Defense specialization and the manor, part four.
The sword flies at high speed, approaching Maple.
"Uwah!!"
Maple instinctively raises her hand to shield her face— the sword strikes her arm.
"Ugh... good. Nothing happened."
Maple deflects the successive spears, swords, and attacks from armor with her bare body.
All attacks halt upon her skin— not a single point of damage is inflicted.
"Was there a skill I could use? The Heavenly Throne?"
As Maple speaks, a white throne appears behind her.
Maple sits upon the throne, waiting for it to vanish— but no voices from the girls reach her.
"I see... this is not dangerous. Hmm. Maybe the skill that allows strong attacks is not usable."
Maple does not even consider using [Hundred Ghost Procession], and leaves it unused.
For Maple, who has nearly lost all offensive means, it is the only ally she can rely on.
A faint hope lingers—perhaps it might be usable in the boss battle—and so, as she knocks the sword from her hand, she begins to walk.
“Uuu… too many doors. The armor keeps pounding me hard…”
Surrounded by more than ten suits of armor, struck repeatedly with blades, Maple reaches one of the doors that appear on the wall of the room.
“Ei! Hai!”
Maple flings the door open, slams it shut immediately, and presses both hands against it.
No armored pursuit follows, as she feared. She relaxes, sits down on the spot.
“Good… what should I do now? I have one more set of gear… but I don’t want it taken again.”
Maple’s defense, even without gear enhancing it, already exceeds what is necessary in durability.
An attack piercing Maple’s four-digit defense would be enough to kill a regular player in one strike.
Such a thing does not belong among common, unremarkable beings.
Therefore, Maple had no issue with merely taking hits.
“Alright, let’s work hard and reclaim it!”
Maple strides down the corridor, determined.
She cannot pass rooms without searching them this time.
Every door she finds must be opened.
Even if she knows, with near certainty, that traps lie within.
“Phew… here I go!”
Maple takes a deep breath, then crouches slightly as she enters the room, scanning the surroundings.
A table-sized desk, about five meters long, stands in the center of the room. Chairs are arranged neatly. A candelabra rests upon the table.
On the warped wall, a painting depicting a landscape hangs.
“Um… yeah. The wall’s wavy, but nothing else seems out of place.”
Maple inspects the desk’s underside and the painting. Her impression remains unchanged. Nothing reveals itself.
“Good. Should be safe… ah.”
As Maple finishes examining the painting at the far end, she turns. The chairs, the candelabra, the paintings—each now glows with blue light.
“Wah!? M—!”
The chairs do not obey her command. One flies toward her, striking her body.
“Even a sword would’ve been fine… but this is too much!”
Maple staggers, the impact ringing through her bones. She pushes through the rising pile of chairs and paintings, struggling to climb over.
Before she can move further, a floating candelabrum drifts down through the mountain of chairs and paintings, flames leaping from its arms.
“Huh!?”
The air around her ignites before she can flee. The fire spreads with terrifying speed. Maple is caught in the blaze.
The inferno, born from a dozen chairs and paintings, rises higher than Maple’s own height.
When the flames die and the ashes fall, Maple stands exactly where she was.
“Phew… no equipment means this fabric won’t burn. Good…”
Maple slaps her hands at her sides, brushing off soot. She steps toward the doorway.
Midway, she stops. Her eyes fix on the candelabrum resting on the desk.
…You’re the one who’s been naughty, aren’t you?
Maple narrows her eyes, mutters the words, then pulls adhesive from her inventory. She spreads it beneath the candelabrum, presses it back into place.
She believes the powerful adhesive, dropped by the monster, will bind the desk and candelabrum tight.
You’re the one who deserves punishment, not me!
Maple throws the door open with more force than she used upon entering, then steps outside.