Live Dungeon!

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Back at the Clan House, Tsutomu found himself engaged in an after-dinner discussion with Amy, their conversation centered around refining her combat strategy. His elbows resting on the table, Tsutomu closely examined Amy’s Status Card.

“Hmm… Tsutomu,” Amy said, holding up a stack of documents summarizing various Dualblader techniques, “are you secretly a Dualblader or something?”

“No, I’m not,” he replied, shaking his head slightly.

Despite his primary Live Dungeon account being a White Mage, Tsutomu had long since mastered every job the game had to offer, having reached the level cap in all of them. This comprehensive knowledge made him more than capable of advising on Dualblader equipment and skill usage.

In the Light and Darkness layers, a powerful set of dual blades known as Cosmo Alpha, often regarded as essential for Dualbladers, was a potential treasure chest loot. Tsutomu’s unmatched knowledge of such rare equipment, combined with his deep understanding of the Job’s mechanics, made his advice invaluable

“But you know, I’m surprised you’re recommending I stick with <<Dual Wave Slash>> instead of trying out newer skills. Do you really think just these ten will be enough?”

“High-level skills often aren’t as practical in actual combat as they might seem. Sure, there are specific situations where they can be useful, but those are few and far between. For instance, I learned <<Overheal>> at level 70, but I hardly ever use it. You should focus on mastering your initial skills first, Amy.”

In Live Dungeon, the most practical and frequently used skills were typically all acquired by the time players reached level 40. As such, they were accessible even to beginners and formed the backbone of most combat strategies. Skills obtained later in the game, though powerful in their own right, often proved to be more situational. If not used wisely, they could become more of a burden than help, too.

As Tsutomu spoke, he thought back to his own experience with <<Overheal>>, a skill that had the potential to fully restore a single target’s health. He had been eager to test it out, but after just one use, he quickly realized its drawbacks. While its healing power was indeed formidable, the mental energy it consumed was exorbitant, and the aggro it generated was dangerous, making it impractical for battles.

Amy, too, had acquired a new skill at level 70 — a self-buff that increased her critical hit rate by striking her blades together. However, the magnitude of its effect was not worth the amount of mental energy it consumed, leading her to use it sparingly. Tsutomu’s explanation resonated with her, and she nodded in understanding, her initial concerns about having to abandon <<Dual Wave Slash>> now alleviated.

“Honestly, I thought I’d have to say goodbye to <<Dual Wave Slash>> — I’m glad that’s not the case.”n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“Just because it was the first skill you learned doesn’t mean it’s weak, you know. Skills can be adapted, and sticking with the ones you’re comfortable with isn’t a bad choice. Doing so also helps you practice managing your mental energy. Here’s an idea — why not try focusing more on skill-based combat from now on?”

In this world, unlike in Live Dungeon, consumption of mental energy came with tangible side effects, most notably the nauseating dizziness. This harsh drawback made many combatants wary of overusing their skills. Amy, though naturally gifted with physical strength and sharp combat instincts, had yet to fully master the art of efficient skill rotation — though this issue wasn’t unique to Amy, but rather something that applied to every member of Absolute Helix.

“I’ll think about it. But seriously, I can’t believe you wrote all this just for me… Thanks!”

“No problem. I actually had it ready ahead of time.”

“Hmm… So, you knew I’d be asking about this around now?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Tsutomu had anticipated that Amy might start falling behind the other Attackers as they progressed through the layers of the Dungeon, and so he had prepared his advice well in advance. Whether Amy would ultimately earn her place in the main team for the ninetieth layer remained uncertain, but Tsutomu harbored a quiet hope that, with his guidance, she might elevate her skills to rival those of Amira or Leleia by the time they faced the hundredth layer.

But Tsutomu was not one to offer help unsolicited. He believed in the importance of initiative — of Amy recognizing her own shortcomings and seeking assistance of her own accord. It seemed that Amy had begun to realize that she couldn’t afford to remain passive forever. She looked at him now with a hesitant expression, as if searching for the right words.

“By the way, Tsutomu, I’ve been thinking… how come you’re so cold to me!? Can’t you treat me a little special? I’m the number one idol in Dungeon City, you know!”

“I dunno… if I gave you special treatment, you’d just be grumpy about it anyway. How about you just let your competency do the talking?”

“No way, I wouldn’t! C’mon, gimme some more praise and headpats! Don’t be shy, now!”

“Heh… yeah, I’ll consider it if you make it to the main team for the ninetieth layer.”

“You said it! I’m holding you to that! Now, write it down as a pledge!”

Amy’s quickly leaned forward, thrusting a sheet of paper and a pen toward him.

“How desperate are you…?”

Tsutomu could not help but chuckle at her eagerness, but he obliged her request, scribbling out a pledge that promised head pats if she fulfilled the condition. Amy took the paper as though it were a priceless treasure. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she sprang to her feet and made her way to the living room’s exit. R

“Uh, so, just asking — where are you going now?”

“To the Guild! Gotta practice my skills! See you later!”

“Don’t overdo it and end up exhausted tomorrow.”

“Got it!” Amy replied with a quick nod, poking her head back through the door before disappearing into the entryway.

Moments later, Tsutomu heard the sound of her hurriedly putting on her shoes before she dashed out of the Clan House. Tsutomu shook his head with a wry smile, watching the door swing shut behind her.

Just as the room fell into silence, Korinna appeared, her long, cream-colored hair loosely twisted into a half-up style. She must have been waiting for the right moment, hesitant to interrupt the prior conversation.

“Amy sure has a lot of energy.”

“Well, she’s an idol. I guess she’s got that mental toughness.”

“…She’s amazing, and so is everyone here. Sometimes, I feel out of place with how weak-willed I am,” Korinna admitted, her smile fragile and tinged with a hint of melancholy. It was clear that today’s wipeout still lingered in her mind.

Tsutomu crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he observed how she emoted.

“Korinna, you’ve experienced quite a few wipes before, haven’t you? Why are you so down about it this time?”

“Because… it’s tough not to be. Our lineup was strong, so it really shouldn’t have happened…”

“I get it, they are strong — but honestly, their performance fell apart toward the end. They tried new things, and it backfired — That’s just part of learning. You don’t need to worry too much.”

“But… if you’d been in charge, Tsutomu, you wouldn’t have let us get wiped out like that, right?”

As Korinna looked up at him with trembling, uncertain eyes, Tsutomu sat with his arms firmly crossed.

“There’s no point in comparing yourself to me. White Mages and Channelers may both be Healers, but they’re different Jobs.”

“Yes, I know, but still…”

“And for what it’s worth, I’ve had my share of wipes too.”

“Huh? But I heard you’ve never died…”

“That’s ALMOST right — in God’s Dungeon, I only died once. But I’ve made plenty of mistakes in Li… like, other places.”

Back in Live Dungeon, Tsutomu had made countless blunders. He had failed to manage aggro and found himself dying too quickly to be useful; he had healed the wrong target in the heat of battle, inadvertently sealing his party’s fate. He’d experienced more failures than he could be bothered to count.

He had also erred in his pursuit of efficiency, his attempts to optimize every move leading to mishaps that were less about strategy and more about human fallibility. These mistakes had left him with a lingering frustration, a gnawing wish that he could go back and do better. Each failure had been a lesson, carving a path that eventually led to his current approach.

“Ah…”

Korinna, however, did not know about Live Dungeon — and so she completely misinterpreted Tsutomu’s words. To her, his reference to failures outside of God’s Dungeon implied he had faced devastating losses in other Dungeons. With that realization, she ended up piecing together a narrative of her own.

“I’m sorry, Tsutomu. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to — I won’t pry.”

“…Right. It IS something I’d rather not discuss. I appreciate your concern.”

“Mm-hmm…”

Korinna, who had spent her time as a nurse tending to injured Explorers in the aftermath of Dungeon expeditions, had heard many such stories. She gazed at Tsutomu, noticing the way his face clouded with the weight of his embarrassing past.

“So, Tsutomu, you weren’t always as skilled as you are now…”

“Of course I wasn’t. That’s why you’ll eventually get better too, Korinna. It comes with time and effort.”

“…I’ll take your word for it. Now that I’m here, I can start over as many times as I need to — and so can you.”

Something in Korinna’s words sparked a flicker of confusion in Tsutomu, but he quickly understood. Korinna hadn’t always been fortunate enough to work in a supportive environment. In God’s Dungeon, a total wipe meant the loss of most of one’s gear, a setback that could be financially crippling for many parties —  for some, recovery was impossible. Korinna had likely witnessed such tragedies in the past.

In Absolute Helix, however, they had the resources and support to recover from any number of failures. Tsutomu realized that Korinna might have felt some frustration at his own early success, made possible by the auctioning of the Black Staff. Tsutomu offered her a reassuring smile, gentle and warm.

“Yes, you’re right. So don’t worry about getting wiped out. Just keep doing your best.”

“…! Thank you…! I will! I’ll keep trying…!”

To Korinna, Tsutomu’s smile seemed somewhat forced, as if he were hiding his own discomfort behind it. The realization tugged at her heartstrings, and she felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her. She had heard too many stories of Explorers who had lost themselves to despair after the deaths of comrades, their spirits crushed by their failure.

Yet here was Tsutomu, revealing his old wounds, his own pain, just to encourage. Deeply moved, Korinna fought back the tears that threatened to spill and bowed her head in gratitude.

And so, while their slightly misaligned conversation ended without resolution, Korinna awoke the next morning fully refreshed, ready to carry on unburdened by the weight of yesterday’s failure.

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