Chapter 199: Yernil (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 199: Yernil (2)
How shocking.
So, the Fairy Forest treated the labyrinth itself as something dangerous?
Even as they watched other labyrinth cities accumulate immense wealth and develop, they stood by with their hands clasped behind their backs like some Joseon-era scholar, tut-tutting and thinking, Tsk, tsk! They don't even realize how dangerous that is! Fools! ...and so they forbade it.
To be honest, if you exclude the Great Labyrinth Eruptions, I could sort of understand.
The treasures that came from it lured in adventurers, and it was true that those adventurers were ultimately consumed by the labyrinth.
But at the same time, the labyrinth also granted adventurers power. Just like how Yernil, who once whimpered at the sight of a goblin, had become a master capable of beating down an Ancient Cave Bear all by herself.
That's why Yernil's brother must have thought that adventurers needed to make the first move before the labyrinth could erupt.
They had to farm power there quickly, then take the Labyrinth Master's head and destroy the labyrinth to stop the eruption.
Like cutting out a deep wound before it can fester.
It wasn't all that different from the conflicts over labyrinth closures happening in other cities. The only difference was that the Fairy Forest had always been reluctant to get involved with labyrinths in the first place.
“So, when the Elf Matriarch offered to take you back to the Fairy Forest, you refused because you’re still hurt by Yerha’s execution?”
Honestly, I would have been put off too.
After pulling something like that, without a single word of apology, they just say, Come back to the Fairy Forest, Yernil. We need you now?
Maybe Yernil had come to despise the Fairy Forest...
“That’s not it.”
Yernil shook her head.
“Then what is it?”
“...”
“...”
Yernil didn’t answer.
The silence stretched on for a moment.
After pondering something for a long while, she carefully began to speak.
“I want to go back to the Fairy Forest.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes held the saddest expression I had ever seen on her.
“My brother’s death is heartbreaking, but I think it was unavoidable. Same with my exile.”
It was a bit hard for me to understand with my modern values, but she was born and raised in a highly centralized elven society.
“In the Fairy Forest, the authority of the Council of Elders is absolute. And back then, that was the law. Entering a labyrinth was a death sentence. Aiding someone who entered meant exile.”
So even a bad law is still the law?
“But I think even the Matriarch wants to change the law now. And in the Fairy Forest...”
Yernil said.
“My brother may be gone, but my parents, my sister, my younger siblings, and my friends are all there.”
“...”
“Honestly, I miss them. My other family members, my friends. They’re all there...”
Tears welled up in Yernil’s eyes.
“Then why did you refuse?”
Her answer was rather unexpected.
“Caleb, you miss your family too, right?”
“Huh?”
“You want to defeat the Labyrinth Master and go home, don’t you?”
“...”
“I want to return to the Fairy Forest, so I know how you feel.”
I see.
We had another thing in common.
We were both castaways, unable to return home.
“So that you can go home, Caleb.”
Her resolve was firm.
“I’m going to help you. That’s why I refused.”
When did she grow up so much?
It wasn’t just her combat prowess—the ability to beat down a cave bear on her own—that had grown.
The Yernil who had collapsed on the floor of the 1st Floor, saying she was too scared of a goblin to go on, now had the heart of an adventurer worthy of the 8th Floor.
Honestly, I never expected her to be this considerate of me.
“...Thank you.”
“I’ll miss you a lot when you leave.”
Yernil’s expression grew even sadder.
“As much as my family in the Fairy Forest.”
Still, she had steeled herself to send me on my way, even if it meant giving up her chance to return to the Fairy Forest.
“Caleb.”
I was asleep after two shifts of watch duty when Yernil suddenly shook me awake.
Dawn was breaking. A bluish light was visible beyond the desolate plains and dry thickets of the wasteland.
“We have a problem.”
Yernil’s expression was grim.
“Aimus and Back Attack are on the move!”
“What!”
I hadn’t sent them a message telling them to stay put.
Because they didn’t have any sound suppression magic.
I remembered when Bisan and Mugol were searching the dorms for me, and I got into trouble because of Isel’s message.
There was no guarantee something similar wouldn’t happen to them.
“Where are they going?”
“That way! The complete opposite direction from us!”
Dammit.
Aimus and Back Attack’s original strategy was probably to ‘wait.’
Aimus was severely injured, and while Back Attack could make them invisible, he couldn’t do anything about the clanking of Aimus’s heavy armor.
They knew about Yernil’s sound mapping.
They were probably counting on that, planning to wait while Aimus healed. I had even left a turn-based order for Back Attack, just in case, telling him not to move if possible.
For them to be moving despite that... don’t tell me.
“Are they being chased?”
The thought was dizzying.
Could an injured Aimus hold out until we got there? We had to get there as fast as possible...
“It doesn’t look like they’re being chased. It looks like they’re chasing someone.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Are they chasing a monster?”
“I think so.”
Aimus! Are you out of your mind!
What could you possibly be chasing at a time when it’s dangerous just to stay hidden...?
“Their pace is slow. It looks like they’re tracking them carefully, trying to muffle their footsteps.”
“Is it a Lancer?”
“No. I think...”
Yernil’s brow furrowed slightly.
“They look like... primitives?”
“Let’s go.”
I couldn’t even begin to guess what was going on.
We just had to get there as fast as we could.
There was no time to use invisibility or sound suppression. We were close enough that if things went south, we’d have to join the fight.
‘Hurry up!’
Back Attack mouthed the words without making a sound.
‘I’m an invalid!’
Aimus’s wound had mostly healed, but it still throbbed when he ran.
He ran with one hand clutching his lower abdomen, the other holding his iron staff slung over his shoulder.
Ahead of them, a group of Primitive Spearmen was marching. There were about ten of them.
Four spearmen were in the vanguard, with four archers and two priests.
And most importantly.
‘Look at that one!’
One of the priests had a different air about him.
He wore a necklace made of strung beast fangs and cradled a large ceremonial knife in his arms.
It was a lavish bronze sword decorated with gems and gold. Anyone could tell it was for ceremonial use.
‘They’re going to the Primitive Altar!’
Aimus and Back Attack realized it instantly.
Caleb had told them there was a special area on the 8th Floor called the Primitive Altar. He’d also added that they absolutely had to stop there.
So, were they supposed to search for the Primitive Altar on an 8th Floor crawling with monsters like Lancers, all while putting the injured Aimus on the front line?
It was a moment that called for a decision.
If they followed this priest’s company now, they could reach the Primitive Altar.
They could wait there for Caleb and Yernil to arrive. Then they could quickly take care of business and dash down to the 9th Floor. Wouldn’t that be it?
‘Let’s follow them quietly.’
This was a chance to minimize the time spent on the 8th Floor while reaping the maximum benefit.
Aimus took off his boots to reduce the noise. His armor still made metallic sounds, but from here on, they’d have to rely on luck.
‘The ceremonial altar can’t be far.’
That small troop, with no food or supplies, probably couldn’t walk for long.
‘But what do you think is at the Primitive Altar?’
Back Attack whispered as he came up beside him.
The Ironworks had the blacksmith and the Golden Golem.
Bearhim’s Garden had the Gardener.
The Void Waterfall had the Glutton.
Special areas had special bosses guarding them. So what about the Primitive Altar?
“What is that?”
Following Yernil, who was tracking Back Attack and Aimus, who were in turn tracking the monsters, I could now see it with my own eyes.
Like a massive mountain whose hazy form slowly comes into view in the distance.
A massive altar was gradually revealing its silhouette.
‘The Primitive Altar!’
It looked like an ancient temple in the shape of a step pyramid, like Chichen Itza. At the top of a flight of stairs about fifty meters high was the Fountain of Blessing.
“It looks like Aimus and Back Attack are heading for the altar.”
And then I noticed something else strange.
“There’s a huge number of primitives, Caleb.”
As we moved along the path, Yernil gauged the enemy’s numbers by sound.
About 130 of them.
Primitive soldiers were swarming in front of the altar. It was a number I’d never seen, not even in the game.
Yernil hadn’t seen them with her eyes yet, only identified their numbers by sound.
Perhaps that number, 130, didn’t just consist of soldiers.
‘Oh, god.’
A chill ran down my spine as the thought struck me.
Basically, the Primitive Altar has no special boss.
It’s not a resident boss like the Glutton or the Gardener. Instead, one is ‘summoned’ when outsiders intrude.
How is it summoned? By sacrificing a living person.
At the top of the altar is the Fountain of Blessing, which contains the power of the gods devoured by the labyrinth. The same principle allows adventurers to receive skills from the gods by dipping their heads in its water.
So, can a summon be drawn from that fountain? For example, something like the Lord of the Spirit Tower is a part of Wizus’s hegemony. It is, in itself, Wizus’s magic.
Similarly, if some of the power of the gods devoured by the labyrinth could descend in the form of a summon, could it be drawn from the Fountain of Blessing?
It can.
The primitives of the 8th Floor’s special area, the Primitive Altar, assess the threat level of approaching adventurers and sacrifice their own people.
Usually anywhere from one to, at most, ten.
In exchange for those lives, a gate is opened between the Fountain of Blessing and the labyrinth, and a summon emerges from the fountain, as if the labyrinth were vomiting up something it had devoured.
That is the special boss of the 8th Floor.
What comes out depends on the situation. Basically, the more primitives they sacrifice, the stronger the summon.
“Let’s hurry.”
It was always like this, but this labyrinth was pure chaos.
We climbed a hill with a clear view of the Primitive Altar, and down below, besides the primitives, was another figure I never would have imagined.
‘The Dwarf Governor!’
The Dwarf Governor from the Citadel of Artisans was there. He was trudging toward the altar’s entrance, dragging someone who was half-dead in one hand.
I think I knew what was going on.
We were far away, but Yernil relayed his voice to me.
“I was thinking of going up to the altar to offer this one as a sacrifice.”
The Dwarf Governor showed the Halfling’s face to the Primitive Spearmen. It was the Halfling Prime Minister.
“Mind opening a path for me?”
There was no way a dwarf from the Citadel of Artisans, an ally, would suddenly attack a Halfling in the labyrinth. And it was also strange that the dwarf’s party members were gone.
I’d experienced something similar to this before.
Back with the Orc Great King.
Something felt off.
Even at the assembly, the Dwarf Lord was particularly adamant in his negative stance on the Great Labyrinth Eruption.
There was a reason for it.
‘It’s an Inter-floor Lord.’
Another one, besides the Lancer who was impersonating the Orc Great King, had come down to the 8th Floor.
“Grrr...”
The Primitive Spearmen didn’t open a path easily. Instead, they aimed their spears at the Dwarf Governor and roared threateningly.
‘Caleb!’
Someone clapped me on the shoulder, and I nearly screamed in surprise.
It was Back Attack.
You scared me.
I could see Aimus slowly making his way up from below, trying to be as quiet as possible.
“Aimus. How’s your wound?”
“It’s almost completely healed.”
“Take a look down there,” Back Attack said.
“Doesn’t it look like that dwarf and the altar soldiers are about to fight—”
BANG!
A cannon roared.
I don’t know how he did it, but even though the dwarf appeared to be unarmed, something suddenly fired from his palm.
It wasn’t a bow, nor was it a gun.
It would be more accurate to call it a cannon.
Far more destructive than even Isilof’s positively charged bullets.
KABOOOM!
The shell fired by the monster blew away three primitive soldiers and slammed into the altar’s steps.
Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
And from the plains to the right of the altar, the sound of galloping hooves echoed.
The Lancer was coming.