"He is magnificent."
Freya's breath grew labored as she devoured the fascinating scene within her divine mirror.
Her violet eyes burned with barely restrained hunger.
"Ahh… It has been much too long."
Her legs quivered as she sank back into her throne-like chair, the crimson cushions caressing her flawless skin as she sprawled across them.
Sharp cracks and heavy grunts echoed from the scrying mirror into the otherwise silent room as the adventurer within tore through the Dungeon's lesser children.
The goddess cupped her cheek.
His equipment was poor.
His movements were ungainly and slow.
He was a far cry from the mortals she usually watched.
And yet…
Despite his weakness, neither fear nor worry showed on his face as he avoided death by a hair time and time again.
His expression could almost be called peaceful as he cut his foes apart with brutal efficiency—the silver sword he wielded so clumsily always arriving exactly where it needed to be
She shook her head.
No matter the era, mortals so in tune with their instinct were a rare find.
In the past, some of them had even succeeded in retaining her interest after she claimed them for herself.
For a time.
They were a remarkable breed of men.
Discovering this one had been pure luck.
A smile kissed her lips as her eyes narrowed slightly.
Or perhaps… Fate.
His soul was unlike any she had ever seen.
It was a lightless abyss of pure darkness—untouched by any other color.
The sight had instantly attracted her Discerning Eye as she strolled through the streets of Orario in her mortal guise the day before.
Her mask had nearly slipped right then and there, so great was her shock.
An adventurer's potential was measured by the purity of their soul, while their character was revealed by its brightness.
A purely black soul could not exist.
Even those unfortunate mortals, hated by their own kind and condemned as irredeemably evil were, in the end, only mere shades of grey.
It should not be possible.
And yet, defying all reason, it had happened.
Heavy footsteps sounded from behind her.
"Ottar."
She perked up slightly as her beloved child drew closer.
"Did you complete the task I gave you?"
"Yes, Mistress."
The Boaz stopped at her right side, his head lowered toward the floor.
Known as the King to the rest of Orario, his overwhelming strength was far from the most interesting thing about her Familia Captain.
He was a man who respected her even more than he loved her.
Theirs was a unique dynamic that made every interaction a rare pleasure.
"Well done," she said, gracing him with a smile. "Tell me—"
Her gaze returned to the divine mirror.
The young adventurer within had already cleared the fifth floor and was descending to the sixth.
"Who is he?"
"He is called Cain. No known family name."
There were no inflections in Ottar's stoic voice as he delivered the report.
"He signed up at the Guild a week ago and registered the newly formed Hestia Familia as its Captain."
Little Hestia?
Freya released a quiet breath, crossing one long leg over the other.
How unfortunate.
She would have preferred a proper challenge.
"The day after, he entered a contract with one of their senior employees and acquired Rose Fannett as his advisor."
Freya settled her elbow on the armrest, tracing's Cain's features with her gaze.
Unblemished bronze skin glistened beneath a thin sheen of sweat.
His amber eyes narrowed as he deflected a War Shadow's sneak attack with his blood-stained sword.
"How fascinating."
Rose Fannette.
Her soul was rather striking.
Freya clicked her tongue as a decade old grudge reared its head again.
If only Ouranos was not so possessive.
Ottar lifted his head, his gaze locked onto her eyes.
"What are your orders, Mistress?"
"For now…" Freya hummed, resting her chin on her fist. "I will simply observe him."
A familiar thrill shot up her spine.
"After all…"
She flashed her most powerful child a delighted smile.
"I never skip foreplay."
———
Hestia was trying to court me.
My thoughts grew ever distant as I drove my sword into the Frog Shooter's bulging eye.
She wanted us to become lovers.
Instead of retrieving the monster's magic stone, I spun around and raised my blade just in time to cut the incoming tongue in two.
It was always the same routine with these frogs.
As soon as the monster's anguished cries reached me, I surged forward to hack its head into pieces.
This world really was different than the one I grew up in.
The enchanted bag at my hip grew heavier as I secured my loot inside.
Hestia and I had known each other for just over a week.
I did not I love her.
I tilted my head back and released a slow breath.
Until the Dungeon healed its walls, there would be no further attacks.
And even if I did—how would I know?
How did she know?
The 6th Dungeon Floor blurred past me as I marched from tunnel to tunnel, slaying every monster I came across.
Nothing cleared my head as effectively as killing.
Our date had ended rather abruptly after I told my goddess about the monster that was targeting me.
Even though her divine lie detector assured her that I was not making it up, she had not treat the situation with the gravitas it deserved.
Instead, she chose that moment to confess her feelings for me—and make her intentions known.
I had no answer for her and, as a result, a tense silence had spread between us on the way back home.
That tension had not left since.
"Is this really your only trick?"
I clicked my tongue and angled my blade, cutting off the War Shadow hand as it clawed at my back.
It lashed out with its other hand.
I stepped aside and severed it at the wrist.
The monster's wailing cries stopped the moment I pierced the magic stone at the center of its lanky body.
"These guys just aren't doing it for me anymore," I muttered.
My brows drew together in dissatisfaction as I filled my bag with yet another crystalline treasure.
After hours of ceaseless slaughter, it was nearly overflowing.
I inclined my head as I glanced toward the entrance to the 7th floor.
It was time.
As always, I had listened to my advisor's warnings.
"The monsters on the 7th floor are different from the ones before, not because they're stronger, but because they're smarter."
She had warned me at the end of our daily lessons, her voice strained with worry.
"They can form strategies. Never underestimate them."
I huffed lightly.
While the woman's behavior had returned to normal, the weight of something unspoken still lingered heavy in the air whenever our conversations dried up.
She never failed to fill that silence with more trivia about the Dungeon.
I did not mind it.
If she did not want to share her problems with me, then I would accept her decision.
A flare of annoyance—directed at the half-elf guild employee—hastened my steps as I descended the stairs to the lower floor.
She should not have told me about my advisor's previous charge.
My grip tightened around my sword as I glanced around the 7th floor.
It looked much the same as the floor above.
My guard rose as I marched into the dimly lit adjacent tunnel.
I met my first foes soon after.
"You look ridiculous."
A smile tugged at my lips as I studied the Needle Rabbit staring up at me.
The only thing that distinguished the monster from a regular rabbit was the horn jutting from the top of its tiny head.
A sharp crack rang out from the wall beside me.
Then another.
And another.
Soon, the lone monster was joined by a whole swarm of its kind, their small red eyes burning with frenzied hunger.
The smile vanished from my face as I shifted into a defensive posture, both of my hands wrapped around the hilt of my sword.
The first rabbit lunged at me with a ear piercing screech.
I slashed at it with the poise of a South Solstaris batter—swatting a ball out of the air.
As the monster split in two, I spun and kicked the next rabbit in the head.
The beast's skull caved in with a satisfying crunch.
I stepped forward and drove my sword through its sibling's open mouth.
My vision tunnelled as I carved a bloody swath through the group of monsters. The passage was too narrow to maneuver well, so they came at me in a straight line.
What started out as an advantage quickly devolved into a deadly detriment.
Entirely focused on the opponents in front of me, I did not see the attack from behind coming.
I bit down on my tongue—stifling a scream as two rabbits pierced their sharp horns into the back of my unarmored legs.
The sword dropped from my hands as I reached down, breathing out in relief as the rabbits dissolved in my grasp the moment I activated Morsalis.
My wounds healed instantly, my vigor returning just in time to tilt my head to the side and avoid the incoming horn.
I picked up my sword and slashed at the monster behind me without looking back.
The click of a magic stone hitting the floor confirmed my kill.
Snarls echoed from the remaining rabbits as I glared at them with narrowed eyes.
The corners of my mouth lifted upward.
"Round two."
—————-
Loran's pulse thundered in his ears as he collapsed against the Dungeon's wall.
It was the first moment of rest he had been able to sneak in since setting foot on the 7th Floor.
"Loran! Get up!" Yorun called. "Killer Ants release pheromones that attract more of them when they die. It is not safe here!"
The dwarf wheezed as he pushed himself to his feet, mourning the simple day he could have had—if only he had stayed on the upper floor.
He did not sign up for this crap.
Thankfully, their supporter had already gathered their magic stones. Menial work like that was the last thing Loran wanted to deal with after battle.
"The others should be joining us soon," Yorun added as he accepted the drink the young supporter handed him.
"Once they do, we'll call it quits and leave this hellhole."
A faint smile tugged at Loran's lips as he nodded in agreement.
Yorun had finally came to his senses.
Humans and their inordinate amount of pride would never fail to baffle him.
"A wise decision," he said, patting his party leader on the back.
"Pushing your luck is never worth it! After all…" He wiggled his brows. "There's so much left to live for! Remember our plans for tonight?"
A deep chuckle rumbled in Yorun's throat as he tossed the water bottle at their supporter.
The chienthrope flinched as it bounced off his head.
"How could I forget?" he asked, a wide grin splitting his rugged face. "Getting piss drunk after a day's worth of battle—surrounded by food and hot women—is an adventurer's romance!"
"Damn right it is!" Loran's expression brightened to match the humans beside him.
"May the gods bless Mia Grand for retiring and opening that pub."
The bottle slipped from the supporter's hands as a sudden cacophony of screams echoed through the tunnel.
Loran stiffened.
The sound has come from the direction the rest of their party had headed to earlier.
"Incoming!" Yorun shouted, gaze snapping to the source of the commotion as he lofted his axe.
"Run! Run! Run!" a pair of cat demi-humans cried as they sprinted toward them—and then past.
Loran did not hesitate to follow, and neither did Yorun.
"Sora! Koru!" he cried. "What is going on?"
He glanced back, a sharp gasp slipping from his lips as his eyes fell on a vision of horror.
A small army of monsters surged behind them.
Killer ants and needle rabbits scurried along the floor, while purple moths flew near the ceiling.
"It's those bastards from the Lugh Familia!" Sora shouted as he frantically gestured behind them.
"They pass paraded us!"
Yorun cursed loudly as he swung his axe at their supporter.
"Those fuckers! Couldn't beat our executives—so they come after us bottom feeders instead!"
Lorans's breathing steadied as he watched the young chienthrope disappear beneath the avalanche of monsters.
That would slow them down a bit.
"We need to lose them!" he called out as they rounded a corner into the next stretch of the labyrinth. "There are too many!"
"What the hell do you think we're doing? You stupid dwarf!" Koru snarled as he glanced back at him.
Even before receiving Flana's blessing, the mans cat heritage had granted him speed that Loran could not hope to match with his much shorter legs.
The fact that the demi-human brothers had not left them behind yet spoke volumes about their loyalty.
"We have a plan," Sora shouted as he ran at the head of their formation, his breath ragged.
"Explain," Yorun ordered. "Now!"
Loran carefully kept his distance from the human and his wildly swinging axe.
"We ran into some hotshot solo adventurer a short while ago—not far from here," Koru answered. "If we're lucky, he'll still be there."
A solo adventurer on the 7th floor?
Loran shook his head.
Poor Bastard.
——————
Rose had warned me about killer ants.
The infamous newbie killers of the 7th floor were aptly named. Even in death, they managed to make a nuisance of themselves.
I clicked my tongue as I crushed the twitching head of the oversized insect beneath my boot.
There would be more coming soon.
According to my werewolf advisor, they were the most dangerous monsters I would be facing today.
I disagreed.
Vehemently.
The true menaces of this floor were neither ants—nor rabbits.
They were moths.
As I had quickly grown used to doing over the past couple of hours, I cast a routine glance toward the Dungeon's green ceiling.
There were only so many times I could get my skin burned off by poison mist before watching out for the hateful creatures became a habit.
Even if I succeeded in killing every single purple moth in this Dungeon, it still would not be enough.
Aside from their deadly breath attack, they were weak.
Fragile.
If only it was not so hard to exploit that weakness.
They knew about it too and—as a consequence—never flew lower than the twelve-foot ceiling allowed.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as my gaze dropped to the tunnel entrance.
There was no sound, sight, or smell out of the ordinary—but my instincts had never failed me before.
Something was coming.
My vigilance swiftly paid off as a party of adventurers rounded the corner and sprinted toward me.
A dwarf. A human. And two cat demi-humans.
Their expressions lit up as their eyes met mine.
"There you are!" the cat man exclaimed as he rushed toward me.
I gripped my sword.
They barely made an effort to conceal their hostile intentions.
Contrary to my expectations, they did not attack.
The human grinned widely as he ran past me.
"You did well to come this far, lad," he shouted.
"This is nothing personal," the dwarf added as they disappeared into the adjacent passage.
I blinked, my head tilting to the side as I watched them leave.
I had been certain that we were going to fight.
What first alerted me to the incoming danger was the noise.
It was a sound I had learned to recognize well.
The clatter of hundreds of feet against the rocky ground, mixed with bestial snarls and the beating of wings.
My brows furrowed as I pivoted to the entrance the party had appeared from.
I see.
A Pass Parade.
Rose had told me about them.
"In the Dungeon, other adventurers can be just as dangerous as monsters."
A thrill shot up my spine as the first rabbit burst into view. Following closely behind it was an assortment of ants and moths.
A thin smile tugged at my lips as I assumed my battle stance, the fear of the inevitable pain and the anticipation of killing warring for dominance in my mind.
Running had never been option.
Not for me.
Heroes did not run from danger.
The fastest rabbit skewered itself on the tip of my sword and dissolved into black mist.
I crouched low and jumped forward—a half dozen feet up into the air.
At the apex of the arc, I cut through one of the Purple Moth's thin wings.
The blade met no resistance.
My boots crushed a killer ant's spine as I landed among the swarm.
I brought my heel down on its head, not sparing the monster a second glance as it died.
The Needle Rabbits were the first to lunge at me.
I stepped aside, running one through while kicking the next into the ceiling.
Ant mandibles snapped at my legs—but I was faster.
The ground blurred beneath me as I leapt across the swarm to fell another moth, chopping its head off and quickly driving my blade into a killer ant's mouth as I landed.
A mistake.
The monster did not die.
Instead, it closed its maw tightly shut around my blade and scurried away with it, leaving me unarmed.
I lunged after it—and paid for the brief moment of carelessness.
Two Needle Rabbits drove their horns into the backs of my knees.
Again.
A choked cry ripped from my throat as I collapsed to the floor.
Poisonous mist drifted down onto my face, burning my skin.
Killer ants snapped their jaws as they closed in.
A snarl twisted my features as I lifted my hand just in time to block the horn aimed at my bare throat.
The Blessing of Death roared to life.
"Enough!"
The rabbit impaled on my palm died.