Chapter 117 Preparing for the Fight
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Ethelena and Yohira narrowed their eyes at my declaration. Up to now, we couldn’t land a meaningful hit on the rare undead—the so-called Undead King—and we had no defense against instant death. Without Dahlia, we had believed the path forward was closed.
But Dahlia dove alone, brought back several spirit core-stones, and changed everything. We evolved Ethelena’s Lonisera into Lonisera–Rinne, letting her fire attribute rounds. If we strike first, we might tear through the Undead King with a critical from its weakness and end it in one shot. From behind, Ethelena’s damage triples—more than triples—so our odds of a clean kill rise fast.
Yohira can also nullify instant death. Her Temari-bana (ball-blossom) carries the concept of Yaku-kiri—”cutting off calamity.” As for me, all we need is a katana fitting that lets my blade take on flame, even if it’s just a guard or a hilt set with a low-tier fire core. That alone could become a true answer to the Undead King.
If we can leave its reaction behind, Tatia can chain her Charge straight into Burst Edge from Knight Swordsmanship. That will tip the fight toward a kill.
From the thirty-fifth floor on, we’re facing zombies—weak to fire. Even vampires, who throw Charm around, won’t have it easy: Yohira can meet them with Temari-bana; Ethelena and I can counter with Sex Sorcery. Their raw stats are high, yes, but Yohira’s anti-creature specialty kills without debate. Ethelena can plug them with Fire Attribute rounds from Lonisera and block their regeneration, and the vampires of this world don’t have the old defenses from my previous life’s legends—kill the heart or the brain and they die. Even Ethelena can do it.
Besides, the deeper floors are a feast of experience for level-twenties like Ethelena and Tatia. If we level briskly, the crawl gets easier. A five-level gap is worth a mountain of points. We couldn’t farm golems well; we’ll make up for it on the undead. Even if the Undead Kings spawn in numbers, once we grasp the undead trait, we can treat them as tough trash.
”Now,” I said, “let’s talk about what we couldn’t do before: countermeasures for the Undead King.”
”The Undead King… the wraith we only beat past the thirty-first floor thanks to Dahlia?” Yohira tilted her head. “I heard it uses instant-death magic.”
”Same one,” I said. “The key is its undead trait.”
”Do the other undead have that too?” Ethelena asked.
”They do,” I said. “We just usually don’t have to think about it.”
We’d even sold the Undead King’s Raiment—stitched with that trait—to Scientia and to the cat-girl. The trait nullifies Physical attacks and resists Dark, but takes 1.5× damage from Fire and 2× from Light. A brutal flaw, and yet up to the fortieth floor the only enemy that slings fire magic is the Goblin Wizard, so it rarely matters. Past the forty-fifth, the spirits come out, but if you open with the opposing attribute, most non-Rares have low HP—you can sweep them. Up to the fiftieth floor, the Raiment is an excellent armor. The trouble with the Undead King is that, on top of the trait, it has high Magic Defense.
”This undead trait can be turned off,” I said.
”What? They never taught us that at the academy,” Ethelena said.
”Academy classes only cover basics,” I said. “They prep you for, what, the mid-twenties at most.”
That’s part of what bugs me. Explorers who can reach the fiftieth are called mid-tier; shouldn’t the academy be required to teach counters for monsters in that range?
”Anyway—the condition for nullifying the trait,” I said.
”Complicated, degozaru?” Yohira’s lips curved.
”No. Hit it with any non-Physical attribute.”
More precisely: the trait negates Physical. The Undead King’s base Magic Defense is 58, and depending on the floor it can level up into the mid-sixties—barely. If Ethelena lands Lonisera from behind at maximum output, it will pierce for sure. Even head-on, unless it blocks, the odds favor a pierce. Its Physical Defense is only 12 by default and rarely scales up, and its HP sits around 180. If you ignore the trait, Yohira can one-shot it reliably. Even I can kill it with technique, and with an Elemental Hammer loaded with fire, I could pierce the trait from the front and end it.
”Once we cancel the undead trait,” I said, “the Undead King stops being a problem. Flame counted as Physical Attack will go through. That puts Yohira and Tatia in kill range and should make leveling smoother.”
”I see,” Yohira said. “Anything else to watch for?”
”Instant-death magic,” I said. “It ignores defense.”
In the original game, instant death worked on a chance. I don’t know how it behaves here—I’ve never taken a hit and don’t plan to. Still, the conceptual armament Yaku-kiri should block it. It cuts through all harmful interference. A strike that imposes death on the owner? That’s the first thing it should sever.
”So the plan is to ignore the undead trait and kill at once,” I said. “The only one who can stand in front of their instant death is probably Yohira.”
”Me, hm?” Yohira’s eyes softened. “Temari-bana, then.”
”Thanks for picking it up so fast.”
She remembered when Master-sama explained the concept at the moment Temari-bana was complete. The understanding clicked at once; I saw it in her face.
”As for formation,” I said, “Ethelena goes first—not as bait, but to get behind.”
”Right. The high-firepower trick you told me about,” Ethelena said.
”Exactly. You slam a max-output fire mana bullet into its back, and Yohira or Tatia finishes the job. To pull its focus off you, Yohira can step up front and hold its gaze.”
”If I can nullify instant death, I’m the safest to draw aggro,” Yohira said. “Understood.”
”I’ll brief Tatia later,” I added. “For her, a running Charge is best. For cost to damage, it’s excellent.”
Her Charge is Rank II. With fifty meters of runway, it adds a clean +100 to damage. If we need to rest, we can pass the Egg around for recovery and push in safer steps.
”So,” Yohira asked, “are we set on undead counters for now?”
”If anything else comes up, we won’t know until we’re there,” I said. “But this will be our baseline.”
”Then next is the zombies from the thirty-fifth floor?”
”Strictly speaking: the fushi—’undying’—line.”
A teacher who once asked me for a magic catalyst let slip that this is a favorite exam trap. It’s easy to bait you into answering “zombie” as the category. If I didn’t have game knowledge, I’d probably have stumbled too.
”They’re weak to fire across the board,” I said. “Low Magic Defense. The undead nature makes them catch easily.”
”They burn, degozaru?” Yohira asked, half-amused.
”I don’t know the physics,” I said. “If we had a cleric, Turn Undead would drop them—and the rest of the undead—instantly. But none of us is church-blessed.”
The air held the dry bite of coal and old ash, as if the dungeon itself were already waiting for flame.
Somehow, I keep thinking that if I joined a church, I might unlock divine spells. Back in the game, a player could become a cleric by joining a church and receiving a god’s blessing—but this feels different. If I joined the war god’s or the Maiden’s faith, I have this bizarre hunch that holy magic would awaken in me at ridiculous speed. I don’t know why I feel that, only that belonging to my own sect—’the Sect of Me’—would be a very bad idea. Not that someone like me, who respects the gods but doesn’t worship them, should join any faith in the first place.
”The undead, or rather the ‘undying’ type,” I explained, “don’t feel pain. Hit them, and they don’t flinch. Still, their brains send faint electric signals like the living—destroy the head, and they stop. That’s the weak point. Their Magic Defense is almost nothing, so Ethelena’s Lonisera should be able to blow their heads clean off.”
”Heh. Then it’s my bonus time,” she said, lips curling.
”Well, unless it’s a rare one like a vampire.”
Without Tatia’s probability-reversal skill, the world beyond the thirty-first floor would have been Ethelena’s stage alone. The undead and the undying both have low Magic Defense, so her Lonisera was always the best answer. But Tatia’s skill made rare monsters appear more often, and that changed everything. The Undead King was one problem; the rare undying, the Vampire, was another—an even nastier one.
”Tatara-dono,” Tatia said from the side, “may I ask you to explain that Vampire?”
I turned to look. She stood there, fresh from the bath, cheeks flushed. Her tone had returned to the formal one—so that casual way of speaking must be reserved for when we’re alone.
”I don’t mind,” I said. “But you’re joining halfway.”
”Ethelena-dono kept me updated through our shared accessory,” she said lightly. “I know about the Undead King strategy as well.”
When I looked to Ethelena, she stuck her tongue out like a mischievous child caught in a prank. I sighed. There’s no winning against her.
”Alright,” I said. “Let’s go over the rare undying monster, the Vampire. Its weaknesses are Fire and Holy attributes. Unlike the Undead King, Physical Attacks work. Some ancient individuals can shapeshift—mist, bat, that sort of thing—but the worst part is its Sex Sorcery, especially the Charm spells.”
”Mm, yes,” Yohira said. “You mentioned that before.”
”Right. Back then, Yohira didn’t have Temari-bana, so we had no defense against Charm. That’s why we withdrew. But now, she’s the perfect counter to a vampire.”
Truthfully, vampires are easier for our party than the Undead King. Yohira nullifies Charm and can kill one through sheer force. Concept Appraisal might not trigger against the undying, but if her Temari-bana can hurt them, that’s already easier than the Undead King fight.
”Anything else to watch out for?” Yohira asked.
”Yeah,” I said. “Their regeneration—and their namesake: bloodsucking.”
”As the name implies, troublesome?” Tatia asked.
”Oh, very,” I said grimly.
Among the rare monsters, vampires are especially vile. Their Bloodsuck isn’t a simple Energy Drain—it copies a portion of the victim’s stats or even skills temporarily. Worse, anyone bitten becomes their thrall until the original vampire dies. As a countermeasure, since Bloodsuck counts as a Physical Attack, you can nullify it by taking zero damage—if your defense is high enough. Unfortunately, vampires often pair it with Charm, disabling your guard, and their base attack power exceeds sixty. Hard to block that. Full equipment keeps our team safe enough, but raw defense-wise, Ethelena and I are the weak links.
”I need to ask—what’s your current Physical Defense, Yohira?”
”Without armor? Ninety-four,” she said.
”That’s higher than mine…” Tatia murmured.
As expected of an oni. Her number would make any human blush with shame. Tatia looked stunned. I imagine Yohira’s Magic Defense, by contrast, is dismal.
”By the way, Tatia,” I said. “Felt anything strange in your body lately?”
I’d been wondering if that investiture ceremony had changed her somehow. Tatia clapped her hands together lightly.
”Oh! When you performed that rite earlier, I received a Revelation. It was a Class Up.”
”…I knew it,” I muttered.
That explained the radiance of her wings—their sudden growth. Still, a commoner achieving Class Up just from a pseudo-knighting ceremony? That made no sense.
”My new class is Winged Knight,” she said. “My stats jumped—Magic Defense nearly hit a hundred.”
”You’re kidding.”
Magic Defense of one hundred could shrug off most magic from the fiftieth floor’s gimmick boss. With armor, she could probably survive into the eightieth. Only dark magic remains dangerous for her race, but even that wouldn’t one-shot her.
”So,” Yohira grinned, “coupling with Tatara grants a class up, does it?”
”No,” I said flatly. “That’s not it.”
”Then what?”
”Yohira-dono,” Tatia said with a polite smile, “that will remain a secret between Tatara-dono and me.”
”…Fine,” Yohira sighed. “I’ll allow it. But will she?” She turned her eyes toward Ethelena.
”Eh? Me?” Ethelena blinked, startled—but quickly caught on.
”If it’s something they want to keep secret, that’s fair,” she said softly. “I have memories with Tatara I want to keep just between us too.”
”Boring,” Yohira grumbled.
”Trying to pry is poor manners, degozaru,” Ichika chided gently.
Tatia chuckled at Yohira’s pout while I turned inward, thinking about her Class Up. Normally, a knight only evolves through formal investiture from someone with royal authority. Yet it happened just because I recognized her as a knight. If recognition alone triggered it, the world would be drowning in knights.
Maybe I did something strange again without realizing. But I’ve no clue what. Being named a disciple by Master-sama doesn’t grant me royal power, nor should enshrining a divine statue make the gods themselves acknowledge me.
The truth probably lies with the Archangel—only the system itself could tell us the real reason.
”This time we’re only going down to the fortieth floor,” Tatia said after a pause. “What about the fiftieth?”
Her tone carried that quiet resolve unique to seasoned explorers—the will to push past the mid-tier wall.
”Honestly?” I said. “We’re not ready.”
”Oh?”
”Before facing that boss, we need elemental gear—fire, water, earth, wind. That means clearing to forty-nine and collecting the right cores.”
To kill that cursed fiftieth-floor gimmick boss, we’d need solid offense and defense across all four great elements. But even before that, at the forty-first floor, the next nightmare waited.
”From the forty-first, we’ll be facing harpies,” I said. “They fly—so I’ll have to fight them as artillery. And with their Special Ability, Song Voice, they’ll try to confuse us.”
The harpies—monsters gifted with Flight as a Special Ability—are another breed of headache. Their Song Voice skill is especially nasty; without soundproof gear, it throws you into hallucination and confusion. They’re like a blend of the old myths’ harpies and sirens, and in the game, if you lost to them… well, let’s just say the ‘defeat scene’ involved a sky burial of a very adult sort. Since I’m the only man in the party, I know exactly who’d be the target. No way in hell I’m losing to that.
”What about their rare type?” Yohira asked.
”If memory serves, that’d be the Harpy Queen,” I said. “Instead of enhancing its Song Voice, it evolved into a close-combat monster.”
”That sounds like adaptation,” Ichika mused. “A shift toward physical might for territorial battles, no?”
She wasn’t wrong. Normally, harpies are magic-oriented—luring prey with Song Voice and then hammering them with mid-tier wind spells. Boost your Magic Defense or wind resistance, and they’re not too bad. But the Queen broke that mold: its Physical Attack rivals an ogre’s, and it fights with brutal aerial combos. It stunned countless first-time players—its design even looked like that ancient emperor from the legend of the Seven Heroes, the leader among them.
”Still,” I continued, “with that shift toward muscle, its abilities might be sloppier. Easier to handle, maybe—but don’t drop your guard. It can still sing.”
The catch is, if you back off to avoid its strikes, it starts singing. Try to fight from range, and its confusion effect eats you alive. With high Magic Defense, your spells barely scratch it. It’s fast too—arrows and bullets struggle to hit. Its wind spells bite deep if you slip up, second only to the Undead King’s magic in raw attack power up to the fiftieth floor.
”So yeah,” I said, “it’s a mess. Ogre-level Physical, Undead King-level Magic.”
”Sounds more than messy,” Ethelena said. “That’s absurd.”
”It is,” I agreed. “It even resists Charm, so your Sex Sorcery only half works. And most of our damage will have to come from Physical.”
”But if it hits that hard,” Tatia said, “shouldn’t its defense be high too?”
”No,” I said. “Its race limits it. Lightweight bones for flight—its Physical Defense is low.”
The Harpy Queen’s Defense sits around twenty, maybe a bit higher than the Undead King, but close enough. HP barely eighty. Yohira could one-shot it, and with a Charge, Tatia could too.
”The real problem’s the Song Voice,” I said. “We’ll need magic devices for soundproofing—”
”Isn’t that already solved?” Ethelena cut in, casual as ever.
”What?” I blinked.
”Our shared accessories,” she said. “The Elingium links? They project a soundproof barrier.”
”…Ah.” Right. I’d forgotten. Those accessories already block sound and carry telepathy. Perfect counter.
”In that case,” I said, “all that’s left is the weapon fittings. Should we apply the attribute to the guard or the hilt?”
”The guard,” Yohira said. “I dislike changing the grip.”
”Me too,” Ethelena added.
Ichika raised a hand. “I’ll sit out tomorrow’s dive—need to supervise my friend’s training, degozaru.”
”Got it,” I said. “Then I’ll take Yohira and Tatia’s weapons tonight. We’ll make them fire-aspected for the undead and undying fights.”
Both nodded and handed them over. Yohira’s Temari-bana needed no comment, but Tatia’s Andrea… I could modify its ruby fitting, make it swappable with different elemental cores.
”Tataka,” Ethelena asked, “what about your weapon?”
”Mine’s a prototype,” I said. “The shaft has a rotation chamber that lets me swap attributes mid-fight.”
”That sounds handy,” Tatia said. “Could you install the same mechanism on my Andrea?”
”Not without ruining the look,” I said. “It’d get too bulky for ceremonial use. But I could build a new version.”
If I did, I’d probably base it on something like the artillery lances from that old monster-hunting game, or maybe that gunblade from the eighth fantasy title. The hybrid design would suit her style.
”…You’re plotting something strange again, aren’t you?” Yohira said.
”Not strange,” I said. “Just thinking a mounted lance with a magic bombardment function could be fun.”
”Tempting idea,” Tatia said. “But I can’t use lances.”
”Yet you kind of want to,” Ichika murmured.
She wasn’t wrong. But with danger that close, now’s not the time for new weapon types.
”If this katana fitting works,” I said, “I’ll craft variants for other elements later. Better flexibility.”
”That’d help,” Yohira said. “But the materials won’t show up till deeper floors, will they?”
”Right—past the forty-fifth. Dropped by spirit-type monsters.”
Dahlia collecting those cores earlier had really saved us. Still, when we go ourselves, the odds of meeting a rare spawn are high.
”What kind of rare shows up there?” Ethelena asked.
”The Spirit King,” I said. “Each element has its own, but which one spawns is random. In the worst case, all six appear together—a proper nightmare.”
The terrifying part is that they can only be hurt by their elemental weakness. Their defense isn’t much, but they’ve got at least three hundred HP each, plus they summon lower spirits endlessly and cast high-level single and area spells across all elements. They’re the stuff of trauma. In the old game, I lost count of how many times they wiped me out.
”Sounds less like a monster and more like malice incarnate,” Ichika muttered.
”Exactly,” I said. “They’re half-bosses for a reason.”
Even weakened, they bring four elemental Kings at once. You can’t hurt the main boss until they’re all down—and you have to hit them in the order of their elemental weakness. Kill one out of sequence and its HP just refills. And to top it off, every three turns, the elemental kings resurrect. Pure, distilled developer cruelty. I still remember reading the dev interview: ‘We wanted to make the mid-boss feel special!’ Yeah, special in how much I wanted to strangle them.
”…Half-boss?” Yohira asked.
”Yeah,” I said. “The Cavern of Eternal Night has a hundred floors. The fiftieth-floor guardian is called the Half-Boss—it marks the midpoint.”
”Oh! That’s the one from the fairy tale my mother used to read,” Ethelena said. “The story of the endless dungeon.”
She was right. That story only circulates in this city, but nearly everyone here grew up with it.
”It’s the tale of why the dungeon was born—and how this city came to be,” I said. “Everyone here knows it, but no one outside would.”
”Indeed,” Yohira said, brow furrowing. “I had never heard it.”
”Tatia wouldn’t,” I said. “Her origins are… a bit beyond ordinary history.”
The legend tells how this city—and the fortress that became our academy—was founded. It’s based on truth carried down from the game’s lore: when calamity rose and humanity despaired, a dragon knight and his mount fought to contain it. Ignoring his rider’s plea, the dragon gave its life to seal away nearly a hundred disasters, creating the dungeon itself and quieting the world. The dragon’s name was Whirlwind. The knight, unwilling to let his partner’s name be forgotten, gave it to the watchtower built over the sealed land.
A city grew around that tower, and its name—Whirlwind—passed on to the people’s home. That happened roughly a thousand years ago, long before the empire’s previous ruler seized the throne. If the old kingdom still stood, maybe the records would survive—but now? I doubt it.
That nation had lasted over a millennium before the usurpation. With such a history, I can’t believe they didn’t preserve its records. Yet too many zealots burned what they couldn’t control, claiming loyalty to king and country even as they erased both. I remember one of the game’s DLC events about restoring lost archives—it wouldn’t surprise me if records of Whirlwind were among them. And even then, we only recovered a fraction.
”What matters,” I continued, “is that the dragon left behind a hundred seals. The dungeon’s floors are said to be their transformed remains.”
”Ah, then the fiftieth is the halfway mark—the half, as thou sayest,” Yohira said, understanding dawning.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
”To beat that mid-boss, everyone needs training—levels, skills, gear. I want to hit the fortieth floor first, but we’ll need spirit cores from deeper down too. Once the student protests end, we’ll start prepping in earnest.”
Elemental attack and defense were the foundation of all deep-layer combat. Without them, Ethelena and I could barely keep up with Yohira’s raw strength. If we could evolve Lonisera further, Ethelena’s magic would carry her—but I, bound to human limits, could only envy her.
We kept planning until late, and eventually Tatia stood to leave. She moved stiffly—probably still sore after our first night together.
”…You alright?” I asked.
She laughed softly. “You always see through me, Tatara-san.”
”I think the others noticed too,” I said.
Ethelena would have. I remember how she’d once spent a full day shut in her room afterward—part guilt, part the strangeness of her own body. When she emerged, she’d cut her hair and changed her tone completely. A rebirth, of sorts.
”If you’re tired,” I said, “you can stay here tonight.”
”I can’t,” Tatia said, smiling wryly. “The school dorms are strict. They already think I stay out too late.”
I’d never lived in a dorm, so I couldn’t relate.
”Though,” she added, “my year’s full of troublemakers. My lateness barely registers anymore.”
”That’s… not reassuring,” I said, chuckling.
She smiled back with the same weary amusement.
”Well then,” she said softly. “See you in front of the dungeon tomorrow.”
”Yeah. Good night, Tatia.”
She rose on her toes and kissed me lightly. Her face was scarlet when she stepped back, trying to mask the effort it had cost her. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection.
After she left, I summoned Cipher and asked it to guard her. It nuzzled my cheek once before leaping into the night sky to follow. Maybe I should craft it some armor of its own.
The idiots who usually trained in the courtyard had already gone home. I hadn’t even spoken to them today. Tomorrow, I’d pay them their wages—and deal with that business concerning Hinagiku-san.
After dinner, I retreated to the workshop. Time to make the katana fittings that would imbue Yohira’s and Tatia’s weapons with fire—and a magic device to cleanse the stench of the thirty-fifth floor.
First came Yohira’s Temari-bana. I forged a mithril guard shaped like a flame encircled by a ring. Into two recessed points I embedded compressed core-stones, then attached it to the blade. The metal blushed red, pulsing with mana like a heartbeat. The sight made me pause—had it worked too well? Maybe newborn conceptual weapons absorbed influence too easily.
Next was Tatia’s Andrea. I replaced the ruby in her guard with a compressed core, then etched a spell formula around the socket. The patterns traced the guard and blade like filigree—beautiful, intricate. The sword glowed faintly red, weaker than Temari-bana’s blaze but still potent enough to broaden her tactics. Someday, I’d like to add a special ability of its own. I slid it into its sheath and stored it away.
Then I turned to the air-purifying masks. Ideally, I’d custom-fit each one, but for now I went with a universal design—maybe even something I could sell later. I shaped mithril into form, drilling vents at the cheeks, layering sainted mithril mesh beneath, and inscribing a purification spell. It would strip toxins from the air before they reached the lungs. I added a small pocket for scent sachets near the nose and elastic fittings for comfort. Based on old-world 3D masks, it felt snug without suffocating. A plague doctor’s beak might have worked better—but the look would terrify people.
When the work was done, I bathed. The wide couple’s bath still soothed me best. Maybe I’m just the type who finds small spaces comforting.
”Escaped reality enough, Master?” Ichika’s voice came from behind me.
”Let me run a little longer,” I muttered.
Not Ethelena—Ichika. Somehow she was the one washing my back.
She spoke again, her voice calm but trembling at the edges. “Since I joined after Yohira, I knew she would come first. But still… I confessed before her. I can’t help but wish you’d love me too.”
Then she moved in front of me, bare and unflinching, and pressed her lips to mine.
Notes:
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name. Oni warrior.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi. Virgincest⚠️, becomes pregnant immediately.
• Cipher – Tatara’s familiar, sent to guard Tatia.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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