Thud.
Thud.
Heavy footsteps rumbled through the passage like thunder.
They had finally arrived—giant goblins.
A chill like a venomous serpent coiled around Airmid's neck. She knew this battle couldn't be avoided, yet just hearing those massive, hurried footsteps made the Dea Saint tremble uncontrollably.
The frigid air was devoured by the oncoming storm of sound. The rolling thunder drew nearer, shaking the ground beneath them until even the stone seemed to wail.
Only the boy remained still.
Bell didn't flinch. Instead, he used the goblins' brief moment of confusion to cut down several more monsters in succession. In the depths of despair, his calm was almost frightening.
While shattering Magic Stones, he quickly assessed the situation. Judging by the footsteps, there were four mutated types approaching. The entrance ahead was less a doorway and more a hollow wall. Height wouldn't limit their advance. As for width, if the monsters were intelligent, they wouldn't make the mistake of attacking in pairs.
From the start of the fight, Bell had sensed something strange. Goblins weren't known for strategy—their attacks were wild and thoughtless. But then came that strange roar echoing through the tunnel, and suddenly, their attacks began rotating in turns.
The roar had sounded several times, each one altering the goblins' formation. That could only mean one thing: there was a leader among them. To break through this wave, he had to eliminate the commander first.
Another terrifying, unnatural roar resounded. As if answering Bell's deduction, monsters were trampled into paste one by one. The shattered Magic Stones released a black mist that oozed menace.
At the far end of the passage, the silhouette of a black goblin appeared.
"..."
Airmid unconsciously held her breath.
She had once helped subjugate a Floor Boss and seen the monstrous giant of the Seventeenth Floor. But this suffocating, twisted presence was far beyond that.
Her eyes weren't fixed on the massive goblin itself—but on the pitch-black, grotesque creature sitting atop it.
It was a goblin, yes. But no adventurer would ever admit that something exuding such overwhelming malice was the same goblin they knew.
This was the Dungeon's creation—pure hatred shaped for a single human.
Airmid struggled to breathe, the glow of her magic dimming.
Thud.
The four giant mutants halted at the far end of the passage, like the gatekeepers of hell. When their footsteps ceased, silence fell across the labyrinth.
The dim phosphorescent light revealed one horrifying face after another. The boy's figure looked frail before the swarm of monsters and mutant species—yet he stood firm, refusing to take a single step back.
Two pairs of crimson eyes met in silence—one calm and unyielding, the other cruel and vile.
A Magic Stone lamp, loosened by the earlier tremor, lost its grip and began to sway. Its bright white light flickered between Bell and the monster. Finally, it fell, unable to bear its own weight.
Clang.
A roar burst forth.
The wave surged.
Hatred spilled into the air.
The pitch-black monster roared from its perch at the rear. Beside it, the giant goblin obeyed the call, trampling over its fallen kin as it charged straight for the boy.
A deafening rumble pounded Bell's ears. As the massive kick swung toward him, he pushed off the ground and leapt high into the air.
!
Airmid's heart seemed to skip a beat.
Whether an adventurer is cut out for the profession can be judged by observing their performance in battle against large monsters.
Newcomers typically face smaller creatures, and as long as they train diligently with others, that is usually enough to handle most challenges. But colossal beasts are different. The overwhelming pressure and taut fear they inspire can lead to consequences beyond imagination.
It's like walking along a transparent glass cliff—those without experience will find it impossible to cope. Some adventurers cower in place or flee in panic. Those who summon courage like the youth often make fatal mistakes, blinded by passion and mistaking recklessness for bravery.
Too reckless.
From her position at the rear, Airmid could clearly see the battle unfold. The youth's movements were too exaggerated. Leaping into midair meant giving up his greatest advantage—agility. Though he managed to evade the first fierce kick, there was no way to avoid the follow-up strike.
In the Dungeon, a single miscalculation like that could send one plunging into the abyss.
"Bell!"
Airmid cried out in alarm. Her magic never ceased, yet she couldn't hide her worry for the boy.
Healing was not omnipotent. The Dea Saint's magic surpassed any potion, yet it was still the song of mortals. If he took a fatal blow, even she could do nothing. And even without death, the agony of broken bones alone could crush a person's will.
Everything unfolded just as Airmid had feared. Unable to bear witnessing such cruelty, she closed her eyes and prayed for the youth.
The pitch-black Goblin chuckled mockingly. The difference in strength between them was so vast that the outcome of the battle already seemed decided.
Within the passageway, the giant Goblin, driven by sheer momentum, swung its right fist in a wide arc.
BOOM!
The wall shuddered as if struck by a meteor, sending cascades of dust and stone fragments raining down. They thickened into a haze, shrouding the goblin's vision.
Yet within that cloud... there was no trace of flesh or blood.
"...Huh?"
"..."
The Goblin froze in confusion. Even the Dea Saint behind him couldn't comprehend what had just happened. The youth's figure had vanished. Only a gray mist lingered in the battlefield.
As the giant Goblin glanced around—
The youth began to fall.
A short blade descended from above.
Bell used the speed of his fall, channeling all his strength into the blade's tip.
"Huh?!!"
By the time the giant Goblin realized it, the blade was already upon him.
!
With unstoppable force, it plunged straight down.
A sky-blue light flared like a meteor, slicing through the air as it struck the monster, tearing through its thick hide and driving straight for its heart.
"Gah!"
The giant Goblin was struck down in a single blow. The Magic Stone shattered, the black mist dispersed, and the youth stood unscathed in the passageway.
The wave of monsters, stunned by the unbelievable sight, began retreating in confusion.
"Gah?"
The dark Goblin's eyes flickered with doubt, its malevolent aura faltering beneath the youth's steady gaze.
Who could have imagined that this battle, once thought to have no suspense, would be overturned completely in just two seconds?
Airmid stood frozen, realization dawning upon her. The youth had used the Magic Stone lamps' anchor points—those sturdy wooden stakes embedded in the walls were perfect footholds.
He had leapt up, dodging the kick while grabbing hold of one, then used that momentum to reposition himself and strike from above.
Airmid understood that, while it sounded simple, the skill required to execute such a move was extraordinary.
In that fleeting moment, just how many calculations had he made?
Relentless training, exceptional reflexes and perception, a keen mind, and unyielding courage—every one of these qualities was indispensable.
This was a fighting style unique to him alone.
If the Gods were to witness it, they would surely speak of it with excitement, debating the course of the battle.
This was the [Unknown] that the Gods so passionately sought.
Even Airmid, who had prayed desperately for him, never expected the boy to fell the mutant so easily.
Bell stood silently in the passageway, as if declaring something to the endless horde before him.
Who's next?
...
Airmid's gaze lingered on the white-haired youth.
At first, she had prayed only for rescue—to see him freed from this nightmare.
If the despair earlier had been the tragic end of a knight's tale, then now everything had been turned on its head.
In her eyes, the boy stood bathed in a sacred light.
He had become the [Hero] of hope.