Inside the entrance of the dungeon, the air trembled with a heavy pressure that pressed against the chest of every knight present, as if the dungeon itself was breathing and watching them, waiting to see who would survive and who would fall.
The Holy King Guren stood at the front, his white and gold robes flowing slightly from the movement of mana around him, his arms crossed as his sharp eyes fixed on the towering figure ahead of them.
The Minotaur.
It stood there like a wall of flesh and rage, its massive body packed with rippling muscles beneath rough fur, each breath it took sounding like a furnace roaring to life, while thick smoke curled out from its nostrils as if it carried fire within its lungs.
Its eyes burned red.
Not with simple anger.
But with something deeper.
Something violent.
It slammed its hoof against the ground.
The dungeon shook.
One of the Royal Holy Knights stepped forward, his armor shining with holy runes, and then he dropped to one knee before the king.
"My king," he said with firm respect, "allow me."
Guren did not hesitate.
He gave a small nod.
The knight rose.
His sword slid out of its sheath with a clean metallic sound, and the moment the blade was exposed, holy mana wrapped around it like flowing light, forming a radiant edge that cut through the darkness of the dungeon.
The Minotaur roared.
The sound echoed through the entire cavern.
The knight did not retreat.
Instead, he moved forward.
Fast.
His steps were light despite the weight of his armor, his body trained to perfection through countless training and real battles, his sword raised high as holy power surged through his arm.
Then he struck.
A clean, perfect slash.
The blade cut through the Minotaur's shoulder as if it were nothing, slicing deep into flesh and bone, tearing through muscle with ease as blood burst out in a violent spray.
The Minotaur's body trembled.
Then it fell in a slow loud thud as its massive frame hit the ground, unmoving.
The knight stood still for a moment, watching carefully.
Then he exhaled.
"It is done," he said calmly as he turned back toward the king.
Behind him, the other knights relaxed slightly, though their guards remained up.
Guren gave a small nod.
"Good."
But before the word could fully settle, the air changed.
A shadow stretched across the ground.
It grew larger and the intimidating pressure it emanated? It became heavier.
The knight's eyes narrowed. He slowly turned his head. And then he saw it.
The Minotaur.
It was still standing.
Looking even more formidable from before.
Its body rose again as if death itself had failed to hold it down, its wounds already closing, flesh knitting together in a grotesque display as the torn muscle sealed itself, bone reconnecting with a wet cracking sound.
Its eyes burned even brighter than before.
It roared again, but this time, it seemed more angerier because of its louder roar.
The knight's expression hardened.
"A healing beast," Guren muttered under his breath, though even he could feel that something was wrong.
This was not normal healing, there was something different about it.
The knight tightened his grip on his sword.
"Allow me to finish it properly, your Majesty," he said, his tone sharper now.
Without waiting for another command, he raised his blade again.
Holy mana surged stronger this time.
The air around him vibrated.
He stepped forward.
Then he attacked again.
His blade came down with greater force, aiming for the same shoulder.
But this time, the result was different.
Instead of cutting through cleanly, the sword met resistance.
A harsh metallic sound rang out as the blade struck fur that felt harder than steel, the force of the impact traveling back into the knight's arm.
The slash left only a shallow cut.
The knight's eyes widened for a split second.
But he did not stop.
He moved again.
Another strike.
Faster and sharper than the last strike.
But the result was worse.
The blade barely left a mark… a very thin line.
Nothing more.
The Minotaur seemed to not even flinch.
The knight's heart sank.
Still, he forced himself forward.
A third strike.
This time, he poured everything into it.
His muscles tensed.
Holy mana flared brighter than ever before.
The blade descended with full power.
It struck.
And then…
Nothing.
No cut.
No blood.
Not even a scratch.
The sword simply slid off the Minotaur's fur as if it had struck stone.
The knight froze.
For a single moment.
That moment was enough.
The Minotaur moved.
Its massive arm swung forward with terrifying speed, closing the distance in an instant, its fist crashing into the knight's chest with a thunderous sound.
BANG!
The impact sent the knight flying into the air, his body twisting from the force as blood burst from his mouth.
But it did not end there.
The Minotaur stepped forward.
Its hands came together.
Clasped into a massive two-handed fist.
Then it brought it down.
Hard.
BAM!
The knight's body was smashed into the ground, the impact creating a massive crack that spread across the stone floor like a spiderweb.
Dust rose into the air.
The knight lay there.
Broken.
Barely breathing.
Silence filled the entrance.
For one second.
Then Guren's voice cut through it.
"Kill it."
There was no hesitation.
No doubt.
The remaining Royal Holy Knights all came together forward at once, their armor glowing as holy mana erupted from their bodies, swords and spears shining as they charged the beast with full force.
The dungeon trembled under the clash that followed.
…
Far deeper inside the dungeon, where the darkness grew thick and the air felt heavier, a completely different scene unfolded.
Cerys knelt before Clay.
Her head lowered.
Her hands placed firmly on the ground.
"Please accept my devotion to you, young master," she said, her voice steady despite the emotion behind it. "My master."
Clay blinked.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her as if trying to process what he just heard.
This was the second time.
The second time she offered him such complete loyalty.
He let out a small breath.
This is getting troublesome, he thought, his mind moving quickly as he looked at the girl kneeling before him.
He did not need this.
He was strong.
Stronger than before.
He had seen what his ability could do.
He had felt it.
The power that could rise endlessly as long as the opponent was stronger.
That kind of ability made everything else feel unnecessary.
Why rely on others when he could rely on himself?
That thought stayed in his mind firmly and full of confidence.
Then—
Ding!
A familiar sound echoed in his head.
Exponential Overgrowth Spur Deactivated.
The ability can only be used once every week.
Clay choked.
"What the…" he muttered under his breath, his expression twisting as realization hit him like a brick.
Once a week.
Once.
A week.
He stood there, silent for a few seconds as his mind tried to adjust.
So it is not something I can spam whenever I want, he thought, his earlier confidence taking a hit.
It was still powerful.
Very powerful.
But now it had limits.
Clear limits.
He exhaled slowly.
Alright, then it is a trump card.
Something to use when things get bad.
His gaze slowly returned to Cerys.
The girl who now held an inheritance that, in his memory, belonged to someone who would become a terrifying existence.
If she stayed by his side…
He would have another blade as weaponry.
Another advantage.
Meanwhile, Cerys remained kneeling, though inside her mind, her thoughts were far from calm.
She could hear him.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to understand that he had almost rejected her.
Enough to know that he changed his mind at the last moment.
And that scared her.
But it also gave her relief.
I need to stay by his side, she thought, her heart beating faster, because if I do anything wrong, I can still hear his thoughts and fix it before it gets worse.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
She was a little skeptical about her mind reading ability because there were strange moments.
Moments where she could not hear him.
Like just now.
When he seemed to be speaking to something.
Something she could not hear.
That part made her uneasy.
But she did not question it.
Not now.
Not when she had just made her choice.
Clay finally spoke.
"Alright then," he said, his tone calm again, as if he had already decided everything. "I will accept your offer."
Cerys's head lifted slightly.
Her eyes widened for a brief second.
Then relief washed over her.
"Thank you, young master," she said, her voice softer now, but filled with sincerity.
Clay nodded.
He had no idea that the system had quietly hidden its presence from her senses, blocking her from hearing anything related to it.
If she had known…
Things might have been very different.
For now, however, everything remained as it was.
A master.
And his maid.
Bound together by something far deeper than either of them fully understood.
And then suddenly, the ground they were standing on, shook.
The entire dungeon trembled as if something massive had slammed into its core, the walls cracking slightly as dust fell from above.
Clay's eyes narrowed.
Cerys looked up quickly, her body tensing.
"That came from the entrance," she said, her voice tight.
Clay clicked his tongue.
"Looks like we are not alone anymore."