Chapter 101: The Crystal Waterfall; A Sympathy Forged Through Solitude
An aerial jump. In other words, executing a second jump command while still in midair—stepping on the very air itself... and leaping once more. Its greatest defining trait is that it isn't restricted by terrain. It enables a jump regardless of whether you're above water or magma. And what that signifies is enormous.
Sunraku: "It lets you jump in midair, and on top of that, it's affected by other jumping-type skills... This is incredible. I'd call this a 120% result."
I've also confirmed several other new skills and evolved skills, but verifying those can wait. Testing the skill out, I leap—and the sensation of my foot planting against empty space fills me with certainty that my plan has succeeded. I rise to my feet, rubbing my head where I'd slammed into the ceiling.
Sunraku: "Emul, I'm heading out solo for a bit. Come pick me up in the back alleys of Eighthold tomorrow morning, once the sun's fully risen."
Emul: "Understood... wa. What are you planning to do, Sunraku-san... wa?"
Sunraku: "Compared to before, it's a very Vorpal sort of thing."
At the very least, unlike before—when I was avoiding the scorpions—from here on out, I'm going to go defeat the Crystal Scorpions. That's the plan.
Let's go back to fundamentals. The physics engine applies to everything in the game. The fact that players can run, that arrows fly straight, that monsters soar through the sky—all of it exists because of the absolute providence that is the physics engine. If the physics engine were flawed, people would bounce with every step, fired arrows would convulse and plummet straight down, and monsters would sink into the earth. People call that a buggy mess, and sure, in its own way that can be fun—gamers are pretty omnivorous like that—but that's irrelevant to this particular game.
Sunraku: "Apples fall to the ground. Shove someone hard in the back, they stumble forward. Brace yourselves, Crystal Scorpions. From this moment on, it's that very law of nature... that's going to kill you."
The crystal plain—a sight I'm long since used to. This place, wrapped in the silence of night's darkness, has death buried throughout it, landmine-like. But right now, I'm in a boost mode that has turned the impossible possible. Gravity and the laws of physics are on my side. Without an ounce of hesitation, I step into the crystal zone. Without an ounce of hesitation, I stride boldly toward the heart of Crystal Nest Cliff. Naturally, at times like this, I get a lucky break with the RNG—I keep walking with an almost unnatural absence of encounters. But it's like having one bullet in a six-shot cylinder: pull the trigger six times, and the shot will fire. The top prize in the box is guaranteed if you pull every losing ticket. The Crystal Scorpion, its peaceful slumber shattered along with the crystal around it, looks—if I'm not imagining things—distinctly irritable. Though, of course, since Crystal Scorpions lean closer to inorganic creatures without the straightforward emotional expression of Vorpal Bunnies or Cait-Sith, that's purely my projection.
Sunraku: "Alright, full throttle right from the start!"
Ignition. Off-Road. Nitro Gain. Transient Lone Wolf. Duelism. I activate every buff skill available to me, and this half-naked dead man walking plunges ahead without hesitation. Naturally, Crystal Scorpions begin activating in a chain reaction—reinforcements included.
Sunraku: "Uahahahaha! Stand up, wake up, good morning, you scorpion bastards! It's party time!"
A crystal tsunami, illuminated by the moonlight. It's an outcome I knowingly chose, but no matter how many times I see it, the chill of cold sweat runs down my spine. Racing through the moonlight, I finally reach my target destination, all conditions met. Crystal Scorpions at the front gate, the canyon at the back gate... perfect.
Sunraku: "Alright—chicken race. No one here's gonna chicken out, right?"
The Crystal Scorpions charge toward me. This horde of stat-monsters closing in is, in pure despair value, a step above even Lycagon the Nightslayer. Quality and quantity alike—if anything, their AI is the only thing they're lacking. Against a strong enemy like this, the odds of me winning head-on in a straight fight are not one in ten thousand. So what do I do? Simple.
Sunraku: "I can't beat you. So you can just go ahead and die for me."
Without hesitation, I back-jump straight behind me—hurling my body into the miasma-filled canyon, shrouded in night's darkness yet still lit by the moon. The floating sensation, the unique feeling of your internal organs being lifted—the fact that this is recreated in perfect detail speaks to the obsessive craftsmanship of a god-tier game. When Mud Digger sent me flying, I was in no state to appreciate it. And the Crystal Scorpions, swarming toward their target—me—also keep charging without pause. In which case, the end they'll meet is already decided.
Death by falling. A death sentence from the physics engine, which kills human and monster, player and NPC alike, with perfect equality. At least, the Crystal Scorpions—which rely on physical specs to do their killing—shouldn't possess any ability to mitigate fall damage. And even if their charge AI had the intelligence to "stop at the cliff's edge"...
Sunraku: "Please don't stop, sir—you'll inconvenience the customers behind you. Or something like that."
The Crystal Scorpions' solidarity is truly something. Even the reinforcements that come from behind throw themselves, every last one, into eliminating the enemy with full commitment—that's something even humans can't easily pull off. And precisely because of that—because they'll spare no damage to themselves or their allies to eliminate me—the Crystal Scorpions push forward without hesitation, shoving aside their halted brethren. All for the sake of eliminating the intruder.
Sunraku: "I'm calling it 'Scorpion Fall'... or maybe 'Operation Jelly Push' works better? [Transfer: Storage Space — Enter Travel]!"
The crystal tsunami closes in. Scorpions shoved forward by the ones behind them launch off the cliff. The ones that pushed forward, shoving ahead of the wave behind them, also fly away from the cliff edge. It's less a tsunami and more a waterfall. From a safe distance of about twenty meters away, a crystal waterfall might actually be a rather fantastical sight. But for me—right in the middle of the waterfall's impact zone—it's the grim reaper's scythe, in present continuous tense. At this rate, no matter how I struggle, I'll be caught in the sheer mass of it all and die... and so, I avail myself of the privilege that is Inventoria, without reservation.
Sunraku: "Ugh— ow, ow, ow..."
I'd transferred while still falling on my back, so I rub my smarting spine while chugging a potion to recover my MP.
Sunraku: "Honestly, just as a quick escape tool, this thing is practically broken-level performance."
A little spawn-camping isn't enough to diminish its usefulness. The simple fact that you can make a certain-kill attack whiff is already safer than being guarded by some half-assed meat shield.
Sunraku: "Roughly... fall this way, the wall's over here, the Crystal Scorpions' fall time and numbers... Right, one jump, then... [Transfer: Real Space — Exit Travel]!"
The world switches, and I'm hurled back into the midst of the floating sensation. Glancing straight down, I see it: the glittering scatter of polygons shining like a cluster of bright stars against the curtain of miasma and night's darkness. A passing thought—what if there's a player or something right below me?—unsettles me for a moment, but I toss the responsibility into the canyon's depths along with the thought that weather forecasts like "sunny, with a chance of Crystal Scorpions" wouldn't be so bad.
Sunraku: "Now then... let's rebel against the laws of physics!"
Sky Walker—activate. In rapid succession: Seven-Fold Jump, Ricochet Step, Off-Road... I layer on every skill that aids in leaping. My sorry, unequipped sandals plant themselves against empty space. The sensation of stepping on "air"—so different from earth, metal, wood, or stone—is deeply unsettling, and yet the sole of my right foot, pressing against it, conveys to me the certainty of the leap.
Sunraku: "It's less a Sky Walker that walks the heavens, and more a Moon Jumper that leaps for the moon."
A leap. Laughing to myself that Moon Jumper—Sky Walker's predecessor—better suits my current situation, I spring through the air, approaching the distant rock wall. And the moment my feet make contact with that wall, the effect of Ricochet Step kicks in. This skill—bearing the name Ricochet—enables evasive movement for a number of steps corresponding to its skill level. Used in a confined space, it allows movement in all directions, truly like a ricocheting bullet. That said, the skill applies only to steps—meaning only the feet—so the fact that it won't activate unless you land on your feet is a drawback, if a minor one... However, by activating Seven-Fold Jump, which enhances leaping itself, I've made it possible—albeit in a makeshift fashion—to run along the wall for up to seven steps.
Sunraku: "Needs practice... Whoa, danger—!"
But of course, I'm going in with zero field-testing, so my movements are rough. Kicking off a wall and "climbing straight up" is surprisingly difficult—proof being that on the third step, my body starts pulling away from the cliff. In a panic, I drive the Marsh Dagger Refined into the wall. Wreathed in the effect of Great Climb—which grants a bonus to climbing via blade—the Marsh Dagger is thrust into the rock wall, which feels... not quite like tofu, but like soggy cookies to my senses. It slides downward slightly, but firmly holds my weight. Since the movement was a bit forced, a third party watching me slam face-first into the wall like a slapstick gag might find it utterly ridiculous. But if facial pain is all it cost me to send dozens of Crystal Scorpions to their death by falling, then I've gotten back several hundred times what I paid.
Sunraku: "...Huh. That's odd."
I'd been basking in the afterglow of an overwhelming victory while using the dagger as a makeshift piton to climb the cliff. But then I notice it.
Sunraku: "I'm not leveling up?"
Don't tell me—death by falling counts as monster suicide, so I get no experience? No, that's absurd. If that were the case, then killing something with poison would technically be self-destruction too. Besides, the moment I engaged the Crystal Scorpions, we should have entered combat. So when the Crystal Scorpions died, the battle should've ended—and I should've gotten experience. My initial objective—eliminating the Crystal Scorpions to mine safely—has been achieved. But I'm not going to stop analyzing the cause and reason.
Sunraku: "Two possibilities come to mind."
One: entering Inventoria's storage space is treated as "fleeing," and thus no experience is awarded. Honestly, this is highly plausible. And even if it's not the case now, if they ever patch this, that's probably what they'll do. And the other possibility...
Sunraku: "Yo. That's quite the cheerful color scheme you've got there... going for an image change?"
The battle isn't over yet. Shangri-La Frontier's system grants level-ups at the moment combat ends. That's why—even if you kill ninety-nine monsters—unless you kill the last one or get killed by it, you won't get so much as a single point of experience. At the far end of my gaze, surrounded by the corpses of Crystal Scorpions, radiating unmistakable presence, is... I address it.
Sunraku: "A rare enemy, huh... and one that looks seriously murderous."
It's what you'd call a "mutation" monster. It should still be classified as a Crystal Scorpion. But the crystals that form its body are nothing like the transparent ones of other specimens—a steel-colored skeleton with golden crystals growing from it. Having observed so many normal Crystal Scorpions for comparison, I understand its otherworldliness all the more intensely. Even the standard version has a pretty murderous design, but the one before me goes above and beyond. Instead of pincers, what protrudes from its forelimbs are weapons that look like shield-rims sharpened into blades—specialized for killing, even at the expense of biological practicality. The crystals growing from its head resemble the horns of an oni. As for its tail—just cut it off, attach a grip, and it'd become a weapon far surpassing most others. Even an amateur's eye can see that. It pulls its forelimbs free from the corpses of its brethren, then turns to face me—trampling and crushing its own kin in the process. No sign of additional Crystal Scorpions coming. No sign of reinforcements of the same type as the golden scorpion before me. I see—so it's a lone wolf.
Sunraku: "What a coincidence. I'm a lone wolf too... a Transient one, skill and all!"
In this instant, the option of fleeing vanishes from my mind. At the very least—when I've been given the right to challenge a rare enemy this delicious, just letting it go unused goes against my nature. What kind of behavior this thing will exhibit is unknown. And the odds that I can end the fight by holing up in the storage space are probably low, too. On the other hand, if I run, I can already see the ending—surrounded and killed by ordinary Crystal Scorpions. By my rough estimate, most of the Crystal Scorpions in this area have either fallen off the cliff or been killed by the golden scorpion. If I fight carefully to avoid waking any inactive ones, the battlefield should be roughly a 20-meter radius.
Sunraku: "As long as you don't die, theoretically you can beat any opponent...! Ah, physical immunity is not cool, though."
What comes to mind is that day: the mightiest wolf, blacker than night itself, that appeared between the Redcaps and me. The armored warrior who guarded his vow across an eternity. The gap in strength remains unchanged. But my hand of cards has grown far, far larger. If I'm going to challenge Unique Monsters, then flinching at a mere level gap means I'm not even in the conversation. I wager my experience, items, and mining rights—and challenge the golden scorpion.