"Time to eat."
Leon worked through breakfast with practiced ease, knife and fork moving in no particular hurry. Once the last bite was gone, he washed the wooden dishes, set them to dry, and moved on to his morning routine.
Thanks to the gods walking among mortals and the advances in Magic Stone technology, Orario's standard of living rivaled anything from his old world. The rented house even had running water, which made daily life remarkably convenient.
Hygiene sorted, he turned to his pack and ran through his checklist: potions of various types, rope, Magic Stone lantern, rations, supplies, whetstone, oilcloth. Everything accounted for.
He pulled on a black combat shirt and trousers, laced up his leather boots, and began strapping on armor.
The black light-armor set had cost him 49,900 valis. A fortune by his standards, but he'd stumbled onto the deal at a Hephaestus brand shop and couldn't pass it up. Gorget, chestplate, pauldrons, vambraces, gauntlets, greaves... layered over a fitted leather vest, the ensemble covered every vital point on his body. The set had been purpose-built for slashing resistance, crafted by one of Orario's top smiths as a scrap-material practice piece. Light, breathable, and it didn't restrict his movement in the slightest.
Next came the adventurer's belt, hip pouch, and thigh bag, all fashioned from tough leather processed from Dungeon monster Drop Items. Built to last.
He inspected his primary and secondary weapons, a short sword and a knife, and hung them at his waist.
Gloves on. Last, the black hooded cloak to keep a low profile. He adjusted the fit of everything, gave himself one final check, and stepped out the door.
"Today's gonna be a good one."
...
"Morning, Leon! Heading out?"
"Sure am, Uncle Rita. Catch you later."
"What's the rush, kid? Here, the wife made these for her stall this morning. Fried potato balls. Take some!"
"Potato balls? Cream-filled? Don't mind if I do."
Trading greetings with the neighbors along the back streets, Leon turned onto the main road and made his familiar way toward Babel at the city's center.
No supplies to restock today, so he skipped the northwest Adventurer's Boulevard and cut through a shortcut instead, arriving earlier than usual.
Not that it mattered which route he took. Every main road was already packed at this hour with adventurers and Supporters heading to work.
Dwarf warriors in full plate hefting shields and greataxes. Amazons striding along in outfits that left almost nothing to the imagination. Beast-folk and prums in light armor or leather. Elves draped in ornate robes, staves in hand. Supporters with oversized packs on their backs and crossbows or bows slung at their hips. Every race, shoulder to shoulder, filling the streets.
Leon kept his head down and moved with the current until he reached the plaza.
Hm?
Two figures cut through the crowd, there and gone in a flash.
Gold and silver hair. Even in Orario, those colors stood out. The tall, slender frames moved with an effortless grace that drew his eye before he could stop himself.
Elves? I'd definitely remember beauties like that. A swordfighter and a mage, paired up... where have I seen...?
The thought nagged at him all the way down the Great Hollow's spiral staircase to the underground plaza on Floor 1, where he finally shook it off.
He spotted the usual handful of adventurer squads camped out in their permanent spots near the entrance, still hunting for that rumored million-valis treasure some merchant had supposedly stashed on the upper floors. A quiet snort behind his hood.
Still at it. Idiots.
He slipped into the layered maze of tunnels.
...
At Leon's current Basic Abilities, Floor 5 was easy pickings.
Only when ten or more monsters spawned at once did things get dicey. His standard protocol: if more than five emerged simultaneously, he'd immediately pull back, open up distance, and kite them while breaking their formation apart before picking them off one by one.
For a solo player, this approach minimized injury risk and gear wear while leaving room to react if the Dungeon threw a curveball.
"The Dungeon is alive." That maxim never left the back of his mind.
Any lapse in focus, any moment of carelessness, and this so-called "mother" would hit back without mercy. Especially when you were tired or in trouble. The Dungeon didn't just kick you while you were down. It stomped. No exceptions, no second chances.
"WAAAGHHHHHH..."
He'd barely set foot on Floor 5 when the welcoming committee arrived.
A cluster of green-skinned Goblins ripped free from the tunnel walls, still fresh from the stone, crimson eyes blazing as they shrieked and charged with crude weapons raised.
"The new and improved me doesn't need to trade steel with small fry anymore." The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "A mage fights with style."
He planted his feet. Left arm brought the short sword up in a reverse grip across his body. Right hand shot forward from his hip, index finger raised, palm relaxed. Inside him, the mental energy refined into magic surged through his circuits.
Blue threads of light flickered at the edges of his vision. His voice came low and clear, each syllable precise:
"Scorch!"
The single word cracked like a trigger pulled. Without warning, fire erupted across a Goblin's body.
"GYEEEEE...!" Flesh sizzled and popped. The creature writhed as flames ate it alive. Leon watched without expression.
"Scorch!"
A second incantation. Another Goblin's head vanished inside a cocoon of fire. It screamed, thrashed, and hit the ground rolling.
Both monsters were still twitching, still clinging to life through sheer stubborn vitality. Leon studied them and got a rough read on Scorch's actual damage output.
He considered for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and shifted tactics.
"Scorch!"
A third unlucky target burst into flames. He hopped back two light steps, widening the gap.
Demon Lord's Crest, activate.
Endurance and Magic doubled on top of base values. Mind pool amplified a hundredfold, with permanent regeneration and drastically improved recovery speed and efficiency.
Scholar's Heart, activate.
Refinement: magic and techniques sharpened in precision and presentation. Equipped gear enhanced in both performance and appearance.
True Essence of All Magic, activate.
Super Magic: active magical effects could be charged. The longer the preparation, the greater the amplification.
"...Scorch!"
A low bark of command, and he released the final strike with a brief charge behind it.
The blast hit like an uncapped furnace. Savage flame swallowed the target whole, and the shriek cut off mid-note.
Nothing remained in the corridor but the stuttering death-wails of the other three. Leon closed the distance, short sword firm in his grip, and ended them quickly.
Four charred husks lay at his feet. His brow furrowed.
"Scorch's damage... is way too low."
He crouched beside the smoking remains, prodding a corpse with his blade as he ran the numbers cold.
"Damage penetration is sluggish. The flames look impressive but they're mostly bark. The real killing power comes from the burn-over-time effect, and that takes too long to finish the job. There's a delay between hitting and killing."
"Good thing these were Goblins..."
He recalled the research he'd done in the Guild's surface archives, and something heavy settled behind his eyes. "Against the big-league monsters deeper down, the ones with massive health pools and thick hides like Orcs or Silverbacks, a Scorch hit wouldn't slow them down at all. The pain might actually drive them berserk and make the fight worse."
"Even instant-killing a Goblin takes two Instant Casts, or a sword stroke to finish it off."
He ran a quick mental audit of his capabilities.
"My base Magic stat is under 400. Even with Demon Lord's Crest and Scholar's Heart boosting it, the ceiling on Instant Cast damage is... about what I just saw."
His best guess put Scorch's damage coefficient well below 0.5, let alone a clean 1.0.
Based on what he'd just tested, this spell functioned more like an opener that applied a burn debuff, a setup tool designed to amplify other fire-element magic rather than serve as a primary damage dealer.
A small sigh escaped him. "Unless my Magic hits 500, or I take the time for a short charge-up, I can't even reach the minimum threshold for a one-shot kill."
Of course, if any halfway competent mage found out Leon was trying to use Scorch as his main offensive spell, they'd probably laugh themselves into an early grave.
...
He dug out the Magic Stones with practiced efficiency. First real combat test summarized, his plan was already forming.
A third-of-a-second charge is enough. It's a ranged option, so there's room to create distance. If I run into a pack again, I kite and cast on the move. Having True Essence of All Magic and just standing still like an idiot to charge up a cast... that'd be embarrassing.
Looking back at how he'd fought just now, there was plenty to improve.
Thanks to his skills, he didn't need Concurrent Chanting. No risk of Ignis Fatuus from a botched cast mid-combat. Casting while moving was effortless for him.
He pulled out the notebook and quill he kept on his person and scribbled down the key takeaways.
Then, itching to test further, he pressed deeper in.
...
"Hey, did you guys hear screaming just now?"
"Seriously, who's out here on Floor 5 torturing monsters? Just kill the damn things clean."
"Who knows. Big city, all kinds of weirdos. This is Orario. Maybe the guy's got some kind of fetish. I hear some of the nobles outside the walls actually..."
"..."
Leon passed the two loudly complaining adventurers and felt his eye twitch.
It's not like I wanted to drag it out. I'm still figuring out the spell, alright?
He pushed the irritation aside and refocused. Floor 5 is too cramped. Narrow tunnels, slow monster respawn, adventurers everywhere, and not enough spawns to go around. On top of that, parties heading to deeper floors or back to the surface are constantly passing through. If someone catches me slinging instant-cast magic, that's the kind of attention I don't need. One nosy person with bad intentions and I've got a target on my back.
He was still weak. Still in his growth phase. Caution was the play.
So... move to a different floor?
The internal debate lasted about a millisecond. He'd head down one more level.
Don't let the label "upper floors" fool you. Floors 5, 6, and 7 were different worlds entirely. Monster types, spawn frequency, incident rates, all of it spiked hard, and the cavern environments shifted too.
Floor 7 in particular had earned its reputation. Adventurers called it "the Rookie's Graveyard."
The first death line, they said. New breeds of monsters with abilities that were viciously unfriendly to inexperienced adventurers.
The mortality rate was brutal.