Hell Difficulty Tutorial Chapter 816 - An ambush

A throng seems to follow us as we depart the outpost. Some of those jerks are probably placing bets on our impending doom, our potential survival, or if any of us will make it back at all.

I can't find it in me to be angry; it's a rare spectacle to witness four S-ranks venturing into the darkness for what appears to be collective hara-kiri. After all, if fate should turn against you, one might encounter monsters that even a Champion would struggle against. The last time I came across a nocturnal creature, it was a beast marked with four question marks, signifying a level of 450, if not considerably higher.

Certainly, reaching level 450 does not automatically confer Champion status, and a significant disparity exists between, for instance, a level 480 individual and a level 480 individual who has recently ascended to Champion. This is because, upon becoming a Champion, the second stage of one's attribute enhancement becomes accessible. And damn, it has been an age since I experienced my first stage.

For myself, the decision was made to enhance my Mana, specifically my Mana Amplification. My progression stages are Vast Mana, Omnipresent Mana, and I suspect the final stage, Limitless Mana, is reserved for the absolute elite, beings akin to Rulers. Even Lissandra, back in Eladore, lacked a third-stage upgrade.

Or perhaps she possessed it in the real world, and her deliberately weakened tutorial counterpart was deprived of it. The Rulers must have been utterly terrified of her. Still, 'afraid' might be too mild a term, considering the condition they left her tutorial duplicates in – all those lobotomies and memory wipes.

So, to put it plainly, my first stage doubles my mana, and I'm already eagerly anticipating the second.

While I might be elaborating extensively, to summarize: if we encounter an authentic Champion with a second-stage upgrade, we're likely in dire straits unless they possess a profound vulnerability to one of our strengths. Even then, it would be perilously risky. Should we face a creature with four question marks that isn't a Champion, we might stand a chance. However, the power levels within that tier are also subject to considerable variation.

Consider this: you might encounter a level 500 monster that took five centuries to reach that point, exhibiting patience, timidity, and complete absence of ambition. Let's bestow upon this creature a nondescript name, perhaps Sav. In such a scenario, our group would dispatch such a senile entity with ease.

But what if we were to confront a monster that is merely fifty to one hundred years old and already at level 500? Let’s christen it Monsthaniel. This would be a monstrosity that spent its formative years in a state of perpetual rage, relentlessly augmenting its strength, fighting for survival, and refining its skills as the ancient corgi Archmages intended.

In that instance, we would become their sustenance.

There's a certain appeal in the straightforwardness of a system where your numerical power level dictates the outcome – the higher number invariably triumphs over the lower, with no consideration for environmental factors, skills, or equipment. However, such a system would ultimately prove quite monotonous.

Therefore, caution is our watchword. Despite appearances, we are not a collection of scatterbrained fools; we have devised an array of strategies and contingency plans, and each of us understands our designated combat roles. Furthermore, we possess a general awareness of each other's capabilities, enabling us to identify reliable allies.

As much as some among us might harbor desires to dominate the others, I don't foresee a betrayal where someone deliberately sacrifices the group. Surprisingly, I doubt even Savant would stoop to such a level, nor do I believe Brich would. As for Weslin and Morwag, my trust in them is absolute.

Zant has departed, having conveyed his message and following our exit from the outpost. He vanished as subtly as a whisper, without any of us detecting his departure. I remain convinced of his continued presence, yet equally certain he will adhere strictly to his word – he will not intervene, not even if one of us teetered on the brink of death. This is more than acceptable to me, although my curiosity regarding the diminutive figure by the day intensifies, particularly concerning the true meaning of his status as Diligence’s vessel.

As is my habit when anticipation for a formidable conflict grips me, my thoughts become a whirlwind, ideas colliding within, alongside countless others. Nevertheless, even amidst this mental flurry, I maintain my vigilance, diligently scanning for threats and preparing myself for imminent engagement.

An unnerving silence pervades the air, with a faint, moon-like luminescence offering only partial illumination of the rocky terrain on the third floor. The absence of nocturnal animal sounds, insect chirps, or even the rustle of wind causes each footstep to resonate more profoundly; every dislodged stone beneath our feet seems to echo through the very atmosphere. We proceed with deliberate slowness, as haste is unnecessary, and maintaining proximity to the outpost is prudent. We have no specific destination; we are merely venturing into the night, seeking a contest.

Brich's armor is now utterly silent, producing no sound whatsoever, a stark contrast to its clamor throughout the entire day.

So, he had intentionally made it so noisy all along. What a character.

It is then that an interesting observation about Savant is made. The best description available is that he seems to be absorbing his own presence. No mana can be sensed from him, nor any heat or kinetic energy.

Though I am familiar with this phenomenon, so if necessity calls, I could likely track him by seeking out the absence of these elements. It is something that would be more difficult to notice immediately if one were not already aware of it. I begin to draw a comparison to Tacita and arrive at the conclusion that even with improvements, it will never rival hers. Still, it represents yet another thing he has pilfered, as this similarity indicates it could only have been inspired by her.

This tale has been pilfered from NovelBin. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Weslin moves with a quiet gait, his heart beating at a slow, calm rhythm, though I can perceive currents of his mana, poised to erupt and fortify his physique. Morwag, in contrast, walks with proud bearing, his heart thrumming like a war drum as his eyes appear to ignite in the darkness and his muscles swell beneath his attire with every motion.

Despite the passage of an hour, no adversaries have emerged, and this unnerving silence begins to take its toll. Each of us is accustomed to the cacophony of monsters that typically surround the safe zones in the late hours of the night; however, tonight, it is as if they have collectively chosen to restrain themselves.

“Esteemed gentlemen, shall we make our retreat?” Brich initiates the conversation, “Perhaps it is merely my mind, fractured by the constant uploads, but it strikes me that every monster has departed to summon reinforcements, more powerful entities to confront us.”

We halt our movement. The air carries a chill as I inhale, yet it is also invigorating. Were it not for the prevailing tension, it would be precisely the sort of night I would savor.

“Indeed, we could, but between our current position and the city, there are approximately one hundred monsters,” I state.

Morwag lets out a hearty laugh, Weslin merely shakes his head, and Brich turns his gaze toward me before producing a collapsible telescope. He extends it to a length bordering on the comical and directs it toward the outpost.

“Remarkable, some of them are truly grotesque,” Brich exhales. “Were you contemplating informing us?”

I offer a shrug, “Would it have altered the outcome? They are not overwhelmingly potent, and we ventured out with the intention of engaging in combat. Furthermore, I only detected their presence a few moments ago.”

“They are not advancing,” he observes.

“It is patently clear that they await their commander,” Morwag declares, clapping his palms together. The resonant sound produces a minor shockwave that reverberates into the night, dislodging a cloud of dust from our vicinity.

The others concur, as Brich retracts his telescope and retrieves three slender rods from his satchel. He then joins them together and plants the extended device into the ground. At its apex, a small, yellow luminescence ignites. Utilizing some wiring from his bag, he connects two compact, fist-sized containers to the rod, facilitating the flow of mana through the apparatus and projecting a sort of inscribed domain.

“Silverweave’s intricate inscriptions, mana conduits from Eldrin, and… I cannot recall her term for it, some sort of sophisticated staff originating from Isolde,” Brich elaborates when he notices my inquisitive expression.

“What precisely constitutes a mana engine?” I inquire, my curiosity piqued, as I gently nudge one of the containers he appears to be indicating with my foot.

For a fleeting instant, Brich regards me as if I am the peculiar one. “I possess no clue! Each time I attempted to dismantle it, it detonated, much to Eldrin’s chagrin, as they are apparently quite vexing to construct.” His voice drops to a hushed tone. “Although, I suspect the designation is somewhat ostentatious. It is likely merely a sophisticated mana reservoir that only emits a mana signature when actively generating, thereby rendering it concealed until that moment, unlike mana reserves reliant on mana stones or analogous materials.”

“Indeed,” I remark, crouching beside it and probing it with my fingertip. “Would it not be more practical to encase a mana stone in a layer of shielding to achieve a similar effect and simply activate it as needed?”

“A plausible notion,” I concur.

The following instant, an object resembling a bone spear soars high above us, embedding itself in the earth approximately half a mile distant. Immediately thereafter, a concussive blast follows, reaching our position in less than a second as I deploy one of my defensive barriers to envelop our collective.

The mana engine commences a low hum and vibration, and its mana output escalates dramatically to a degree that I am taken aback by its source. The mana surges upwards through the staff, the yellow light intensifies, and the array encompassing us strengthens, extending beyond the perimeter of my barrier.

Several more projectiles, fashioned from bone, are launched in succession, striking the ground throughout the surrounding terrain. Each impact results in a remarkably subdued explosion, producing no discernible heat or sound beyond the airborne debris and the resonant shockwaves that ripple through the atmosphere, seemingly to a degree that disrupts the very flow of mana.

A lance penetrates Brich’s defensive array and my own barrier, embedding itself in the earth beside Savant. Briefly, an orange aura envelops him as he seizes the spear, and then it vanishes. This orange light then expands behind him, resembling a steam engine releasing pent-up pressure, before being reeled back in. His gaze sweeps the surroundings, and from his grasp, he draws forth the Sword of Aeons. With a surge, he charges forward, employing a blend of kinetic energy and mana-based augmentation.

Weslin, differing from the rest, embodies a team player, rapidly advancing toward the contingent of 100 monsters that are already converging on our position, originating from the direction of the outpost.

Brich taps his staff, causing it to enlarge further. The output from the mana engines intensifies, and the array transforms into something that imparts a peculiar, malevolent sensation, before he departs to aid Weslin.

Concurrently, I advance alongside Morwag, navigating through a barrage of bone projectiles. Some impact his form, detonating and flinging him erratically, yet they lack the requisite penetrating force to vanquish the demon who is actively reassembling himself, a faint smile beginning to grace his lips.