Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 118

The stone-paved corridor had deteriorated due to weathering and battles, with fallen stones from the walls and ceiling obstructing the way. Walm carefully chose where to step to avoid the rubble, but it was impossible to avoid every small fragment, which crumbled noisily under his half-boots. In a bustling city, such sounds would go unnoticed, but in the labyrinth, especially beyond the 15th layer considered the beginning of the mid-layers, it was different.

If a party was engaged in combat or disassembling monsters, sounds and smells would give away their presence. However, in general, it was extremely quiet. Explorers maintained this silence to avoid revealing their presence through sound. They aimed to avoid ambushes and launch pre-emptive attacks whenever possible. Detecting the enemy’s movements and quickly transitioning to an attack was crucial.

“You’ve come again, without learning your lesson.”

The response to the crushed rubble came immediately. A hissing sound as air escaped through gaps. A long, snake-like tongue extended from a mouth lined with sharp teeth, evoking a reptilian image. Despite having the same number of limbs as a human, the creature’s form was far from human-like. This alone was enough for Walm to identify his attacker: a Lizardman, an intelligent monster capable of wielding weapons with skill. Its emotionless eyes were fixed on Walm. He gripped the handle lightly and prepared his halberd, signaling his readiness to welcome the attack.

There was no impartial whistle to start the battle; the combat began abruptly. The Lizardman vanguard wielded a worn round shield and a dirty saber, with spear- and mace-wielding companions following behind.

To avoid revealing his intentions, Walm swayed his body side to side. Aligning with the advancing lizard, Walm raised his halberd to the upper left and lunged forward. The Lizardman aimed to block the overhead halberd strike with its round shield, but the weak shield couldn’t withstand the blow and shattered.

The halberd bit into the Lizardman’s arm up to the elbow, mingling wood splinters and blood, coloring the air. Despite the severe injury, the Lizardman’s lifeless eyes remained locked on Walm, showing no decline in its strange fighting spirit. Instead, it aimed a counterattack with its saber at Walm’s left side.

Walm twisted his grip and pulled back, raising the hooked blade to catch and slide along the saber, slicing the Lizardman’s remaining wrist halfway through. The now-handless Lizardman tried to bite with its last weapon, its teeth, but Walm anticipated this and decapitated it from below the jaw upward.

The skirmish with the first Lizardman ended, and the remaining two advanced to attack Walm. He dodged the thrusting spear twice, shifting his upper body out of harm’s way. He then evaded the mace aimed at his torso by kicking off the ground.

The spear-wielding Lizardman tried to target Walm, but the mace-wielding companion blocked its path, preventing the spear from reaching Walm. The Lizardman with the mace swung its tail to stop Walm from circling behind them, but Walm had encountered this tactic before at the Dandurg Castle.

“When troubled, they all swing their tails and bite, huh?”

Walm watched the tail swipe past his face. Swinging the tail left the Lizardman more restricted in movement, exposing its back to Walm. Without noticing, the Lizardman lost its head to Walm’s swift strike.

The final Lizardman, now without obstacles or allies, faced Walm unflinchingly, readying its spear. Walm met the attack, deflecting the spear’s shaft with the halberd’s side blade and slicing the Lizardman’s neck.

As the decapitated head settled, silence returned to the labyrinth. Walm surveyed the area, noting only the blood-stained floor and the three lizard bodies strewn around.

“Shoddy and dull, but still metal.”

He picked up the discarded saber. Though of poor quality, it could be reforged or melted down for use. If there was a complaint about the Lizardman’s saber, it was the lack of a sheath.

Walm thrust his wrist into the magic bag, shivering at the unfamiliar sensation, and pulled out a piece of cloth. He always carried extra cloth for various uses. Winding the cloth around the saber’s blade, he tied it securely and stored it back in the bag.

Next, he picked up the mace. The handle was about the length of his shoulder to wrist, and the head had five radiating flanges. Although less destructive than a spherical or onion-shaped head, it excelled in impact and lightness.

“This one’s not bad.”

Shouldering his halberd, Walm tested the mace’s balance with his other hand. This type of mace, capable of punching through armor into the abdomen, could expel stomach acid and air, momentarily incapacitating the target. It was a familiar sight on the battlefield. A poorly made sword could become unusable after clashing directly.

As he wrapped the mace handle with cloth, Walm heard a faint scraping of gravel. Instantly alert, he jumped back, spinning to face the source of the noise: a Lamia with a snake-like lower body and a woman’s upper body, blending into the rubble to ambush him. The Lamia, shedding its concealment, shrieked like glass being scratched.

With remarkable dexterity, the Lamia simultaneously attempted to slash Walm’s throat with two short swords. Walm dropped his halberd, realizing it was too close for minor maneuvers. The mace, however, proved its worth. Aiming for the right wrist before the Lamia could complete its swing, Walm’s strike shattered the wrist, sending the sword flying. The remaining sword aimed horizontally at his neck.

Walm ducked under the swing, closing in to collide with the Lamia. Though large by human standards, her weight was centered in her lower body, making her upper body easier to tilt back and create an opening.

The Lamia’s right arm and tail immediately tried to ensnare Walm. He deflected the extended arm with a palm strike and sidestepped the tail. As the Lamia twisted to counter, Walm drove the mace into her face.

The mace’s flanged head, mostly solid metal, delivered the desired destruction. It crushed the nasal bridge and eye sockets, concussing the brain and disabling two senses. Even with the serpent’s resilience, the Lamia was momentarily defenseless.

Walm, hardened by war with little compassion left, showed no mercy. He swung the mace, scooping the Lamia’s collapsing head, painting the labyrinth with blood and bone fragments, briefly blooming like a red-brown flower before staining the walls and ceiling.

“Not bad at all.”

He spun the mace in his hand before striking the air. Despite the rough treatment, the mace showed no signs of damage. Though Walm favored his halberd, he couldn’t deny the mace’s straightforward, effective problem-solving capabilities in the brutal labyrinth.

◆

Walm pushed open the door to the safe room on the 20th floor, the entrance to the middle layers, and entered. He was tired of the curious gazes directed at him every time. Most parties, excluding Walm, were composed of the maximum allowed five members, and even a party of four was rare. It was understandable that Walm, who continued to dive alone, would appear peculiar, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

Moreover, with fatigue, lack of sleep, and a mind strained by tension, it was abnormal to feel generous. He returned the murky gazes of each onlooker, and finally, the overt assessment of Walm by the others ceased. Leaning his back against the wall, Walm sat down. The cool floor and wall helped to cool his fevered body and provided a welcoming sensation.

He took food out of the magic bag under his cloak and began eating discreetly. His manners were far from proper, but fortunately, this was not a place concerned with etiquette. He bit into cheap, salted orc meat and repeatedly chewed the hard-baked black bread meant to last a long time. He drank water intermittently, but his nerves, heightened from more than a day of diving, didn’t settle down.

He glanced around the room, moving only his eyes. Five or six parties rested at certain distances from each other. Among them, the relatively relaxed parties were busy exchanging information and conversing. Their armor was fully equipped without gaps, and their weapons varied to match the monsters. It was a far cry from the inferior equipment of the lower floors. If they had the right number of members, it would resemble a pre-battle position.

With one knee down and his weapon at hand, Walm repeatedly fell into shallow sleep. Even if he couldn’t sleep soundly, his body could rest. It was a habit acquired from military life. Fortunately, no one approached Walm, and several parties came and went.

For the fifth or sixth time, the door opened, and a new group stepped into the safe room. Although it was tucked away in his waist pouch, the demon mask began to rattle. Walm, though not pleased, had become somewhat able to understand the mask’s intentions through the vibration and sound.

The mask trembled in a way that indicated unusual interest. Walm slowly opened his heavy eyelids. A group of four stood there. Though not uncommon for adventurers in the labyrinth, the leading adventurer was, to put it nicely, colorful. To put it bluntly, not easy on the eyes. His armor had the characteristic luster of mithril mixed in, and the longsword at his waist was adorned with three colored gemstones and silverwork. His hair was a vibrant green, and his eyes were red and blue, a greedy combination.

Had the entire party been like that, Walm could have laughed it off as performers from a show. However, the second adventurer had a starkly minimalistic appearance, devoid of any unnecessary elements. He struck Walm as a warrior monk devoted to ascetic training. The remaining two were an archer and a staff-wielder. Judging by their behavior and equipment, they likely functioned as two frontline fighters and two ranged supporters.

As they reached the center of the room, the colorful adventurer and Walm’s eyes met. Even in the dimly lit labyrinth, the adventurer’s eyes held an inviting depth.

How opposite they were to his own dark, cloudy eyes. This brief exchange ended as the adventurer turned to face forward, ready to move to the next floor. At that moment, Walm realized something. The party showed no signs of fatigue or dirt. Walm, who had fought his way here, understood well the number of monsters they must have faced and the blood and flesh that must have flown. To call their skill extraordinary would be an understatement.

“No rest, huh,” he muttered.

In the end, they continued to the next floor without resting, as if taking a casual stroll. After a short silence, adventurers around the room began conversing with a mix of amazement, envy, and jealousy.

“’Three Magic Attacks’ don’t need breaks, huh?”

“For them, it’s like the lower floors are for us. No wonder they’re expected to be conquerors.”

“And they’re only four, right? I’d join their party just as a porter if they’d take me.”

“Hah, you’re joking. Even as a porter, you’d be useless. Besides, Three Magic Attacks have magic bags. They wouldn’t bother with dead weight.”

“Only those who have dived past the 30th floor would be chosen. Well, those guys are peculiar, and they have their own fixed members.”

Ah, Walm thought, finally understanding. Even someone as new to the Labyrinth City as Walm had heard of them. They were the party from the Labyrinth City closest to becoming conquerors. For them, this floor must not even pose a challenge. Despite being the city’s hope, they hadn’t yet reached the bottom floor.

The miracle called the “Treasure” lay far beneath the earth. Even Walm’s fingertips hadn’t reached it. If he wished for a miracle, his efforts so far were insufficient. If he lacked, he had to build up more, and quickly.

He gripped his halberd tighter. After repeating slow breaths to calm his rising pulse and impatience, Walm once again fell into a shallow sleep.

Translator – Lyxxna