Driven by the raging spirit-winds, the already devastated Dungeon floor transformed into a death trap. The two combatants exchanged firebolts and heavy strikes that far surpassed the intensity of the gales. Had any ordinary person—anyone less than a hero—stepped into this space, the sheer aftershocks of the collision would have crushed the life from them.
This clash of power exceeded the ferocity of a Floor Boss battle.
"──Tch!!"
At the eye of this hurricane stood a massive Boaz with rust-colored hair and eyes, facing a white-haired human with eyes the color of blood. Both radiated the majesty of true heroes. Their clashing blades had escalated into a struggle within the domain of the gods, rendering their previous skirmish mere child's play. It was a struggle for the summit that shook the very earth.
With minimal movement, Al parried the relentless strikes of the crimson greatsword. He felt the murderous intent and hostility radiating from the attacks, reading their trajectories perfectly while finding openings to launch his own counters.
In return, Ottar evaded Al's thrusts by a hair's breadth, watching for any lapse in form to bring the weight of his greatsword down for a finishing blow.
Al caught the edge of Ottar's blade with the tip of the left-hand sword, Balmung, while the tip of his right-hand cursed blade grazed Ottar's midsection. In the moment of momentary stalemate, they moved as one. Ottar swung a full-power cleave while Al responded with a lethal, piercing lunge.
Every movement broke the sound barrier, generating violent shockwaves. Amidst the roar that made space itself groan and shriek, their weapons collided. An instant later, both leaped back to create distance.
Both seethed with battle spirit. They were both Level 7—the highest rank in the world.
Yet the truly terrifying figure was Ottar, the "Warlord." He was the embodiment of mastery, the veteran hero standing atop the new generation, proficient in every secret art and technique. Al withstood Ottar's successive strikes—each one a guaranteed death sentence—through sheer physical resilience and an unyielding spirit, cheating death by the narrowest of margins. In response, Al faced this monster with innate talent and rare combat prowess.
Ottar's current abilities—excluding magic—had reached the "S" rank at 999, the absolute limit. Bolstered by his skills, his raw power certainly surpassed that of the "Greedy" in his prime.
A look of elation appeared on Ottar's face. He smiled, seemingly relishing the fight against a worthy opponent—the portrait of a true warrior.
"How much further will you climb, Sword Saint?"
The words came from the depths of his heart, a mixture of admiration and joy. Not since his battle with the last members of the Zeus Familia seven years ago had he found someone who could match him to this extent.
He knew of successors with talent exceeding his own, such as Allen, but for one who knew what "the strongest" truly meant in the past, he felt the stifling weight of being merely a target for others to chase.
But the hero before him was different. He undoubtedly possessed the vessel required to reach the realm of the "Truly Strongest" that Ottar recognized. Ignoring the pain and the shocks racking his body, Ottar swung his greatsword with everything he had.
Despite Ottar's words, Al's expression did not waver. He continued to sharpen his consciousness in silence, focused solely on eliminating the enemy before him.
The duel—where Ottar held the advantage in strength and endurance while Al excelled in speed and finesse—grew increasingly fierce────
"I was wondering why my thumb was throbbing so much... It seems this matter was included in my intuition as well, wasn't it?"
A voice cut through the greatest battle in the mortal world, coming from the depths of the corridor directly opposite Ottar. The speaker was a handsome Pallum carrying a long golden spear, his blonde hair shining with a mysterious luster.
"Hello, Ottar."
"──Finn, then."
Ottar addressed him with a slight scowl, while Finn replied in a friendly tone that carried a sharp, cold edge. Finn ignored the reaction and continued.
Finn turned his gaze toward Al as well. His eyes held a spark of amusement—the same interest and curiosity he showed toward Ottar.
Soon after, Riveria, Tiona, and Tione appeared, closing in on the two men. Each gripped their weapon, fully prepared for battle. In the sudden silence that seemed to defy the previous roar, the group stood against Ottar with weapons drawn.
Ottar realized that facing four first-class adventurers plus Al was beyond his capacity. He broke his combat stance and exhaled sharply. Seeing his opponent cease hostilities, Al lost interest in the fight as well; his battle spirit vanished without a trace, and he turned to leave.
As Al walked away to join Riveria in treating a young Pallum girl drenched in blood, Finn questioned Ottar.
"I am not privy to the full details of the situation... But may I ask why you chose to confront us here and now, Ottar?"
"It is illogical to choose time and place when it comes to eliminating an enemy."
"That is fair. Should I consider this a consensus of your Familia, or rather, the divine will of your mistress? Does Goddess Freya intend to declare total war against us?"
Al interrupted them:
"It is surely a command from that seduction-obsessed woman, isn't it? I pity you and Allen for being her playthings."
"──No, this was my personal decision."
Finn smiled bitterly at Al's remark. As Ottar stated, he appeared to be acting alone rather than as the captain of the Freya Familia. Nevertheless, the truth remained that the will of his mistress, Goddess Freya, lay behind it all.
"Since you have formed a league together, I have no chance of victory."
"I am glad to hear that. We also have no desire for conflict with you."
As Ottar headed toward the corridor leading to the eighth floor—the way Finn and his companions had entered—he stopped abruptly under Tione's sharp gaze.
"I shall curse this failure that prevented me from settling the matter."
Despite the lightning burns and the blood covering his body, Ottar maintained his dignity and poise. His sharp gaze, cast over his shoulder without fully turning, pierced through Finn and his group.
"I will say this, setting aside my personal inadequacy."
Ottar spoke just as the Minotaur's roar echoed from the end of the corridor behind him.
His voice carried clear anger—a rage at his own helplessness. Ottar wove his words with a powerful will that even Finn and the others felt.
"Break your shell and reject any hand extended to you by others. Face your adventure. Your gaze must look only forward."
"─────And respond to that lady's love."
●○●○●
To hell with this; someone else take my place.
What is this nonsense about "responding to love"?
This principle of goddess-worship is truly dull and disgusting.
Next time, I'll just deliver a lunch Anya made and bring Allen along.
Or perhaps I'll bring Horn while she's using her magic because she's fun to watch. As for the rest of them and their goddess, I have no use for them.
●○●○●
As I bordered on losing consciousness from the relentless pain, my awareness was pulled toward two shadows standing before me. Bete and Ais stood there to protect me—the two people I had always looked up to.
My mind couldn't grasp the situation. Why were they here? Why were they trying to save me? Why... why? ──
They simply stood there without even drawing their weapons. They didn't flinch before the Minotaur's murderous intent. On the contrary, the Minotaur seemed to be the one backing away under the weight of the pressure and majesty they projected.
I looked at them in awe.
Their backs were the embodiment of the heroes I had always dreamed of becoming──
"I'm going to kick you to death."
"I'll save you now."
Hearing those words, the pain coursing through my body vanished. It was like magic, or a miracle. A flood of emotion took hold of me. That back I yearned for was right in front of me, within reach.
This was exactly like that time. A burning heat began to incinerate every trace of fear inside me. Vanity, posturing, courage... it all turned into fuel for the searing emotions filling my being.
I must stand. I must stand and fight.
Will I need help again?
Will I be protected once more?
Will I remain unable to do anything?!
What did I decide to become strong for, then?!
Move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move!!!!
Pour your rage into your stiffened body! Breathe life into your heart, shriveled by terror. Rebuke the part of you that tries to complain, and sharpen your resolve.
Kindle the fires of battle.
Gather your courage.
Steel your determination.
If you don't show your pride now, when will you?
If I don't stand here, I will regret it for the rest of my life.
In that moment, my vision cleared completely.
I gritted my teeth, slapped my trembling knees, and regained sensation in my fingertips that had been frozen from within. Then, I dug my heels into the earth and stood firm.
"──I can't... do it."
"I can't let anyone save me anymore."
"If I run away now, I'll never become the person I want to be!!"
As I stood, a mocking grin spread across the Minotaur's face. It advanced toward me, brandishing its greatsword. I stepped forward to meet it. I was afraid—indescribably afraid. Nevertheless, I would not run. I didn't want to run. I would face it. With that resolve in my heart, I fixed my eyes on the Minotaur.
"Let's settle this..!!"
This is my first adventure—the adventure of Bell Cranel.
●○●○●
Riveria and her companions reached the room where Bell and the Minotaur faced off.
Their gazes were fixed on a battle that, for them, was at the lowest level, yet none could look away. The echo of Bell's soul-searing cry rang through the room along with the Minotaur's roar.
He breathed life into his wounded body and faced the monster. Sparks flew as the greatsword collided with the knife. Their attacks flashed back and forth, blood spattering the ground.
Though he was in a position where a single direct hit could kill him, fear had no place in Bell's heart. Combat instinct alone moved his body to eliminate the powerful enemy before him.
Amidst the sharp ringing of metal, and despite the pressure of raw force that stirred the winds with every arm movement, Bell somehow managed to dodge and avoid the lethal strikes.
(Don't be fooled by its size!)
He shattered his fear, gathering his courage to face the beast again and again. Bell, freed from the shackles of terror, no longer knew the word "retreat." He only pressed forward with absolute determination.
Bell evaded the Minotaur's assault and lunged, driving thrusts with his knife. The Minotaur's strength could crush Bell in one blow, and even a slight graze could be fatal.
But that was all.
Bell didn't intend to be hit at all. He read the Minotaur's heavy swing, stepped back at the last second to avoid it, and then circled behind the beast to deliver another strike.
The blade neared the Minotaur's neck, but a strike lacking the power of his hips only caused a minor scratch on the thick hide. Nevertheless, Bell was slowly and steadily wearing the Minotaur down.
The rapid-fire Firebolt magic rang out. It was a "no-chant" magic that could be fired continuously as long as Mind remained, even if a single blast was weak. The direct hits charred and smoked the point of impact, but the Minotaur's incredibly tough body was unfazed by such minor damage.
But that was fine; it was enough to obscure the Minotaur's vision. If he discarded fear and looked calmly, its speed wasn't impossible to read.
(I've fought opponents faster than this many times!!)
His instructor, the "Werewolf," was much faster and stronger than this Minotaur. Compared to Bete, the Minotaur's linear movements were easy to predict.
The Minotaur's attacks were ferocious, but Bell evaded them all at the last second. He pierced through the storm of heavy blows, and what he couldn't evade, he parried with his knife. Despite the numbness in his hand gripping the hilt, he never let go.
"Is he parrying those attacks with a knife..?"
"No, what we should watch is his footwork... Bete, did you teach him that?"
Bete didn't find the time to answer Riveria; he continued to monitor the battle with intense focus. His thoughts were unreadable from his expression. Meanwhile, a change occurred in the Minotaur's movements.
It seemed to have grown wary of Bell. It stopped swinging its sword randomly and began to use sword techniques—crude as they were—focusing on thrusts.
The sword the Minotaur carried was massive and designed for two-handed use. Therefore, despite its reach, it lacked flexibility at close range. This meant that once an opponent got inside its guard, it was at a disadvantage. The Minotaur seemed to realize this and began to attack Bell with increased savagery.
Still, Bell did not flinch. He faced the attacks that could kill him in one hit with composure. He even used the opponent's strength against it at times to land guaranteed hits. However, the gap in basic abilities remained vast, and Bell's energy began to flag.
The strikes grew more precise. Bell began to struggle to evade the blades that pursued him to cut off his escape. Cold sweat poured down him as the edge passed his cheek, searching for a gap in the Minotaur's defense. It was a confrontation on the edge of a precipice, where any minor error meant death.
"He is holding on remarkably well. However.."
"He cannot land a decisive blow."
The fatal difference between them was "attack power." Bell's knife and dagger could not penetrate the Minotaur's thick muscular armor.
In contrast, every one of the Minotaur's attacks was a potential killing blow. Even if the hits didn't land directly, continuing this way would eventually lead to defeat under the mounting pressure.
The Minotaur's strikes caused the floor to rise and crack, sending debris flying like shrapnel against Bell's body.
"Vamoooooooooon!!"
"Tch!!"
Numerous wounds appeared on Bell's body, and his blood scattered. Though his features twisted in pain, he gripped his knife and pierced through the Minotaur's violent assaults. Victory would not be achieved unless he broke the Minotaur's physical superiority as a monster.
"This Minotaur is truly strange."
Riveria, watching the encounter, noted the differences between this one-horned Minotaur and others of its kind. Its use of the greatsword as a sharp tool rather than a mere club was striking, but more important was its extremely high physical capability.
While there are individual differences among monsters spawned by the Dungeon, this Minotaur's potential was so high it seemed like an entirely different species.
"──It's an Enhanced Species."
"Impossible.."
Could the Minotaur that escaped previously have survived and preyed on monsters of the upper floors? No, the rate of enhancement didn't seem to stem from devouring magic stones of weaker opponents; it must have devoured several magic stones from the middle floors of similar rank.
"Firebolt!!"
He extended his right hand and fired the quick-cast magic repeatedly. Under the barrage of firebolts, even this Minotaur was forced to retreat and halt its attack.
"Is he chanting? That magic?"
"No, it's concurrent casting, like Al's lightning bolt."
Fire magic arrows fired in succession. Thanks to this magic, he had miraculously survived situations where death was certain. Without this magic, the result would have been decided long ago.
But Bell was now in a bind. His physical energy had long since passed its limit. One hit, and the journey would end. Even the magic he relied on was beginning to drain his Mind.
Most importantly, Bell's magic...
"Cannot deliver a finishing blow."
This was the flaw of magic that required no chant. While powerful in its rapid firing, its destructive force was far less than standard magic. Although the Minotaur's body had sustained some damage, it was far from having deep wounds.
"Perhaps the power of Al's lightning bolt, which also lacks a chant, was merely a miraculous exception to the rules."
"Has he reached a dead end?"
"I would say it's too early to judge.. but.."
Bell's end was approaching moment by moment. If the fight continued like this, his defeat would soon be certain. In a position where he had to expend all his energy just to defend, it was nearly impossible to transition into a counter-attack leading to an effective strike.
Even if he tried to target the magic stone in its vital spot, the knife's length wasn't enough to reach the stone hidden behind the Minotaur's thick pectoral muscles.
Bell's vision began to narrow, perhaps due to lack of oxygen or the exhaustion of his Mind. He began to fear losing consciousness before the Minotaur's attack crushed him.
As he tried to parry the Minotaur's sword, which fell with a whistle through the air, the monster launched a merciless follow-up attack on the off-balance Bell, shattering the blade of the Basillard.
While Bell stared in shock at the blade flying through the air with a sharp ring, the Minotaur delivered a brutal strike. Evasion was impossible; even a guard was out of reach.
Bell's slender body was thrown across the floor. Blood sprayed from his mouth. Before he had time to feel the pain, the Minotaur's massive form loomed over him.
"He no longer has a weapon."
As Finn said, neither magic nor the knife could deliver a finishing blow to the Minotaur. Bell stood, cradling his shattered left arm and gripping the remains of his dagger—which had lost more than half its blade—looking completely exhausted. There was no longer any chance of victory.
In a scene of utter despair, the Minotaur's greatsword swung down in a straight line toward Bell.
A massive explosion roared, and the earth shook. Sand and debris from the shattered floor filled the air.
Within the dust, as Bell parried that lethal strike using the knife crafted by the God of the Forge─────
A sharp crack echoed: "Bakiiin!"
Under the force of the collision, the large silver sword held by the Minotaur shattered against the small but high-quality black blade. Bell's black knife was sent flying backward. In that instant, both were weaponless.
Bell had lost his only means of attack; the dagger he held had lost most of its blade and would not pierce the Minotaur's muscular armor.
Likewise, the Minotaur had lost its finishing tool. Of course, unlike Bell, its steel-like body was capable of killing a human even unarmed.
But the Minotaur recognized Bell's skill in evasion. Since the opponent had lost his weapon and would not attack, the Minotaur understood that its own unarmed, short-range arms would not be able to catch Bell.
"──Bumoo."
"──Haa, haa."
The fierce struggle reached a stalemate, with both hesitating to attack. To break this deadlock, two weapons flew toward them accompanied by calm words.
"──Use them."
The weapons were a greatsword and a one-handed sword thrown by Al. Both were demonic weapons overflowing with an aura so terrifying that even veteran warriors would hesitate to hold them, yet both combatants caught them without hesitation.
Bell gripped the sword in his left hand, and the Minotaur in its right. They launched at once. Bell moved left, the Minotaur right. Bell directed the cursed sword toward the Minotaur's neck, while the Minotaur aimed the dragon sword at Bell's body. Both swung the borrowed weapons, creating a violent metallic ring.
On one side, the greatsword [Dragon Slayer], forged from the scales of the One-Eyed Black Dragon—the finest in the lower world.
On the other, the cursed weapon that unleashes a horrific strike in exchange for burning its wielder.
The dragon sword and the cursed sword—both at the pinnacle of weapons in the lower world.
Since it was the first time they had held these weapons, they could not manifest their special abilities. However, even without those powers, the two weapons surpassed the legendary swords owned by top adventurers. From here on, defense became impossible.
Having obtained the weapons of a hero, their battle spirits ignited.
The final round of the fight began.
──────────────────────────────────────────────────
Note:
By the way, Al is weak against direct attacks—or rather, when he is in the position of the victim, his moral values become surprisingly normal. He is quite harmless if the opponent is at the level of Apollo or the Amazons.
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