Stats were the core factor that determined a character's specs.
Even the NPCs in this world understood them through the concept of "capabilities."
Maybe that was why.
Right after I told them that a "Record" could raise their capabilities, my party members' eyes began to sparkle brightly as they stared at the "Record Sheet" in my hand.
"You mean we can get stronger?!"
"So that was what it meant to gain strength in the labyrinth..."
Still, I couldn't just hand this over blindly to people who didn't even know what it was.
"Then if we kill a lot of Goblins, can we get super strong?"
"So there was a way like that! Elf! You really are smart!"
Look at these guys.
When they're spouting nonsense like this, how am I supposed to give them a Record?
'Sigh.'
How much of this do I even have to explain from start to finish... What a headache.
"On top of that, once we get stronger, we will be able to kill Goblins even faster."
"Gasp... You're right."
"Let us kill Goblins! Let us keep killing them!"
First, I'd better clear up their misunderstanding before they form a Goblin Extermination Squad on the spot.
"That doesn't work. You can't obtain the same monster's Record more than once."
"Ah...!"
"How could that be?!"
What are you acting so disappointed about?
If it worked like that, literally anyone and everyone would be an Explorer.
"And you have to be careful about which Records you absorb."
Using a Record raised your stats.
However, that only applied when you obtained a "Normal Record."
"There are two main types of Records."
A "Normal Record," obtained from a white Record Sheet, which raised your stats.
And a "Special Record," obtained from a black Record Sheet.
The mechanics behind Special Records were complicated as hell.
Still, to explain it as simply as possible—
"A Special Record is an Ability carved directly into your body."
You could call it a "passive skill," more or less.
The slight difference was that it didn't grant purely positive effects.
The core of a Special Record was a "conversion of mechanics."
It worked on the exact same principle as a Cave Goblin having a frail body in exchange for permanent stealth.
"Then if we need a Special Record from a monster, we shouldn't take its Normal Record?"
"Exactly."
Because Special Records provided unique functions that couldn't be replicated even with skills, they formed the backbone of any build.
Absorbing a random monster's Normal Record just to raise your stats by a point or two could end up placing extreme restrictions on your build later on.
Picking and choosing clearly between Normal Records and Special Records was the heart of building a character.
"What's a Goblin's Special Record, then?"
"[Ferocity]. It raises your capabilities across the board, but your intelligence degenerates."
"That sounds... very Goblin-like."
"Because it's a Goblin's ability."
They weren't called "Records" for nothing.
A Record reflected the monster's own traits.
A Normal Record granted the stats the monster primarily relied on, while a Special Record granted an ability the monster itself possessed.
"...People don't really use that one, do they?"
"Of course not."
[Ferocity] might have sounded like a decent Special Record for a berserker build, but in [Dungeon Log], an "intelligence drop" penalty was a far more serious problem than it looked.
Losing your ability to think straight inside the labyrinth basically turned everyday life into a constant suicide attempt.
"Then... I suppose we should decide who gets this one now."
My lecture—worthy of a star instructor pulling in ten billion won a year—came to an end, and my party members' eyes started darting around again.
They looked ready to put it to a vote.
Their opinions, however, didn't matter.
"This Record already has an owner."
I'd already decided ahead of time who would get the very first Record if one dropped while we were hunting Goblins here.
"Pardon?"
I held the Record Sheet out to the orc.
"Urka, it's yours."
"I get to grow stronger?!"
"Yeah. It'll make you stronger."
"Ooooh!!"
Taking the Record Sheet, the orc practically jumped for joy.
He couldn't hide the excitement on his face.
"...Why him?"
Naturally, there was pushback.
The elf, in particular, looked like she couldn't understand my choice at all, and it wasn't hard to see why.
Right now, this cowardly, dim-witted orc was the least helpful member of our party.
Since the elf had been fighting alongside the orc in every skirmish, she knew that better than anyone.
None of that was what mattered, though.
The rule of the labyrinth these beginners needed to learn was that "every party decides its own method of distribution."
And the rule of our party was—
"It's my call."
Me, of course.
As their carry machine, guide, and de facto leader all in one, I decided everything.
We'd never officially voted on it, sure, but didn't everyone already know that?
...Still, putting it too bluntly might spark a mutiny, so I leaned in and whispered a brief explanation just for the two of them.
"You two already fight well. That guy, though... is lacking. And he's a coward, too."
"...Well, that's true."
"Besides, the capability boost from a Goblin's Record is tiny anyway."
A Level 1 monster granted a stat boost of 1 point.
A Goblin's Normal Record gave 1 point of Muscle.
Gaining a single point like that barely made a noticeable difference.
"Combat performance," on the other hand, wasn't determined by stats alone.
"Uooooh! Power is surging through me!"
That idiot, who'd been saddled with the coward trait despite being an orc, had now become braver than anyone.
"I shall become a great warrior!"
At last, he was in shape to earn his keep.
***
Although [Dungeon Log] was set in a fantasy world, it placed a heavy emphasis on realism.
Having "condition" dictate a character's performance was part of that design.
And what used to be implemented in the game as adjustments to stats, accuracy, or speed—
"Axe of the warrior!"
Was now reflected with far greater precision in reality.
CRACK!
The axe the orc brought crashing down let out a crisp, satisfying sound.
The crown of the goblin's head split open like a ripe summer watermelon.
Without even a scream, the goblin became a corpse.
"Urooooooh!!"
Such was the might of an orc who had found his confidence.
As the orc howled, the other party members stared at him as if witnessing a miracle.
"Incredible. To think a person could change like that overnight."
"Are you sure his capabilities didn't go up by a huge amount?"
"Yeah."
"Hrmm..."
The elf still looked a bit skeptical.
Still, it was the truth.
Sure, since our base stats were low right now, a 1-point difference carried a bit more weight, but nowhere near enough to explain what that orc was putting on display.
"Then could I do something like that too?"
"If you're asking whether you can do it the exact way he does, no, that's impossible."
"...Why?"
There were plenty of reasons.
"First, your weapon. An axe and a sword are different."
A sword was meant for slashing and thrusting.
Brutish displays like that could only be pulled off with axes or blunt weapons.
"And there's quite a size difference between you two, isn't there?"
Like I said before, [Dungeon Log] was faithful to real-life physics in a lot of ways.
In that sense, there was a clear difference in "weight class" between an orc and an elf.
Even with the exact same Muscle stat, an orc—who weighed more and had greater height and reach—put out more raw destructive force in practice.
Of course, that only explained why the elf couldn't put on the "exact same" display as the orc.
"If you're asking whether you can fight a Goblin and win easily, though, you can do that all day long."
Every weapon and weight class had a fighting style suited to it.
Thanks to his weight class, the orc packed a heavy punch in a single swing, but because he had to move a heavier body with the same Muscle stat, his agility suffered for it.
The elf, by contrast, had a light, flexible frame that gave her the edge in intricate movements.
"Ah..."
It was pretty basic common sense, yet the elf looked as if she'd just achieved enlightenment.
She didn't seem dumb by any means, yet she had these weird blind spots in the strangest places.
...Well, she seemed to have understood me loud and clear, so that was good enough.
***
Once the orc awakened his confidence, our party's progress through the labyrinth sped up noticeably.
For one thing, situations where I needed to cast magic barely came up anymore, and with all four of us pulling our weight in combat, our stamina drain dropped sharply too.
About eight hours passed like that—
"We have arrived."
Reading the map, the dwarf suddenly announced our stop.
Not that we'd reached our final destination, though.
Our main destination was about forty kilometers away—not a distance beginners could cover in a single day to begin with.
Before setting out, I'd set our daily goal at roughly ten kilometers a day.
"Has it been that long already?"
I'd said "already," sure, but in truth, the party looked pretty battered.
No matter how low the difficulty was, we'd been at it for a full eight hours.
Torn bit by bit in every skirmish, our clothes were frayed like rags and caked with blood and grime.
Our mounting fatigue and exhaustion went without saying.
'About time we got some sleep.'
We'd be better off resting up properly and moving again tomorrow.
Still, we couldn't just roll out our bedding right here.
'Way too many entrances here.'
This cave had eight whole passages branching off from it.
There was a real risk of monsters swarming us from multiple directions at once.
Plus, more passages meant a higher chance of bumping into other Explorers.
"We'll go a little further and then rest."
Looking over the map in the dwarf's hands, I pointed out a suitable spot.
There was a chamber that looked good for camping without taking us off our route.
Even with our stamina largely spent, moving on wasn't hard.
Since nothing but Goblins had shown up so far, we easily dispatched the familiar enemies as we pressed ahead.
Then, with just one cave left before our bedroom for the night—
"Yuta, what is this?"
Walking in the lead, the dwarf suddenly stopped and called back to me.
His finger pointed just above the entrance leading into the next cave, where a picture was carved into the rock.
Two crossed blades were etched there like a crest or symbol.
"Oh."
Look what showed up right here.
"Mark this on the map. Copy that exact symbol."
"Is it something good?"
"It's a Special Zone."
On the first floor, there were a few rare chambers with special functions, known as [Special Zones].
This symbol of two crossed blades marked an "Elite Room," a chamber where a Level 2 monster—the "Goblin Elite"—spawned.
"Gasp... Then we should go around it."
"Doesn't matter. There's nothing in there right now anyway."
Seeing the disbelief in their eyes, I stepped across the threshold into the Elite Room first.
'Looks about the same.'
Aside from the difference in resolution I'd noticed when I first woke up here, the interior of the Elite Room looked identical to what I remembered.
For starters, rather than a natural cave, its walls had been artificially hewn into the shape of a dome.
Right in the center, six crude levers stuck out of the floor.
"Do monsters come out if you pull those?"
"Yeah."
"Then are you going to pull one?"
"No. We're passing through for now."
The "Goblin Elite" that spawned in an Elite Room was a Level 2 monster.
With our current specs, it was a bit much to handle.
If it were just one, we could probably manage to take it down, sure, but there was no reason to push our luck.
Fighting a Level 2 monster with our current specs would guarantee casualties.
Since we'd already marked the location on our map, we could just come back and use it next time—
CLACK-CLUNK—
Wait, why did I just hear a strange noise?
Mechanical sounds like that didn't happen often in this world...
"..."
With a sinking feeling, I slowly turned my head.
Two figures came into view.
"Human! There is nothing to fear! As a mighty warrior, I shall strike this monster down!"
An orc who had lost all touch with reality as a side effect of his newfound overconfidence.
"Kiraaak!"
And a Goblin Elite charging straight at us with sword and shield in hand.
"Ah."
Fuck.