Retire 464

464 Nightmare of All Hunters (4)

A pitch-black mass blotted out the sky. The light vanished.

Clouds? If only it had been something so harmless, I wouldn’t have thought much of it. Kim Chaemin might even have been delighted, claiming it was the first time weather changes had been observed inside a dungeon.

But that cloud was nothing so benign.

Ssssss…

A thin, dry, crumbling sound came from within the cloud.

Of course. That was because it wasn’t a cloud at all.

“Kkyaaaaaa!!!!”

Like a swarm of bees, the baby fairies flew through the air.

I had no idea how they managed to make such a sound with moth-like, furry wings. Then again, the wailing—more like a baby’s cry than the sound of wings—was even more grating. It wasn’t so much weeping as it was a shriek of wild excitement.

I didn’t really believe those creatures were enjoying themselves. Still, compared to how they’d just thrashed about even when cut in half, this was a far more lively display.

“…Damn it!”

Not that it did humans any good.

It had been easy enough when they were just mindlessly following a set path. Even if their endless numbers had been exhausting to deal with.

But when that endless swarm turned aggressive, it was a different story.

There were so many of them, it was easy to mistake them for a cloud. A horde of monsters with razor-sharp teeth.

It was less like moths and more like a swarm of locusts.

Yes, locusts. Not the cute kind like worker ants or honeybees, but ravenous monsters that devoured everything in sight.

At this point, there was no such thing as a plan. All anyone could do was run madly for their lives.

There was only one target.

The source of the dungeon’s power. The core.

This game had a brutally simple win condition.

[Ah^Ah@Ah*Ah+Ah%Ah=Ah&]

A sound impossible to describe echoed beyond the beating of locust wings.

It sounded at times like singing, at times like a broken phonograph. Sometimes it was almost human, sometimes it was something no human could ever produce.

And with that sound, the swarm of locust-fairies moved.

Kim Chaemin was moving with Daniel. Neither of them were combat specialists, but they watched each other’s backs and endured the storm together. Even so, Kim Chaemin was weaving vines across the collapsed ground to create footholds. The more ways to approach the core, the better.

Of course, our locust swarm was busily gnawing away at those vines. There was a reason I called them locusts.

Han Taekyung and Hope were struggling to get closer to the core. Throwing weapons was useless—the locust swarm blocked them with their bodies. Worse, now they weren’t just blocking, but completely enveloping the core. The blue mana of the core was almost invisible, replaced by what looked like a black sphere. And that locust shield kept renewing itself, no matter how many we killed.

Han Taekyung and Hope pressed on, willing to take some damage if it meant destroying the core. Hope made full use of his agility, running along Kim Chaemin’s vines to get closer. I could only hope Daniel thought it was thanks to some powerful item.

Han Taekyung was supporting Hope. Unexpectedly, they made a decent team.

“Ugh!”

As a vine snapped, Han Taekyung lost his balance and staggered. He landed on another vine, running a hand over his chest, after stepping on a flying baby fairy.

The fairy he stepped on fell straight into the lake. It flapped its wings desperately, but only sank further into the honey.

[Ah^Ah%Ah@Ah)Ah=Humans can’t!]

And the fairy at the center, watching the fallen baby, twitched its lips and stopped singing.

I’d known it could speak human language—it had slipped out earlier. But its pronunciation was surprisingly fluent….

I dodged the mass of baby fairies moving as one and stepped onto one of Kim Chaemin’s vines.

I could see the broken wooden dolls at the bottom of the lake. There was no way Noah Michel and Henry Lehmann weren’t involved, but even if, by some miracle, they weren’t, it was clear those things had been touched by human hands.

The humans who’d come and gone from this dungeon?

Dungeons that produced resources were usually well managed. A guild based in Las Vegas managed this one with the US government’s approval.

And my sister had told me: this dungeon had once been conquered by a Vegas guild. The guild disbanded afterward and left no proper records.

Once we got out of the dungeon, there would be new things to investigate.

[Humans!!]

The fairy snapped, its face twisted with murderous rage.

It must have sensed its own fate.

I glanced at Father, crouched behind the fairy on the opposite side. He noticed my gaze, nodded, and gave a small smile.

Despite the threatening movements and interference of the baby locust-fairies, the dungeon conquest didn’t seem hopeless. As Hope and Han Taekyung had pointed out, the fairy above the lake couldn’t fly.

It wasn’t just that it couldn’t fly. It couldn’t leave the lake.

Why?

I could think of a few possible reasons, but that was something to worry about later.

What mattered now was that it couldn’t leave the lake.

If only Han Taekyung could have set it on fire, as he’d wanted, we could have burned it and ended the fight right there.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. The problem was that the lake wouldn’t catch fire.

It seemed faster to just destroy the core than to go through the trouble of finding a way to burn the lake.

[I knew I shouldn’t have trusted humans.]

The fairy trembled with rage as it spoke. Its teeth ground together, making a creaking sound. Every time, torn wings shed clumps of honey and black dust.

The limp wings seemed about to spread, only to droop again.

Daniel had said that some dungeon honey had healing properties.

I didn’t know much about fairy biology, but I doubted those wings had always been so tattered. Layered like a butterfly’s, covered in short moth-like fur, they wouldn’t have felt heavy. And they would have had brilliant patterns. Now, only fragments of those patterns remained on the ruined wings.

Even so, the fairy’s presence was overwhelming. If it had been able to move freely, I couldn’t be sure how the fight would have gone. But in this state, no matter how sharply it glared, it couldn’t truly protect the core. Not even with all those baby fairies.

The core was what mattered. If we couldn’t burn the lake, we could at least burn the baby fairies guarding the core.

[Humans, humans, humans!]

But we hadn’t done that either.

Because we were waiting—hoping that a fairy who could speak might have something to say.

The fairy raised its voice, pouring out its sense of betrayal toward humanity.

Betrayal. An interesting word. I looked again at the wooden dolls at the bottom of the lake. Had it talked with the hunters who’d entered this dungeon?

If it let hunters in, did they promise not to conquer the dungeon? Something like that?

And now, seeing us try to conquer it, it felt betrayed?

How amusing.

[…Kill me.]

Even more interesting words.

[I didn’t join in for things to end up like this. If I’d known they’d use my kin this way, I would have opposed it, no matter what happened that day.]

Once it started, the fairy poured out its words in a flood.

I looked at Father in confusion. He, too, seemed taken aback as he searched for an opening to attack the fairy from behind.

The frantic fluttering of the baby fairies began to subside. Daniel, who’d been half out of it since the fairy started talking, now looked completely dazed.

I couldn’t tell what Han Taekyung was thinking…

“Hey, then don’t blame humans, blame your own kind!” Hope suddenly raised his voice to the fairy.

What was he doing now?

[It’s all because of humans!!]

“Why? You just said it yourself. Using your own kind… Oh, was it humans who used them? Sorry, I misunderstood!” Hope waved his hand with a bright smile.

“Go on, keep talking. If you’re going to go, you might as well get everything off your chest. We all know this port is finished, you know it, I know it, everyone knows it. If there’s anything you regret, say it now. It’d be a shame to die with it bottled up.”

Daniel looked at Father as if he wanted to faint on the spot—or maybe to protest that someone so unhinged was allowed to be a hunter.

I felt the same way.

[…Regret?]

But, astonishingly, the fairy answered Hope’s words.

…Why? I couldn’t fathom it.

There was no hope left, but all the monsters I’d seen so far seemed born to kill as many humans as possible. The more intelligent ones were even worse than the fairies. The only monster I’d ever met who wanted to talk to humans was Tati.

I looked again at the twisted dolls at the bottom of the lake. Had the fairy made them?

“Yeah. It’s unfair, isn’t it? Your wings—who tore them? Did you do it yourself? Didn’t it hurt? Isn’t that why you’re soaking them now?”

The fairy mouthed words, as if wanting to protest.

…A surprisingly human expression.

[What if you knew who did it?]

“I’m not saying I’d get revenge for you. But we’re on the Savior’s side. You know that, right?”

[You… human, how do you…!]

“He’s right behind you.”

[……!]

“Just because we’re human doesn’t mean we’re all on the same side. We’re going to bring down this port. That won’t change. But if you don’t want to die alone, you can take some others with you.”

The fairy stared at Hope. What was it searching for in him? But then, as if understanding, it nodded.

Still, a very human gesture.

[##&*(?]

“…Ah. Well. I see.”

[Yes. I see. So that was possible, too.]

“That’s right, isn’t it?”

The strength drained from the fairy’s body. It muttered a few more words in an incomprehensible tongue. Hope, aside from his initial confusion, just shrugged and acted nonchalant. Han Taekyung continued to watch Hope and the fairy with an unreadable expression.

The fairy gave a short whistle. The swarm of baby fairies descended to the lake’s edge. Like worker bees guarding their queen, the black fairies surrounded the fairy. The cloud dispersed, and light returned.

[I am ^$^@#^ of &^@((]

Above the fairy’s head, the core shone like a sun.

[I am…]

The fairy faced each of the humans who had come to destroy this dungeon. At the end, its gaze settled on Father.

[…I see. We were defeated. So that’s why you used such methods.]

“Hm?”

[Young $$%^. Beware the brand.]

“The brand?”

[Yes. The brand.]

The fairy pointed to its own wings. Geometric patterns remained on the tattered surface.

[That’s all I have to tell you. Now close this place and leave.]

With those words, the fairy sang a brief song. The baby fairies moved again. For a moment, I thought they were about to attack, but instead, they formed a ceiling over the ruined ground. The golden honey lake was hidden, and only the dry rustle of black wings could be heard.

“…What the hell?”

I looked at Hope with a sour expression.

Hope tilted his head for a moment, then moved onto a vine closer to the core.

“Let’s talk outside, outside.”

Despite all the confusion, Hope spoke lightly, almost humming as if singing a song.