From a distance, Sharlock watched the thirty-odd players march grandly off toward the Spider Nest. Small numbers, sure, but that level of organization and discipline was something ordinary goblins could never manage. They'd even held a pep rally before setting out — and to get this expedition organized ASAP, quite a few players had selflessly contributed their own currency to help others buy weapons and armor sooner.
Watching these otherworldly players absolutely bursting with drive and can-do spirit, Sharlock fell deep into thought. Gotta hand it to another world, huh?
Naturally, Sharlock was still spying on the players with magic from the dungeon core — mostly to confirm whether they were enjoying this entertainment venue. With death no longer a big deal, Sharlock didn't much care whether the players died in the Spider Nest. However many times they died, it'd cost him a bit of mana at most — practically zero loss on the balance sheet.
Once the thirty-odd players came sweeping into the Spider Nest in all their glory, there followed a "clash of the titans" between the players and the subterranean spiders.
The otherworldly players' combat skills were baby-level garbage, every last one of them — but with superior numbers plus cheap, easy resurrection, fighting over and over would eventually grind their skills up. It'd just take some time to settle in, plus... a whole lot more dying!
When the huddled players saw the subterranean spiders come pouring out, they broke into a shrieking, wailing mass, and in the chaos several players got snatched up by spiders — as effortlessly as a hawk taking a chick. Some players froze solid with fear; others at least squealed and swung their short swords in resistance, but they got slammed to the ground fast — knocked out or instantly dead. Once in a while a subterranean spider or two got slashed up by the flailing mob, but even those quickly backed off. Not a single one got cut down on the spot.
The player called Arthur, though, was a lot calmer than on his first push. He clearly had a modicum of combat skill, and his body was a bit more agile than the other players'. Even so — "a bit better than the others" was all it was. He couldn't kill a subterranean spider with any ease; all he could do was deal out as much damage as possible under cover of his fellow players' bodies. That was about the size of it.
A fight like this couldn't be called evenly matched by any stretch. Less "players enjoying themselves at an amusement park," more "a hunting preserve lovingly prepared for the subterranean spiders" — the otherworldly players were basically door-to-door food delivery.
Players kept getting carried off. Forget fighting back — they couldn't even double back to loot gear off their dead buddies, or haul back the corpses of the ones smashed, skewered, or tossed to death!
Clearly, the players who got carried off and eaten had no option but to reroll their characters.
"Bru."
Watching the players on the magic screen begin their full-scale rout, Sharlock asked the dungeon core:
"You're sure these otherworlders enjoy this style of gameplay? Getting eaten, getting flung to death, getting stabbed till their intestines drag out — they actually derive PLEASURE from this?"
"In their own world, of course there'd be no pleasure in it. But in this world? Probably a little. After all, stuff like Sekiro, the Souls series, Bloodborne — those have big audiences too."
Bru replied promptly.
"Does fighting just never happen in their world? I knew they were weak, but getting slaughtered this one-sidedly by subterranean spiders... this is weak to a genuinely absurd degree..." This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Sharlock couldn't help asking, baffled.
The author publishes this chapter on NovelPhoenix.com, but this copy was made without consent; reading there supports their work.
"Fighting? Oh, there's plenty. It's just that what they fight is a little different from our world. Their opponents are things like math, foreign languages, and assorted schoolwork; unspoken rules; under-the-table deals — roughly like nobles monopolizing certain privileges while the poor scrap it out with daily life itself. Since no physical danger is involved, it's understandable their practical combat skills are a bit weak." Bru explained all this, then added worriedly:
"Actually, Lord Sharlock, if this slaughter keeps up... I'm worried they might quit the game..."
"What's 'quit the game'?"
Sharlock's instincts zeroed in on the crux of the problem, and he asked:
"The equivalent of desertion in this world! Here, if you recruit a goblin but don't pay wages on time, or your dungeon's benefits and facilities aren't up to snuff, the goblin will leave your dungeon before you know it. These otherworldly players won't desert over unpaid wages or shoddy facilities — but if they stop having FUN, they might well leave the dungeon too!"
When Bru finished, Sharlock's brow furrowed. Being a Dungeon Lord wasn't easy. Being a COMPETENT Dungeon Lord was even harder!
The times had changed. Gone was the benighted era when a Dungeon Lord could idly pick up a servant and crush him dead on a whim. Dungeon Lords who were brutally cruel to their subordinates pretty much all ended up blacklisted by the Underworld's monsters — nobody would ever come work for a dungeon like that. Dungeons these days had to pay wages AND provide full benefits packages — seriously steep overhead! And here Sharlock had lucked into this crowd of otherworldly players: no wages demanded, couldn't care less about hardware and facilities, even infinite post-death respawns — working themselves to the bone for nothing but a little metal currency and a reputation system that was worthless to Sharlock. They'd grind away like their lives depended on it, no foreman required!
A free, endlessly reusable labor force this good — basically the old-era slavery experience! — and NOW you tell me that if this keeps up, they might quit the game and desert?
Sharlock grasped the gravity of the problem. If his hundred free laborers deserted, then to recruit a hundred goblins again he'd need full facilities, a monthly circus performance for their entertainment, AND wages on top — five magic stones per head per month. That was a burden Sharlock wanted no part of. In fact, on Sharlock's budget, five to ten goblins was already his ceiling.
"Lord Sharlock, as your loyal assistant, I feel obliged to offer a little advice. These players do love challenging themselves — but a challenge that's flat-out impossible, one where there's not even a way to try harder, will crush their fighting spirit in no time. But if there's a way for them to keep getting stronger through hard work — if you give them hope of actually beating a stronger enemy — then dying over and over won't break them at all. It'll fire them UP." So said the dungeon core, Bru.
"Right, can't let them keep dying like this either — otherwise before they even quit the game, the dungeon will run out of metal to forge their gear." Sharlock pulled out a teleport scroll as he spoke to Bru. "They've already routed back home. You soothe them in a bit. I'm off to Frostlake — I need to find them a... skill trainer. That's what they call a coach, yes?"
Even as he said it, Sharlock tore the scroll and vanished from the spot — leaving the dungeon core "Bru" to say, in a resigned tone:
"Soothe them? What am I supposed to do, post a server-wide announcement and hand out some push-party compensation? Ten coppers a head? ...Huh. Actually, that might work..."
While Sharlock traveled to Frostlake to hunt down a skill instructor for the otherworldly players, of the thirty-odd-strong push team, only about ten came trudging back in sorry shape. The ones who'd died were the easy cases — most of them were already rerolling their characters. But the ones grievously wounded and not yet dead could only lie on the ground wailing. They couldn't actually feel pain, but seeing how mangled they were, they howled a couple times anyway — for the vibes. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
With the push squad battered to hell, a mood of sorrow and despair started spreading. More than a few players were straight-up complaining about the difficulty.
"The combat is TOO real! Like, despair-level real! I'm standing there holding a sword and I genuinely don't know where on the spider I'm supposed to stab it!"
"That spider literally scared the piss out of me!"
"Thirty people ain't cutting it. Are we gonna need like a hundred all at once?"
"Ugh, I'm so tilted — my leg's been bitten down to a stump, I can't even stand. Where's Locke? Can he heal this?"
The whole dungeon dissolved into a clamorous mess. The little pixie, tucked away in her corner, watched the bloody, horrifying scene and grew even more terrified. These goblins were drenched head to toe in blood, and they were LAUGHING and CHATTING away like it was nothing! What kind of horrifying species could pull THAT off? And here she'd thought they seemed friendly — clearly all an illusion!
Just as everyone was busy kicking themselves over the failed push, "Bru's" voice rang out inside every player's head:
"Congratulations, players, on meeting the hidden quest requirements! Every player will receive one hundred reputation points and ten copper coins, along with one free melee skill improvement! For details, please await the forum announcement!"
Hearing that system-announcement-style voice, the players let out a collective cheer, their earlier gloom swept away in an instant. They'd been ready to write off the Spider Nest push entirely — and now, out of nowhere, they were being told they got a free melee skill improvement? THAT was excellent news! Nobody knew yet how combat skills would actually be leveled in this game, but everyone was already itching to power up and take another crack at the Spider Nest!
Meanwhile, back in Frostlake, Sharlock got his bearings and headed off in the direction opposite the market. That was where Frostlake's Special Talent Market stood — and just like the name said, it was a place where you could recruit special talent.
══════════════════════ DUNGEON LORD'S NOTE ═══════════════════════
Push two was less 'party,' more 'door-to-door food delivery for spiders' — one guy's leg bitten to a stump — until Bru improvised a hidden-quest compensation announcement.
Should every failed push come with pity rewards?
If you're having a good time, a 5-star rating and a quick two-sentence review keep the mana flowing — thanks, legends!