Roughly an hour after the giant battleship was shot down, we finally encountered the new presences on floor 23.
“Hmm... Would you folks happen to be the Arrivers?” asked the man standing at the front of a group of six adventurers.
He was tall and slender, wearing a shirt that hung off him loosely. He appeared to be in his late thirties. I couldn’t tell if he was tired or if it was just his default expression, but he looked pretty spiritless. On his back, he was carrying a long-barreled firearm that emitted a sinister purple glow. I figured he was probably the second sniper.
He continued, “There’s no need to be on guard. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re dungeon-diving comrades. Let’s get along, shall we?”
“So, you guys are...?” Force started to ask.
“Oh, that’s right. My bad. Forgot to introduce ourselves,” the man replied, scratching his head. “I’m Diego Brahmandos of Liberation. My hobby is...dungeon exploration, I guess? I don’t exactly do anything else. Well, that’s basically it.”
Diego extended his hand to a befuddled Force, who shook it.
“I’m Force. The leader of the Arrivers, you could say. It’s nice to meet you. Are you your party’s leader?”
“Nope. That’d be this fellow here.”
Diego placed his arm around the shoulders of a slighter man standing next to him.
“M-Me?!” The shorter guy flinched.
“Wouldn’t you say? You’re the one who started this party.”
“All I did was say that I wanted to solve the puzzles of the dungeon! The one who suggested we try tackling it and actually gathered everyone was you, Diego!”
“But if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve had the idea. So there’s nothing wrong with saying you’re our leader.”
“No thank you! I don’t want such a stressful role.” The shorter guy cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Speaking of which, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Lou Posti, the crestcaster of this party.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“Crestcaster?” Erin cocked her head when she heard this.
He clapped his hands together and replied, “That’s right! I’d forgotten that crestcasters are rare in this country. Well, you can think of it as a battle style similar to mage. The way we convert magical energy into spells is the same.”
“Really? So what’s different?”
“Mainly that we use crests as catalysts for spells, I suppose. Drawing them is a step that makes the process more complex than traditional spellcasting, but we’re able to use more sustainable spells because of it. It’s a rearline role that’s more suited for buffs than offense, I’d say.”
“I see. So mages make better attackers.”
Erin, stop trying to make yourself sound good at every opportunity.
“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m Note Athlon,” I said, introducing myself before asking what had really been on my mind. “So, when you say you want to solve the puzzles of the dungeon, what kind of puzzles are you expecting?”
“The mystery of the dungeons’ very existence—who created them and what purpose they were created for. There’s so much that’s yet unknown.”
“Now that you mention it...”
I’d grown so accustomed to the dungeon that I’d started to think of it as something perfectly ordinary, but in truth, all dungeons were otherworldly. The monsters inside them were far stronger than any on the surface, and the treasures they contained couldn’t be found anywhere else. Their traps and terrain were designed to test those who dared to invade them too. There was purpose to every part of the dungeons, yet they simultaneously made no sense. Any adventurer trying to conquer one could sense it—there was something artificial about dungeons.
“This is just one example, but do you know who’s generally believed to have created the dungeons?” Lou asked.
“That would be God!” Neme replied. She was a devout believer of Cecinaism, the most prevalent religion in our country. This was a common view among its followers.
“That’s right,” said Lou. “And what else in our world do people believe was made by God?”
“Hmm... Neme’s not sure...”
I guess being a believer didn’t mean you knew everything. To be fair, I had no idea what the answer was either.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The divine slates.”
Ah, yeah, that made sense. The one absolute in our world was skills. When you turned fifteen, you received them by offering up a prayer at a divine slate. They existed across the land, yet their origins were unknown. Their supernatural power was such, however, that the prevailing theory was that they were artifacts created by God. In our kingdom, they were mainly managed by the Church of Cecinaism.
“However, if the dungeons and divine slates were made by the same deity, then that gives rise to an inconsistency,” Lou continued.
“How so?”
“There exists something unique to dungeons that’s neither monster nor artifact. Miss Mage, do you know what that is?” Lou asked.
Erin was taken aback. “Huh? Me?!”
He scratched his head and apologized, “Sorry for putting you on the spot. The answer is dungeon script. If you’re a mage aiming to clear the dungeon, you’re familiar with it, no?”
Dungeon script was a special language that appeared in various places throughout the floors. It sometimes provided tips about the current area, and sometimes information about spells or arts. For anyone learning magic, it was key to gaining new knowledge. Of course Erin had studied it.
“What about it, though?” she asked.
“Don’t you think it’s strange? The dungeons and divine slates are said to be created by the same being, so why do they use different languages?”
“Oh!”
That was a good point. The divine slates used a common script, while the dungeon had its own language. If they were created by the same being, then that was kind of an inconsistency. Of course, there was a possibility that the text of the slates had been simplified so that everyone could read them, but if God could write in our language, then why use something else in the dungeon?
“So you think the dungeon and divine slates were created by different beings?” I asked.
“Who can say?” Lou responded. “I don’t have enough information to conclude anything right now. It could be that different gods created them, or perhaps that neither are of divine origin in the first place. We won’t know the truth until we reach the end of the dungeon.”
Who made the divine slates...? Honestly speaking, I was more curious about that than who’d created the dungeon. Skills were everything in this world. Receiving a good one could shoot you to the top of the ladder overnight. Conversely, a bad skill could knock you down just as fast. My own life had changed forever with my presentation ceremony. Because of my skill, I was forced to give up on my dream of becoming a great adventurer...until I was picked up by the Arrivers for that very same skill. That was why I no longer resented Mapping, but I still would’ve loved to see the face of the guy who gave it to me.
“Say, why don’t we wrap up the chatter here? It’s almost been five minutes. The next sniper shot is coming,” Diego said, his hands glowing.
“Yes, but you’re the one who’s going to intercept it for us.”
“Even so, you can’t let your guard down. Whenever you start ranting about dungeon mysteries, Lou, you lose sight of your surroundings.”
With that, two guns appeared in Diego’s hands—handguns wreathed with an aura of magical energy. They’d materialized out of nowhere. And no sooner had they appeared than the boss fired from the tower. Before Force or Roslia could draw their swords against the incoming projectile, Diego pulled the trigger. There was an explosion midair. It was the sound of magical bullets meeting.
“Well, I suppose a sniper of this level isn’t worth worrying about,” Diego said, blowing out the smoke rising from the ends of his guns.
When she saw this, Sofie mumbled, “Marksman of the Holy Gun?”
“Ah, so you’ve heard of it before? You’re right on the money. I’ve got Marksman of the Holy Gun, one of the six sacred skills. It’s rarity EX, so it’s considered the strongest of all combat skills. I’m able to explore the dungeon thanks to its legendary power.”
“I’ve never heard of the six sacred skills before...”
“Well, no two people can possess the same EX-rarity skill at once, so decades can go by before a new user inherits it. Not many people know about them.” Diego continued, “The only other confirmed wielder is the inheritor of the holy staff in this kingdom, I suppose. Ah, there were rumors of a princess getting the holy sword in a kingdom to the west— Wait, isn’t that it?” Wide-eyed, Diego was staring at the sword in Roslia’s hand.
“Oh!” Roslia dismissed it like she was trying to hide it, then turned away with a forced smile. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“The fact you can make it appear and disappear at will is proof that it’s a weapon from the sacred skill series...”
“Did I just dig my own grave?!”
“That much was obvious at a glance. Are you the princess?”
“Nope! As far as I’ve heard, the princess is dead. You’ve got the wrong girl.”
“Huh... Right...” Diego fell silent under the mysterious pressure he was feeling.
Well, we’d known Roslia for a long time now and she’d never mentioned anything about being a princess before. Diego really did have the wrong girl. I mean, Roslia couldn’t be a princess. She had royal qualities, sure, but someone of such high status would never join our party. That would’ve been on the same level as Leyfa Southerndall becoming an Arriver—and there was absolutely no way that was happening.