Baim Underground Dungeon.
Having advanced to the twentieth floor below ground, we spent our days battling Monsters while securing the supply route from the surface down to floor twenty.
Using the expansive chamber as our command post, we waited for messengers from the surrounding units and issued orders accordingly.
General Broa sighed while sitting down.
"Maintaining a cohesive group in an environment where enemies attack from every direction is no small feat. And the units we send to the surface have it even harder. They have to collect Monster materials and Magic Stones, transport those up top, and then bring supplies back down here. You know, adventurers used to do all of this on their own."
The scale was large and we were busy with a hundred different things, but fundamentally it was the same as one party handling everything. It was certainly tough, but probably not the kind of tough General Broa was imagining.
"If anything, our scale is just too big. Normally, a much smaller group could handle all of this. Well, it all depends on the party, though."
General Broa looked around.
"You start to lose all sense of time down here. And we've been resting the wounded and those who've leveled up in a separate room, but... it really is grueling. Adventurers should be the ones suffering through this. These people are practically specialists at fighting effectively in confined spaces, aren't they? If I'd known, I would've been far more cautious."
Hearing him say that put me in an awkward spot, but the difference between how soldiers and adventurers fought on the battlefield was indeed enormous. Just then, a messenger came rushing into the command post.
"Message! The second company has identified a floor lord! The corridor looks like this—"
General Broa and I examined the memo the messenger had brought. I handed it to Valkyrie Number Two, who began plotting it onto the map.
I studied the map.
"With this, the map of the twentieth floor is almost complete."
General Broa rested his chin on his hand as he gazed at the map.
"...Even if we finish it, the passages shift after a certain period. Leave it sitting for a while and this map becomes useless too. What a waste."
I turned to Number One.
"I'll go out myself. We could take it down by surrounding it as a group, but I've been pushing too hard. Let me rest up a bit, then we'll aim for floor twenty-one."
It was the kind of arrangement where I'd only show up for the boss kill, but nobody—knights and soldiers who were fundamentally not adventurers—felt like they were being robbed of anything. If anything, they probably felt relieved to have less work on their plate.
Holding my katana in my left hand, Number One in her blue armor gave a slight nod, her golden twin-tails swaying a bit. She bore a striking resemblance to Monica, the biggest difference being her small chest—rather, the lack of one.
Damian had said she was magnificent.
"I will accompany you."
General Broa rose from his chair.
"If it were possible, I would prefer the Alliance Leader to bring an escort."
I was fastening the scabbard to my waist with the metal fittings as I replied.
"It's unnecessary. Besides, on this floor, I can still manage alone for now."
The people around me looked exasperated, but since I'd defeated several floor lords—bosses—before, no one spoke up.
General Broa sat back down, covering his face with his hand.
"Well, that's true, but we have our own pride here. It doesn't feel good to be told we're unreliable."
I considered it briefly, but right now, it was better to have fewer people around.
"...Let's do that next time. Let's go."
I left the room with Number One, touching the Jewel. The Third Generation spoke as he watched the knights and soldiers nearby.
*'Well, it wouldn't be fun for them. But it's better to keep your trump card hidden until the end. There are still many people whose allegiance isn't clear.'*
The Seventh Generation shared a similar opinion.
*'There are many who let things slip. In Raial's current state, unless the opponent is boss-class on this floor, they won't even serve as a proper test of strength.'*
Right now, I wanted to hide my hand as much as possible. Especially since my opponent was my father, against whom I couldn't use my Skills. Considering the future, it was best to keep my cards close to my chest.
With Number One in tow, I set off, taking the shortest route through the Dungeon until I reached the room where the boss awaited.
—Count Rebel Bagdia.
He had been approaching a woman at the Lufence Royal Castle who had either just announced an engagement to Raial, or with whom such a relationship existed.
While it might be difficult to meet the women who were out and about, it was easy to simply meet Shannon or Lianne, who worked within the royal castle.
Moreover, a maid like Monica could be found quickly by just searching the hallways.
Lianne couldn't leave her office much. Shannon was being put to work helping out around the castle, so it was relatively easy to locate her.
Baldoa was the one wary of Leibel getting close to these women. Even now, spotting Leibel talking to other knights in the hallway, Baldoa approaches.
"Count! What is the meaning of this? To frequent the women's quarters instead of participating in training during this busy time... shouldn't you avoid behavior that could cast doubts of infidelity?"
From Baldoa's perspective, before being the Leader, Laiel was the proper heir to the lordly line. Currently, he revered him as his master due to his family's wishes. It was unpleasant to see Leibel heading towards the women while Laiel was absent.
Upon this, Leibel, who had two knights with him, shrugged.
"Come now, Lord Baldoa. You think such things? How sad. I am, despite everything, a knight of Banseim. Furthermore, I am from a Count's family, a direct retainer of the Royal Household. To be suspected of infidelity is an unjust blow. Moreover, wouldn't that suspicion also imply a lack of trust in the Leader's fiancées?"
Baldoa felt that the "direct retainer" part subtly contained the meaning of "a mere vassal of House Walt."
"Shouldn't you refrain from such confusing behavior? Besides, what is your reason for not joining the training?"
The fragility of the patchwork group was standing out precisely because its scale had grown too large.
Within the Lufence royal castle, missing both Laiel and Broa, morale was starting to slip. Broa was originally a general of Banseim with his subordinates gathered, and as for Laiel, he had drilled Banseim mercilessly on the battlefield more times than one could count.
Both had a proven track record, and the absorbed soldiers had no choice but to stay silent. However, with Baldoa, the other soldiers felt they could relax their vigilance.
It wasn't so much a lack of accomplishments as it was that his achievements were overshadowed by Laiel and the others. At the same time, being in the position of a vassal to House Walt also led to him being looked down upon by the surrounding nobility.
One of the knights Leibel was with clicked his tongue.
"Tch, a mere vassal."
At those words, the atmosphere on the spot began to turn dangerous. Baldoa had his own pride.
"...You seem to want to be called a defeated remnant. After Lord Laiel's benevolence spared your lives..."
As the atmosphere soured between them, it was actually the knight in Leibel's entourage whose hand reached for the sword at his hip first.
But just then, Monica appeared in that place.
"Lord Baldoa, Lady Lianne is calling for you. She wants you in the executive office immediately."
Monica addressed Lianne with the honorific "Lady" in front of everyone. At her sudden appearance, the four men withdrew their hands from their sword hilts.
Leibel spoke to Baldoa.
"We can't very well draw blood in front of a lady."
His attitude was almost as if Baldoa were the one who'd been cut down, but three against one was, admittedly, poor odds. Baldoa thought as well.
(I let my blood go to my head. I need to stay calmer.)
Reflecting that his busyness and his opponent's provocations had cost him his composure, Baldoa noticed that Monica was watching the backs of Leibel's group of three. Seeing this, Baldoa addressed her.
"Forgive me. I'll head to Lady Lianne's at once—"
But Monica said:
"No need. It was a lie, so there's no problem. Well, that's what I was told to say, anyway. You may leave them be."
At Monica's words, Baldoa's expression turned serious.
"Then discipline will slip. Their conduct has been outrageous as it is, and if we let it continue, when Lord Laiel returns—"
Monica turned to face Baldoa and spoke, expressionless:
"There will be no problem. Everything will be settled before the Chicken comes back. All I ask is that you carry on with your normal duties, Lord Baldoa. And I'd appreciate it if you refrained from any more rash actions. Should anything happen, the Chicken would be saddened."
All Baldoa could do was watch Monica turn and walk away.
"Leave them be and there's no problem… Surely not."
It was a vast room.
Wider than the corridors leading up to it, with a high ceiling. Stones embedded in the walls, ceiling, and floor glimmered with light, but since there wasn't enough illumination, I'd had Valkyrie Number One carry a lantern.
Facing the Minotaur, the monster that lorded over this great room, I darted around the area with my katana in my right hand.
Its colossal frame stood nearly twice the height of a man, and combined with its speed, it felt like a charging wall.
"Definitely going to get someone killed at this rate. Even if we throw everything at it, we'd need our best fighters packed in tight to keep casualties from getting ugly — wait!"
It caught up to me. The Minotaur's massive club, raised high, came crashing down onto the floor. Even upon impact the club didn't break — it gouged into the stone instead.
That said, the floor would repair itself soon enough. Still...
"It looks nothing but a chunk of wood — is that really a club?"
When I voiced that doubt, the Minotaur shook its bovine head to the side and opened its maw wide. Spittle scattered in every direction, and its red eyes seemed to glow.
Its body was riddled with scars. I was the one who'd put them there.
From inside the Jewel, the Third Generation's voice reached me.
"Tough one — that works in our favor. Perfect for practice. All right, Laiel."
At those words, I focused my consciousness once more. Focused, and activated my Skill.
"...Warp."
Without dodging the club sweeping in horizontally, I activated the Seventh Generation's Skill and teleported from where I stood to behind the Minotaur. Sparks flew as the club grazed the floor, but my eyes were locked on the Minotaur's head as I brought my katana down.
"Still shallow."
Attacking after teleporting. It sounded simple, but it was anything but. The Seventh Generation offered me some advice.
"Better than before. Keep at it and you'll get the hang of it. Though honestly, chaining them together still looks like it'll be tough."
It was originally the Seventh Generation's Skill. From her perspective, it must look clumsy — after all, when anyone other than the original user activates a Skill, everything from the mana consumption to the physical toll is on a completely different level.
The mana drain was enormous, and the strain was just as bad. It was one person's exclusive Skill. It'd be more surprising if forcing its use didn't cause problems.
I carved a diagonal gash roughly a meter long and several centimeters deep from the Minotaur's neck down its back, but there was still no sign of it falling.
It roared and threw a backfist with its left hand — at me, having circled behind it.
I caught it in midair, using the force of its own attack to create significant distance between us.
Sure enough, Valkyrie Number One had already arrived at my landing spot ahead of me. She had the wing-like binders on her back deployed, ready to shield me in case I couldn't move.
That's what I said to Number One.
"Three doesn't feel right either. I tried Four before, so give me Five."
"Understood."
One of the binders opened, revealing several katanas stored inside. Number One pulled out the fifth one from the alternating upside-down arrangement and handed it to me.
I passed the katana I'd been holding to Number One, then moved to draw the Minotaur's attention and resumed our chase.
Third Generation watched, concerned about my katana.
"I brought several that are slightly different, but was Five still the best pick? From the outside, your attacks do look sharper with it."
Out of all the ones I'd tried, Five definitely felt the most natural. I'd tested the others too, but Five was unquestionably the right choice. The grip, the cutting feel — everything just clicked.
"Once we're back, I'd like you to forge a proper one based on Five. But before that—"
I turned to face the charging Minotaur, waited for it to attack, and activated my teleportation — the Warp skill.
Perhaps the Minotaur had caught on from our repeated patterns, because it immediately swung its club behind it this time.
But—
"Too bad. Thanks to that, though, I've got the timing down."
The incoming club struck empty air. I'd shifted to a slightly higher position, and as I descended, I watched the Minotaur turn toward me with wide eyes and unleashed a horizontal slash—
The bull's head soared through the air.
I landed and went to sheathe the katana—
"Oh, this is a different katana's scabbard."
It didn't fit, so I called Number One over and handed the katana off. The Minotaur's body gushed blood from its neck and toppled backward, revealing the staircase to the underground that had been blocked off.
Number One collected my katana, carefully wiped the blood from the blade, and placed it back in the scabbard.
"Excellent work, Master."
I looked at Number One's face.
"Same face as Monica, calling me 'Master'... The dissonance is incredible."
The same face as Monica. But since her expressions haven't developed yet, she remains expressionless. Still, a Monica who doesn't call me "chicken"... I feel nothing but dissonance.
Then, Number One speaks.
"It's troubling to be compared to that clunker. However, if you dislike that clunker, you're welcome to have me serve as your exclusive attendant."
She has no expression, but she is indeed an Automaton. A kin of Monica. Surely, this is the personality all Automatons share, whether broken or not.
"The ancients who created you lot... what were they thinking to give you this kind of personality..."
The mystery of the ancients only deepens. Well, it doesn't concern me at the moment.