FINAL BATTLE FARMING
"This will be our base camp."
I briefed Yernil on our plan.
"For the next two days, we'll search the surrounding area and gather a few specific types of consumables."
In the game's setting, the reason the labyrinth is profitable is because it's a creation-economy space that continuously spews out infinite resources.
All throughout the labyrinth are chests, boxes, containers, sacks, lockers, and the like—no one knows who put them there—and from them you can get equipment, potions, valuables, food, and even money.
Of course, what I want right now isn't valuables, food, or money...
"Defensive magic scrolls and orc barrels."
Those are the primary targets.
If usable weapons or armor show up, that's nice too, but the odds are low.
And there's one more crucial thing.
"From now on, we're going to do hell training!"
"Eh?"
"We're going to kill about a hundred goblins."
"Wha...?"
Sensing that the situation was taking a very ominous turn, Yernil's vision went dark!
A mad mage appeared on the peaceful first floor of the labyrinth.
"Fireball!"
"Fireball!"
"Lightning Shock!"
Like A Better Tomorrow with dual pistols...
well, not pistols, but dual wands—running around and committing wholesale slaughter.
Four goblins appear at once? Don't care!
"Fireball!"
"Ice Spike!"
"Fireball!"
"Ice Spike!"
Want a taste of McCree—no, McKellub?
The sun sets!
BANG! BANG! KWA-BOOM!
Flipping the hourglass over, I carpet-bombed every monster pack we ran into with spells.
Goblin warriors, goblin thieves, goblin archers—doesn't matter. Now that my Intelligence is over 13, I can just punch straight through shields.
The three goblin types? Bring as many as you want!
More than five enemies?
Can't intercept them all in one turn?
Yernil chance!
"Yernil! Shoot the goblin thief on the far right in the head!"
I'll take care of the four on the left.
"Fireball!"
"Fireball!"
"Fireball!"
"Fireball!"
In fact, I made sure Yernil got kills every single fight—at least one, sometimes two.
Because that way, Yernil would level up too.
'We killed a Venomic Spider.'
By my estimate, we're already past level 4 and heading toward level 5.
On the first floor of the labyrinth, level 5 is basically the ceiling. From level 5 onward, the three goblin types stop giving experience.
But flip that around—doesn't that mean we can reach level 5?
If we grind hard for two days.
Level 5 is a major growth breakpoint.
Because you get to pick one more special ability then.
"Fireball!"
"Fireball!"
For farming, we only collect mana stones that are light and sell well. Trash goblin equipment isn't worth anything.
Targets are item-containing chests, or goblin shamans.
"Found one!"
Yernil shouted, holding her palm near her long elven ear.
"I hear a goblin shaman muttering, just like you said!"
"Where? Where is it?"
I'm already salivating!
"Over here!"
"I'll lead—just point the direction."
Because if you go first, Yernil, you might step on a trap.
"Straight ahead for now!"
I guided Yernil forward while carefully checking the floor, ceiling, and walls. Straight, right turn, right turn, straight, left.
Found it!
A goblin shaman holding a wooden staff, peacefully camping(?) with his underlings.
"Grrrk?"
[Your turn. Remaining time: 60 seconds]
"Fireball! Fireball! Fireball! Yernil, arrow to the right! Fireball!"
The reason we hunt goblin shamans is because they often carry scrolls.
Over these two days, we need to find as many useful scrolls as possible.
[Unlock Scroll]
▶ Can unlock low-difficulty locks.
A dud.
What I need are defensive magic–type scrolls.
"Next!"
I led Yernil to the second goblin shaman and killed it.
[Stairs Scroll]
▶ Teleports you to the 'stairs' leading to a lower floor of the labyrinth.
Another dud.
We found a chest and farmed it. One healing potion.
Another dud.
"Over there!"
We found and killed the next goblin shaman.
[Cleanup Scroll]
▶ Automatically cleans and tidies a room.
Damn it!
Something useful! Please!
About eight hours later, back at base camp.
Yernil collapsed onto her sleeping bag the moment we arrived, while I gathered stones and firewood and lit a fire.
"I'll do it."
Yernil came over and took over, setting a pot of water on the fire and slicing potatoes, carrots, and beef into it.
"We didn't get much today."
She said.
"Yeah."
We absolutely need defensive magic scrolls and orc barrels.
This is bad.
"Eat up, Caleb."
Yernil handed me a bowl of cooked soup.
As I rested my exhausted body and ate the warm soup, a wave of reality suddenly hit me hard.
Is my body, sitting in front of a computer in Nokbeon-dong, Eunpyeong-gu, at Nokdu Villa 201, still okay?
Am I missing?
Or did I just die suddenly?
Please let it not be the latter.
Humans are creatures of adaptation—and endless greed. At first, chewing on plain potatoes, then eating this after looting Abison's backpack felt like Michelin-star cuisine.
Now it's just… normal.
Same with Abison's sleeping bag.
The first time I lay down on it, I thought I'd melt from how soft it was.
Now it's cold and uncomfortable.
If only I could crank up the boiler, crawl under a cotton blanket, and watch MewTube on my phone.
"Phew."
I let out a small sigh and wiped my face with dry hands.
Caleb.
You crazy bastard, get a grip.
You're still in the middle of the labyrinth—your instincts are dead, aren't they?
"Um, Caleb."
Yernil called me.
"Yes?"
"The larva's movements have gotten a lot weaker."
When I went closer to check, it was clearly less lively.
Originally, it eats one human leg every six hours.
It must have finished off the rest of Abison's thigh and been starving for several hours now.
Poke.
I lightly prodded the larva with the tip of my wand. It wriggled wildly and let out squeaking noises.
"It's still alive. But it'll be dead in two or three days. So tomorrow, no matter what, we have to farm defensive magic scrolls and orc barrels."
"Caleb."
"Yes?"
"Should we... feed Abison to it...?"
Yernil.
You've gotten pretty hardcore over the last few days.
To be honest, it was a method I'd considered too. The problem was...
"Damaging a corpse under soul preservation is a serious felony."
"Huh?"
In the game's settings, it's treated as bodily harm proportional to the degree of mutilation.
And if the damage is severe enough that resurrection becomes impossible?
Then it's classified as murder.
"With Speak with the Dead or psychometry-type magic, they can verify whether we damaged the corpse. If we get caught, it's over. And besides..."
There's another problem.
"We don't have any tools capable of cutting a body."
Like a saw or an axe. All we have is a palm-sized multipurpose knife. Scraping and slicing centimeter by centimeter with that?
Just imagining it makes me feel like the Labyrinth Master would show up asking me to interview as an excellent madness candidate.
And even if we somehow managed it, what about the bones? Using magic would likely upgrade bodily harm straight into murder.
"What if we bring goblin corpses and feed it those?"
Yernil is getting smarter!
You didn't secretly invest points into Wisdom, did you?
"Goblin corpses are toxic."
In-game, goblin flesh inflicts poison damage. Of course, that's based on human physiology, so I don't know if it applies to larvae too—but still.
"There's no need to choose an unverified method."
I took out a strip of bacon and fed it into the larva's mouth.
"Kyik! Kyik! Kyik!"
It spasmed with delight and swallowed it instantly.
Don't die.
Larva.
You still need to hold on.
Day two.
A miracle arrived.
[Magic Armor Scroll]
▶ This scroll contains the rank-1 defensive spell Magic Armor.
"Found it! I found it!"
A goblin shaman we killed after pushing about three hours past the exit room spat out a defensive magic scroll.
"Waaah!"
Yernil jumped up and down in excitement.
And on top of that—
"I found an orc barrel too!"
Just a few meters from where we got the scroll sat a massive orc barrel.
Among all storage containers that appear in the labyrinth, orc barrels have the largest capacity. And they have the huge advantage of being able to hold liquids as-is.
"Let's go! Yernil, drag the barrel for me!"
"Yes!"
Yernil clenched her fist, full of fighting spirit. Slinging her bow like a crossbody bag, she tilted the barrel slightly and dragged it along.
"I've already got experience dragging an orc barrel once! Leave it to me!"
She joked playfully, clearly excited.
"Yernil."
Sorry, but I need to pour some cold water on this.
"Yes?"
"That's not the direction."
Yernil was about to head back the way we came. After all, all the farming was done, so naturally she thought we'd return to base camp and rest.
But our hell training wasn't over yet.
"We haven't killed a hundred goblins yet."
"...What?"
When I checked last night before sleeping, we were still level 4.
"If we go back the way we came, there won't be any goblins left to hunt."
In an instant, Yernil's eyes took on the same look as when she'd heard the words 'settlement in town.'
"Let's go this way instead."
The longest route.
The path crawling with the most goblins.
After circling once yesterday, I'd already mapped out how all the routes connected.
We were going to take a long, brutal detour.
"..."
Yernil's vision went dark.
"Yernil! Put the barrel down and grab your bow!"
"Yes...! Yes!"
Whenever I shouted, she quickly dropped the barrel, pulled out her bow, and nocked an arrow.
Fireballs and arrows rained down. Battle over.
"Good. Let's move again. Barrel, please."
"Yes!"
Yernil's guerrilla training began.
"Yernil! Bow!"
"Yes!"
"Move again. Barrel."
"...!"
"Yernil, bow!"
"Aaagh!"
"The barrel."
"Slow down!"
"Yernil, bow!"
"Gah!"
"Barrel!"
"Yernil!"
"Barrel!"
"Bow!"
"Barrel!"
"Bow!"
"Barrel!"
"..."
After just two hours, Yernil was completely spent.
"Huff... huff..."
Panting heavily from exhaustion.
Yernil.
Your trust level isn't dropping, is it?
Just in case, I flipped the hourglass and had her sing a song—thankfully, it still worked(?).
"Sunlight... nice, strawberries... forest... huff... huff... the lady with pretty ears..."
But what's with that voice?
"Huff... huff... the lady who gets dimples when she smiles... cough!"
Is that a necromancy chant or something?
"What song is that?"
"It's a work song... from my hometown..."
I'm really sorry.
I'd like to help pull it instead, but then when the hourglass flips, the action cost of pulling out my wand would be huge.
"We're almost there. Just hang on a little longer."
"Eeh... Caleb must have his reasons... for making me do this..."
"..."
We killed thirty-five more goblins and finally made it back to base camp.
"We're here... here. Is it over now?"
Yernil, on the verge of passing out, collapsed onto the ground as soon as we arrived.
"Rest for a bit."
I used magic on the wall.
"Ice Spike."
I created a bunch of icicles, snapped them off, and stacked them neatly into the orc barrel.
"What are you doing?"
"Filling the barrel with water."
Once the Ice Spikes melt, the barrel will fill up. Since I don't have a Create Water spell, this is the only way.
"Now let's sleep."
"Waaah!"
Yernil, utterly exhausted from hauling the barrel and fighting nonstop, brightened instantly.
"Finally!"
Her eyes sparkled at the thought of crawling into the soft sleeping bag and enjoying a deep sleep—but—
"I'll sleep first."
I quickly dove into the sleeping bag and claimed it.
Sorry, Yernil.
"...!"
Her face looked like the sky had just collapsed.
Am I being kind of mean right now?
"...I'll sleep first. That's okay, right?"
"...Yeees..."
Yernil lowered her head dejectedly.
I have no choice.
I need to sleep first—so I can check my level-up, choose my special ability, and fine-tune the strategy while you're sleeping.
And the moment you wake up, we'll enter the exit room.
This is the most efficient order of operations.
"Wake me up in 2.5 hours."
[Caleb's level has increased.]
▶ Lv.4 → Lv.5
[Yernil's level has increased.]
▶ Lv.4 → Lv.5
Thankfully, Yernil leveled up too.
[Please select Caleb's special ability.]
[Please select Yernil's special ability.]
The water barrel was full.
The level-ups were done, and we'd chosen our special abilities.
Yernil had slept soundly and woken up refreshed.
With a hearty breakfast, we also finished a detailed operational briefing.
"Now, we're going to enter the exit room."
But before that, there was just one last thing to do.
"Y-You're serious... right?"
Yernil's pupils trembled as she stared at the insane thing I was about to do.
"Skreeeeeek!"
I was pulling the Black Hornet larva out of its egg sac.
"Uuuugh!"
Even though it had been starving for over two days, it was still a grotesquely massive bug—felt like doing a high-weight deadlift.
I barely managed an 80-kilo deadlift back in real life, and this mage body is even weaker than my real one.
My Strength is literally zero!
"Gah!"
I finally dragged it out of the egg sac.
I tried to throw it aside, but instead collapsed while hugging the larva.
"Are you okay?"
Yernil rushed over to support me. The larva writhed on the floor, screeching madly.
"Skree! Skreeek!"
"Hold still, you bastard."
There's a reason I dragged it out here.
A reason Yernil is horrified.
A reason the larva is losing its mind.
A reason the Labyrinth Master would absolutely shortlist me as a madness candidate.
"You're really... wearing that egg sac?"
Yes.
I'm going to use it as armor.
"Yes."
Black Hornet eggs boast absurd defensive power against external physical damage. In-game, they're classified as objects, and they don't break no matter how hard you hit them.
However, they're vulnerable to impact from the inside. That's so the larva can easily break out when it matures—according to the lore.
Therefore—
Crunch.
If I shove my hand into the mouth of the egg sac and carefully carve it with a multipurpose knife, I can make an opening.
Crunch.
Like this.
After cutting a few holes in the egg sac, I lift it up and shove my head in upside-down. Pull my arms through the holes on both sides, and—done.
"All set! How do I look?"
"...."
You look like an idiot, but also kind of awesome.
That's what her eyes were saying.
The name of this insane breastplate is Black Hornet Egg Plate Chest Armor (Legend).
The reason it's Legend-rank is that if this ever gets out, it'll be legendary in more ways than one.
"Shall we go?"
With the egg sac on, my movements were a bit clumsy.
And it smelled awful—larval excrement, bodily fluids, and the runoff from Abison's corpse dripping everywhere—honestly miserable.
But there's no other way.
Yernil dragged the orc barrel filled with water.
I dragged the larva.
You're the sacrifice for my new special ability.
"Skreeeeeek!"
With the struggling larva, I positioned Yernil behind me.
Click.
At last, we opened the gates of hell.
It was an empty room, fifteen meters wide and long.
On the left stood a small staircase, a wooden platform, and a ladder.
Straight ahead sat a large stone chair.
A human man was seated there.
The former strongest adventurer of the labyrinth's first floor.
Mister Backattack.
If this were the game, a message would probably be floating over his head.
[Madness]
It wasn't visible now, but the way he slowly lifted his gaze made it clear—his mind was gone.
Dry, brittle hair. Parched skin. Cracked lips.
The Labyrinth Master's crest was branded onto his forehead.
A chilling wind seeped from the adventurer ensnared by labyrinth magic.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Yernil's breathing—shallow and nervous just moments ago—stopped completely.
I'd told her not to launch a preemptive attack.
Even if she fired our precious poison arrow, there was a high chance he'd dodge it.
"Hehehehehe."
Mister Backattack suddenly burst into laughter.
Hoo.
I clenched my teeth, equally tense.
A Possessed Adventurer that was almost guaranteed game over even for a four-man party.
On top of that, a thief—the worst possible matchup for a mage.
And here we are, staking our lives on a two-person challenge.
Even I know this is insane.
"Come at me, you bastard."
From now on—
I'm the strongest thing on the first floor of this labyrinth.