Chapter 194
When you think about the future, you realize there’s no such thing as having too many spare promotion orbs.
Even in the game , promotion orbs were consumables—so much so that players constantly begged the devs to increase the drop rates.
While obtaining them becomes easier as your class rises, it’s still a hassle.
"Liberta, how much have you leveled up?" "113 now."
Given my long-term plans, I’ll need even more allies. FBO was designed with solo play in mind, but that only applied to the player.
There were plenty of NPC companions—not just combat-focused ones, but also crafters, gatherers, shop managers, and more. Eventually, I’d need to form a clan.
But for that, I’d need a solid foundation and core members. Expanding recklessly would only lead to chaos. Without a proper training environment, new recruits would struggle to reach their full potential.
What I need is a stable foundation—pillars to build upon. Right now, thanks to the Duke’s support, we’re in an incredibly privileged position.
The fact that I’ve managed to navigate this world so differently from the game is largely due to my connection with His Grace.
The battle with the Mad Jester drove it home: unlike Japan, there’s no respawning here. The margin for error is razor-thin—I need to be even more cautious than I initially thought.
Solo missions are out of the question. I’ll need to raise my safety standards by at least two notches. Especially since I’m aiming to take on final bosses and hidden bosses—expanding my roster of trustworthy fighters is non-negotiable.
Just like in FBO, the more I do, the more tasks pile up. It’s exhausting. There’s no end in sight.
"Classing up really slows down leveling, huh?" "Nah, for four hours of work, this is actually fast. The subspecies spawn rate is absurdly high."
Even with drop rate boosts and EXP buffs, the grind is soul-crushing. While the Mark of the Weak keeps my EXP table locked at Level 1, reaching Class 4 means it now takes more than a kill or two to level up.
At roughly 4.5 regular Big Heads per level, we’ve already slaughtered nearly 500 of them. Factoring in breaks, we’ve only been active for about three and a half hours—meaning we’ve been clearing two to three enemies per minute, including travel time.
This level of efficiency is borderline insane.
"Only a Class 4 dungeon’s size makes this possible." Personally, I expected at least ten full clears. We got lucky with respawn patterns overlapping, but normally, it’d never go this smoothly.
I knew leveling at this stage would be time-consuming, but Nel’s absurd luck defies comprehension. The perfect sync between subspecies spawns and monster groupings created an ideal loop.
"Of course! Since it’s a dungeon you taught me about, leveling’s a breeze!" "Yeah… normally, it doesn’t work like this."
The real challenge in Class 4 leveling? Monster chains barely exist. Subspecies spawn at a 10% rate—not abysmal, but far from generous.
And you *also* need to encounter grouped enemies. It’s like the devs specifically designed this to torment min-maxers.
The lore team speculated that subspecies exist because, just like humans, monsters have physical variations. While size differences are common, extreme structural differences (like missing torsos) are rare.
I suspect there’s a deliberate design philosophy here—forcing players to strategize rather than brute-force their way through. Many FBO players shared this sentiment.
"Really?" "Yeah. This run’s been abnormally lucky."
Most players just complain about the convoluted systems. While the world and characters were praised, the mechanics often drove people away.
It’s like the devs *wanted* it this way.
"Our leveling runs were like this too!" "Probably because you were there, Nel." "You think?" "Yeah."
The truth remains unknown—even the dataminers never figured it out. Some secrets belong to the gods alone.
"Welp, since we’re not leveling here anymore, time to equip the Training Bracelet."
With no more subspecies chains or promising groups in sight, we push deeper until we reach the boss chamber.
"Hey, Nel." "Yeah?" "How many heads does the boss usually have?"
The standard boss here is the Double Head—a Golem with two faces fused at the back of the skull, four arms, and four legs.
But as I grip the door handle, I already know: this thing has a chance to spawn with extra heads.
Up to five. Double Head → Triple → Quadruple → Quintuple.
More heads mean higher attack frequency (though oddly, no stat boosts). Annoying? Yes. But the rewards scale too—not more chests, but *better* loot inside.
Of course, extra heads are rare. Triple: 5%. Quadruple: 1%. Quintuple: 0.1%.
"Mostly three. Sometimes two. Oh! Once, it had *five*!" "…I should’ve expected nothing less."
For Nel, even a 0.1% chance might as well be 50%.
Pushing the door open reveals a vast cavern—and at its center, a grotesque mass of iron and stone.
"Three heads, huh? Figured."
The Triple Head looms, its mismatched faces twitching toward us.
"Remember the plan, Nel?" "You break the legs while I smash the heads!" "Bingo. Let’s hunt."
Its design is unsettling, but its weakness is well-documented. No room for arrogance—just action.
I sprint forward as the Golem lumbers to life. Slow, even for its kind.
By the time it stands, I’m already at its feet.
"Neck Cutter!"
Golems resist slashing attacks, but my skill ignores defense—*if* I strike the joints.
Materializing a scythe from Magic Edge, I sever one leg at the ankle.
The Golem staggers, its balance faltering just enough for Nel to leap onto a remaining leg and sprint up its body.
"POWER SWING!"
Her halberd crunches into a face, sending it whipping backward. The colossal frame tilts but doesn’t topple.
"Shadow Clone!"
I summon a decoy, baiting the Golem into wasting attacks. Thirty seconds until I can use Neck Cutter again—plenty of time to exploit its instability.
"Over here!"
Juking between limbs, I jab at an intact leg with my spear.
"Tch—like hitting a wall."
Even through Magic Edge, the impact jars my arms.
Two massive fists swing down. Too slow.
I counter, drawing aggro as Nel reposition.
With two of its three faces now fixated on me, the real work begins.
Five legs remain.
At nearly 10 meters tall, the Triple Head’s sheer mass makes conventional tactics useless.
Physical attackers usually hammer the legs to topple it, then focus-fire the heads. With Amina and Ingrid, we’d trip it with sweeping strikes, buff, then wail on it.
But today, it’s just me and Nel.
So—
"Second one!"
Another leg severed. The Golem sways, struggling to redistribute its weight.
"*Down.*"
Nel’s swing strikes the tipping point.
Like a felled redwood, the Triple Head crashes face-first into the ground.
"Watch the arms! Go!"
We charge. Gold Smash would end this fast, but we’ve spent enough lately—basic attacks and Power Swings will do.
Once prone, the Golem’s recovery is painfully slow. Half its arms are pinned under its own weight.
Perfect.
"Now—!"
With its heads grounded, even Heart Strike becomes viable.
Methodically, we whittle it down.
Thirty minutes later—
"Liberta! Look! So much black iron!" "Nice. Let’s have Amina smelt it later."
As the boss crumbles into dust, we loot the chests—another step forward in an endless climb.