chapter01 · 010-ep9

Episode 9: Recommended Level [???]

Three days later, my Lv was 21. It was 13 just the other day.

My kill count had to be past a hundred. I got tired of counting partway, so I don't know exactly.

What I did was simple: summon Nameless and do nothing but hunt goblins. XP comes in full, and each one ends in seconds. Efficiency's not bad either.

Plus at Lv 20, a second Magic Eye opened in my left eye! 【Magic Eye of a Thousand Leagues】. It sees far — and even senses presences through walls.

But Magic Eyes belong to the King, so they only stay open while the introduction lasts. When I'm hunting with just the weapon, I'm an ordinary Lv-21 high schooler.

So the routine is: dive, become the King once somewhere empty, and burn into my head with the Magic Eye exactly where on Floor 1 the people are. Then release the King and summon Nameless. Like memorizing the map before walking it — a hassle, but it pays off surprisingly well.

When I returned my gear, my own record came up on the gate terminal, and I cracked a smile.

Entries: 8. All solo except the first, all Floor 1.

On paper, just a diligent little rookie. What I was shouting and where does not go on the record. Thank god.

Today was dive nine. The objective, obviously: the depths of that darkness.

The three moss-free rocks, touched in order. The wall rippled, and a gap one person wide opened.

First, I wanted to see what was inside. I checked for bystanders and drew a breath.

"—Before the kalpa's dawn I came, and past its end I remain."

All five lines finished, my bangs grew out and my view reached a little farther. I turned my left eye into the gap.

Unregistered Territory

Recommended Level: ???

Question marks, same as ever. I tried peering deeper with the Magic Eye of a Thousand Leagues, but the dark was too thick; it wouldn't carry. Even Magic Eyes can't do what they can't do.

The question was what to bring.

Going in as the King was an option. As I am now, that's my strongest form.

But the King only holds about twenty minutes. Somewhere past Lv 20, my silent-time doubled. Apparently it grows with level.

Twenty minutes is still twenty minutes, and I had no idea how deep it went. No guarantee I could make it back — and if it cut out, I'd drop to base Lv 21 in the middle of the dark. Absolutely not.

Better, then, to bring a weapon. Weapons don't run out. Even I had to admit the logic held.

Nameless is modest and handy, but it is, at the end of the day, "a very well-sharpened blade." That covers goblins; what lives down there is anyone's guess.

Honestly, I was scared.

So I'd been recalling a section further back in the weapons volume. Past the sword pages, past the katana pages, in the spear pages, entry number one.

【God-Devouring Spear of the Azure Flash】. The reading: Gungnir.

This-era me, infatuated with the spear of Norse myth, took only the look and the attribute and piled everything else on himself.

Blue. Overwhelmingly blue. A spearhead of sky-clear blue; the attribute, lightning.

And the origin lore runs long again.

Once, the gods forged this spear to destroy the King. Every living thing in that timeline — every star, every piece of matter, every dimension — melted down and cast into one to hammer out a single javelin.

Hurled from another universe, it flew across dimensions and pierced the King's body.

Thrown, it always returns to the hand — because, the page said, the wishes of mortals and gods are woven into it.

How did I even come up with this.

But the King claimed it and made it his own weapon.

The spear the gods made to kill the King, resting in the King's hand. Hence "God-Devouring" — he explained, over three full lines.

...I mean, that's legitimately good lore.

And in proportion, the declaration is on a whole other scale from Nameless.

I released the King and drew another breath.

"—O gods: the azure, forged by melting down a single timeline."

The voice rang down the passage.

"—Point of deicide, return now to the King's palm."

My spine straightened.

"—Fly, 'God-Devouring Spear of the Azure Flash.'"

Space split, and the blue light that bled out took shape from the spearhead down. When the shaft settled into my palm, my fingertips tingled faintly.

The exact blue I wrote!

It stood a bit taller than me. Heavier than the katana, but far lighter than I expected. The rock passage glowed faintly with the spearhead's blue.

I'd released the King, so no checking its specs — but holding it told me enough.

A light sweep of the head, and air it never touched popped faintly. Fingertips tingling again. Technically lightning. "Technically," because this is nowhere near the written output.

The spear cast from every dimension melted into one, and so far it pierces really well and occasionally zaps. I wrote three lines of explanation for THIS.

Still: more reach than the katana, and unlike a gun, no ammo. Not that I even know what ammo those guns use, anyway.

Of everything I can currently choose, this is the strongest.

Spear up, I stepped into the dark.

The passage ran longer than I expected. Unlike Floor 1, the walls don't glow; all I had to go by was the spearhead's blue. The air hung heavy, swallowing even my footsteps.

About five minutes in, it opened into a chamber. Huge. Gymnasium-huge, at least.

How dangerous this place was, I could only learn with my own eyes.

In the shadow of the rocks, green backs in ranks. One. Two. ...No.

Along the walls, on the ledges near the ceiling, in the darkness of the far end — more of them. And still more coming out of the passage depths.

I quit counting partway. This was not a "thirty or a hundred" number.

How many hundreds are there?

Wet chewing sounds, gich, gich; the damp air pooled with bestial stink. Breathing layered over breathing from every direction — all of them goblins? My skin prickled.

On Kanayama's Floor 1, two or three at once is the max.

On a raised ledge at the far end sat a shadow one full size larger.

Nearly twice my height, built of entirely different muscle. In its hand, a rusted iron greatsword.

What is that.

I didn't know its name. But I knew it wasn't the same creature as the goblins.

Photos of the higher species run in the textbooks. King, General — names along those lines. The one in front of me was bigger than any of the photos.

My knees nearly gave.

Go back. The passage is still right behind me; run now and I make it.

The moment I thought it, that side looked over here. Eyes met.

Ah.

The big one rose, unhurried. Apparently that was the signal. The green in the rocks moved as one.

Fall back to the passage and the entrance pinches shut; they can only come one at a time. My head knew it perfectly. And there I stood, spear up.

There's blue light in my hands, and my body carries three years of dojo. And I'm Lv 21 now — goblins die in seconds. This works, right?

And the first three did.

The lead goblin charged in, club high, yellow teeth bared, shrieking at full pitch.

Half step back, then in. Unlike the katana, no need to enter its reach — my spearhead reached its throat before its arm finished extending.

A heavy thunk rolled down the shaft into my palm.

Blue sparks scattered. The goblin locked up for an instant, and I pulled free in that gap. Not waiting for the collapse — next.

The second came in from the side. I leveled the spear and swept; the light body blew sideways, hit rock, and loosened into sand.

The third, carried by its own momentum, ran itself onto the point.

"—Fragile."

I clapped a hand over my mouth.

I'm not the King right now. Didn't even do the introduction. There is not one millimeter of need for chuuni lines.

Zero need — and out it popped anyway. Three years of saying them daily in middle school must have hardwired it. I thought I'd graduated, though.

The spear: reach, speed. Honestly the best.

(Close. If they close, it's over.)

The spear is a weapon you use while giving ground — the old master at the dojo said so. I'd filed it away as whatever at the time, but this was what he meant. Stay where their weapons can't reach, and that alone wins.

Four and five came nearly together.

Thrust into the one on the right; the returning motion clubbed the one on the left with the shaft — a dull thunk. As it reeled, I thrust again. Both dissolved into sand.

(Wait — I could move like this?)

Six leapt. I set the spear upright to meet it, and its own weight ran it through.

Seven and eight charged shoulder to shoulder.

I swept one's legs out from under it, stepped over the falling body and skewered the other's chest, and on the pull-through drove the butt-spike backward — I felt it connect with the fallen one's skull.

Nine. Ten.

"—Come."

Out again. Nobody was listening, and out it came.

The spear is far easier to fight with than I imagined. Sweep sideways and two go flying at once; butt-spike backward and one dies without my turning around. What the dojo taught me was swordwork, but footwork is footwork.

(Half step back, half step in, turn from the hips. ...Old man, you were right.)

Eleven ducked in under the spear.

Low. It got all the way inside the point, up to the root of the shaft. A rusted dagger thrust up at my belly.

Bad — too close. At this range the head's stuck out behind me and I can't thrust.

On reflex, I choked up on the shaft and cracked the butt-spike up under its chin. The green body lifted. Half step back to make room, and a thrust into it as it hung there.

The dagger's point skimmed past my side through the cloth. That one was close.

Twelve. Thirteen.

By the time I ran fourteen through, I was thoroughly, completely riding the high.

Winded, arms heavy, the shaft slick with sweat. Still my feet didn't stop. Didn't want to stop, at all.

With every kill, the next motion came a little clearer. The ones I couldn't react to a minute ago, I was seeing now.

Oh, this is fun. Ridiculously fun. You don't get a taste of this on the surface, period.

(This might actually work. Thin out the small fry, leave only the big one, then run for it.)

Those were the cocky thoughts running through my head at number fifteen.

Impact from behind; my vision bounced. Next thing I knew, I was on my knees.

It took a beat to understand. I'd been hit from behind.

Three of them stood where I turned. While I was zeroed in on the swarm ahead, a separate pack had swung around behind me.

Surrounded. Standing of my own free will in the middle of a swarm I couldn't even count. Well, obviously. In manga, this is exactly when the cocky one dies. That is precisely me right now.

Rising, I spun the spear flat and swept everything around me. Two went flying; the rest gave ground.

For one instant, a bubble of space opened. In that instant, I checked the passage. The entrance: ten-odd meters back.

Running reaches it. Good — now. Go.

But before my feet moved, one flung itself onto my waist.

"Let... go...!"

In the instant I twisted to shake it off, a club came in from the side. I covered with my arm and heard bone sound. Numbness; the feeling thinned out of my fingertips.

It hurts. It hurts like mad, and somehow I was grinning. Why, self — arm nearly broken and grinning.

I nearly lost the spear, and re-gripped.

Another one wound around my leg. While I kicked it loose, a different one hammered my back.

One at a time is seconds. From every direction at once, there's no answer.

My breath wouldn't come, and the edges of my vision were dark. Sweat stung my eyes.

As I hauled myself up on the spear, that thing on the ledge moved.

It leapt. The gymnasium-sized room, in one bound — trampling a few mid-flight goblins as footholds, the shadow swelled to fill my whole view.

No time to think. I laid the spear flat and raised it overhead with both hands.

A gong went off right above my skull.

Head and shaft unbroken. And my feet had left the floor.

I worked out that I'd been batted away, spear and all, only after my back slammed into the rock wall. Everything in my lungs left; my vision whited out. Then, slowly, it returned.

No spear in my hands. It lay a few meters off, blue light pulsing faintly on the floor.

The goblins crept closer. And it came walking, slow, the rusted greatsword over its shoulder.

Right. This is genuinely, seriously bad.

Become the King. The introduction now buys twenty minutes of fighting.

But my breath is ragged, something's wrong with my ribs, and my mouth is all blood.

In this state — that long introduction, no flub, no blush, all the way, for real?

Embarrassment weakens me. A flub ends it right there.

I'm dying right now. A half-dead high schooler, in the heart of a rock nest, doing full-power chuunibyou with a straight face. ...And if I don't, I simply die.

The greatsword rose.

Back against the rock, I drew a breath.