"Move it up?"
Olivas thought it over and, for the moment, didn't object.
They'd been embedded in Orario for quite some time. They could launch an attack at any moment.
It's just that their ambition was enormous—they intended to accomplish multiple objectives in one sweep and completely crush Orario.
The first phase of preparations was missing only the final step: stealing a key device from the enemy's hands.
A trigger mechanism that would enable them to detonate the Firestone.
That step wasn't difficult. Once they seized it, they only needed to copy it.
On the Ganesha Familia side, defenses had tightened and forces had been pulled inward—but no matter how much they consolidated, Orario was still a huge city.
They couldn't possibly guard every warehouse.
The reason they hadn't moved earlier was to deny Orario time to react.
After all, launching a loud, public raid on a warehouse—only to steal a "useless" trigger device—would look absurd on its face.
If Orario were given time to study it, they might learn how the Firestone detonation worked…
…and then possibly develop ways to prevent the detonation. If that happened, the most crucial link in the attack plan would be neutralized.
As for the personnel needed to reproduce the device, the Dark Faction had already arranged that long ago.
"But the situation with the gods hasn't been prepared yet. If we act now, we can only 'send off' five." Basilem objected.
A plan like this was a web—pull one thread and everything shifted.
"Advancing the schedule" sounded easy, but even a few days earlier meant every line of preparation would fall behind the intended milestones.
According to the original plan, this wave should have been able to "send off" nine gods.
If a god suffered a fatal wound and returned to Heaven, the blessings on their familia adventurers would vanish.
If their plan succeeded, it would be a devastating blow—to gods and adventurers alike.
And that part needed to be executed during the chaos of the raid, when it was easy to muddy the waters.
If they advanced the schedule, the effect would be severely reduced.
"This isn't the time for slow deliberation! Enough. We vote." Valletta cut them off.
To her, the key point was simple: since the moment they'd exposed their presence, this was the first time the "Hero" had taken the initiative.
And he'd even brought out Riveria—Orario's strongest mage—as bait.
Whatever he was doing, it wasn't small.
Valletta knew Finn's caliber well enough to understand he never acted without purpose. Unease had already crawled into her chest.
If they did nothing, they'd be reduced to taking hits passively.
These fools didn't even understand trade-offs—didn't even recognize danger. Useless to plan with.
In the end, Valletta won the vote with over sixty percent support.
The plan was moved up.
But seeing that, Valletta couldn't bring herself to feel happy.
Back when the Dark Faction as a whole had been barely functioning, she'd been the one who held the foundation together.
In those days, her support rate had once exceeded ninety percent.
Now it had dropped this far. They were getting bolder about disregarding her.
It never occurred to her that the real reason her support was slipping was precisely because she demanded people "pick a side" without explaining what she suspected.
"So we do nothing about Riveria?" Olivas still wasn't satisfied.
If they could kill Riveria, it would be an enormous blow to Orario—especially to those detestable elves.
"Send the Dis Sisters," Valletta said, flicking a contemptuous glance at him. "They should be delighted to hunt that 'most pure' elf."
And this idiot thought he could argue with me?
The most terrifying thing in the world was having teammates with pig brains.
And the most terrifying thing beyond that was pig-brained teammates who insisted on having "their own ideas" and wouldn't even follow correct command.
"Oh—right. They're both Level 5. Even if the hunt fails, they can escape… and their actions are uncontrollable anyway," Olivas realized, completely missing Valletta's expression.
The Dis Sisters, despite being elves themselves, hated elves more than anything—
especially an elf as "high and pure" as Riveria.
…
Dungeon, 12th Floor.
The four-person squad was in combat.
Ais was practically fighting her own battle. With casual strikes, she effortlessly cut down the monsters around her.
For the two Level 2s—Ankie and Raul—the fight also looked comfortable. Against Level 1 monsters, they held an overwhelming advantage.
"Hah!" Raul Norde braced head-on against a Silverback Ape's charge, then countered, slashing its leg.
He'd only just advanced to Level 2, and strength wasn't particularly his specialty.
But he was still Level 2—far beyond what a Level 1 Silverback could match.
With its leg injured, the ape lost its balance and toppled.
"Cid!" Raul called.
"Don't shout my name every time," Cid replied—already firing off a spell instantly, with no chant.
"GRAAA—!"
The Silverback couldn't withstand the magical damage. After a shriek, it crumbled into ash.
"Cid, you're getting more and more proficient," Raul said, and he was starting to resent the weapon in his own hand.
Magic really was the best.
Cid understood the feeling completely.
Once upon a time, he too had pursued mana with something close to obsession.
Off to the side, Ankie sheathed her weapon and looked to Riveria for guidance with her eyes.
Seeing no reaction, she understood: they were still being made to discuss and decide for themselves.
"We're about to enter the Middle Floors. Do we change formation?"
Up to now, their formation had effectively been three frontliners and one backliner: Ais took point to handle incoming threats, while the other two covered the flanks.
Cid struck with magic when a monster lost balance.
At first, the spell Cid produced was fairly weak—better than nothing, but barely.
But after the stretch of fighting just now, its power had started to look real.
Even so, Ankie was sure that at its current strength, it still couldn't one-shot a Level 2 monster.
"It's fine. Worst case, it just takes more time," Raul said, eyes bright with fighting spirit. "Level 2 monsters are the ones that actually feel like a challenge."
Besides, with a powerhouse like Riveria suppressing the field and ready to support at any moment, there was no reason to be afraid.
When a top-tier is carrying, you farm as many points as you can.
"Still… the Middle Floors are more dangerous," Ankie warned.
The Middle Floors—13 through 24—were the appropriate range for Level 2 adventurers.
From this stage onward, some monsters began to gain ranged attacks, and the danger level jumped sharply.
For Cid's team, dealing with enemies at that tier wasn't truly difficult—
not only because their individual strength was solid, but because they were loaded.
"Cid, take this."
Before they entered the Middle Floors, Raul handed Cid a piece of Salamander Wool.
Salamander Wool was fairy-made gear that enhanced resistance to flame.
Fairies were called "avatars of the gods," and their craftsmanship was said to leave even high-class smiths in the dust.
Among Middle Floor monsters, the most dangerous ranged attacker was the Hellhound—a beast that breathed fire.
This "arson monster" had wiped out countless rookie parties entering the Middle Floors for the first time.
When the enemy can attack from range, the logic of battle changes.
It's like suddenly switching from land warfare to naval warfare—many people simply can't adapt.
Especially adventurers without magic: against Hellhounds, they often had no choice but to endure and take hits.
That was why large familias kept plenty of Salamander Wool on hand—specifically to outfit their newcomers.
....
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