"The King!!"
Ottar, the captain of the Freya Familia and the "Warlord." He was the Level 7 adventurer who eclipsed the three pillars of the Loki Familia: Finn, Riveria, and Gareth. He stood alone as the strongest adventurer in all of Orario.
A true champion who had rewritten the history of power over a millennium, he transcended the boundaries between mortals and gods. He remained the ultimate pinnacle of the human realm—a wall that even the catastrophic genius Al had yet to overcome.
This behemoth appeared in the hall to block their path. Ais tightened her grip on her sword's hilt, while Bete clicked his tongue in a display of sheer annoyance.
The two could not fathom the situation. They didn't understand why the strongest man in the city would stand in their way. Regardless, they could not simply ignore him and move forward.
The faint moans of the Pallum girl in Bete's arms reached Ais's ears.
The aura radiating from the warrior, standing as firm as a mountain in the depths of the hall, was enough to make their skin prickle with a heat and pressure that felt as though it might incinerate them.
The man blocking the passage to the Minotaur's location seemed to dominate the entire labyrinth through his presence alone. He wore light armor covering only his vitals; his muscles themselves served as a full suit of plate armor. A large bag hung from his back.
Ignoring their sharp glares, he calmly pulled an array of weapons from his bag—greatswords and various blades. He drove them into the ground with heavy thuds until they filled a corner of the hall.
He reached for one: a massive double-edged greatsword forged from a heavy silver alloy. He hoisted it onto his shoulder and lowered his center of gravity, settling into a combat stance.
"Sword Princess, Vanargand... Will you spar with me?"
He was going to attack. Ais realized this instinctively the moment he shifted. Bete noticed it too, his lips curling back in a snarl. In that instant, the air changed. A skin-crawling tension took hold, and the euphoria of an impending battle filled the room.
"Why!!"
"You have encountered a hostile faction in the Dungeon after many long years... Is that not reason enough for us to kill one another?"
Bete drew his weapon suddenly, and Ais instinctively did the same. Unlike Ais, whose mind was clouded by confusion and anxiety over the timing of this duel, Bete was calm—deadly calm, even as he boiled with rage.
He gritted his teeth, suppressing the urge to lunge forward prematurely. When he finally spoke, his words felt like a flood of repressed emotion, a surge of pure murderous intent.
"I'm going to kill you."
"Put the girl down."
Their clashing wills and rising bloodlust seemed to warp the very space around them. There was no room left for thought.
Standing before them was one of the two poles that sat at the summit of the City of Heroes.
The man who stood at the zenith of all adventurers: the iron-willed Ottar.
"Come."
The "Sword Princess" and "Vanargand." Two first-class adventurers, each capable of slaying dragons single-handedly, faced a single man with spirits overflowing with lethal intent.
The pressure they emitted would have sent any monster on this floor fleeing in terror. They watched each other with a precision that caught every twitch of a hand or foot.
Responding to the killing intent filling the air, Ais drew her sword and lunged, while Bete began his rapid sprint. Bete initiated the strike; his speed ranked among the best in Orario despite being Level 5. Ais followed in his wake, kicking off the ground and launching herself with blinding velocity.
Facing the two who approached like a hurricane, Ottar did not move. Ais and Bete attempted to flank him from the left and right to trap him.
A split second before their blades connected, Ottar swung his greatsword. A massive collision followed; the clash of metal rang out, and sparks showered the floor. Bete pressed forward, attempting to shove Ottar back, but the latter effortlessly absorbed the force through the sheer strength of his stance.
They continued to move at high speeds, their weapons clashing repeatedly. Every time Bete threw a punch, Ottar parried or blocked it with his massive blade.
These attacks weren't aimed at a finishing blow; rather, they were testing the waters, each side trying to wear the other down. Then, Ais launched a lightning-fast diagonal strike.
The strike moved so quickly it seemed to slice through the air itself; an ordinary person wouldn't have even seen it. But her opponent was different. This monster swung a super-heavy greatsword with one hand as if it were a feather. He wouldn't be stopped by that.
Ottar took Ais's attack on his left vambrace, while his right hand sent the greatsword sliding in a diagonal arc. Ais retreated immediately to create distance, fearing he might exploit any lapse in her balance.
No counter-attack followed.
Irritated by this, Bete launched another assault. He delivered a strike with all his might from above, and the force of Ottar's block sent a shudder through the air.
But that lasted only a moment. With a cold expression, as if the attack had done nothing at all, Ottar delivered a kick that sent Bete flying. Bete skillfully regained control in mid-air and charged back as soon as his feet hit the ground. Ais lunged behind him to support him.
But—
"Tepid."
Ottar swung a crushing horizontal blow with his greatsword toward the charging Bete. Instinctively, Bete took evasive action to avoid the blade coming from the side. However, as if Ottar had anticipated the move, the greatsword's trajectory shifted.
The path changed from horizontal to vertical. Bete managed to avoid it only by lunging directly forward. While Bete escaped by a hair, Ottar's sword didn't stop; it continued its pursuit.
When Bete retreated with a quick step, the ground before him shattered with a thunderous roar.
Immediately, Ais—having circled behind Ottar—launched a fresh attack. The combined, sequential assaults of Bete and Ais possessed a destructive power capable of turning any ordinary monster into a pile of meat in an instant.
It was a continuous barrage of near-perfect sword thrusts and merciless death-kicks. Every blow in that rain of steel was a potential finisher.
Yet, none reached Ottar. It felt as though they were cutting through smoke; they felt no real resistance. Though the attacks from Ais and her companion should have landed, they didn't leave a single scratch on him. On the contrary, he had the luxury to counter-attack.
Simultaneously with Ais's strike, Ottar brought his greatsword down. Ais avoided it by crouching low. From that position, she tried to drive an upward strike, but Ottar parried it, redirected the momentum, and pushed her away.
"Sword Princess, have you reached new heights?"
Ottar murmured as he observed Ais's speed and a level of skill that surpassed even Floor Bosses.
Facing the inescapable hurricane of death created by two seasoned first-class adventurers, even Ottar shouldn't have emerged unscathed.
Yet, he handled it all with an ease that suggested Ais and Bete posed no significant threat.
This was the pinnacle of martial arts—something entirely different from Al's "Absolute Response" driven by divine intuition and unique talent. This was "Absolute Defense," built upon a skill set polished by long years of experience and relentless effort.
Ottar parried every lethal blow raining down on him, from the death-kicks to the near-perfect swordplay.
Ais was stunned as her swordsmanship crumbled before him, her confidence wavering slightly.
Ottar did not miss that opening. He knocked Ais's rapier aside and, with a rebounding blow, sent her flying.
"── Ack?!"
"Ais!"
"And you, Vanargand... do you stand before the wall only to overcome it?"
Ais hit the ground with immense force, creating a crater in the floor. Though she used her guard to protect herself at the last second, the power was indescribable. As for Bete, his concern for Ais led him right into a trap; he was knocked back by a single strike of the sword.
Despite the super-heavy nature of the greatsword, his strikes were faster than Ais's rapier. This was truly the realm of heroes—a monster who combined matchless physical abilities with swordsmanship that far outclassed Ais.
He was a fortress made of iron and stone.
Even under continuous attacks that signaled death at every turn, Ottar didn't budge an inch. He was as steady as a great boulder and as sharp as a sword cutting through a storm. He wore the majesty befitting his title, brushing off their violent assault with ease.
(This is...)
(...Level 7!!)
They never had the chance for a serious duel charged with lethal intent against the "other peak" outside of training due to their respective positions. They felt overwhelmed by the height of the summit they were now expected to chase.
A seasoned hero, a monster who had reached the zenith. The skills he had built through a mountain of defeats now bore down on them. It was, quite simply, a difference in experience—a difference in the sheer amount of time he had invested in training.
"Damn it—give me the wind!!"
"Awaken!!"
Bete realized they would lose even at two-against-one. He shouted for support, and Ais, sharing his thought, agreed. She lifted the ban on the reinforcement magic she usually hid in battles against humans. A storm erupted from Ais's body and settled into Bete's silver boots, imbuing them with the power of the wind.
Thanks to the wind enchantment, Bete's kick accelerated explosively, breaking the sound barrier. A blinding kick faster than sound launched toward Ottar's body.
"Gwaaaa!!"
Ottar's rust-colored eyes flashed sharply at the kick encased in a spiritual storm—undoubtedly the fastest and strongest strike of the battle. The greatsword clashed with the silver, storm-clad boot, and a thunderous impact shook the air.
Yet, Ottar had used his greatsword as a shield, blocking the attack perfectly. Bete didn't stop; he kicked the side of the greatsword and leapt. Reaching the space above Ottar's head, he drew more wind and unleashed a flurry of kicks that shattered the air like a localized cyclone.
Then, an unbelievable sight unfolded before them.
Ottar continued to block Bete's violent assault, which accelerated repeatedly through the storm, with the hardness of a rock. As if the greatsword itself possessed a will, it moved freely in every direction, crushing every kick or punch Bete threw.
The movement of Ottar's greatsword in response to the fury of the wind seemed to merge with the storm itself. Ottar's unwavering advance clashed with Bete's rapid movements, and the two transformed into a vortex. It was a perfect defense without a single opening.
Bete did not let up. He knew instinctively that if he stopped attacking for even a moment, Ottar's blade would run him through. But the more he attacked, the more solid Ottar's defense became.
Through the "skill and guile" possessed by the strongest man, all their attacks were thwarted. Remarkably, the scene closely mirrored Al's fighting style when he completely defeated Revis in the city of Rivira.
It was a difference in the number of real battles and pure combat experience. They felt this bitterness in the heat of the fight. Despite their numerical advantage and magic, the gap remained impossible to bridge.
Wounds began to appear gradually on Bete's body, and the scratches on Ais's frame multiplied. What separated them from their opponent was a bottomless abyss in strength—inhuman combat ability backed by endless, ceaseless training.
Even Revis, that hybrid of human and monster—or a tainted spirit merged with a beast—likely wouldn't reach this man's level.
How much training had he accumulated? How many hardships had he overcome? How many great achievements had he secured to reach this peak?
── The word "genius" felt too weak to describe him.
The entity before them was undoubtedly the monster standing at the summit.
The two trembled in awe of the monster who reached the top through unyielding effort.
"!!"
"──?!"
Ottar exploited the moment fear took hold of them; his greatsword shattered Ais's wind barrier. Although the blow landed on her guard, the impact was equivalent to a massive physical charge, sending shocks through Ais's body.
Still, Ais somehow held her ground. She thrust her rapier, Desperate, forward, utilizing the blessing of the storm. Before the blade imbued with wind magic could reach Ottar's body, he diverted it with an agility that defied his massive frame.
Ottar tried to exploit her broken balance after the thrust was diverted, but she responded instantly, parrying the follow-up. In that small opening created by blocking Ottar's attack, Bete lunged inside. The two began to assault Ottar together.
The storm-clad silver boots sought desperately to shatter Ottar's defense, while Ais tried to pierce him with her wind-enhanced sword whenever an opening appeared. But Ottar remained as immovable as a mountain. Their attacks slammed into that stony resolve and failed to reach him.
"Ride it!!"
"Lil Rafaga!!"
The "Sword Princess" Ais Wallenstein unleashed her ultimate technique—a massive divine wind intended for large enemies or Floor Bosses—toward Ottar. Bete Loga launched himself like a silver spark, flying straight through the center of the storm that erupted with the sword's flash.
Facing this improvised joint attack by two first-class adventurers—a blow that could likely fell the Floor Boss Udaeus in a single strike—Ottar's eyes widened. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his greatsword. Bete's silver, storm-wrapped boot collided with Ottar's descending blade—
The collision of immense power triggered an explosive shockwave that made the entire labyrinth tremble. The ground, pulverized by the wind, flew into the air as fragments of debris scattered.
"..... You monster."
Bete spoke in awe as he was knocked back to the center of the hall by the recoil of the shock.
"Master Bete?"
"That bastard..... he blocked the attack with nothing but his raw physical strength."
Despite receiving Bete's lethal strike, Ottar's resolve did not waver. They couldn't break the defense of that greatsword. Even with the full assault of Bete and Ais, they hadn't dealt a decisive blow.
The man who had shattered the ultimate skills of two first-class adventurers with pure strength retreated backward like Bete. But despite the damage to his armor and combat clothes, there were no significant wounds on his steel body. He still stood like an unshakeable wall.
Ais held her breath. Bete remained steady, but he couldn't stop clicking his tongue.
"Impressive, Loki Familia."
"I enjoyed that a bit. Next time, I shall begin the attack from my side ──"
Suddenly, Ottar, who had been standing like a deeply rooted tree, took evasive action for the first time. In that instant, a silver light surrounded by purple lightning pierced the Dungeon floor where Ottar had just been standing, creating a deep fissure.
"You avoided that? You're fast for a blockhead."
"── Sword Saint."
The identity of that silver strike was a sword throw accompanied by a thunderbolt. Its power was undeniable; the sword was driven into the Dungeon floor up to its hilt. Ottar had dodged with a quick movement, but had his reaction been a second slower, he would have been impaled.
Ottar knitted his brows at the intruder. A white-haired young man stood there. The youth possessed ominous red eyes that contrasted with his beautiful hair. He carried three one-handed swords at his waist and a greatsword the size of his body on his back.
"Ais, Bete. If you want to go, then go. I'll handle this dullard."
"..... Is this allowed? He's Al's brother, isn't he?"
"It's fine. The outcome is already decided."
The youth—Al—without showing any concern for his brother who was supposedly in mortal danger, drew two ominous blades: one black and one red, from his shoulder and waist. They were the first-class special weapons [Balmung] and [Dainsleif].
This was the style of using a greatsword and a one-handed sword simultaneously—the true essence of Al Cranel, which he hadn't shown even against Revis or the tainted spirits.
Ottar narrowed his eyes as he saw Al brandish his twin demonic blades. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. It was an expression that suggested he was relishing the fight against a powerful opponent.
"Do you think I'll let them pass?"
"Do you think you can stop them?"
In the face of that majesty, Ottar cast aside his greatsword, which had been warped by the Great Wind strike, and drew a crimson greatsword overflowing with power.
The gazes of the two crossed, and their combat wills collided; a peak against a peak in the highest of martial arts.
The two left Ottar to Al and leapt toward the light emitting from the end of the hall. There, a monster waited.
A creature with a bull's head and a human body, much larger than a traditional Minotaur. It held a jagged greatsword in its hand, and one of its horns was twisted grotesquely. But most peculiar was its body.
Its muscles bulged as if meticulously sculpted, coating its body like a suit of metal armor; its limbs looked like blocks of iron.
And before this Minotaur lay a white-haired boy on his back—Bell Cranel.
The two were relieved to hear the boy's ragged breathing, proving he was still alive, but they quickly turned their hostility toward this strange Minotaur armed with an adventurer's sword.
Bete stepped in front of the boy to protect him, while Ais sharpened her slender blade. Behind them, they could feel Bell's irregular breathing.
"I'm going to kick you to death."
"We're going to save you now."
Bete's relief that they had arrived in time transformed into murderous intent, while Ais harbored pure feelings of praise and appreciation in her heart. They prepared to advance toward the raging bull, which did not flinch before the majesty of first-class adventurers.
In that moment, what they saw in their peripheral vision made their eyes go wide.
"..... I won't... give up."
Bell was standing on his feet, forcing his broken body to rise. Without turning toward the two stunned adventurers, he brandished his weapon. He held a knife and a single dagger in his hands.
The right sleeve of his arm holding the bloodied dagger was torn, revealing his white skin beneath. His red eyes looked directly at the Minotaur.
"I can't let anyone save me again."
"If I run away from here, I'll never become anything!!"
It was a painful sight, yet the willpower to stand against hardship and the heart that wouldn't break were the true qualities of a hero.
Before Bell, the Minotaur let out a roar of joy, as if it had found a worthy opponent. The cry echoed like thunder and made the air tremble.
"..... He roared in our faces. Step back, Ais."
"What?"
"Stealing prey is forbidden for adventurers. ── We have no right to spoil that boy's adventure."
The same feeling he had when he heard Bell's declaration earlier resurfaced. Just a boy—a child who wasn't supposed to be a vessel for anything—was now standing with resolve to break his shell. Bete realized this and retreated with an expression completely free of worry, just as Al had done moments ago.
Ais realized it too. This boy... was me not long ago. Casting his weakness aside, betting his soul to reach the level of his aspirations. I cannot interfere, and I should not.
So, let us watch.
The heroic ambition of this solitary boy.
°
•
°
👑 Get early access to 80+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
🔗 https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Raven737
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to open the link!)
💬 Enjoying the story? Drop a review!Your support really helps the series grow—thank you