After a short rest, Azazel and Reginleif pressed on, heading deeper into the eleventh floor of the labyrinth. The air grew heavier, and the faint sound of dripping water gave way to guttural snarls echoing through the stone halls.
Two figures emerged from the
shadows —hulking Orcs and blue-furred wolves with gleaming eyes.
Azazel gripped his sword.
"Oh, that's a big guy we've got here."
She dashed forward, flicking hidden blades that buried themselves in the Orc's eyes. The beast roared in pain.
Azazel swung his blade sideways, striking a wolf across the skull. Another lunged — he sidestepped, slammed the pommel into its jaw, and drove the sword through its neck.
Meanwhile, Reginleif circled the blinded Orc, slashing through its leg. The monster dropped to one knee.
She leapt high, wind Mythic spiraling around her dagger.
"Piercing Feather!"
The strike cleaved the Orc's neck cleanly in two. The body collapsed with a heavy thud.
Azazel exhaled. "We're done here. Next floor."
Floor 12 — Blades and Scales
Descending again, the pair were met by Lizardmen and Killer Mantises lurking in the dim light.
"Is that a mantis?" Azazel muttered. "Damn…"
Reginleif nodded. "I'll handle the lizards."
Azazel sprinted toward the mantis. Its scythe-like claws swung in erratic arcs, metallic screeches ringing out with every strike.
He parried the first blow, barely deflecting the second. "Persistent bug, aren't you?"
The mantis lunged again — Azazel rolled right, slashing its leg. "Black Ice!"
Frost spread across the creature's limbs, rooting it to the ground. A pillar of ice erupted beneath his feet, propelling him upward. He drove his sword straight into its head. Green blood sprayed violently, but he jumped back just in time to avoid it.
Reginleif finished her fight, cutting down the last Lizardman. Together, they faced the second mantis, moving in sync — Reginleif flanking while Azazel froze its movement before they struck the killing blow.
"Man, thank the gods for your freezing trick," Reginleif said, wiping her blade. "At least we won't get that disgusting blood on us."
Azazel grimaced. "Yeah, no kidding. That stuff smells like death, and there's no place to bathe in this dungeon. Going back to town smelling like sh*t would be suicide."
She chuckled. "Come on. Time for the thirteenth floor."
Floor 13 — The Rotten Air
The stench hit them first — rot and damp.
Ghouls, bad bats, and another mantis awaited them.
Azazel sighed. "Reginleif, want to take the mantis this time? My sword's not gonna last through another parry contest."
"Deal," she replied. "Be careful with the
bats — they use sonic waves that can blow out your eardrums if you're not quick."
"Copy that."
The battle erupted in chaos — screeching bats filled the air, ghouls staggered from every shadow. Azazel cut through the swarm, freezing and shattering them in bursts of black ice. Reginleif spun through the mantis' attacks, her movements sharp and precise, until she pierced its core with a single, blinding strike.
It was brutal, but by the end, both of them stood victorious — surrounded by broken monsters and heavy silence.
Azazel leaned against the wall, panting. "You see that chest? Your turn to open it. My luck's sh*t."
Reginleif kneeled and lifted the lid. Inside lay a collection of weapons — a dwarven spear wrapped with a white ribbon at its tip, a refined malachite dagger that shimmered like jade, a pair of orcish gauntlets, and two sealed scrolls.
Azazel whistled. "Not bad. I'll take the spear. Looks like a broom — guess it'll be easy to master."
Reginleif examined the dagger, eyes lighting up. "Cool weapon. Dungeon drops like these are rare… sometimes unique. This dagger's beautiful, right?"
Azazel smiled faintly. "Wow, you're very excited about this."
He packed the gauntlets and scrolls into the magic bag. "We'll check these later. For now, let's breathe a little."
"Agreed," Reginleif said. "Let's cook something. The blue wolf meat should do."
Azazel blinked. "Wait—monster meat's edible?"
"Don't worry," she said casually, already starting a fire. "We've got antidotes if it's poisonous."
He sighed, sitting beside the flames as they camped on the thirteenth
floor — surrounded by stone, darkness, and the faint scent of charred monster meat.
The 14th floor was a gauntlet of more than monsters. Reginleif's sharp eyes spotted the tell-tale pressure plates and nearly invisible tripwires, and she deftly dismantled them as they advanced. Their progress was halted by a familiar, unwelcome chorus: the shrieks of Bad Bats and the guttural moans of Ghouls.
"Alright," Azazel said, a grim smile touching his lips as he hefted the dwarven spear. "Time to test out my new toy."
He lunged forward, the spear feeling surprisingly natural in his hands. He used it like a brutal polearm, smashing the skull of one ghoul before spinning and driving the tip clean through another's heart.
Meanwhile, Reginleif held her beautiful malachite dagger flat on her palm. A vortex of Wind Mythic enveloped it, and with a flick of her wrist, she sent the blade spinning through the air like a lethal, emerald buzzsaw. It whirred through the swarm of bats, dropping them from the air before returning to her hand.
Azazel stared. "When did you learn *that* trick?"
"Just now," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "I remembered a leaf spinning in the wind. This weapon feels light enough... I wondered if I could do the same with it. So I tried. It worked."
"Now you're just showing off with your creativity," he grumbled, though he was impressed. "Fine, I'll try something new too."
He focused his Darkness Mythic, willing shadows to coil around the shaft of the spear like a line, thickening at the tip like a barbed hook. He threw it with all his strength, and the spear shot forth, piercing through three ghouls in a grisly line and pinning them to the far wall. He then yanked with his will, the shadow-line retracting and pulling the spear, slick with ectoplasm, back into his grasp.
"Man," he panted, catching it. "Trying to use a spear like a damn fishing hook is harder than I thought."
Reginleif raised an eyebrow. "Did you think you were trying to fish in here?"
"No. I'm getting *creative*."
After clearing the floor and navigating the rest of the traps, they descended to the 15th floor. It was a cavern with a shallow, clear lake, populated by Water Slimes and Aqua Jellyfish, with glowing butterflies flitting near the ceiling.
"Fifteen looks like an easy floor," Azazel noted.
"Ya," Reginleif agreed, pointing to a carved symbol on the wall. "And there's a safe zone around here."
"A safe zone in a death trap like this? Oh well. Let's dispatch them and harvest. Sounds good."
The clean-up was swift. With the monsters cleared, they found the safe zone: a small cave behind a sturdy stone gate that could be barred from the inside. Most miraculously, a small, clean pool of water fed by a natural spring lay within.
"Reginleif, how are we doing with supplies?" Azazel asked.
She checked the magic bag. "We're good. We'll be eating that wolf for quite some time."
"You *did* go to a Guild class to learn how to process monster meat, right?"
"It was pretty easy," she shrugged.
*'Course it was easy,* Azazel thought. *For a woman, making food is what you do best.* He immediately winced. *Yeah, I should definitely keep that comment to myself.*
After they ate, Reginleif took the first turn bathing in the pool and cleaning her clothes. Azazel used the time to practice with the spear, his old longsword now too chipped to rely on. When it was his turn to bathe, the cold water was a blessing, washing away the grime and fatigue.
Afterward, he tried to meditate, pushing his mind to conceptualize a new Mythic technique, but came up empty. Frustrated, he returned to spear drills until a realization hit him: the scrolls.
He sat next to a drowsy Reginleif and pulled out the two scrolls. The first was a recipe.
**Low-Grade Stamina Potion,** it read. **Will sustain a user for a short duration. Essential Ingredients: Wolf Lungs, Glowcap Mushrooms, Honey, Caffeinated Extract.**
"Well, these are an odd kind of ingredients," he mused. "Hey, Reginleif, do you know what 'caffeine' is?"
"Ya," she said without opening her eyes. "It's in tea or coffee. Why?"
*Oh, she knows,* Azazel thought, surprised. *I guess this world has it too.* He carefully transcribed the recipe into his notebook.
He then unrolled the second scroll. Its language was more archaic.
*'...in ancient times, certain Mythic creatures stored gifts upon humanity. Humanity lived in prosper. But one day, one human chose to betray the Mythic creatures, and a great Calamity was ushered in. A new era dawned. Other Mythic creatures saw this and chose to intervene, causing a great war within the... t... y... ice...'*
The rest was illegible, the parchment torn and stained.
"Well, this piece of shit is incomplete," Azazel muttered. Still, the fragment was tantalizing. He copied it verbatim into his notebook and carefully preserved the original scroll.
As he finished, Reginleif spoke, her voice quiet in the safe gloom. "Azazel... how long are we going to be in this dungeon?"
"How long does it take a normal person to finish a dungeon?"
"Years," she said simply. "Three or more. Most just plunder the upper floors for a lifetime. Only the Saint's party has ever beaten a dungeon completely."
"A Saint?" Azazel scoffed. "I don't feel like I'd get along with people like that."
"Of course you don't," she replied, her tone implying a depth of meaning he couldn't quite grasp. "You idiot."
What *did* she mean by that? The question hung in the air as they prepared to leave. The 20th floor lay ahead, and the guild reports had been very clear: beyond that point, caution was not a suggestion, but a requirement for survival.