Social Evil (4)

Honestly, it's not that hard up to this point. Even a total newbie could figure out the mid-boss "Floating Necromancer's" weakness if they took the time to explore carefully. It's tricky at first, sure, but this boss was originally treated like a pushover. It doesn't demand raw physical prowess—it's designed to be beaten through gimmicks.

That's why, with repeated playthroughs, players came up with all sorts of wild ways to take it down. As long as you could cram it into that coffin, you win. The community overflowed with bizarre concepts. And yeah, I was one of them.

My own strategy? The one dubbed the "Bowling Ball Meta" on the forums. In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠some cases, you could even smash that skeletal necromancer to pieces outright.

Unfortunately, this time around, with my mana running low, stuffing it into the coffin was the best I could manage.

50 points from taking down the boss. That's more than enough to surpass whatever points the other parties have racked up so far.

This episode flips the script—the players take center stage. The protagonists get scattered into different dungeons, and who you run into inside is pure luck.

That said, now that I've confirmed Kyle Ivanstair's Group A is in the same dungeon, I need to tweak the initial plan a bit. With unpredictable events that could pop off anytime, the protagonists need to grow accordingly. You never know when the next chance will come, so when it does, feed them a massive experience boost.

Having the protagonists get stronger is never a bad thing.

First, 50 points for the mid-boss.

And the final boss of this dungeon? A whopping 200 points. We snagged the mid-boss, so I'll hand the final one to Kyle. His group rushed in first, but now we're in the lead at the vanguard.

We've got three days allotted for clearing the dungeon, but no need to stick around that long. We'll wipe it out today.

We'd reached B7 and were taking a short break to recover mana when it happened.

"Sion...? Is that you?"

"A bit later than I expected."

"We worked pretty hard ourselves..."

The second group to hit B7 was, predictably, Kyle's Group A. The other members crept closer, having kept watch from behind. They looked beat—covered in dirt and grime. At least no one had dropped out.

"It's almost dinner time. Why hang out in this gloomy spot? Let's at least light a fire."

I shook my head and pointed to a rusted sign banning open flames with one hand. A subtle hint tucked away by the devs.

"Maybe on B5, but no fires here. You could aggro other monsters."

"Aggro monsters?"

"You saw B6, right? It gets damper the deeper you go, and the monster attributes change."

Kyle scratched the back of his head. It's not like I enjoyed this. Lighting a fire here could draw a full assault from the local monsters. Unlike the upper floors, the lower ones are humid—prime real estate for moisture-loving beasts.

And the poster child for those? Small-to-medium insectoids. The Hunter Association calls them "Chongwang species." Not all of them, but the damp-dwellers go berserk at the sight of fire.

Take "Anticus," the so-called "fire moth." Moth-like but ant-shaped, low-tier, but they swarm in numbers. Get tangled with them, and you're in for a world of hurt.

"So how do we eat?"

"Well..."

The other groups in this dungeon are probably wrestling with the same issue—right around when they notice the underground monsters react to fire.

"Cook 'em up in one shot accounting for the incoming swarm, hunt on the upper floors, or snag small fry like winged ants."

"...Wait, eat bugs?"

"Survival's survival."

The other groups might starve or drop out early rather than stomach it. Not easy, though—the watch zaps you with pain proportional to the attack the moment you're hit. I haven't felt it yet, so details are fuzzy. But thinking back to Iri or Kazuha... it's no joke.

Most Arsen cadets are superhuman. They shrug off normal pain. To drop one, it'd need rat-level agony at minimum—numb limbs from current.

"Anyway, light a fire, and prep for monster waves."

So watch yourself.

I turned—and spotted Rian von Hildegaard smoking off in the distance.

...Wait, smoking?

"S-Senior."

"Huh?"

As I moved to stop him, my nerves screamed. My Telescopic Vision caught a hazy march of shapes in the shadows.

Kyle squinted like he'd seen a ghost. I quietly drew my Glock, aiming just past Rian's face.

Finally clocking it, Rian turned, cigarette still in mouth.

Weeeeeeen—!

"Shit?!"

A white blur latched onto Rian's face—palm-sized insectoid. He peeled it off with both hands, stomped it, and spat the cig.

Fizzle...

Dying embers lit up dozens of the bugs. Creepy as hell—my brow twitched.

"Fuck off!"

Rian swung wildly, panicked swings but devastating power. Four or five bugs per arc.

But like I said, gimmick dungeon. Hidden mechanics everywhere. I used one to drop straight to the lower levels.

And our spot? Chosen for the vertical shaft to the floor below in a pinch.

Click.

Gears whirred somewhere. A subtle wave rippled underfoot.

"What the—"

Faint mana reaction under Kyle. I lunged, shoving him aside mid-air. He tumbled without a proper roll.

The spot he'd stood sank into a pit. A second later, and he'd be gone.

Kyle scrambled up, sword in hand—heading to help Rian, probably. Not his job.

Someone else needed him now.

"Handle your group."

"What about here?"

"We got it. Go—"

My Sense pinged. Ominous vibe, first time like this. I whipped around.

"...?"

Clicking heels halted. A small vortex swirled at Rebecca's feet as she approached.

She sensed it, tried to dodge—but the trap denied even that. Antlion pit, dragging the ground viciously.

Even with her skills, standing in the center? No footing, no leap.

I launched instinctively, bullet-fast.

But before my hand reached—

Shoooooo...!

Rebecca dropped into the activated trap, vanishing below. The swirling sinkhole raged on before slowly settling.

Rebecca was gone. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The scene hit like unreality for a split second.

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

But only that. I checked the watch party list.

Good—no dropout marker. She's fine. No idea on damage, but Rebecca hasn't dropped.

I panicked because even she got caught flat-footed, but I never thought she'd go down that easy. She's top-tier among Arsen cadets. No way a trap like that eliminates her.

That's why she was our rear guard for emergencies, perfect for handling wild cards.

Issue is, these descent gimmicks drop you to lower levels—who knows how far? One floor? Two? Or a mimic nest? Pure RNG—even the devs might not know.

Monster nest odds are low. It's more prank than lethal anyway—no deadly lurkers. And against Rebecca? She'll handle it.

But... there's a demon infiltrator in this dungeon. That's the wildcard.

If Rebecca unluckily bumps into them, shit hits the fan. Dungeon monsters or bosses? Just reverse summon and a penalty—no real body harm.

Demons? Irregulars, not logged in the dungeon. They can deal physical damage to cadets.

That's why I speedran—to end it before anyone meets the demon.

I glanced at the team. Cig's long out. Group X battles the sudden bug swarm. Watch comms are restricted—only party settings accessible.

Rian's still fighting, but backing into the new crater from the gimmick. As his heel slipped into air, I grabbed his arm.

"...!"

"Watch your step, Senior."

Every member's precious now. Even Rian von Hildegaard.

And above all, the faculty's watching. The watch alarm proves it.

Rian looked stunned. Never expected help from me.

He trolled, sure, but not the time. Kazuha and Iri are scattered, fending solo. Chaos like this won't cut it.

Regroup first. I swatted a flying bug with my right, eyeing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Iri. She'd get it—we talked at the canteen.

"Iri."

"Yeah! Gimme a sec, Sion!"

She trotted over, flicking bug guts off her sword. I reloaded the Glock. She clocked it.

"Remember our canteen chat?"

"The party leader handover thing?"

"Yeah."

She nodded solemnly. With Rebecca gone, Iri de Sugamond's my only trust.

She wasn't thrilled back then, though.

"...How long?"

"Dunno. Worst case, two hours."

"Two hours?!"

"Assuming the worst."

So probably less. I holstered the Glock, brushed dirt off my right hand. This cast's a pain.

Operated the watch. Target: acting vice-leader Iri de Sugamond. Glock on elbow, I tapped the panel.

I eyed her before confirming. Hesitant face, but she nodded.

"But after this, you have to help with my mission. Whatever it is. No backing out."

"Obviously."

If I can't lead, she steps up. In return, I help her future requests from the board.

Canteen talk was hypothetical. Good we prepped—avoids total mess.

Next, Rian.

"Senior Rian."

"...Yeah."

"Hold it down while I'm gone."

"..."

He looked awkward. But human—guilt's gotta be hitting. No answer, but I'll take it as yes.

"I'm off."

"Hurry back."

"...I'll try."

Last, the others. Grouped up, they'll merge with A and push bottom.

Me? Track wandering Rebecca. Spot the demon, burn all mana for a snipe from max unawares distance. Doable.

Deep breath. Gripped Glock. Peered into the dark pit.

Even Watcher's Eye saw zilch—pitch black depths.

Hesitation? Yeah. Like jumping into a mystery box.

...But as the saying goes, rip the horn off while it's hot. No point second-guessing.

Shoulders in. Cast dug. Arms tucked, I dove into the deep mire.