DanMachi: Cheat? What's a Cheat?

Chapter 21 – Strategy and Instinct part 2

I'm not stupid, and that's the biggest asset I have right now.

Two days in the Dungeon, and I already know that looking cool will only kill me in a very uncool way.

I don't have cheats like your average isekai protagonist.

Don't have legendary weapons that can talk or shapeshift.

Don't have a sponsor goddess handing out free Grimoires.

All I have are hands that are starting to get calloused, a brain that thankfully still works, and bitter experience that's been piling up since coming to this world.

And instincts that are getting sharper.

『Survivor's Instinct』.

That weird skill that even the records said "might be good long-term" with the tone of someone who's not sure but doesn't want to disappoint, is starting to show its fangs today.

I can feel... something. Like subtle pressure in the air.

Like my body has an internal radar that warns me before danger comes knocking.

A slight movement in the corner of my eye, a weird feeling on my neck like someone's watching, or air that suddenly changes like before it starts raining.

My instinct spoke with a voice that couldn't be ignored: "Back off. Now."

I backed away without thinking twice.

And a sharp rock the size of a human head fell from the ceiling right where I'd been standing one second earlier.

Hitting the floor with a

CRASH

that echoed through the entire corridor.

Dungeon trap? Maybe not a specially designed trap, but structure collapsing from age or battle vibrations.

Still... that could've cracked my head open like an egg falling off a table.

Good thing I'm starting to trust instincts that are sometimes smarter than my brain.

"Thanks, body," I whispered while patting my chest. "We make a good team."

I'm not wandering around aimlessly like a tourist lost in a foreign city.

Floor 1... I've mapped it out in obsessive detail.

This is the effect of my protagonist talent!

Remembering paths quickly!

I knew I was meant to be a thief - I mean, adventurer.

Eyes, feet, and memory trained for survival. The best routes to avoid other adventurers. Strategic goblin nests. Profitable kobold paths. I know every turn that leads to fresh blood and magic stones.

I feel like Floor 1 smells really nice, I also feel like goblins and kobolds are pleasant to look at.

Walking carefully. Looking for prey.

I feel like there are imaginary red lines dancing in my head every time I choose a direction, like internal GPS optimized for killing.

Left to the narrow corridor with two kobolds that are usually sleeping.

Right to the open room with three goblins who like to gather and gossip.

I always pick short fights that don't waste excessive energy.

Hit-and-run tactics modified into hit-and-collect-magic-stones.

Faster. More efficient. And most importantly: more magic stones to trade for valis.

Sometimes I can predict when monsters will emerge from walls even before the first crack appears.

The wall cracks slightly with certain patterns, air temperature changes, or there's even a faint sound like creaking.

Experience and instinct work together like a harmony duet.

I wait in the right position, sword ready.

They emerge confidently.

And they die with surprising speed.

Their eyes show reluctance as if saying "come on dude, we haven't even performed yet."

I'm getting used to kobold attacks that like to jump like steroid frogs. If you move slightly left when they jump... timing is everything... then stab their chest while they're still airborne... boom.

One stab, done.

Gravity becomes the best ally.

Goblins are rougher and unpredictable. They attack like drunk people angry because the beer ran out.

But that's exactly what makes their movements so... readable.

Predictable chaos.

Slash.

Stab.

Dodge with style.

Stab again with precision.

My waist bag gets heavier with every magic stone I add. But it's not a bothersome burden.

It's a future investment.

Valis. Good food. Decent protection. A comfortable home and most importantly excelia!

After maybe... I dunno, two hours? Three? Time becomes relative when you're busy killing monsters.

I sat for a bit behind a big rock, looking for a strategic place for a quick rest.

Sweat dripping from my forehead like a leaky faucet. Breathing hard like after running a marathon. My shoulders aching with increasingly loud complaints.

My stomach's starting to cramp... unpleasant stiffness. I forgot to warm up before starting to "fight," causing my stomach muscles to stress out.

This kind of thing usually happens when someone runs without warming up.

"Guh... damn," I groaned while holding my left side. "Who said being an adventurer was easy?"

Fighting too long without rest. Draining stamina too fast. Gotta reduce the rhythm a bit before my body completely breaks down.

But... just a little. I'm still strong. Can still continue. There are still magic stones waiting for me.

I gulped water from the leather bag greedily.

Half left.

Gotta be more conservative or I'll get dehydrated in the middle of the dungeon.

Then I heard something that made my ears perk up.

Small footsteps.

Confident.

Not hiding.

Confident like a homeowner taking a stroll in their own yard.

Three... no, four... No, six? Hard to count when they're walking in sync.

I snuck to hide with movements like a cat peeking at neighbors.

And saw them.

Goblins again.

But this time there's something making my instincts scream warnings.

Among them, one stood taller with a different posture.

His posture was slightly hunched but in a way that showed alertness, not weakness. His arms and claws were longer and more muscular. His red eyes squinted with unusual intelligence for a goblin. There were scars on his face that told stories of previous battles.

And most importantly: he carried a dagger. Rusty iron that looked like it had a long history, but still sharp and well-maintained.

I swallowed saliva that suddenly felt thick.

That's not an ordinary goblin that could be finished with three standard moves.

Not a hobgoblin, of course. But... some kind of "senior" goblin who'd lived too long on Floor 1 and started adapting to the environment.

A veteran who managed to survive and upgrade.

Clearly he's a dangerous goblin - being able to live this long shows he's special.

We stared at each other in tension-filled silence.

He snorted with a sound that sounded like contemptuous laughter. And I gripped my sword tighter until my knuckles turned white.

A thin smile appeared on my face without me being able to stop it. Adrenaline had already taken over my nervous system.

"Come on," I whispered with a voice that sounded more confident than I felt.

"Show me what you've got."

I moved forward with movements that hopefully looked heroic.

Actually I wanted to run away.

But I changed my mind.

What if I could kill this goblin? I'd definitely have lots of benefits.

Even though it seems reckless, this is still an opportunity - if I really can't beat this goblin, I'm sure I can escape.

With a serious face, I started attacking that senior goblin. And the real hunt began again.