Of course, moving to the right door was the correct choice.
Trian, at first glance, seemed to navigate the seemingly identical dungeon rooms with ease, quickly getting a feel for things and guiding us skillfully.
“Fortunately, we took the right door. Choosing the left at the start would have had us wandering for hours.”
“…It’s a relief.”
At Trian’s somewhat ominous words, I responded with a somewhat awkward tone. I didn’t possess the stamina to wander through this labyrinth for hours. Trian’s offhand comment might have been a minor issue for others, but not for me.
After that, we circled through nearly ten rooms until we arrived at one with mines laid across the floor.
Upon opening the door, we saw a corrupted floor and a magical mine pressed against the opposite door.
“…Hold on, Lir.”
Upon spotting the mine, Trian stopped Lir, who was about to rush ahead.
Though this room had probably been passed through by adventurers, the odds of hidden traps were still low. Still, Trian, being a careful ranger, meticulously searched the room. After confirming no other traps aside from the mine, he gave Lir the go-ahead to disarm it.
Lir expertly disassembled the mine by emitting a few electric sparks from her fingertips. To me, her actions were incomprehensible – the black cylindrical mine’s circuits melted into nothingness.
“We should move.”
Having ensured the mine was fully disarmed, Trian strode toward the door marked with corrosion.
Trian carefully listened at the door, checking if anything lurked beyond, and after a few minutes, slowly opened it.
“…They stopped here to tend to their wounds and moved on. The bloodstains have faded.”
In the center of the next room, a deep hole had been dug. Apparently, the injured Marauder had sat there to hastily treat their wounds.
“Can you track them?”
“It won’t be difficult. We’ll quickly pick up their trail again.”
Though the signs of corrosion disappeared, to the skilled eyes of Trian, there were still ample clues.
“They headed this way.”
Trian carefully analyzed the footprints and dust on the door handles before not too long, pointing out the route ahead.
“Oh, by the way, that door on the west wall is fake. It’s probably a mimic-type monster… I hope none of you accidentally open it and get eaten.”
Pointing to a door as he opened the one leading to our next destination, Trian delivered that warning.
Unlike regular mimics disguised as chests, the monstrosities around this forest could masquerade as fake doors.
The higher the dungeon level, the more cunning the monsters residing within inevitably became.
“Even you, Orc, could be swallowed whole in one bite. Hence, best not get too close unless necessary.”
“…I’m going to mark it so we don’t accidentally open the wrong door.”
Rex left a mark by swinging his axe and making a large groove in the floor beneath the door. Since dungeons often have interconnected rooms, carefully marking such traps to avoid falling into them was crucial.
“Let’s move.”
Following Trian’s guidance, we continued navigating through the rooms.
But then, he suddenly stopped, pausing as if deep in thought.
“Did you find something?”
“There’s a mine in this room, but the problem is… I also sense the presence of a large monster.”
“…How is that possible?”
I asked, dumbfounded.
…Why are they both in the same room?
A mine laid out here means the Marauder passed through, and normally, where a Marauder has passed, there shouldn’t be any monsters.
“Do you think I know? It seems the monster set up camp after the mine was laid. Mines don’t detonate unless stepped on, so this isn’t entirely irrational.”
“No, if there’s a mine, how could a monster settle down there? It’s strange for them to coexist. Wouldn’t it be normal for the monster to step on the mine and explode?”
“I’m neither a detective nor a prophet. Do I look like someone who knows why the situation got this twisted? What’s important right now is the fact that both the mine and the monster coexist beyond this room.”
Seemingly uninterested in how this situation developed, Trian remained calm amidst this illogical scenario.
I stared at him inquisitively — how could he stay so composed in such an absurd situation?
“After living 1200 years, you encounter far more bizarre things than this.”
“True, dungeons are places where common sense-breaking events happen every hour. It’s best not to dwell too much on understanding how it happened.”
Rex chuckled wryly, perhaps sensing my bewilderment.
“…We’ll open the door and assess the situation, but there’s a possibility of battle. There’s a chance that a doltish monster might discover us, run around wildly, and detonate the mine, thereby exploding and killing itself. Regardless of the scenario, we need to stay on our toes.”
At first glance, this might seem advantageous to us, but in reality, this would be the worst-case scenario for us.
Even in a level 40 dungeon, the current party composition could handle a few random mobs without much difficulty — with a 4-tier genius Mage, an Orc Barbarian who’d soon be known as a hero, and an adept Ranger on our team.
The real issue would arise if the monster detonates the mine.
Such an explosion would loudly announce our position throughout the dungeon and summon the slumbering monsters from every corner of it.
“Beware, I’m going to open it.”
Trian spoke and carefully pushed the door handle, cautiously inserting his head into the small gap.
I too carefully peeked through the gap to observe the scene before us.
“…Damn.”
And I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath at the sight before me.
It was an utterly absurd scene.
The ominous mine radiating magic power was placed at the center of the room. Around the mine lay a thick, sticky web spun intricately, and tracing along the web upwards, a grotesque, enormous spider awaited us.
Its colossal size covered mysterious murals on the ceiling; with dozens of eyes closed in slumber, it was massive enough to consume even a behemoth like Rex in a few bites.
How did the situation turn into this? How did the Marauder install a mine in the center of this room where such a gigantic monster slumbered?
Was it more accurate to consider that the monster sneaked into a room already laden with mines and settled there? If so, how did it manage not to step on the mine for such a long time? What could have been the reason for nesting in a mine-filled room?
We could only silently stare at the nonsensical scene through the door’s crack, unable to piece together any rational cause-and-effect.
After carefully observing the room for a while, Trian quietly closed the door, careful not to wake the spider.
“We need to devise a plan.”
“How… could this be so perfectly…”
“I’m as bewildered as you are by this strange scene. However, we should focus solely on solving the immediate situation.”
Proving that his 1200 years of life weren’t for nothing, Trian remained unfazed even after witnessing such a bizarre spectacle.
“…With a slim probability, the monster that nested here was born after the mine was set. But how this situation developed, as Trisan said, is irrelevant. What matters is finding the solution.”
Rex seemed to internally ponder how incredibly unlucky we were.
…I’m not sure why my heart feels so uneasy. Could the ruinously low Luck stat of 1 have caused this absurd situation?
Madness — there’s no other way to explain it besides this.
It feels like, at some point, a wandering asteroid might suddenly change its orbit and fall right towards me, just because my Luck stat is low.
And when that moment comes, I’ll probably lament:
“Damn, I should’ve spent that 1 Luck point better…”
Realizing how terrifying Luck truly is, I began to entertain the bizarre thought that it might’ve been better to have invested the 20 points I allocated to Magic into Luck.
‘If I had maxed out my Luck to 20, could I have caused asteroids to fall on other people’s heads instead of my own?’
What else counts as magic? Falling an asteroid on someone’s head just by praying is magic, right?
“From my observation, the web wasn’t as dense as it seemed. Though I don’t know why, it appeared as if hastily spun. It’s too tight for someone Rex-sized to navigate through, but there’s enough space for an Elf or one or two humans to slip through.”
While my mind was flooded with useless regrets and wasted time, Trian calmly began to devise a solution to the crisis.
“…”
Lir, after hearing his proposal, frowned with a feeling of unease as she looked at him.
“Among all options, it’s best for Lir to slip through the web undetected, dismantle the mine quietly without waking the spider, and return.”
“What?”
Lir looked at Trian, suspecting whether she had misheard.
“…”
“…”
Without uttering a word, Trian’s expression conveyed the answer:
“You didn’t mishear me.”
“Eh? M-me? What?!”
After a moment of silence, Lir finally seemed to understand what Trian was asking her to do, and in horror, flailed her hands wildly in the air.
It’s a futile task to impose on someone with such poor physical coordination. Moreover, as Trian continued while glancing at me, “Given who you are, it would be impossible for anyone with your cursed body, no matter how wide the gap might be between the webs, to navigate through them, quietly dismantle the mine, and return to this room without stepping on the web and inadvertently awakening that enormous spider monster.”
Minimizing noise is paramount in our expedition, hence, it’s unavoidable for Lir to be chosen for this mission instead of me.
“In fact, I’m not an Elf. My ears just happened to grow long… It’s more of a mutation…”
“Both Trian and I, along with our young friend, will prepare for battle just in case Lir fails. Remember, the worst-case scenario is if the mine explodes, luring surrounding monsters here. Under no circumstances should the mine be detonated. Lir, if battle ensues, avoid joining in unless absolutely necessary. Focus solely on dismantling the mine.”
Trian turned his head toward us as if he hadn’t even heard Lir’s ridiculous excuse, continuing to explain the plan.
“Umm… Excuse me…”
“Is there any other good plan?”
In response to Trian’s question, Lir, frightened by his piercing gaze, muttered a faint “No… but…” before pulling her cap over her face like a turtle retracting into its shell.
“…Seems there’s none. Let’s proceed with this plan.”
With trepidation, Lir tentatively raised her cap and looked at me with her big eyes.
…Why does she always turn her eyes to me whenever such difficult situations arise?
It’s heart-wrenching, for real.
I did my best to deflect her gaze, pretending to be occupied with other matters.
“Mr. Bin… Mr. Bin…?”
Though it was an outright plea for rescue, I couldn’t accept it.
Trian’s plan seemed like the best option even from my perspective, and there were no other viable strategies.
There’s really no way for me to interfere with this matter.
“Guess, it’s settled…”
*
I’ve always thought that circuses wouldn’t be a major source of entertainment in a medieval fantasy world.
Performers balancing on ropes dozens of meters high with just a staff or tamers taming lions and breathing fire could hardly be considered extraordinary in this world. After all, this is a world where magicians exist who can conjure fire with the flick of fingers, and warriors can fall from cliffs hundreds of meters high without a single scratch.
Fantasy worlds wouldn’t place much value on circuses as a form of entertainment… until now.
Until I watched Lir threading through the hundreds of spiderweb layers while risking her life.
“…Suck it in…!”
With the face of someone on the verge of crying, she gripped her teeth tightly and cautiously advanced step by step towards the room’s center.
Sometimes mimicking a limbo dancer by bending her waist backward, and other times walking on her hands with one leg off the ground, her movements resembled the high-paid acrobats one would expect to see in a circus performance.
Elves, by nature, are born with exceptionally high agility stats. This is supposedly because they live in dense forests surrounded by trees and thickets…
Lir, however, had spent her entire life at Alter Heinzel’s magic tower buried in books and fans.
That’s why I had no big expectations of any Elf-like acrobatics from her.
But look at this!
She demonstrated much more agility than I expected, gracefully evading the web threads one by one.
Is it the memory imprinted in her genes?
Witnessing her natural prowess in movement, I felt a strange sense of deprivation.
Had I known this, I should’ve been born an Elf. What was I thinking aiming high when I chose to be human?
“…Wow.”
Rex let out a barely audible sigh of admiration, audible only to our ears.
Indeed, Lir was moving nimbly toward the center of the room with minimal difficulty, surpassing our concerns.
…Until she stopped.
Confused, I tilted my head at her sudden halt. She had the clear route laid out by Trian after thorough planning, and having memorized it perfectly, there seemed no reason for her to suddenly pause.
“…Sweat.”
Trian sighed dryly at the unexpected variable, picking up his bow silently as if knowing the plan had failed.
He seemed to instinctively understand the operation’s failure. However, watching him prepare for battle, I still couldn’t comprehend why he had drawn that conclusion.
Lir was navigating the webs with ease, her posture steady and no apparent mistakes in her actions. Why, then, was he so sure the operation was failing?
“…”
Then, Rex caught on to Trian’s implication and prepared for combat almost immediately.
I furrowed my brows, sharply examining the statue-like Lir, and finally, understood the underlying problem.
“…”
A large bead of sweat had formed under Lir’s chin, dangling precariously among the web-encrusted area.
This was proof that, despite her body’s fluid motions, her mind was frozen in terror. The pressure of knowing one mistake could cost her life made cold sweat trickle down her cheeks.
That tiny bead of sweat would aggregate, eventually becoming a droplet large enough to hang precariously off her chin.
“…”
If the wind blew, the droplet would likely fall to the ground. Lir must be acutely aware of this large droplet.
Spider-type monsters had extremely sensitive nerves that could detect even the smallest vibrations in their web.
Her eyes darted around, looking for a place under her chin where the sweat could fall safely without causing disturbances.
But gravity didn’t wait for her decision. Before she could complete her assessment, the giant droplet slid off her delicate jaw and fell.
In response, the enormous spider resting above her head unfurled its legs.
