A New Kind Of Grind

"Holy shit," the Rogue said, looking me up and down. "What fucking level are you?"

"Level 4 Wizard," I said, inside a complete and comprehensive suit of plate mail, the only part missing being the helmet- which, while surprisingly comfortable, was still a touch unpleasant to have on, and also would render me quite distant and imposing-looking. So, the helmet stayed off until we entered the Dungeon Gate. "However, I live with a Blacksmith, and managed to secure a good supply of steel, so I could afford to gear up pretty heavily."

It had been a week since the scrap in the warehouse, and I was now fully healed up, and fully geared up; I had that armor I'd commissioned from Haruna, and I also had the revolver I'd commissioned from her, too. Plus some extra machinery for turning lead into bullets and brass into shell casings, with the powder and primer being supplied by myself. The end result was that, in a fairly tedious process that was nonetheless quite necessary if I hoped to use my new revolver in a delve, I could crank out my own ammunition in great quantities.

(The ammunition thing was likely a big part of why guns weren't terribly popular with delvers, who were fighting large numbers of weaker enemies constantly; bows were also not super popular with them, because, while a bow could shoot faster than a muzzle-loader, arrows were even more labor-intensive than gunpowder and a lead ball.)

"Well, we'll be in your hands," the group's Fighter said.

I had found an established group of delvers willing to take me with them on a delve, although they were still Level 3, which... didn't inspire total confidence in me. Still, they were Level 3 and properly Guild-trained, and we were going into a Level 3 Dungeon Gate, so we should be able to handle it. Hell, they had a complete and balanced party comp even without me- a Fighter, a Rogue, a Cleric (I still had no idea if the Healer role had anything to do with piety or religion), and a Wizard.

My first ever delve did not need to be with a beautifully-coordinated team of well-oiled killing machines. It could just be a regular-ass delve with some regular-ass people.

We'd be fine.

"So," I said, as we stepped through the Dungeon Gate into the safe room that was, apparently, at the start of every dungeon. "How are we doing this?"

"Huh?" the Cleric asked.

"Uhhh... Wizards in the back, me in the front, and Sarah and Ja- sorry, the Rogue and Cleric in the middle," the Fighter said. "Right?"

I shrugged. "That wasn't a test, I just wanted to know what our tactics were, and how I was gonna fit into that."

"You can probably just set stuff on fire as it comes up and we'll be fine," the Wizard beside me said.

That was... uh... Okay, I'm not trained in delver tactics, but I have been in fights with people who genuinely wanted to kill me, and I can't help but feel like that was probably a bad idea.

"I think I'm gonna try doing area-of-effect crowd-control stuff," I said. "Put down some [Grease] or [Caltrops], maybe a [Wall of Fire] if things get hectic. I've got plenty of potions, so if you need one, let me know and I'll toss you one."

Now, admittedly, crowd-control spells were not spells I was super well-practiced in; I've used them enough in spellcasting practice that I was reasonably confident I could cast them in a fight, but I've never actually used them in a fight. Part of that was because, again, I wasn't super familiar with them, and so I fell back on old standbys like [Telekinesis], but also, part of that was that I simply hadn't fought big crowds before. And no, four people is not a big crowd. Forty people would've been, if I hadn't knocked out thirty six of them with a single spell: [Mass Sleep].

...Which, now that I think about it, might be a spell worth using.

Eh. Nah, too magic-inefficient.

"Well, you're the boss," the Fighter said, shrugging before pushing open the door into the first proper room of the dungeon.

Almost immediately, we were spotted by a gaggle of slimes, and they started bouncing across the floor towards the door, and I sighed quietly.

"[Slimebane]," I cast, sending out a wave of telekinetic force in front of the Fighter.

Slimes were a common low-level trash mob, and were, essentially, balls of mindlessly angry, caustic gelatin inside a semi-porous clear membrane. They could, in fact, be quite easily slain with a bladed weapon, because if you pierced the membrane, all of the slime inside would pour out, and that would kill the thing.

As such, countless Wizards had developed spells for clearing a room full of them without wasting any time on them. Hell, the spell I'd just cast was one Akane had made when she was 18, as part of an introductory spell-making course, and the way it worked was quite simple: it created an expanding wavefront of telekinetic force that happened to be shaped in such a way as to most efficiently pierce, rip, and tear the membrane of a slime.

"Whoa," the Wizard muttered as she watched the spell developed by an eighteen year old take out six of the trashiest of trash mobs.

I was starting to get the feeling that these guys weren't all that great at their jobs.

Our next challenge, unfortunately, was slightly sturdier than the first one, in the form of six kobolds with spears.

Unawakened monstergirls weren't an uncommon enemy in dungeons, and they got more common as you leveled up, until around Level 7, where they stopped being the more elite enemies, and began transitioning back to being trash mobs- not that they couldn't still be dangerous enemies at the higher levels, especially if they were mini-bosses. At Level 3, however, the common monstergirls you fought didn't have actual Classes, and were just mundane assholes with spears and swords. Monstergirl bosses and minibosses did have Classes, but there was only one of those at a time in a fight, at this level.

"[Grease]," I cast, expending the extra effort and magic to make the spell stick to the bottoms of the kobolds' feet, rather than the ground. The spell didn't actually summon grease or oil or any slippery substance, funnily enough; rather, it just altered a surface's coefficient of friction, making it supernaturally slippery.

The kobolds stumbled and slowed in their charge, and I watched with anticipation, expecting the Fighter to, at any moment, wind up for a big swing that laid out all of the kobolds in one or two strikes.

My expectations were then defied, as the Fighter panicked, and hid behind her shield, poking with her sword like she was a common infantryman in formation, rather than one Fighter at the front of an adventuring party.

The kobolds weren't going to do much to hurt her, since she had a decent, knee-length chainmail cuirass, and the kobolds couldn't properly brace themselves for a good lunging stab, but this was still a slow, tedious embarrassment. Fuck, the Rogue should have been pitching in with the damage, but she was hanging back too.

"Out of my way," I muttered, stepping forward and brushing past the Rogue, my revolver appearing in my hand.

Five shots casually rang out, and five kobolds fell over, dead. Thankfully, by the time I'd lined up the fifth shot, someone bothered actually doing something, and the Cleric caved in the last kobold's head with her mace.

"You are," I began, "the worst Fighter I have ever met. And that includes a woman who quit delving at Level 5 to become a dockworker."

The Fighter wilted, and I sighed, shaking my head.

"Rogue, check the treasure chest for traps," I said. "Looks to me like there's a miniboss up ahead."

"G-got it, boss," the Rogue said, before squaring her shoulders.

Well, at least I never had to delve with these assholes again. And if Cecilia tries to make me, on the grounds that I'm a good teacher/motivator for them, I would fucking scream.

The miniboss arena was big, and the reason it was big was pretty apparent, in a way that made me groan in frustration.

A black horse clopped slowly across the cobblestone floors. Atop it, spear and shield in one hand, was a fucking catgirl, wearing a black surcoat over a long-sleeved chainmail cuirass. She lifted her spear in a warrior's salute, and then, with her other hand, put on her helmet.

"Take out the horse, pin her down, and finish her off," I said loudly as the horse began to canter. "Piece of cake."

Seconds passed as the Black Knight picked up speed, and yet nobody did anything.

"Alright, then I'll just do it myself," I muttered, stepping forward and casting a single, familiar spell: "[Grease]."

The horse lost purchase on the cobblestones, and tumbled in a horrifying mess of breaking legs, throwing its rider in an unreasonably clean arc that ended in a badass power-slide across the cobblestones, leaving the Black Knight standing there, spear and shield in hand, ready to fight.

I put my gun away, and drew my own sword and shield, stepping forward and away from the group.

The knight turned her spear in her hand, and pitched it like a rocket-propelled javelin; I brought my shield up just in time to catch it, but it went through half an inch of wood like it was nothing, and only came to a stop about an inch away from my breastplate.

Fuck a duck, that was terrifying. Still, she only has the one spear; I broke the shaft with a cantrip, and let the halves fall off and away from my shield.

"Let's fucking go," I hissed, before charging at the Black Knight, watching her sword as she drew it from her hip.

Swords clashed with bright rings. She brought up her shield to catch my sword, so I hauled off with my shield and nailed her in the chest with its rim, backing it up with a wordless [Telekinesis] to send her off power-sliding again, bleeding away the impact of a blow that should have rightly cracked her ribcage.

I kept up the pressure, charging after her, but she regained her footing and went back on the offensive, swinging her sword in a horizontal slash that I caught on my sword...

...before, impossibly, before my eyes, my sword broke in half. I stared in shock at the orichalcum-and-steel blade, and she took advantage of my pause to stab me through metal plate and my stomach, like I was a deer she was about to gut.

I let go of my sword's hilt, and summoned my gun again. I was close enough to watch her eyes go wide inside her helmet, before I pulled the trigger, ringing her helmet like a bell and dropping her like a sack of potatoes.

"Nnhn," I grunted out as I fell to my knees, putting my gun and shield back in my inventory. "Cleric," I said weakly- she stabbed my fucking diaphragm, can't have shit in Dornhelm. I managed to stow the pieces of my sword in my inventory, praying that Veronica could fix it, before it all went black.