“There’s nothing… absolutely nothing here!” Lulune shouted, throwing up her arms as the dead, cracked earth stretched to the horizon.
“Lulune, you’re too loud,” Routier said quietly, her gaze steady as she scanned the empty flats.
Having left several days before Seiichi’s group, Routier and her companions had finally reached the outskirts of the Wailing Land. The journey from the royal capital of Terbelle had taken weeks, and with camping gear strapped to her back, Lulune glared at the wasteland as if it had personally offended her.
“Can you blame me for yelling?!” Lulune snapped, rounding on Origa. “We left before Master Seiichi came back because you said there’d be new, undiscovered food here! Am I wrong?!”
“You’re not wrong,” Origa replied in her usual flat tone, blinking up at her. “I was just surprised you were so quick to leave Seiichi-oniichan behind for a snack.”
“Then what is this place supposed to be?!” Lulune demanded, sweeping an arm across the barren view.
“A wasteland,” Origa said.
“I can see that!” Lulune barked, then turned in a slow circle, taking in the cracked soil, the heat shimmer, the total absence of even a single blade of grass. “There isn’t even a weed, let alone something edible!”
“Still,” Origa murmured, tilting her head, “if it’s an unknown land, then it’s unknown. Nothing existing here is… not strange.”
“Gaaaah! I’ve been tricked!” Lulune howled, clutching her head.
“Um… is she okay?” Zora asked, hovering beside Origa with a worried look. “She’s growling like she’s about to shapeshift into something else.”
“She’s fine,” Origa said without missing a beat. “It’s normal.”
“Is she always like this?!” Zora squeaked.
“The glutton never learns. That’s the problem,” Origa added, then turned to Routier with a small, careful look. “By the way… Routier-oneechan.”
“H-Huh? Oneechan?” Routier blinked, startled by the address.
“Mm. Oneechan,” Origa repeated. “Is that bad?”
“N-No, not bad,” Routier said, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “It’s just… I’m an only child. No one’s ever called me that before.”
“If it’s not bad,” Origa said simply, “then it’s fine.”
“Y-Yeah. So… what is it?” Routier asked, blinking at Origa’s sudden question.
“How much farther to our destination?” Origa asked in her usual soft monotone.
“Oh, that? We should be almost—”
“E-Everyone! There’s a monster!” Zora’s urgent cry cut her off.
At once, Routier and Origa snapped into battle stance, weapons raised and eyes scanning their surroundings.
Up ahead, in the direction they’d been traveling, the silhouette of a quadrupedal creature emerged from the shimmering air.
“Strange,” Origa murmured, narrowing her eyes. “I didn’t sense its presence.”
“I didn’t either,” Routier said, her expression tightening. “But if Zora says it’s there, then it’s real.”
“The atmosphere feels like those undead-type monsters we saw in the dungeon where Zora-oneechan used to live,” Origa added quietly.
“Oh… that explains why we couldn’t feel its presence.” Routier’s eyes widened with understanding, then refocused on the approaching figure.
The creature lumbering toward them resembled an elephant from Earth, but its body was covered in yellow fur. Its face was like that of a baboon, yet its eyes were sunken and dark, empty like voids. Two twisted horns jutted from its forehead, and around its neck grew scales that shimmered like a dragon’s hide.
“What… is that?” Routier breathed, her voice a low whisper of awe and unease.
None of them had ever seen anything like it before.
Maintaining her stance, Origa raised a hand, activating her Analysis skill. A moment later, her eyes went wide.
“What?”
“Origa-chan?” Zora asked, worried by the sudden change in her tone.
Origa’s lips parted slightly as she continued staring at the creature, her voice dropping to a tense whisper. “I used Analysis just now… but its name came up as a string of random symbols. Gibberish.”
“Symbols?” Routier echoed.
“Mm. And more than that—” Origa’s hand trembled slightly as she lowered it. “It doesn’t have a level.”
“No level?!” Routier gasped, the color draining from her face.
The moment Origa finished speaking, both Zora and Routier fell silent.
In this world, every living being bore an absolute truth: the idea of a level. Gaining strength meant increasing that number; challenging it could lead to death. A creature without a level was either an outsider from beyond this world or a divine being above it: a god.
Not a lesser god like the Serpent God from Zora’s dungeon, nor the Black Dragon God who once slept beneath the mountains, but something far greater. A true god, the kind that shaped creation itself.
Even the restless spirits drifting through the underworld were free of levels, for they no longer lived. And then there was Seiichi, who hadn’t stepped beyond the system but caused the system itself to flee from him. His level existed in name only, a hollow symbol without meaning.
Because of that, none of them had ever encountered an enemy that truly lacked a level. Seiichi might have qualified, but since no one could even read his status anymore, they had never realized it.
Now, faced with this unknown monster, the group could do nothing but stand frozen.
The creature’s empty eyes turned toward them.
A low, broken groan rose from its throat, making Origa’s heart seize.
This cold feeling… Something’s wrong. I need to get out. Now!
Following her instincts, she threw herself sideways as the ground she just occupied exploded in a cloud of black mist, writhing and swallowing the air before dissolving into nothingness.
“W-What was that?!” Zora cried out, eyes wide.
“I don’t know,” Routier said sharply, sword raised. “But it’s hostile.”
“I-I figured that much, but still…” Zora’s voice cracked as the thing shifted again.
“No good,” Origa muttered, her gaze fixed. “We don’t have enough information.”
Each time they tried to move closer, the creature’s hollow gaze would snap toward them, and the black miasma would lash out again, forcing them back.
They couldn’t tell what it was, how it attacked, or even if it could be touched.
“Should we wait for Seiichi-oniichan?” Origa asked softly.
Routier hesitated, biting her lip. If this really is what it looks like… waiting might not be enough.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Just as Origa had said, if Seiichi were here, everything would be resolved in an instant. Or rather, Routier thought grimly, he probably wouldn’t even realize there was anything to solve in the first place.
The truth was, they had no idea where Seiichi even was, whether he had already set out or was still halfway across the world. That uncertainty gnawed at her. The thought that the Cult of the Wicked One might already be tampering with the dungeon that sealed her father sent a chill down her spine.
It was the same fear she’d felt back when she hadn’t been strong enough to even approach this land. And now that she finally possessed the power to stand here, that anxiety had only grown sharper.
Even so—
“You’re right,” Routier said at last, steadying her voice. “If we push ourselves and fail to even reach the dungeon, it’ll all be for nothing. So for now, we should—”
Before she could finish, the mysterious creature in front of them suddenly went flying.
“What the—?!” she gasped.
“What are you doing?!” Zora shouted in disbelief.
“You glutton… Reckless as always,” Origa murmured flatly.
Somehow, without any of them noticing, Lulune had slipped past their formation and launched herself straight into the monster’s guard, driving a thunderous kick square into its torso.
The impact sent the creature spinning through the air, and before gravity could reclaim it, Lulune leapt high after it, twisting midair in a perfect forward somersault. Using that momentum, she brought her heel crashing down on its abdomen.
The ground roared as a shockwave rippled outward, carving a crater deep enough to swallow a carriage. At its center, the monster lay limp and unmoving.
Landing lightly at the crater’s edge, Lulune’s eyes sparkled as she gazed down at her handiwork. “Dinner!” she declared triumphantly.
“Idiot…” Origa muttered, pressing her fingers to her temple.
Routier and Zora could only stand there, mouths agape, watching as the dust settled around their overzealous companion.
Sometimes, Routier thought with a weary sigh, it’s not the monsters we have to worry about. It’s her.