3-6 Deadly Battle

We wiped out the small fry monsters with combat units, and then we encountered the boss of the forty-sixth floor.

Its name was Hydra.

This was a gigantic monster with nine heads.

The so-called “eight-forked” type—normally classified as a nine-headed dragon.

People argue whether the legendary eight-forked serpent had eight heads or nine depending on the source, but “eight-forked” should mean “eight gaps,” so if you count what the wording implies, it should actually have nine heads.

If you think I’m lying, hold both palms toward you, overlap your pinkies, and count the gaps between your fingers and the number of fingers.

There are eight gaps and nine fingers.

But since authoritative old texts like the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki say it had eight heads, whoever compiled and edited those in ancient Japan must have misunderstood.

By the proper interpretation, “eight-forked” and “nine-headed dragon” should be the same category, meaning it should be a monster with nine heads.

And so, right in front of me, an A-rank monster that looked exactly like that—an eight-forked bastard with the vibe of a nine-headed dragon—loomed up with a heavy presence.

This wasn’t Japanese myth anymore; it was starting to feel a bit more like Greek myth.

Its rounded torso was squat and thick, and it was much bigger than the chimera.

If I remembered right, it had strong regeneration.

If it didn’t have a regeneration skill, could I have copied regeneration from it?

As a test, I used a newly learned intermediate spell, Wind Blade, and cut off one of its heads.

But unlike Earth’s legends, two heads didn’t grow back.

Instead, the head regenerated with a wet, rubbery glorp.

Ugh. Disgusting.

It grew back with this slick, smooth pop.

No, this wasn’t a regeneration skill.

It just had high natural regeneration.

Good thing I got the regeneration skill earlier.

“Hey, stop messing around.”

“Then you do it.”

Antonio didn’t even bother answering properly—he wrapped himself in magic armor and, barehanded, severed every head, then split the massive body clean in half before it could even regenerate.

A flood of organs and blood dyed the deep dungeon in a raw stench.

Bringing the loot back was my job, since I had storage.

That armor’s defense and offense were insane, but its biggest advantage was probably the speed.

And he could even stack Fast on top of it, which made it downright unfair.

He was basically a high-speed cyborg.

That meant the initial move was everything, and speed to activation mattered the most.

I used it while picturing a certain anime.

If I clicked my back teeth, I could wrap myself in armor instantly.

Magic depended on imagery.

Even the magic armor skill, which was still magic at its core, was no exception.

The forty-seventh floor boss was a Basilisk!

A petrifying lizard, huh.

“This is bad. Don’t look into its eyes. Use magic armor!”

But this foolish old man got distracted watching it out of curiosity and hesitated for a split second too long.

And petrification started from my toes!

S-so clumsy!

“Hey, what are you doing? Hurry up and use a Cancel Potion.”

The instant he said that, he moved like lightning and took the basilisk’s head.

The old man hurriedly deployed a nurse pod.

It automatically determined the condition and sprayed a Special-Grade Cancel Potion over me.

The petrification immediately began to fade.

Good grief, that was close.

This petrification status felt awful—like rigor mortis starting while you were still alive.

It was deeply unsettling.

I still hadn’t shown the Guildmaster this “Special-Grade” status potion.

He’d just tell me, “Don’t show that to anyone,” and that would be the end of it.

I’d been hoping Antonio would get petrified somewhere like an idiot, so I could save him and sell him the favor—so why did this happen to me instead?

“Idiot. If you activate magic armor, you can block petrification magic.”

Seriously?

I wish you’d said that earlier.

Sure, magic armor could deflect or absorb magic.

Unfortunately, petrification was the basilisk’s innate spell, so I couldn’t copy it.

Sadly, I couldn’t learn it the hard way.

It looked like it would’ve been a fun spell to use, too.

While I still remembered the sensation, I’d try recreating it myself later.

Then came the forty-eighth floor.

This was Fenrir’s territory—the lightning-fast silver-white wolf.

The moment we made contact, we deployed magic armor without pause and spread out.

A single strike from the huge wolf’s claws detonated where we had been an instant earlier.

Since it was a sturdy dungeon wall, the damage was minimal—but if a living human had been there, they would’ve been pulverized.

Which meant it was time for “MIRV.”

This was my original missile spell, imagined after a multiple-warhead ballistic missile.

And I could choose any spell I wanted for the warheads.

One launch could carry twenty-four large-scale spells, each one stabbing into the enemy through radar-map linkage.

Normally, it was meant for wide-open spaces—either against a massive monster or an army of monsters.

But this enemy was fast and powerful, so I chose this.

Because it was magic, I could use it differently from a real ballistic missile.

So I fired an “ICBM” horizontally right at it.

It leapt instantly—then froze in shock in the next moment.

The missile spell burst, and the loaded spells came flying in from every direction.

Some even came from above, and even Fenrir—fast enough to rival magic armor—had nowhere to run.

Interception wasn’t an option either.

Even on Earth, nobody had found a perfect defense against saturation attack from a multi-warhead ICBM.

Still, it tried to swat one warhead away with a foreleg, triggering the “proximity fuse.”

In that instant, a violent bloom of flare-explosion fireworks burst open in the deep dungeon.

And when all warheads hit, a total of twenty-four intense flares detonated.

But because I used it inside the dungeon, things got… a bit ugly.

“You lunatic! What the hell are you doing in a space this tight?!”

“I put up an ultra-powerful High Shield in a dome, didn’t I? And I used Silent too.”

“Yeah… and that expensive pelt. Ruined. Completely.”

But after I stored the corpse, I used the item box’s dismantling function, then applied regeneration to the shredded pelt.

It had been an attack that would’ve erased a normal monster without leaving a trace.

An A-rank monster really was a monster.

“Here. This one’s your cut.”

I tossed a massive, extremely high-value silver wolf pelt in perfect condition right in front of Antonio.

I had reproduced its best-ever sheen with a skill, after all.

Even he widened his eyes, but then he just shrugged and walked on.

Personally, I liked that he didn’t fuss over small things like this.

People who were aiming at high goals—who kept their eyes on a distant final objective—often had that trait.

I stored my share of Fenrir’s pelt and moved forward.

We reached the boss room on the forty-ninth floor, but I didn’t see a boss.

This deep zone right before the bottom floor should have been a place where only bosses appeared.

“Hey, don’t let your guard down.”

I called out to Antonio.

I had an extremely bad feeling.

Something psychic was picking it up.

Of course, both of us already had magic armor on.

Something was wrong.

I could feel it.

It was there.

I knew it.

But where?

That sensation of sweat slowly sliding down my skin.

“Above!”

I shouted.

It was hard to describe.

I just felt “above,” no questions asked.

This wasn’t normal ESP.

It wasn’t logic.

This kind of thing was also the Seventh Sense.

The Seventh Sense didn’t only produce fixed, predictable effects.

Because in the first place, it wasn’t an “ability.”

Something big and invisible was dropping down from the ceiling.

I grabbed Antonio and teleported instantly.

From the boss room entrance, we peeked in and saw a shapeless monster revealing its grotesque form as it searched for the intruders it had failed to kill.

What… was that?

Literally a gigantic slime.

If it was the boss here, did that mean it was some special type?

According to the monster encyclopedia I bought in Adros, a regular giant slime was called a Big Slime.

That one was the familiar gummy-like type.

When it moved, it became more like an amoeba or slime mold.

That kind was a pain in its own way.

Like the classic B-movie monster “The Blob”—annoying enough that weak adventurers with no magic had no choice but to run—yet it was surprisingly fast for what it was.

So this was a different variety.

If it were up to me, I’d call it a “furoshiki slime.”

Or maybe nickname it the “picnic seater.”

But why wasn’t it showing up on radar?

An “invisible” enemy was a problem.

“That thing is also called a thief-killer. Apparently it can deceive detection magic. …You saved us.”

Seriously?

There was a monster like that?

That was a moment where my safety was seriously threatened.

If a human had that kind of ability, they’d be terrifying as an assassin!

“Don’t look so worried. You rarely see one of these. And among monsters with abilities like that, it’s probably the only one. You almost never see them outside a dungeon.”

“Almost,” huh.

“What makes it nasty is that if it covers you, it drains your magic power. For us with magic armor, it’s a natural enemy. It’ll eat the armor right off you. And since it’s a slime, it’ll melt humans too. Magic won’t work on it, so it’s also a natural enemy of mages.”

Damn it—was this positioned to crush the party’s mage after they’d burned through the melee fighters’ stamina, right before the final dragon chamber?

What a filthy, brutal dungeon setup.

So this was what a dungeon really was.

Antonio looked at my scowl like he was amused.

“To kill it, you have to burn it with fire that isn’t magic. Got a plan?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one. You fall back over there. It’s annoying, so we’ll burn it fast. Keep the magic armor on. Maybe stack shields too. If breathing gets hard, back off immediately. Using wind magic to pull in fresh air works too.”

What a high-maintenance monster.

Too bad for it—its opponent was me.

I was an absurdly powerful mage carrying a full inventory of Earth-developed physical weapons.

I pulled gasoline from my inventory and showered it over the creature’s body—ten meters square—like rain.

A lot of it.

Ignition (Fire).

I casually dropped a spark source from my tinder inventory onto it.

A crisp, satisfying sound—gasoline vapor igniting off its surface.

The dungeon’s own ventilation was running, so the gasoline vaporized just enough.

To be blunt, it was a massive explosion.

Violent flames roared through the deep dungeon.

Yeah… gasoline was dangerous.

We were wearing magic armor, had shields up, and were ventilating with wind magic, so it wasn’t a problem for us—but if an unprotected human had been there, they wouldn’t have walked away.

The thing writhed, stretched up, shrank, stretched again—

And it roasted beautifully.

I watched from the entrance to avoid getting caught in the blast, ready to add more fuel if needed, but it didn’t seem necessary.

I only had to blow a bit of newly generated oxygen onto it.

With that much burning, oxygen tended to run short.

Even that alone was enough—within seconds, the flames surged so high they nearly reached the ceiling, scorching the dungeon like a furnace.

It was like a magical air circulator.

Now it was clearly visible on radar.

And my Observation skill learned “Dissearch.”

Even while it was burning, that slime had been trying to flee by activating its stealth skill.

So that was a magic skill.

Nice.

That was a great pickup.

Good thing I kept watching closely.

Observation copied spells by analyzing their activation mechanisms through the Seventh Sense, so if I didn’t watch carefully with my own eyes, I couldn’t acquire spells or skills.

It was still burning, but no matter how big it was, a slime was still just a slime—it was practically burned out.

Only a massive monster core remained, testament to its former presence.

I stored the burning remains—including the core—into my item box to clear space, and we advanced toward the arena where the final guardian waited.

Next up was the final boss.

Hmph.

There was still no sign of any other monsters.

But something impossible had appeared on the radar we checked beforehand.

And now, we were staring at it.

Three dragons, towering like small mountains.

“So the whole family came along.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

Antonio cut in, oddly calm.

“The prey tripled. Finders keepers.”

“You—seriously…”

Antonio replied, exasperated.

“I’ll leave one to you. If you’re Orston family too, do your best. I’ll pick up your bones.”

“You say that so casually.”

“Come on. You’re taking the next B-rank exam, and after that, the A-rank exam too, right? At least bring back a dragon as a souvenir.”

And I opened the fight right away.

A first-time-killer item box trick.

I teleported by sight to appear behind one of them, pulled out the gigantic orichalcum blade that I could now move freely through training—

And immediately took the head of one dragon.

I had boosted its cutting power to absurd levels by layering wind magic onto it as a wind-enchanted blade.

I stored the dragon’s corpse in the item box after forcing the head off with raw power.

The one I targeted was the biggest—about fifty meters long.

That left two smaller ones, about thirty meters each.

“After you.”

“Are you serious?!”

Next, I threw on magic armor and closed the distance in an instant, leaping up and punching the face of a dragon that looked shaken by its biggest companion dying so suddenly.

The huge dragon flipped onto its back, blasted away.

A thunderous impact echoed through the dungeon depths.

While it lay rolling and exposed, I immediately fed it the guillotine stroke of the giant orichalcum blade—sending a rough dragon head tumbling away with a spray of blood.

Perfect.

Just like the Guildmaster told me.

Store it, store it.

That was two expensive kills in a row.

If I dragged it out, I’d end up in a long brawl with a giant creature.

Hard pass.

But the other party member seemed to think differently.

I knew that, and I said it anyway.

“Heeey, the last one’s all yours!”

Antonio gave a bitter smile and poured fighting spirit into his armor.

Into the armor inherited through generations, the soul of a top-tier warrior breathed.

It became a true spectacle—a deadly battle.

A platinum-ticket kind of show.

I sat cross-legged inside a dome of ultra-powerful High Shields, holding a bottle of tea.

I refrained from beer just in case, but I watched with that kind of calm, settled attitude.

It was a passionate message from an old man to a young man:

“I’ve cleared the way. Now it’s your turn.”

This was a trial he needed.

His brother surely agreed.

That was why they set up this match—with a “second” standing by.

I had no intention of letting this young man—whom I liked more and more as time went on—die needlessly, but I also had no intention of taking the easy way out and throwing in the towel early.

There weren’t many events that entertained an old man like me as much as the moment a sincere, straightforward young man grew rapidly before my eyes.

It seemed Antonio understood that feeling too—he looked fired up in a youthful way.

Now then, what would the result be?

A dragon breath came screaming in—then a magic-armor strike launched while defending against it.

The dragon answered with a breath so fierce it nearly blew the magic armor away.

But he endured the monstrous assault of what might as well have been an S-rank monster, and returned blows worthy of being called a furious offensive in their own right.

In the end, even the mithril sword I had lent him twisted violently out of shape.

I immediately tossed him a replacement mithril sword, but it met the same fate just as quickly—so after that, Antonio stopped me with his hand when I tried to throw another, and the fight shifted into a barehanded grappling brawl.

So much for the ultimate orichalcum sword making an appearance.

Both dragon and Antonio fought with bloodshot eyes and relentless roars, wagering everything in a life-or-death struggle.

Of course, I recorded it perfectly from multiple angles using filming units.

And I gratefully took dragon breath as a skill.

Even though it was a racial innate skill, I somehow managed to copy it.

Maybe because it was semi-physical.

This was incredible.

With this, that huge slime earlier would’ve been finished instantly.

After all, it was the boss monster’s ultimate move.

This breath was magic, yet it even pierced a magic shield.

Even though it was a magic skill, it penetrated magic defense and even magic-nullification states.

It seemed strong shields and barriers could still block it, though.

But if I fired this with my magic power…

Yeah—just like I’d been told, it was the real thing.

I was grateful for Antonio’s fierce effort.

Still, he had to kill a dragon with his own strength.

He was aiming for A-rank, after all—for what came next.

And at last, Antonio slew the dragon with a roaring surge of fighting spirit.

It was a brutal battle, like some Western film themed around Greek myth.

Antonio was already battered all over.

How many broken bones and burns did he have, anyway?

I’d killed mine quickly, but if you actually traded blows with a dragon seriously, this was what happened.

I never wanted to do that.

That was why I learned magic.

Though, now that I mentioned it, I hadn’t really used magic properly in my own fights.

It wasn’t a flashy “one strike, one head” victory like mine—it was a gritty, dirty win.

But for this man, that kind of fight and victory might have been far more meaningful.

Exactly as his brother intended.

This probably helped him break through to a new level.

“Antonio. If you’d had that kind of spirit in our B-rank promotion match, the one aiming for A-rank by now would’ve been you. Congratulations. When we get back, your brother will probably praise you.”

I praised his struggle and thrust out my fist.

Even though he had collapsed to a sitting position, he grimaced at the pain and gave a wry smile, then quietly met my fist.

It seemed he didn’t have the energy to rebel against me right now.