Floor thirty-five underground.
Several weeks had passed since arriving in Baim. The training exercise, which had deployed five thousand people into the Dungeon, had reached a major milestone.
The lack of time had been a significant factor, but we could no longer push any further ahead. The strategy of overwhelming with numbers had also stopped being effective.
Still, the greatest outcome was that we had achieved a considerable degree of success. From among the numerous squads, I had been able to identify personnel capable of leading at the battalion level.
We had also discovered many soldiers with the potential to rise from rank and file to squad leaders. More importantly, the squads that General Broa had been keeping an eye on had shown strong results as well.
In preparation for rotating people out, Number Two had been placing pieces on the map to recreate the Dungeon's internal movements in real time, but—
"...This is remarkable. The breakthrough capability here is on a completely different level from the others. They look like they'd do just fine in the floors beyond this."
When I praised them like that, General Broa also looked pleased.
"I didn't expect results this good, to be honest. But more than that, the lost squad that Lord Lyle had been keeping tabs on seems to be doing well too, doesn't it?"
The lost squad.
They were a collection of problem children who had separated from their battalion early on when they first started tackling the Dungeon and gotten themselves lost. After that, they got lost two more times. I had judged that the squad should be disbanded just watching them, but the timing never worked out for various reasons, so they kept operating as-is.
I had kept an eye on them from time to time, but I never imagined they would grow this much.
"How should I put it... they're too eccentric. More so than the troops General Broa was watching, their individual personalities are just too strong..."
Partly because it had essentially been a harem squad, I won't deny that deep down I'd had selfish thoughts like "I wish I had more comrades who could understand my feelings." So I had been cheering them on personally, but I never expected them to grow this much.
General Broa also shrugged.
"They experienced growing together as a group twice over, after all. Nobody expected this squad to reach this level. Their personalities are too strong though, so they'll probably have to be assigned to the rapid-response unit."
At the mention of a rapid-response unit, I had a fleeting thought about how cool that sounded, but I kept watching as Number Two continued moving pieces on the map.
Then, arms crossed, I turned to General Broa. From my perspective, this Dungeon training exercise could be called a success. The objectives had been achieved, so there was no issue. What I was curious about, though, was how General Broa felt about it.
"By the way, this training exercise—how would you evaluate the results, General? I think it was a success, personally."
Then General Broa placed both hands on the table, supporting his body as he kept his eyes fixed on the map.
"I wouldn't call it a failure. However, to call it a success... This is the army of House Walt, the strongest in all of Banseim. Becoming capable of fighting them at all is probably a success in its own right, but thinking about actually winning leaves something to be desired. We did manage to develop units with breakthrough capability and units capable of surprise tactics. The overall quality has improved too. But the enemy has built up something entirely different."
For some reason, the Seventh Generation inside the Jewel sounded pleased.
"You understand perfectly well, don't you, boy?"
He was probably happy that House Walt was being evaluated so highly, but right now they were the enemy. I wished he'd think a little before speaking up.
The Third Generation, unlike the Seventh, was mulling things over.
"So we've been relieved from that overwhelmingly disadvantageous position. Well, that's a good thing. What's left is to withdraw, return to Lufence, reorganize, and train. Based on Innis's predictions and our own thinking, we expected Maisel to make his move once things reached this point... Seventh Generation, is there a chance we can win?"
The Seventh Generation had once commanded House Walt's army himself. He had predicted when his father would move, and from Innis's projections he seemed to have a fairly solid grasp of the approximate scale and objectives as well.
"It's not exactly like Maisel, but I don't believe he'd try to defeat us here and retake Lufence. Divesting that much military strength would be too harsh even for House Walt. He wouldn't want an exclave, and if the objective is Rael's head—a gift for Ceres—then I'd imagine he'd crush us in battle and push on toward Central."
Innis's future sight combined with the Seventh Generation's knowledge and experience pointed to the opponent's objective being my head. And specifically, a gift for Ceres.
The fact that moving an entire army could be sanctioned for such a reason might be proof of how insane things had gotten. Still, they were insane but terrifyingly capable, which made the situation all the worse.
"Maisel has several formations he favors. We can prepare counter-formations for those, but the real problem is whether the soldiers can keep their composure on such unusual battlefields. They won't be able to use the Skills and Mana Tools they normally rely on."
That was why we'd been running training exercises with Skill restrictions in place. But from House Walt's perspective, it probably looked like nothing more than a half-baked stopgap.
The Third Generation murmured.
"...If they're coming to take Rael's head, let's consider using that against them—turning their objective into a way to break them."
The Seventh Generation grasped what the Third Generation was implying.
"Normally, they'd likely avoid overextending in pursuit. But if they're driven mad by Ceres... there's a possibility."
It was bitterly ironic. We were fighting House Walt's army because of Ceres, and yet... the House Walt that Ceres had driven mad had turned that very obsession into a weakness. The strongest army in Banseim, backed by both real power and breakthrough capability—
"So I'm the bait, huh?"
When General Broa looked up at hearing my murmur, I shook my head and told him it was just me thinking out loud.
Stretching on the spot, I found myself worrying about the situation in Rulphens.
"When we get back, it's going to be paperwork hell. Sigh—I just hope nothing happens over there."
When I said something like that, General Broa laughed and nodded in agreement.
——Inside the Rulphens Royal Castle.
An underground escape passage reserved for use by the royal family.
It also served as a waterway, and through that passage a group of people was running, splashing water as they went. They were a cluster of nobles centered around Count Bagdia's house, fleeing from something.
Several knights had conjured light with magic in their left hands, and the soldiers ran while anxiously glancing behind them.
Near the front, Raibel—surrounded by his guards—wore a panicked expression.
"This is absurd. This is absurd…I only made a suggestion. To treat a mere gathering as an uprising—"
The Banseim nobles who had been inside the Rulphens Royal Castle. Raibel and his circle had been gathering those who had surrendered to Lyle, and while it wasn't exactly a fellowship event, they had been planning a banquet. They had held drinking parties several times before and had obtained permission to do so.
However, when the building serving as the banquet hall was suddenly surrounded, they were suspected of treason and nearly detained. Raibel's faction had in fact harbored such intentions all along, but they had been quietly laying groundwork among those around them, moving carefully through the early stages.
At this point, no one had openly spoken of rebellion. They had simply been gathering those who harbored dissatisfaction and expanding their network of connections.
From there, they could adapt to circumstances and, whether they tried to ingratiate themselves with Lyle or not, they would have built a major faction. They had been at the stage of weighing various options—toppling Lyle and declaring independence, or presenting themselves as a gift to Banseim.
"Count, we should be able to get out from ahead. The escape route I confirmed before—the exit should be just—"
The guard knight, who had come along to attend the banquet and therefore wasn't wearing proper armor, got that much out before collapsing into the water and splashing Raibel. When the guard knight stopped moving and the others illuminated him with their light, several arrows were visible embedded in his head and vital points.
Seeing the guard knight floating in the water, Raibel drew the sword at his hip.
I stepped forward to protect Raibel. The guard knights had been pointing their swords toward the exit of the passage. If arrows were going to come flying, there was only one direction they could come from.
A group wearing hooded robes appeared from deep within the passage—without any light at all—with bows and arrows at the ready. In the center of that group, a light erupted. Illuminated by the magical glow that lit up the surroundings, the figure of a woman with green hair materialized—Miranda.
She was clad in armor, and in her right hand she held two dagger blades pinched between her fingers.
"Hello there. Beyond this point is a dead end. Sorry to disappoint you."
Behind the dark-robed group surrounding them stood fully armed knights in waiting. Baldoa's musket squad of over a dozen was also present, their barrels aimed and ready.
Reibel looked at Miranda.
"...Do you even understand what you're doing? If you kill me, the other nobles won't stay silent about it. Besides, I have other—"
"—What, that you're close with Laiel's other fiancées? How naive. They're the ones who asked me to be here. They kept complaining about how busy they were with exterior patrols, what a nuisance, right? Well, it's not really Aria's forte, so naturally the role fell to me."
When Miranda said that and laughed, a chill ran down Reibel's spine. On top of goosebumps, cold sweat erupted from his body, and he swallowed hard.
(I have to get out of this somehow... A forced breakthrough is impossible. Then maybe I should surrender and lull them into letting their guard down...)
Reibel's thoughts were racing, but the dark-robed group around Miranda loosed their arrows. Knights and soldiers around them fell one after another.
"W-Wait!"
Then one of the guards slashed down an incoming arrow and cast a spell with his left hand.
"Fire Bullet!"
A small fireball hurtled toward one of the dark-robed figures, and as they discarded their robe, their true appearance was revealed. Standing there was a dark elf.
Seeing that, Reibel muttered.
"W-Why? You elves are... if we're talking factions, you should be Novem's..."
Miranda spoke dispassionately.
"I borrowed them. There was a pesky mouse causing trouble at a busy time, so I was asked to exterminate it. And when I said I could use more hands too, they were provided right away."
Reibel knew that Laiel's fiancées were by no means on good terms with each other. He had specifically investigated the distance between Novem and Miranda. And yet, he couldn't believe they were cooperating.
"D-Did you deceive us? You let us swim just to lure us out—"
Miranda answered immediately.
"Not at all. I dislike Novem, and I dislike the rest of them too. But that doesn't mean I'd kick them to the curb in a situation like this. I wouldn't sabotage them either. Think about it—Laiel would be troubled. As for a somewhat annoying mouse, I'd have just fed it and left it alone... but you, I hear, tried to take Laiel's place."
Miranda's expression went blank, and she swung her right arm to the side. A short blade flew through the air, embedding itself in the heads of the two knights standing in front of Reibel.
Watching the two knights before him crumble to the ground, Reibel let out a slight laugh.
"...I misread you there. If I'd known, I would have wooed you for real."
He meant it. Even though he disliked them, Reibel had genuinely respected Miranda and the others for acting toward their goals and for Laiel's sake, and for being people he could cooperate with at times. And now he also knew that Laiel was far more formidable than he had imagined.
"If you'd known... well, it's too late for that now."
As Reibel said this, Miranda gave a slight shrug.
"A little more patience, and one of us might have made contact with you. What a shame, Count... you made the wrong judgment."
Miranda raised her right hand, then brought it down. Arrows and bullets were loosed, hurtling toward Reibel and his men.
Reibel deployed a Magic Shield in front of himself, grinning as he did.
"But there's no way this is where it ends!"
With that, he gripped the hilt of his sword and broke into a run. The knights and soldiers following behind him charged forward in pursuit.
Miranda smiled gently.
"I actually like that kind of stupid bravery. It has a real boyish charm to it... but this is where it ends."
As Miranda slowly curled her right hand closed, starting from her pinky, spears erupted from the corridor walls. It almost looked as though traps had been set from the very beginning, but every one of those spears had been arranged using Skills and wire.
When his reinforcements were pierced by the spears and cut off, Reibel was left with only a handful of men as he charged toward Miranda and her group. Just as Reibel brought his sword down toward Miranda, she drew the short blade hanging at her hip, caught his sword with the dagger in her right hand, and then slit his stomach open with the short blade in her left.
Miranda released the magic in her left hand, plunging the surroundings into darkness. And when the light returned once more, Reibel was floating on the surface of water—.
After leading my troops back from completing our training, I returned to Rufens and stared at the mountain of paperwork piled on my desk in the office.
The Third Generation looked upon the sight and spoke.
*'This is exactly why I want to skip the whole promotion thing and just hold some modest territory and take it easy. Well, Laiel, you can't turn back now.'*
I touched my right hand to my face and looked down slightly. I had known it would be like this, but there was simply too much work. Still, it was true that having me there during the training exercises made things better.
I wanted to believe that the benefits of Experience were always active, and given the shortage of adventurers and the rapid increase of Monsters inside the Dungeon, there was also the purpose of managing the Dungeon to consider.
I understand that it's not entirely pointless.
In the office, Monica could be found gripping hands with No. 1, who was clad in armor, as the two of them tested each other's strength.
"While I was away, you tried to sell yourself to the Chicken. What a dirty trick."
"The Master isn't going to be satisfied with a useless piece of junk like you. Hurry up and hand over your position."
A strange creaking sound could be heard from both of them. Was this really okay? I looked at Monica, who was doing this.
"That's enough, you two. Also, anything happen while I was gone?"
Monica kicked No. 1 away, straightened her posture, and turned to me with a smile.
"There were a few minor issues, but thanks to the efforts of Lord Rauno and Lord Baldoa, everything was resolved without incident. Some troublemakers had infiltrated the ranks, but they've been dealt with safely. We're currently preparing to give Lord Rauno and Lord Baldoa some fitting rewards for their prominent roles. Now that the Chicken is back, I was thinking we could hold a ceremony together with the knights who will be promoted once their training is finished."
Should I be more worried about this? Well, at least it was resolved peacefully.
"Baldoa really is capable. And Rauno-san has helped me out plenty of times too. In that case, why not use the ceremony to formally appoint them as knights? So, who was behind the trouble?"
Monica kept smiling.
"A faction centered around some of Banseim's nobles. It served as a good opportunity to tighten discipline."
Don't say something so terrifying with a smile on your face. It's scary. Thinking that, I rolled my shoulders and headed toward the desk piled high with documents.
Monica tried to approach me with a smile, but No. 1's arm flew in and separated her from me.
"You d-damaged piece of crap!"
"I'll scrap you right here, you defective junk!"
Whether it was to spare me the trouble or not, Monica and No. 1 continued their quarrel out in the hallway. Their faces looked so alike — couldn't they just get along?
Or rather—
"Honestly, why do the women around me hate each other so much?"
I couldn't help but mutter that under my breath.