Nothing about the dungeon on these floors felt different. Same as always, stagnant air filled the dim corridors, their stony walls and floors providing just enough space for three people to walk beside one another. The monsters, though, proved undeniably more formidable. Yet I’d never before—and probably would never again—had an easier time trekking through the levels. You know how in like RPGs, you can sometimes get a limited run with superstrong characters in your team? Well, that was exactly what we had.
Pops was badass. Every monster we came across from the fifteenth through seventeenth floors, he slew with a single strike. Powered by a deep reservoir of pure brute strength, he moved as quick as the wind and commanded all manner of tricks of the trade refined to perfection over many years. His longsword sliced through enemies like butter, ending their lives with one smooth thrust. But he had more than incredible swordsmanship working for him; he could knock monsters much taller than him out One-Punch Man style, and he had the detailed knowledge of where exactly on a monster to strike for maximum damage—background without which none of these attacks would work. He also had impeccable self-control; his stamina and ryvius barely depleted at all.
“All this time I’ve spent fighting these monsters hasn’t been a complete waste,” or so he put it.
We would’ve already stopped twice to rest had this been a normal expedition, but the father of adventurers showed no signs of slowing down, and his overwhelming contribution meant the others in my party hadn’t tired much, either. Lis, Gaslark, Lazalisa, and Lana had essentially done nothing but walk.
Freyja’s magic played a huge role, too, taking out at the very least half the monsters that encroached on us before they could even get to Pops. She wielded her flames with incredible precision, unleashing unspeakably powerful blazes in the tightest spaces, putting into practice the dungeon-specific spellcraft techniques she’d developed. As if that weren’t enough, Freyja’s magical reserves bordered on elven levels but replenished at heim rates. Clearly, it was not for show that she held that Champion’s title. I could almost hear the resentment boiling underneath Lana’s placid veneer.
The only one currently drained and exhausted was me. This time around, I was in charge of scouting, then baiting and dividing enemy forces. Whenever we spotted a monster in our way, Éa and I would mark it and share whatever intel we could gather. We did not attack without careful consideration. None of the monsters here would fall to one or two arrows, and wounded beasts posed far more danger. Those that communicated with their brethren would soon call for backup. Once huge numbers packed the narrow dungeon corridors, they’d overwhelm and crush you, no matter how talented of an adventurer you were. More than anything, we on search and recon could never allow this to happen. We had to cautiously analyze our enemies to figure out their strengths and weaknesses—though this time, that part of the job had already been done for us.
Baiting and leading solitary monsters didn’t take much. The physical and mental drain came from separating those that traveled in groups. One particularly taxing combo plagued us through the sixteenth and seventeenth floors: a monstrous symbiosis of a murder of chochos and a frog-headed biped. The egg-shaped, winged chochos bore markings that simulated a human face. Though quick in flight and armed with razor-sharp talons, they were one of the easiest creatures to slay—if you met them one-on-one. On these two floors, however, they traveled in groups, bunched together like grapes, around nine per cluster. Even pushovers could cause real trouble if they joined forces.
And by “travel,” I mean those frog-headed bipeds, slender monsters who stood about a meter tall, carried them around like a lantern. Their unnaturally long fingers looked frail, but in truth, they must have housed truly monstrous strength judging by the fact that they could carry a murder of those chochos single-handedly. While they moved their limbs sluggishly, the frog-heads’ tongues shot out at terrifying speeds, snatching adventurers’ armor—or their heads—if they weren’t careful. They then added these new trophies to the bunches they carried.
Frog-heads moved in regular circuits as a rule. Following the routes marked on Pops’s maps, Éa and I would wait for one to pass then attack it from both sides, my sister shooting an arrow through the hand carrying all the chochos, and I lodging bolts in the frog-head’s legs. The bunch of chochos would fall to the floor and scatter momentarily, then regroup and beeline for Éa. All chochos living on the sixteenth floor or lower tended to attack in groups. Once she’d caught their attention, Éa would guide the raging avian beasts to our party while I kept the froggy fiend’s eyes fixed on me, a job that quickly ate away at my nerves and stamina.
The frog-heads could extend their tongues out a full fifteen meters or more and as quick as a cannonball. I had to constantly take cover or risk losing my gear to that sticky trap. At first, I considered blocking with Agaccion, but it would only complicate things if my enchanted blade got stolen. It would undoubtedly return at my call, though unexpected damage to the sword could lead to unforeseen hang-ups. Piercing the frog-heads’ brain and heart also posed a challenge, as the former were annoyingly small, and the latter was thoroughly protected behind thick ribs.
I approached each encounter with caution, careful to not let my desire to end the battle quickly influence my movements. I’d hide from the whiplike tongue behind a corner, wait to hear footsteps, then show myself for the briefest moment, baiting it to follow me farther down the tunnel. These frog-heads didn’t walk while attacking; without fail, they would always aim first, then shoot. That said, even one hit from their tongues could easily delete me from the world; it would be like throwing yourself in front of a cannon. Avoiding them drained my mental energy, the anxiety eating away at my stamina.
My party sent word they’d cleaned up the latest round of chochos sent their way. Time to bring them a new froggy friend. Pulling up the route and guided directions on my glasses, I started zigzagging through the corridor, baiting the tongue to follow while sprinting and dodging its attacks.
Every once in a while, I’d run into another monster during this part. This was beyond dangerous.
A winged snake peeled off one of the corridor walls. These species tracked their prey through thermal energy, so once they spotted you, there was no hiding or running away. Their poisonous fangs left you paralyzed.
Ever aware of the two-legged frog following me, I killed the flying snake with two arrows. These winged serpents had two heads, one on each end of their bodies, and I made sure to hit a bull’s-eye on both. I did weigh whether to simply pin the snake to the wall, but the frog beasts had a natural aversion to them and would stop following me. I had no choice but to take them all down. Éa caught up to me, and together, we safely led our long-tongued foe to the party to meet its doom.
If our group hid close to a corner, then Pops would finish it off. If they stood straight down the corridor, Freyja would do the honors. Every time, a single blow by blade or spell would end the deadly game of tag for good.
ALWAYS split symbiotic monsters up before engaging in battle, read the message written in huge letters on Pops’s maps. Even so, I considered at first having Lana or Freyja take care of them both in one fell swoop of magic. But one half of the monster pairing would inevitably cover for the other, and the remaining half would lash out unpredictably.
If the chochos made it through the first attack, they would scatter and lunge at anyone they could. A full-on brawl would break out. As a rule, monsters tended to target the loudest player in a group. That’s why shield-wielding vanguards would set off some sort of device or let out a war cry; by keeping those targets focused on them, they could protect their party members further back in formation. However, chochos severed from their frog carriers completely ignored those rules. The frog-heads posed a greater danger if their chocho grapes got smushed first; they’d nab weapons or items your party carried and run away, amazingly quick all of a sudden.
Basically, we absolutely had to divide and conquer these symbiotic pairs. Once separated, the rest was easy. My sister and I took turns baiting either the frog-heads or the chochos, though she had a much easier time with either job. Back during her hunting days, Éa used to go at it for two whole days without rest or sleep, continuously lodging arrows into the wild boars’ thick hide so that it bled and eventually weakened. The boars in the Beastfolk Woods belonged to a species exponentially larger than their dungeon-boar descendants. A shallow magic spell wouldn’t even break its skin, and only truly heroic strength could slay one with a sword or spear, so the hunters had no choice but to rely on this traditional, cruel strategy. Éa had survived countless of these expeditions; she was a real hunter—something I fundamentally was not.
“Yukikaze, give me one of those shots.” I’d pretty much hit my breaking point, my ryvius empty from physical exhaustion.
“Squad Member Souya, they are reserved for times of extreme emergency or injury. It is exceedingly dangerous to use them flippantly.”
“Just this once. We’re on a roll. I don’t want to stop.”
“Presenting a suggestion to Lord Medîm.”
“Ah! You!”
Yukikaze took it upon herself to communicate with the rest of the party. “Apologizing for the sudden interruption. I am Yukikaze, the Repaired Wide Area Combat Program Advanced Isolla Model assisting you. Requesting you refer to me as ‘Yukikaze.’ An announcement for all: Squad Member Souya is knackered. Requesting a mission break.”
“Hey!” Don’t ignore my orders and do whatever you want!
These AI bots already had humanlike traits, but recently, they’d begun crossing the line, conducting covert repairs and upgrades on themselves. I had a bad feeling about where this would eventually lead. If we had been back in the modern world, I’d have immediately sent them packing to their manufacturers’ customer-support center.
“Yaya, you okay? You look super pale,” Éa asked with worry when she caught up to me.
“I’m fine. I can keep going.”
“Hey, Souya. There’s a watering hole nearby. We’ll stop there for a break,” Pops announced over the transmitter.