Chapter 37

As would be expected, moving to the right door was the correct choice.

Trian circled around the dungeon rooms, which all appeared identical at first glance, several times, but quickly gained a sense of direction and skillfully guided us onward.

“We were fortunate. Had we chosen the left door there, we would have spent hours trying to find our way back.”

“…That’s fortunate, then.”

To Trian, who spoke with such chilling casualness, I replied with a voice laced with reluctance.

I simply didn’t possess the stamina to wander this labyrinth for hours on end. Trian’s lighthearted remark, while perhaps fortunate news to others, certainly wasn’t for me.

After that, we circled through nearly ten chambers before arriving at a room laden with mines.

As the door swung open, a corroded floor greeted us, along with a mana mine clinging tightly to the opposite door.

“…Wait there, Lire.”

The moment he saw the mana mine, Trian stopped Lire, who, eager to fulfill his duty, was already stepping forward rashly.

Since a predecessor had apparently passed through this room, the odds of hidden traps were low, but Trian was, even among rangers, a cautious soul.

He carefully and meticulously searched the entire room before confirming that there were no traps aside from the mine, then signaled to Lire that it was safe to proceed.

Lire sent several pulses of electricity from his fingertips, deftly disarming the mine. Circuits, their purpose utterly beyond my comprehension, melted away from the exterior of the black, cylindrical device.

“Let’s move on.”

Confirming that Lire had completely neutralized the mine, Trian wasted no time in approaching the door, the trail of corrosion leading onwards.

Pressing his ear close, checking to see if anything lurked on the other side, Trian waited several moments before slowly pushing the door open.

“…They treated their wounds here in haste and then moved on; the bloodstains have faded.”

In the center of the next room, a deep pit yawned. An injured demon, it seemed, had sat there and tended to their wounds in a hurry.

“Can you track them?”

“It’s no difficult task. I will soon find their tracks again.”

The signs of corrosion had ended, but for Trian, a ranger of great skill, there were clearly clues enough to follow.

“They went this way.”

Analyzing footprints and the presence of dust on the door handle with meticulous care, Trian soon indicated a new path to follow.

“Ah, right. Just so you know, that door stuck to the west wall is a fake. Some kind of mimic monster… Wouldn’t want you getting eaten alive for opening it up carelessly.”

He opened the door and exited the room, offering the warning while pointing at the imitation door.

Unlike ordinary mimics that disguise themselves as boxes, the monsters in this forest region could also masquerade as fake doors.

The higher the dungeon’s level, the more varied and cunning the tricks of the monsters dwelling within, naturally.

“It could probably swallow even you, Orc. So try not to get too close, if possible.”

“…I’ll leave a mark on it then, so we don’t forget.”

Rex, in case we got confused and opened the wrong door by mistake, raised his axe high and made a large scratch on the floor right beneath the deceptive door.

Dungeons often had interconnected room layouts, so it was important to meticulously mark traps like this to avoid falling for them.

“Let’s move.”

After that, guided by Trian, we crossed between rooms countless times.

Then, at some point, he stopped walking and stroked his chin as if deep in thought.

“Did you discover something?”

“There’s a mine in this room, but the problem is… I also sense the presence of a large monster along with it.”

“…How is that even possible?”

I asked, dumbfounded.

…Why are those two in the same room?

A mine being planted meant the demonkin had passed through, and where the demonkin had passed, there shouldn’t be any monsters, right?

“How would I know? It seems a monster took root after the mine was planted. Mines don’t explode unless stepped on, so it’s not an impossible situation.”

“No, how could a monster settle in with a mine there? It’s strange that the two are coexisting. Isn’t it normal for the monster to step on the mine and set it off?”

“I am neither a detective nor a prophet. How would I know why the situation has become so tangled? What’s important now is the fact that beyond this room, a mine and a monster, both exist together.”

To Trian, it seemed, the specifics of how things had gotten into such a tangle were of little consequence.

I stared at him, wondering how he could maintain such composure in this absurd situation.

“When you’ve lived for around 1200 years, you experience things far more ridiculous than this.”

“Well, dungeons aren’t exactly known for their common sense. It’s probably best not to dwell too much on how this happened,”

Rex said, trying to soothe me as he saw the bewildered look on my face.

“…I’ll open the door to assess the situation, but there’s a possibility of a fight. A foolish monster might stumble upon us, thrash around, step on a mine, and blow itself up in a spectacular fashion. Either way, it’s best to stay on edge.”

At first, the latter sounded like a favorable outcome, but in truth, that was the worst-case scenario for us.

Even in a level 40 dungeon, dealing with a handful of weak monsters wouldn’t be too difficult for a party like ours.

We had a 4th circle prodigy mage, an orcish barbarian who would soon be hailed as a hero, and a capable ranger, all on the same team.

The real problem was if a monster detonated a mine.

In that case, the deafening blast would echo throughout the dungeon, announcing our location far and wide, summoning the dungeon’s slumbering inhabitants from every corner.

“Stay alert. I’m opening it.”

Trian finished speaking, carefully pushed the doorknob, and cautiously peeked his head through the gap.

I followed suit, intently observing the scene visible through the narrow opening.

“…You have got to be kidding me.”

And seeing the spectacle before me, I couldn’t help but mutter a curse under my breath.

Because there was no kidding around with a situation this ridiculous.

A mine, radiating sinister magic, was positioned in the very center of the room. Surrounding the mine, which was taking it all of the spotlight, a thick, sticky web was spun, and tracing the web upwards, a colossal spider, too grotesque for words, greeted us from above.

So enormous that it obscured the indecipherable murals on the ceiling, the spider slept with its dozens of eyes closed, large enough to swallow even a massive orc like Rex in one or two bites.

How on earth did things end up like this? How did that demon manage to plant the mine in the center of a room where such a colossal monster was slumbering?

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say a monster had secretly infiltrated the mine-laden room and established its lair? If so, how had it so exquisitely avoided setting one off for all this time? And for what reason would it nest in a room riddled with mines, anyway?

We could only stare mutely through the crack in the door, at a scene where cause and effect remained stubbornly elusive.

After scrutinizing the room for a long moment, Trian carefully closed the door, cautious not to rouse the spider from its slumber.

“We need a plan.”

“How could it be so…exquisite…”

“I too am taken aback by this…unusual sight, but… for now, focus only on resolving the immediate situation.”

As if proving he hadn’t reached 1200 years of age for nothing, Trian remained remarkably unfazed by the spectacle we had just witnessed.

“…Though improbable, it’s likely the monster was born in that room, and has safely established its nest without detonating any mines. Regardless of how the situation came to be, as Trian says, it matters not. The key is the solution.”

‘We are unbelievably out of luck,’ Rex seemed to be thinking to himself.

…For some reason, my chest feels a pang.

Could my ruinous luck stat of 1 have precipitated even this ridiculous situation?

Madness. I can’t seem to think of any other way to explain this absurd set of affairs…

Before long, an asteroid, wandering through space, will suddenly alter its trajectory and come crashing down exactly where I’m standing, all because of my low luck stat.

And when that moment arrives, I’ll gaze up at the approaching asteroid and lament thusly:

‘Damn it, I should have invested just 1 more point into that cursed luck stat…’

Having confirmed that luck is, indeed, such a terrifying stat, I even begin to entertain the strange notion that perhaps those 20 points I invested in magic would have been better spent on luck.

‘If I put 20 into luck, wouldn’t that let me drop an asteroid on my opponent’s head, instead of my own?’

What else is magic? If you can drop an asteroid on someone’s head with only a prayer, that’s magic, isn’t it?

“From what I observed, the webbing isn’t as dense as one might expect. I’m not sure why, but there are obvious signs the webs were strung hastily. It would be impassable for someone Rex’s size, but an elf or a human, maybe two, could squeeze through.”

While I wasted time filling my head with utterly useless regrets, Trian calmly began formulating a plan to resolve this predicament.

“…….”

Lir, hearing Trian’s plan, frowned as she looked at him, as if sensing something ominous.

“The best course of action is for Lir to weave through the web, dismantle the traps quietly so as not to wake the spider, and return.”

“Pardon?”

Lir stared at Trian, her eyes questioning if she’d misheard.

“…….”

“…….”

Trian remained silent, his expression alone serving as his reply.

*You heard correctly.*

“Wh-what? M-me, really?!”

After a moment of silence, Lir finally seemed to grasp what Trian was asking of her, flinching back in alarm as she waved her hands wildly in the air.

Lir’s reaction was delayed by a good three beats… but well, that wasn’t the important thing right now.

“…Because we cannot ask this of that clumsy oaf. Besides, no matter what, you are an elf. Agility and flexibility are your birthright, so there’s little reason to worry.”

Trian spoke, looking toward me as he said so.

…Certainly, with my cursed body, even if the gaps were massive, it would be impossible to avoid all the spiderwebs, quietly disarm the landmines, and return to this room.

I’d undoubtedly stumble, move an arm wrong, brush against a web, and end up awakening the giant spider monster.

Minimizing noise was the crux of this expedition, so it was unavoidable that Lir, and not I, was being drafted for this operation.

“A-actually, I’m not an elf. My ears were just naturally born long… a k-kind of mutation, maybe….”

“Rex, the little one, and I will prepare for battle in case Lir fails. Remember, the worst-case scenario is that the mines detonate and draw the surrounding monsters here. Under no circumstances can we allow the mines to explode. Even if a fight breaks out, Lir should not participate and prioritize disarming the mines above all else.”

Trian, as if deaf to Lir’s pathetic excuse, turned his head toward us and continued explaining the operation.

“U-Um, excuse me…?”

“Got a better plan, then?”

Trian kept tossing the question back at Lir, who was making sounds like a ghost.

Seeing Trian’s pressuring gaze, she seemed frightened. She only managed a small whisper, “No, it’s just…,” before pulling her hat down, retreating into a turtle shell defense.

“…Doesn’t seem like it. Then we proceed with this plan.”

“…….”

Lir carefully lifted her hat, peering at me with those huge eyes.

…Why does she always look my way when there’s trouble?

Really testing my resolve here.

I tried my best to look the other way, avoiding her gaze.

“Um, Bean? Bean…?”

It was a blatant plea for rescue, but I couldn’t answer it.

Even I had to admit, Trian’s idea felt like the best course of action.

It wasn’t like there was some other, better strategy on offer…

This was force majeure, as far as I was concerned.

“Well, that’s that…”

* * *

I had always assumed circuses weren’t much of a spectacle in a medieval fantasy setting.

The people juggling acrobatics on wires dozens of meters high with nothing but a pole, or the ones taming lions and breathing fire, wouldn’t exactly be considered impressive figures in this fantastical world.

After all, this world had mages who could conjure flames with a few snaps of their fingers, and monstrous warriors who could fall from cliffs hundreds of meters high without a scratch.

So, in a fantasy world, a circus wouldn’t exactly be the pinnacle of entertainment. Obviously.

…Or at least, that’s what I thought.

That is, until I saw Lyr fighting her way through hundreds of strands of webbing, risking her neck with every contortion right before my eyes.

“…Hff, uuuh…!”

Her face looked like she was about to burst into tears, but her jaw was clenched tight as she took a step, then another, toward the center of the room.

Sometimes, she leaned back as far as she could, as if doing the limbo, taking steps like that. Other times, she lifted one foot off the ground and balanced on her hands, moving almost like a high-priced acrobat in some fancy circus.

Elves are born with incredibly high agility stats, supposedly because they’re born in lush forests and spend their whole lives among the trees and undergrowth…

But Lyr has spent her entire life in Alter Heindel’s magic tower, living with books and quills.

That’s why I never had high expectations for Lyr as an elf.

But what do you know?

She was showing off movements far more agile than I’d expected, nimbly dodging through the web.

Is this what genetic memory feels like?

Watching her innate grace, I felt a strange sense of deprivation.

If I’d known, I would have been born an elf, too. And here I am, thinking I’ll reach my prime as a human…

“…Ho.”

Rex breathed out a soft exclamation, just loud enough for us to hear.

Certainly, Lyr was heading towards the room’s center with movements so nimble that our worries were starting to feel unfounded.

…Or rather, she *was*.

Her movements stopped in an instant.

I tilted my head, watching her abrupt halt.

The path to the center, carefully woven by Trian, was one she had studied from maps countless times – surely, she had mastered it. There seemed no reason to stop now…

“…Sweat.”

Trian, swallowing a bitter smile as if overwhelmed by an unforeseen variable, quietly unslung the bow from his back and took it in hand.

He seemed to sense the mission’s failure. But as I watched him prepare for battle, I was again overcome with bewilderment.

Lir, with her innate flexibility, had navigated the spiderwebs with ease, nearly reaching the chamber’s heart. Her posture wasn’t faltering, she hadn’t made any obvious mistakes, so why did he perceive the operation’s failure?

“Tch.”

Rex, however, understood his words instantly and assumed a fighting stance.

I narrowed my eyes, searching for the anomaly, staring intently at Lir, who was frozen as a statue. And then, finally, I began to understand what was going wrong.

“…”

A large bead of sweat, caught by the thicket of webs around her, hung precariously from Lir’s chin.

A testament that, contrary to her smoothly flowing movements, her mind was paralyzed with fear.

The tension – one wrong move and her life could be forfeit – had brought a cold sweat to her cheeks.

These small droplets had gathered and merged, forming a sizable mass clinging to the edge of her chin.

“Hoo…”

Lir must be feeling it with every fiber of her being, that large droplet that seemed ready to fall to the ground at any moment, should even the slightest breeze stir.

Spider-type monsters were so sensitive that they wouldn’t miss even the faintest tremor in their webs.

Her eyes darted about, searching for a place where she could drop the sweat gathering under her chin without consequence.

But gravity would not wait for her decision. Before her search could conclude, the large drop broke free from her delicate chin and plummeted.

Immediately, the giant spider above her spread its legs.