On the 12th floor of the Dungeon Labyrinth, a blonde girl crouched beside a monster's corpse, carefully digging out its magic stone.
Her movements were practiced—so practiced they were almost mechanical.
Dig one out. Toss it into her pack. Dig the next. Toss it in.
Over and over, countless times.
She stared into the backpack full of stones, puffed her cheeks, and muttered a dissatisfied complaint.
"Still not enough."
Repairing the Sword of Despair cost two million valis.
Two million…
The number spun around in her mind, then turned into so many, so many Minotaurs.
She had only recently advanced to Level 5, yet Riveria had strictly forbidden her from going beyond Floor 17 into the Middle Floors.
Because Ais was far too easy to "lose herself." Every time she saw monsters, she'd charge straight into the thick of them and slaughter until she forgot everything else. If nobody stopped her, she could fight all day.
"It's a shame the Goliath was taken down by the Ganesha Familia… ugh…"
She let out a frustrated little wail, venting all her irritation onto the half-beasts in front of her. Her sword flashed like light, cutting monsters down one after another.
And there was a reason she was grinding the Dungeon so hard for magic stones.
This blonde girl was Ais Wallenstein—a Level 5 adventurer of the Loki Familia, the peerless prodigy known as "Sword Princess." The world's youngest first-tier adventurer. A genius who reached Level 5 at thirteen.
Right now, she was carrying a massive "debt."
That debt came from repairing her personal weapon—the Sword of Despair.
Normally, the familia would cover it.
But during the expedition's final battle, the party could have avoided the White Palace's "Arena" monster zone and withdrawn without provoking anything.
Instead, Ais saw monsters, got carried away—worse, saw monsters that never ran out—and charged in with the Sword of Despair to slaughter to her heart's content, throwing off the party's return plan.
No serious losses happened, but the return was delayed.
So, to teach her a lesson, the cost of repairing the Sword of Despair was made her responsibility.
Ais knew she was in the wrong.
So after obediently writing her self-reflection, she strapped on her swallow-everything backpack and went on a Dungeon killing spree—turning magic stones into valis.
But because Riveria wouldn't allow her past Floor 17, she was forced to farm the upper-middle area.
Unable to reach Floor 19, this Level 5 Ais could only massacre Level 2 monsters here—Minotaurs, Hellhounds, Needle Rabbits, half-beasts, and the like.
"This side's done… I can't steal other adventurers' monsters… ugh. Guess I'll go up to Floor 11."
She had camped for a long time without seeing a "Young Dragon," so she decided to head upward and keep hunting.
As she walked, she chewed on fried potato balls she'd pulled out of her pack.
"What was the name Lefiya said… Qian… Qian something?"
She frowned, trying hard to remember. Lefiya had said a lot that day—a lot—but Ais only retained one key point:
"His swordsmanship is really good."
"If I get the chance… I want to fight him."
But she kept that thought buried. She didn't dare say it out loud.
If Riveria found out Level 5 Ais was trying to "spar" with Level 1 Qianshuo, Loki Familia would get mocked to death for bullying a rookie.
They couldn't afford that kind of shame.
Floor 11 — White Mist
At this moment, Qianshuo arrived at Floor 11.
From Floor 10 onward, the environment opened up into wide spaces, and everything was wrapped in white mist.
Visibility was blocked, monsters were everywhere—meaning the difficulty spiked sharply for newcomers.
But Qianshuo had done his homework. Even with the white fog swirling around him, he didn't panic. He kept his usual calm.
Kiiyaa!! Ki-kiyaa!!
A sharp, grating screech cut through the mist, and two figures burst out, racing straight at him.
Whoosh!
Qianshuo slipped sideways, dodging the ambush. His eyes locked onto the two monsters whose attacks had missed.
"Imp… they start showing up from Floor 11."
He recognized them instantly.
Jet-black bodies. Oversized heads. A single horn like a jagged shard of stone. Their long, thin bodies made them look unbalanced—and deceptively harmless at first glance.
That was the trap.
You couldn't tell from their appearance how fast and sharp they truly were.
Facing two imps, Qianshuo stepped in with his katana, shifting position to line up with one of them—preventing a pincer attack.
The nearer imp bared a mouthful of fangs. Its claws pierced the white fog and slashed in a rapid counterattack.
Fast—faster than War Shadows and Killer Ants. That was why ordinary adventurers had to be extremely cautious in the Middle Floors.
But unfortunately for it…
That speed was still slower than Hedin's sword when it came down on Qianshuo.
And Qianshuo's response was even faster.
His katana cut through the air—an imp's arm was severed instantly, its strike collapsing into nothing.
Kii-kiyaa!!
It shrieked in pain, but before it could recover, Qianshuo slipped past the other imp's attack—
and with a plain, clean kesagiri (diagonal cut), he split both imps in a single motion.
No suspense.
Then, boar-headed half-beasts emerged from the mist.
Qianshuo calmly fixed his gaze on them.
This was exactly why he had come to Floor 11: to fight these larger-bodied monsters and build real combat experience against heavy frames.
Two boar-men charged.
Qianshuo didn't retreat.
His eyes carried fierce battle intent—cold killing pressure.
The first rushed in, raising a heavy club to smash him in one blow.
But that wide-open attack line was practically an invitation.
"First Secret Sword — Assault!"
In an instant, he concentrated his body's power into a single point.
His form exploded forward—vanishing like a phantom—his blade punching straight through the half-beast's body.
The second surged in to follow up.
It never got the chance.
In the moment he evaded, Qianshuo sprang back—his body moving like a shadow. Sword-light flickered. Within two seconds, he delivered several cuts in a rapid chain.
Blood marks bloomed across the half-beast's body.
As it tried to catch his position, a chill ran down its back. It turned—
"Second Secret Sword — Armor Splitter."
A near point-blank slash—releasing the "inch-force" loaded into the blade.
The boar-man's head flew.
It still held the posture of an attempted counterattack.
Qianshuo sheathed his blade.
Then he turned—and realized someone was watching.
Following the line of sight, he saw a blonde girl standing on the steps.
Long golden hair, but messy—like it hadn't been brushed in days.
A pretty face, but dirty—cheeks smeared with what might've been dust… or monster blood.
A slender body, but carrying a backpack bigger than she was—hanging heavy.
She held a fried potato ball, but half of it had fallen onto the ground—and she didn't seem to notice.
Qianshuo met her eyes.
Golden irises—like molten gold.
No expression. No obvious emotion.
Yet something about her made it impossible to look away.
They stared at each other through the mist, neither speaking.
Then the girl finally spoke.
Her voice was light, flat—like she was stating a fact.
"That swordsmanship is amazing."
She paused.
"…Can we fight?"
Qianshuo: "?"
....
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