5
After they’d entered Fortress of the Call, the monster attacks grew more ferocious.
“These guys are tough to fight.”
“Naotsugu, a little farther forward! Miss Mari!”
“Gotcha! Reactive Heal!”
As Shiroe pushed the front line up, he desperately scanned the surrounding situation.
It wasn’t that the monsters’ individual combat abilities were high. Monsters that appeared in proper raid zones were Raid-rank monsters. About 70 percent of the monsters that showed up in this zone were Party rank. Even if their levels were high, if they used concentrated attacks and teamwork that made use of their class characteristics, the individual monsters were easy to destroy.
The problem lay in the structure of this zone and the continuous reinforcements.
As a player town, Shibuya had been an open field area. Spain-zaka Slope was complicated, but the road was more than five meters wide in most places, and there had been plenty of room to form ranks or execute team plays. However, this ancient ruin, which was said to have been a broadcasting station in the old world, was an interior zone. Its corridors were complex, mazelike, and barely three meters wide, with lots of corners and bad visibility.
The high-carbon steel doors, which showed no signs of deterioration, all looked the same. If they weren’t careful, there was a danger that they’d lose track of which way was forward and which way was back.
And from the depths of that labyrinth, an inexhaustible supply of monsters welled up, like some sort of waste product. There were Ogres and Minotaur Warriors, but the majority were Eternal Moths and Moon Rabbits.
Having to check every single door put stress on the speed of their progress as well.
Fortress of the Call had many large rooms. The spaces were high-ceilinged and empty, but they weren’t linked to the ends of corridors or to corners. They were on the other side of identical-looking steel doors. For the most part, they didn’t have monsters lurking in them, but the walls of the rooms were often densely covered with Moon Rabbits in translucent eggs and with cocoons wrapped in white thread.
When they got close to them, the eggs burst and the Moon Rabbits sprang at them, or the Eternal Moths hatched. If they left them alone, it was possible they’d close in on Shiroe’s capture unit from the rear, intercept them, and launch a pincer attack. Even if that didn’t happen, once the sun went down, they’d probably emerge and attack Akiba. When they thought about it that way, they had no choice but to put them down.
“Six additional bunnies manifesting,” Soujirou announced.
“I’m not letting you fight all of them, Boss!” Isami called.
“Three hours and forty-five minutes remaining!”
Even as they protected their companions, a Samurai named Isami switched with Soujirou, taking over as the tank. Both belonged to the same guild, and they were used to this: She crossed with him skillfully, picking up the targets, and stepped onto the front line. It was a basic team play, meant to lighten the load. However, it shattered Shiroe.
He should have noticed that move first.
The members had used their own individual skills to cover for Shiroe’s delayed commands. Inattention, hesitation, incomplete predictions: These things were making the entire raid team less efficient.
Shiroe’s weakness was holding them back.
And even though he was aware of this, he was unable to take steps to fix it.
There were about three and a half hours left until moonrise. From what he could guess from the scenery outside, they should have enough time to explore this dungeon. Even so, there was a strange anxiety inside him, making him unsure of his decisions. This might be an unfamiliar area, but raids had their own standard moves. Even capture methods had them, so it was only natural that the zone design and the distribution of monsters would have them as well.
Shiroe had seen five types of monsters in this area. They’d probably seen all the patrolling and regularly stationed monsters by now. Even if there were additional ones in specific rooms or as midlevel bosses, he had a good grasp of the types of monsters that would appear in this zone. He was also gradually figuring out the dungeon’s structure. It was a combination of narrow, low-ceilinged corridors and vast rooms, of generic stairwells and high-steel doors. From the corridor a short while ago, he’d seen another enormous facility outside. The enemy boss was probably either in that facility or, if not there, in Fortress of the Call’s distinctive tower, where he’d initially predicted it would be.
It’s all right. There’s still time.
As if trying to convince himself of that, Shiroe ran over the current situation, then instructed the unit to head for the courtyard. They’d lost nearly half their MP. If it wasn’t going to last all the way to the end, they’d have to recover it somewhere.
Resting in the middle was a basic tactical move during raids. It shouldn’t be a bad idea. Shiroe nodded to Naotsugu, who was looking perplexed, then led the way to the courtyard, the only remaining spot of greenery.
“Ooh. Oh my. Girls wiping off the sweat of battle. That sparkling scent!”
“You get along with one another well in West Wind, don’t you?”
They finally managed to take a break in a courtyard about ten or so meters square, near the center of the dungeon. Although it was surrounded by several dozen meters of concrete ruin, the well-like space felt open and airy. It might have been a garden once: Ornamental plants and tall, broadleaf trees grew on the lawn.
“Well, Boss is strict, you see. No fighting allowed.”
“Thanks to that, every evening is a titillating ‘happening.’”
“Kurinon. Down, girl.”
Although the West Wind Brigade had kicked their legs out and collapsed, exhausted, they still seemed to have enough energy for backchat.
“Bweeeh.”
“You okay, Miss Mari?”
“Eh-heh-heh-heh. This full-dress stuff really is rough, isn’t it?”
Meanwhile, the Crescent Moon League seemed to be very worn out. Their MP was down to 20 percent. In Elder Tales, there were a relatively large number of ways to recover HP, beginning with healing spells, but MP recovery methods were extremely limited.
The most effective way was to get away from the fighting and rest. If you sat quietly or lay down, you could fully recover your MP in about two hours. That was when you had no additional help; it was possible to speed it up with appropriate food items, an Enchanter’s mana recovery special skills, or a Bard’s songs. Now, as a raid team, they’d probably be able to recover half their maximum MP by resting for thirty minutes or so.
In the days of the game, that would have meant a break of no more than a few minutes, but things didn’t work that way in this world. On top of that, it was difficult to secure a safe area in an unfamiliar raid zone. They’d been fortunate to find this open courtyard.
It was surrounded by walls on all four sides, and there were only two places that looked as if they could be used to get in or out. Apart from the Return Point near the entrance of Fortress of the Call, where Li Gan was waiting, it seemed like the safest place.
Shiroe sat down and gazed steadily at his MP display.
Like water filling a cup, the display bar lengthened. As an Enchanter, Shiroe recovered MP faster than any other class. He also had a lot of equipment with effects that emphasized recovery speed.
The other ones who recovered quickest and were surprisingly energetic were the younger group. Although they were tense, they were sitting back to back, their expressions watchful, keeping an eye on all four directions as they rested.
Soujirou, Nazuna, Naotsugu, and Captain Nyanta were speaking to tired team members and passing out drinks. They looked exactly the way they had back during the days of the Debauchery Tea Party, and it made Shiroe feel like smiling.
The Crescent Moon League group—Marielle, Henrietta, Shouryuu, and Hien—had their heads bowed, and they were breathing so roughly that their shoulders heaved. From what he heard, this was their first time on a serious raid, so that was probably only natural. Marielle in particular was a member of the first party and had been acting as Naotsugu’s dedicated healer, so she’d been concentrating the whole time. Tetora’s plentiful combat experience had assisted the Cleric countless times, but even so, Marielle’s mental fatigue was bound to be pretty serious. It might be better to change our formation here in this courtyard, Shiroe thought. That said, it wasn’t easy to come up with alternatives. Nazuna certainly was a skilled healer, but she was too good at working with Soujirou. It had been that way since the Debauchery Tea Party.
Shiroe’s thoughts spun through a variety of expressions, toying with him. It was a little better during combat, but while he was resting, apprehension and anxiety flooded him.
He was worried about the depression in Akiba that Ains had talked about. Even though Isaac and the others had gotten them out of a tough spot, the assassins who’d attacked Maihama were harbingers of the coming deterioration of the relationship between the Holy Empire of Westlande and Eastal, the League of Free Cities. The unfathomable sense of wrongness he’d felt when he’d heard of the Spirit Theory. The post-Catastrophe world, which was cycling through endless changes. The group that called themselves Travelers, and Roe2, who should have been Shiroe’s sub-character.
The Odysseia Knights and Boreas’ Moving Temple.
There was a flood of countless conflicts, things that were too much for Shiroe to handle, but which, at the same time, he couldn’t ignore. No, that was probably self-serving, under the surface. He wasn’t that arrogant and conceited. This was a more personal problem: He didn’t feel settled regarding the decisions he’d made. He wasn’t satisfied. He thought that was all it was.
When he’d established the Round Table Council, when he’d backed Raynesia’s speech, when he’d saved Rundelhaus, and when he’d sought the gold of the Kunie, he’d made his decisions resolutely. He’d been satisfied with them, and even if those choices had resulted in losses, he would have had no regrets.
When he looked back, he wasn’t prepared now. He wasn’t satisfied enough with his choices. That was why he was afraid they would fail, and why he wasn’t able to believe in the future he’d chosen. That was all it was.
Abruptly, the light dimmed.
Several dozen Ogres plummeted down from directly above the open courtyard, blocking out the blue sky.
For a moment, Shiroe was very nearly disoriented, and as if to strike an additional blow, fissures ran up the east and west walls, and minotaurs leapt through them, sending rubble flying like an explosion.
“Enemy attack!”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be a safe area?!”
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