
My brother, however, stroked his chin as if lost in thought.
"Three days…"
After a long moment with his head bowed, he looked up at me with an incredulous expression.
"Don't tell me you're talking about God's Provision."
At those words, even Lady Seraphina's face went rigid.
"Lord Edwin. Even the legendary great hero known as the Iron Wall Knight — Lord Belion himself — is said to have witnessed the sunrise only once."
I knew that well enough.
But that guy was a Knight. I'm a Guardian.
Most games had a few devices built in to help players push through the tedious, pedantic leveling stretches. Quests that dumped massive experience. Items that raised your level just by consuming them. And so on.
Paeogae had such a device as well — the Infinite Dungeon that the people of this world called God's Provision.
Once per thirty-level bracket. Monsters of roughly the challenger's caliber spawned endlessly, and the longer you held out, the more colossal the experience haul. The monsters grew stronger the further you pushed through the Trials, so even as your level rose, the experience efficiency never dropped off too sharply.
The problem was—
They really do come at you until you're sick of it.
Monsters poured out until combat itself became nauseating.
"I managed to last until the sun began to set. I even cleared two Trials."
"Ohh! Magnificent, Lord Ahren!"
People in this world typically challenged God's Provision at level thirty, or just shy of it. Since the opportunity came only once per thirty-level bracket, they delayed their visit as long as possible to extract maximum efficiency. So the two of them, having experienced God's Provision around the same time, found a certain mutual understanding.
Three days was bluster. That seemed to be the conclusion they'd reached.
I would have thought the same.
If not for the knowledge of my previous life.
"Lord Belion was a great hero who, through mythic achievement, left a Skill to posterity. There are still those who revere him — so even in jest, Lord Edwin, you must not speak such words lightly."
A Grace was a miracle of the Creator God Elysion. When a figure who had amassed mythic achievements ascended, the path that person had walked remained in the form of Skills, passed down to later generations. That was also why Warrior and Knight builds were more varied than Guardian builds — the roads countless heroes had traveled. Among them were figures like Belion, whose names were etched into history.
But unless you're stuck with a Vulcan or some dead-end build, most gamers push through to day two.
And Guardians, depending on the situation, could breeze past day two even with a Vulcan — provided barrier management was solid.
That's why I'd budgeted three months.
Use slash-and-burn farming at a wild Vespoid nest to level fast. Then push resistance values to the limit, and farm levels and Gorgons in parallel at Pygmalion's Corridor. Use that money to learn Impact Dispersion and prepare armor that could take a beating. Finally, rocket the level up at God's Provision.
That had been the original three-month plan.
But things had gone more smoothly than expected. I'd gained access to the Viscount's dungeon, and nearly all the gold earmarked for Impact Dispersion had been saved. The tournament had pushed the schedule back a little, but I'd also racked up plenty of skill proficiency and real combat experience in the meantime.
In the end, I was right back on the original timeline.
It's more than doable.
I didn't bother getting heated over the two unbelievers bonding over their shared experiences. Seeing was believing.
Leaving the unbelievers behind, I headed for the Cretus Sect Temple.
Ordinarily it was a wild space full of shouting, cursing, and crude duels. Today, though — perhaps because of the festival — none of the noise one expected from the Cretus Sect could be heard.
Did something happen?
My pace quickened a little.
Clank. Clank!
The heavy footfalls of jousting armor drew every eye. But before long, those gazes carefully slid aside. Jousting armor looked, at a glance, like something a knight would wear. No one wanted to get tangled up with a noble for no reason, so they averted their eyes of their own accord.
"Hmm?"
Nearly at the entrance of the Cretus Sect Temple, my eyes met those of someone sweeping out front. Fighters didn't wear armor like this. The look held pure puzzlement — what was a knight doing in a place like this?
"I have come to challenge the Provision left by Elysion. Would you guide me to the place of Trial?"
"That voice — could it be?!"
A devotee of Cretus bounced lightly into the air, chest swelling.
"The Great Warrior has arrived!!!"
Huh?
It was an over-the-top reaction as usual, but the people of the Cretus Sect fundamentally used plain, non-honorific speech with one another. Many of them came from common stock, and on the battlefield they bound themselves together as comrades who watched each other's backs. Hearing "has arrived" with full honorifics felt distinctly odd.
Creeeak.
But that question vanished soon enough.
…If it's the Saint, that would explain it.
Through the open door walked a woman in pure white garments.
A Hidden Grace granted only to those chosen directly by the god. Called Saints or Holy Women, they possessed a unique skill called Revelation, through which they could faintly read the will of the divine — or so the lore went.
And the people around her aren't slouches either…
The Saint chosen by Elysion. And behind her stood veteran warriors who appeared to have come from the main temple of the Cretus Sect. Level sixty at the absolute lowest. Not a lineup one expected to encounter out in the sticks.
"O one who would challenge the Provision left by Elysion. Might this humble servant of the god be permitted to serve as your guide?"
A leveling grind that a mere level-twenty-five Guardian was attempting. And someone like this was tagging along…
So she's prioritizing my business first, then?
In that case, I ought to accept gratefully.
"I stand before the messenger of Elysion. I am but a frail being following in the footsteps of great champions. Please, speak freely."
Those who bore the Saint's Grace exchanged mutual honorifics even with the king of a nation. Naturally I had to be careful —
"Are you not the Great Warrior chosen by Cretus himself? How could I possibly commit the discourtesy of speaking down to such a person?"
With her coming at me like that, there was nothing for it. I resolved to keep my mouth shut lest some slip of the tongue bring shame upon my house. In this person's presence, genuine caution was required.
Click. Click.
I walked forward to the soft echo of her shoes. It was a strange feeling. I had visited this place before, and yet today it felt needlessly majestic and sacred. Overwhelming holy power, palpable against the skin.
Truly lives up to the lore about raising the dead.
It was a somewhat disrespectful thought, but the comparison to anyone who merely held a Cleric's Grace — like the one who had treated Royta — was almost embarrassing.
She stopped ahead of me and knelt before the statue of Elysion. As she quietly mouthed a prayer, a Gate serving as the dungeon entrance appeared before her.
"As the Great Warrior surely knows, within the Provision no aid may be received from anyone."
The Saint stood beside the Gate and looked at me. Her face was hidden behind a veil, yet somehow I could sense concern.
"A Trial bestows blessing upon those who overcome it — but for those who cannot, it becomes tragedy."
They called it God's Provision, but in the end it was an Infinite Dungeon. Die, and you were dead. So if it got too dangerous, abandon the Trial and come back — that was what she was saying.
"The Trial you face within is yours alone. No one can offer you assistance."
"Yes. I will engrave it upon my heart."
"Please… return safely."
Her voice grew a little heavier. The Infinite Dungeon was extraordinarily efficient, but accidents did happen from time to time. That was why she carried herself this way.
"Thank you for your concern."
I gave a slight bow, then walked toward the entrance of the Infinite Dungeon. Heat rose from my Grace as if linking with the Gate — it was reconstructing the dungeon based on my level.
Challenging at level thirty is definitely peak efficiency.
The higher your level, the harder experience became to earn. But Guardians acquired a trump card at level thirty. Walk in at thirty with that already learned, and strong enemies scaled to that level came pouring out from the start. Right now, with my level still a little short, was actually the perfect timing.
If the strategy guide holds, that is.
Of course there would be differences between the game and reality, but there ought to be something I could use.
I've packed spare shields, and plenty of provisions. All right, then…
"I'll see you in three days."
"…Pardon?"
I walked past her as she looked up at me with the expression of someone who must have misheard, and stepped into the Infinite Dungeon.
All right. Time to level up.