The Miracle of Luscious Locks
At the same exact moment Albus encountered the Saintess in the miracle of abundance...
In the newly opened fourth floor of the Labyrinth Tower, a frantic race was underway.
Flash!
A group of humans clad in gleaming armor materialized amid a burst of white light.
"...First the desert, then the cave, and now a jungle, huh."
Schmidt, leader of the Empire's strongest guild, the Royal Knights, muttered as he rubbed his shiny bald head.
A massive tower loomed heterogeneously through the jungle foliage, clearly the centerpiece for this floor's main quest.
So, they had to reach that tower first, then.
Gazing at the dense wall of towering tropical trees stretching before it, he sensed their journey ahead wouldn't be smooth sailing.
"But we can't afford to fail this time either."
They'd already pushed hard on floors 2 and 3, yet claimed zero ownership of those worlds.
All they'd gotten were some drop items from monsters and a bit of experience—pathetic rewards for deploying the Empire's top players.
"His Majesty the Emperor trusts us. No matter what it takes, we'll bring him new territory for the Empire!"
He couldn't disappoint His Majesty again. Considering the trust and support bestowed upon them, he'd gladly give his life a hundred times over. This time, for the fourth floor of the Labyrinth Tower!
With ironclad resolve, they butchered jungle monsters in a straight shot toward the tower's entrance—for half a day straight.
"Huff... huff..."
When the hell does this end? No matter how far we go, it never stops.
He'd shattered the master's wall to reach superhuman heights, yet this jungle drained his strength with every step forward, for some inexplicable reason.
But he couldn't stop... He had to produce results somehow...!
"Milord! We should rest a bit before pushing on! The entire knight order's exhausted!"
His adjutant called out, halting his desperate advance.
Turning back, Schmidt saw his Royal Knights sprawled everywhere in exhaustion.
If even a Sword Master like him was struggling, no way could the others keep up.
"...I see. No helping it, then. Speed matters, but preserving our combat strength is paramount."
Schmidt reluctantly ordered a break.
"Uwaaah! We're saved!" "The Count's the best!"
The knights cheered, collapsing flat on the ground.
"...Good grief. How am I supposed to spread the Empire's glory with these slackers."
Schmidt chuckled wryly.
"Nah, milord, you're too harsh. You held up 'cause you're a master—we're not on your level."
"Yeah, exactly, milord!"
"Heh. Then train harder to make up for it, right?"
Bantering casually with his subordinates like this—it showed just how informally he got along with his guildmates on the regular.
Splish-splosh-splish.
"...Hm?"
Suddenly, Schmidt's senses picked up the sound of clear, refreshing water.
"Hold up. That sound..."
"Eh? Milord? Where're you going? Milord?"
Leaving his resting knights behind, Schmidt ventured deeper into the jungle.
Pushing through more thick foliage, he discovered a small spring.
"Yes! This is it!"
Without slowing, he stripped off his armor and dove right in.
Splash!
A huge spray erupted as Schmidt surfaced with a look of pure bliss.
"Ahh, yeah! That's the stuff!"
The spring's waters washed away the sweat-soaked grime from the oppressive humidity.
"Whew!"
Schmidt emerged slowly, his upper body bare.
That's when his adjutant, who'd chased after him in a panic, caught up.
"Milord? You bolted off like that—I thought something happened!"
"Ah, sorry about that. Heard the spring and couldn't resist."
He reached up sheepishly to rub his head again.
"...Eh? M-Milord!"
His adjutant's eyes bulged in disbelief at the sight before him.
"Hm? What's up?"
Schmidt's hand reached his scalp—and
Rustle.
An impossible sensation, yet one he'd craved so desperately, tickled his fingers.
"No way..."
"Milord's got hair!"
Schmidt whipped around, peering at his reflection in the spring's surface.
Lush. Thick.
There it was. The beautiful fullness he'd only dreamed of.
"No way this spring water..."
"Milord, this has gotta be..."
"No. We don't know that yet."
Luddera elixirs could affect reality, but not always fully.
This dreamlike lushness might not carry over.
"Adjutant."
"Yes, milord."
"Watch the knights for a bit. Gotta log out and check reality real quick."
This was a race for the Empire's pride.
Abandoning his post as commander at such a crucial moment? Any normal adjutant would protest.
But not this one. He'd served Count Schmidt for decades.
He knew this mattered more to the Count than any imperial wish. So he could only nod.
Leaving his teary-eyed adjutant behind, Schmidt logged out.
Clutching his pounding heart, he raised a hand to his head.
And
Rustle.
He beheld the miracle.
* * *
"Haa... how did it come to this."
In the palace's most secret chamber, accessible only to the Emperor, he clutched his nearly bald head against a throbbing migraine.
The Empire's greatest man in history, who'd transcended mortal limits in a human body—the First Emperor, Ahenobarbus.
When he'd returned to the continent, the Emperor's heart had raced with admiration.
Twenty years ago, their meeting had been too brief; this time, he'd planned to properly seek his teachings.
"Ehehehe... Ooonure~~ Mamma's~~~..."
But the mightiest emperor lay there with a Luddera headset on, wearing a dopey expression like a total idiot.
"This is our First Emperor?"
He'd traversed countless dimensions in a mortal body, even toppling gods from other realms.
No mythic hero could compare to his feats—yet now he just looked like a senile old man regressing to infancy.
Though his apparent age was mid-twenties, making him look younger than the balding Emperor.
"Uuu... Ahebu's all grown up now... Love my disciple..."
It was unbearable.
"What in the world are you doing in there, Ancestor?"
The Emperor squeezed his eyes shut.
He'd tried Luddera himself.
A paradise without death or loss. A devilish temptation sweeter than any resource or power.
He'd heard even the mightiest warriors got hooked and never logged out...
"But this is too much..."
Riiiing-riiiing-riiiing.
"This is..."
His emergency alert magic activated.
"Schmidt, huh."
A special guild handpicked by imperial decree from the Empire's top players.
The Emperor's most trusted at the moment.
Floors 2 and 3 had fallen to the Beast King and some lunatic claiming to be the First Emperor, but if anyone could claim floor 4, it was Schmidt's Royal Knights.
"...That lunatic isn't actually my ancestor, right?"
No way the guy who'd seized floor 3 and booted everyone out was pulling this.
Still, he trusted Schmidt enough to set up a direct hotline spell.
Beep.
Activating it summoned a hologram of Schmidt's face before the Emperor.
-I pay respects to the Empire's absolute sovereign.
"It's me. What's up?"
He'd angled to hide the First Emperor in the background.
...?
"You... what's with your hair..."
-You've seen it, Your Majesty!
The Emperor cherished Schmidt not just for his skill.
His own hair had been thinning relentlessly.
He'd consulted grand archmages and Holy Kingdom cardinals, but even gods couldn't cure baldness.
Sharing that hell made Schmidt special to him.
But across the comm spell, Schmidt's head gleamed—not bald.
-Your Majesty! We've found it! A miracle on this floor!
The Emperor's stalled heart began to race.