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Translator: Athena13
Translator (December 10, 2024 Version): Barnnn
After updating their Status Cards, Tsutomu and his party lingered near the main reception, awaiting the arrival of Misil and the Silver Beast party. Soon, they appeared, and after receiving their share of the rewards from the last two Dungeon layers, Tsutomu’s group accepted Misil’s invitation to dinner — on his tab.
As promised, Garm exchanged hearty handshakes with Silver Beast’s core members, who welcomed the gesture warmly. Misil, meanwhile, sat nearby, grumbling in mock despair as he nursed a drink, half-joking that life might have been easier if he’d been born with good looks. Before long, Tsutomu found himself sandwiched between Misil and Camille, the elder members of the gathering, both of whom had already sampled more than a bit of drink. They leaned in, smelling faintly of alcohol, and began pouring out their grievances.
“These Birdkin these days,” Misil muttered, eyes unfocused, “they treat me like I’m not even their Clan leader!”
“And my daughter…” Camille chimed in, voice roughened by a lifetime of battles. “She’s so distant. Must be ’cause her father’s gone…”
Tsutomu felt a mix of sympathy and awkwardness as he became the unwitting confessor to their unexpected disclosures, while Garm and the younger Silver Beast members offered him quiet glances of sympathy.
Eventually, Tsutomu managed to steer the conversation back to lighter topics, but Misil soon slammed his mug on the table, causing a ripple of startled looks.
“Tsutomu, man! How do you get those healing skills of yours to fly like that? Give an old man a tip or two, would ya?”
“Hmm? Tips?” Tsutomu replied, slightly taken aback. “Once you’re used to the visualizing part, making it fly shouldn’t be too hard…”
“Tsutomu! Don’t go spilling our secrets that easily!” Camille cut in, frowning as she thrust her mug forward. “Pour me more beer instead!”
“No more for you, Camille,” Tsutomu warned, holding back a laugh. “I’m not hauling you back to the dorms again.”
“Oh, come on!” Misil protested, undeterred. “We’ve shared some of our tricks, haven’t we? This is just an exchange of information!”
Half-jokingly, Misil pointed across the room to the red-feathered Birdkin, raising his voice a notch too high. Tsutomu smiled, a bit sheepishly; Misil wasn’t wrong — he had gleaned quite a few insights from chatting with the Birdkin earlier.
“Well, I don’t mind explaining,” Tsutomu said, shrugging. “But first — where do you think it’s going wrong?”
“Wait, you’ll really help me? …All right, so I think our White Mage CAN get it to fly far enough. But once it lands, it barely heals! Chewing Grassland herbs might do better!”
“…Wair, really?”
Tsutomu had assumed Misil’s trouble was in getting the spell to travel. Tsutomu himself had spent days practicing just that; his <<Heal>> shots had a tendency to fizzle if they flew too far. He’d tried tossing the <<Heal>> energy like a ball, making it curve like a boomerang — every method he could think of.
In the end, he’d found the most success by solidifying the energy and shooting it like a “Hadouken,” which gave him the control he needed to adjust its course mid-flight. While he’d noticed the healing power was strongest up close, it hadn’t dropped off significantly with distance — at least, not as drastically as Misil was describing.
“…Sorry, I’m not entirely sure,” Tsutomu admitted after a pause. “I’ll run some tests, though, and let you know if I come up with anything.”
“Awfully generous of you,” Misil replied with a grin, though a hint of suspicion lingered in his eyes. “Makes an old guy like me a little wary.”
Tsutomu scratched his cheek, laughing awkwardly. “It’s not like I’m keeping secrets, you know. All our battles are broadcast on the Pedestals; anyone can watch my moves and figure them out. Besides… I’m not exactly thrilled with the way White Mages are treated these days.”
“Right there with you,” Misil said with a heavy nod. “In my day, every party made sure to have a White Mage. But ever since Potions were developed, it’s like nobody needs ’em anymore.”
“Exactly! They’ll go, ‘Oh, thanks for reviving me! Now that we’re done, don’t need you anymore — bye-bye!’ Drives me NUTS!”
Camille, who’d been quietly refilling Tsutomu’s drink, murmured, “Easy now,” as he proceeded to take a long, irritated sip.
In the early days, Potions brewed from medicinal herbs of the Grasslands and Forest layers offered minimal healing. Back then, Healer-type Jobs far outperformed anything Potions could manage. White Mages were indispensable, especially those who could cast <<High Heal>>, capable of restoring even a severed arm as long as the shoulder was intact, and <<Medic>>, a skill that cured ailments and exhaustion.
Then came a turning point: more advanced Potions, potent enough to neutralize status effects, especially the poisons encountered in the Swamp layers beyond the twentieth layer. With Antidote Potions made from readily available ingredients, people no longer relied on White Mages to cleanse poison — they could simply drink an antidote and move on. As a result, White Mages saw less demand in the Swamp.
The tide shifted again at the thirtieth layer, the Wasteland, where undead monsters vulnerable to holy-elemental attacks made White Mages once more invaluable.
But then came the notorious Shell Crab on the fiftieth layer. This monstrous enemy crab would retreat to its nest when weakened, only to return shortly after almost fully healed, leaving many Clans at a stalemate and Dungeon progress stalled.
One Clan, Ealdred Crow, managed to track and overcome the Shell Crab almost by sheer luck, but most others couldn’t replicate the success. Explorers had noticed that the Shell Crab used a strange white mucus to reattach its shattered armor, but it baffled them how all their inflicted wounds disappeared.
In time, the major Clans joined forces to investigate. They traced the Shell Crab’s miraculous recovery to a peculiar, striped fish — the Potion Fish — found swimming in the waters of the Beach layers. With the Potion Fish’s properties, when combined with Forest herbs, apothecaries could produce Potions so powerful they surpassed even <<High Heal>>. These Potions marked a revolution: the extraordinary healing power of White Mages was now available to anyone with the Gold to pay for them.
This breakthrough led to a new strategy for tackling the Shell Crab. Rather than relying on Healers, parties now formed full-Attacker squads, five fighters strong, aiming to overwhelm the beast quickly enough to prevent its escape.
In the beginning, these Potions were prohibitively expensive, affordable only to the wealthiest Clans. But as production ramped up and prices dropped, even mid-tier Clans found themselves able to stock Potions with healing power rivaling <<High Heal>>.
As Potions became more cost-effective for Dungeon expeditions, the role of the White Mage waned on the fortieth layer and beyond. With only <<Raise>> — the rare spell that could resurrect fallen allies — and a few support skills left in their unique arsenal, White Mages found themselves increasingly sidelined.
Their importance was reduced to brief appearances in the Wasteland. Even the fiftieth layer, the Valley, saw them called upon only for <<Fly>>, which allowed non-flying allies to traverse the mountainous terrain. Yet this need was short-lived, as magic tools for flight were soon in development.
Faced with dwindling demand in combat, White Mages pivoted, experimenting with new specializations. Some embraced offensive skills, while others leaned fully into support roles, and it was the support-and-resurrection-focused White Mages who ultimately found the most success.
Rather than traditional healing, these White Mages prioritized strengthening their teams through support skills. In critical moments, they would revive a fallen Attacker with <<Raise>> and bolster their strength, buying precious time against tough foes.
Tsutomu understood the logic behind this evolution, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that White Mages deserved more than a peripheral role on the battlefield. Watching broadcasts of battles, he often saw Attackers taking center stage, while White Mages, dressed in their modest robes, lingered in the background or were left to observe from the Guild hall.
Could White Mages truly be content in these support roles? Tsutomu doubted it. In his own efforts in the Dungeon, critics wrote him off as simply “lucky,” insinuating he survived only by relying on Garm and Amy’s skills. Maybe not all White Mages faced such scorn, but he knew their reputations had been tarnished in much the same way. Was this truly the future they wanted — to be relegated to disposable roles on the battlefield?
Lost in venting his frustrations, the night slipped by quickly. By the time they left the tavern, Tsutomu and his companions were thoroughly drunk, stumbling out with the support of their new friends.
――▽▽――
The next day, Tsutomu was mostly recovered thanks to an anti-hangover medicine he’d taken before sleeping. Camille, however, had to rely on a self-purchased Potion to shake off the worst of her hangover.
As they entered the fifty-sixth layer, unlike the vibrant greenery of the fiftieth layer’s Valley, the Canyon was barren, broken only by sparse, tan-colored plants and dry grass. Jagged cliffs and narrow ledges towered on either side, and the group found themselves teleported near the canyon floor, facing a steep rock wall.
Tsutomu cast <<Fly>> on Camille, sending her ahead to scout the area. He then handed Garm his Potion vials to refill and prepared his own Blue Potions. Once Camille returned and shared what she’d observed, Tsutomu cast <<Fly>> on himself and Garm, and the three set off.
“This way.”
They followed Camille as she drifted gracefully through the air. Tsutomu’s recent training against Carrier Birds had improved his aerial control significantly — now he could move swiftly and maintain his balance, and even if he faltered, he’d learned to recover without panicking.
The group glided along the towering cliffs, weaving between rocks and jutting outcroppings, ducking into cover whenever the earthy-hued Orc patrols below cast wary glances upward. One stray arrow would be all it took to expose them, so they moved carefully, Camille leading the way with practiced precision, signaling when to move from one hiding spot to the next.
Tsutomu had a clear goal: locate the Black Gates, advance to the fifty-ninth layer as quickly as possible, and start preparing for the challenge of the Fire Dragon, all while steadily leveling up. Progress had stalled on the sixtieth layer for nearly half a year now, with only the Scarlet Devil Squad having successfully overcome the Fire Dragon so far.
The prolonged stalemate had spurred the development of specialized countermeasures, tools, and equipment designed to combat the Dragon — some familiar to Tsutomu from his gaming days, while others were wholly new. He’d already scouted a few promising items at the market near Monitor #1 and planned to buy and test them once they reached the fifty-ninth layer.
Under Camille’s guidance, they hugged the cliffside, evading the Orcs’ sight and fending off the occasional swooping Carrier Bird. As they rounded a bend, Camille raised her hand, signaling for the others to halt.
“There’s a herd of Charge Sheep up ahead. Lucky us.”
“Shiny monsters!” Tsutomu’s face brightened.
“Shiny? …Uh, right. I suppose they are.”
“Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen a single treasure chest since that one time. Surely another one has to turn up soon, right?”
“Maybe you spent your lifetime’s luck on that one,” Camille replied with a dry chuckle.
Tsutomu laughed, peeking around the cliff edge to get a better look at the herd. At first glance, the Charge Sheep looked like any ordinary sheep with their black bodies and woolly white coats, but the curling horns jutting skyward gave them away. Occasionally, their wool sparked with threads of white electricity, as if a storm lay coiled within. The herd, a little over ten strong, huddled together as they grazed on the dry, wheat-colored grass.
Lightning Magic Stones were rare in God’s Dungeon, found only in monsters like Electric Slimes or Charge Sheep. Though they more often turned up in other Dungeons, demand always outpaced supply, keeping prices high.
The Charge Sheep were packed tightly, seemingly guarding one another. If Garm or Camille attempted to get close, the flock would likely scatter, unleashing arcs of lightning as they fled.
Ideally, a Black Mage with an area-of-effect spell or an Archer with precision long-range skills would manage a herd like this. But in this party, only Tsutomu had the means to strike from afar.
“It’d be bad if we got too close, right?” Tsutomu asked, eyeing the herd cautiously.
“Taking down a few is possible, but it’d come at a cost — sometimes a life. Learned that the hard way,” Camille replied, a grin hidden beneath her red-scaled hand.
Tsutomu crossed his arms thoughtfully. “All right, I’ll give it a shot. Apologies in advance if this all goes sideways.”
“Go for it. Those things always seem to show up when you’re low on wide-range skills anyway.”
“Ah, the ‘desire sensor’ at work…”
“Desire…sensor?” Camille asked, puzzled.
“Never mind, forget I said anything.”
Tsutomu gave a brief shrug before stepping from behind the cliff. Raising his White Staff, he aimed it toward the Charge Sheep grazing in the distance.
“<<Holy Wing>>.”
Recalling the red-feathered Birdkin’s advice from earlier, he imagined a set of radiant wings spreading from his back. Visualizing each feather, he willed them to release, guiding each one forward with a flick of his focus. It was more instinct than calculation, but Tsutomu concentrated hard, pouring his mental energy into directing the skill.
The effect was immediate, unlike when he’d unleashed the skills on the Orcs. Feathers lanced forward, sharper and faster than before, tearing through the air. They rained down on the Charge Sheep in a flurry, each feather a piercing spear. With crackling flashes, the sheep cried out, scattering in a storm of lightning.
When the barrage cleared, several Charge Sheep lay motionless, their forms dissolving, leaving only glinting Magic Stones. The few survivors bolted in panic, releasing arcs of electricity as they fled.
“Well done, Tsutomu!” Camille cheered, bounding over and ruffling his hair with both hands.
“Thanks!” he grinned, exhilarated at his skill’s newfound force.
Behind them, Garm hovered, looking like he wanted to congratulate Tsutomu but settling for a satisfied sigh instead.
Though no treasure chest appeared, they gathered a respectable haul: seven Small Lightning Magic Stones and eight Medium-sized ones glinting among the remnants of the fallen sheep. Tsutomu tucked them into his Magic Bag, smiling with satisfaction.
Before long, they also located the Black Gate leading to the fifty-seventh layer. With a fresh surge of energy, Tsutomu stepped through, eager to push onward to the fifty-ninth layer before the day’s end.
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Thanks for the chapter. Nice to see it back.
Amazing to see this translated again! Hope the translator is sticking around! Great job!
Thank you so much for this translation. I never gave up hope on this novel.
You’re welcome. Our Translator is a little sick so we are delaying the next release.