Bell walked to an abandoned street of Orario to put away his clown mask and black robe. His gaze became razor sharp. His focus now back on the dungeon.
Loki. Freya. Evilus.
All three of them can tear each other apart. Bell was not interested to watch from the sidelines.
While they kept their focus on each other. He would keep grinding peacefully in the dungeon. By the time they focused on him, he would already be a behemoth towering over them all.
As they say,
The grind has to go on.
Bell walked to the Tower of Babel. His steps taking him straight to the 8th floor of the tower. It was the floor with Hephaestus Familia shops.
He had understood one of his major shortcomings when he fought against the Viola.
A sturdy and strong weapon.
A weapon which was extremely sharp and won't break easily even against High Level monsters.
Probably something with the Durandal enchantment. Unfortunately, the price tag on those things was enough for him to nearly have a heart attack.
The most he could buy was a weapon between the range of a Level 3 - 4 adventurer. That too by getting a huge loan from Goddess Astraea's hidden stash.
How would he repay his Goddess for her kindness?
Bell thought fondly as he searched through swords available on the 8th floor. He went through longswords, shortswords, zweihänders, western swords, eastern katanas.
While searching through shops, his gaze settled on a blue coloured sword. It's handle and scabbard were glass blue. It resembled Dawn's Ballard from *The Beginning After The End*.
He walked up to that sword and unsheathed it, revealing it's blade. The blade was pitch black with ancient glyphs running across the swords spine.
His instincts whispered, this swords balance and weight distribution were aligned perfect with his centre of gravity and weight.
Bell held onto the swords handle, his choice solidifying. He walked to the dwarf owner of the shop. Showing him the sword in his hands.
"Boss, how much for this sword?" He questioned, heart clenching.
"Eh boy, your choice certainly is unique. This is a defective sword made up of Flame Iron ore. Any person who tries to swing this sword feels a burning sensation in their arms." The dwarf spoke, his voice gruff and uncertain.
Bell did not speak. Instead, he unsheathed the sword and swung, feeling a burning pain flare in his sword arm.
"I see...It doesn't matter...how much for this boss?" Bell asked. His gaze firm. His choice already made.
"This sword is sharp enough to cut through the hide of a Level 4 adventurer boy, but it was never sold due to it's defective status. If you really want it, knock yourself out. It's just 1,000,000 Valis."
Bell felt the air rush out of his lungs at the outrageous price.
'Why don't you rob me blind while you're at it?'
He thought, his steps getting a little unsteady.
"Boss...come on, It's a defective product. Give me some discount or I'll really not be able to afford it. I've only bought 500,000 Valis with me."
Bell negotiated, trying to rip off the dwarf.
"Boy, I understand that it's a defective product, but the material used in it are first tier. The most I can sell it for is 700,000 Valis." The dwarf spoke with difficulty after taking a deep look at the sword.
"Let's do it for 600,000 Valis. I'll even come straight to you for any type of armour or other weapons I need in the future." Bell tried to convince the dwarf with promises.
"Alright, Deal." The dwarf agreed a little too quickly.
Bell felt a bit confused as he paid the money. He had ripped the dwarf off, but why did it feel like he himself had gotten ripped off?
He walked out of the 8th floor. His new sword in hand.
Bell decided to name it Liberator. The sword that would liberate him from his weakness.
He walked to the ground floor, then walked further downwards straight towards the dungeon.
This time, he was about to dive as deep as possible for the current him.
His stats were updated a day ago by Goddess Astraea, leaving her dumbstruck and questioning reality.
[Name: Bell Cranel
Attributes -
Strength: 589 [D]
Endurance: 643 [C]
Dexterity: 436 [E]
Agility: 673 [C]
Magic: 57 [I]
Magic:
Grega (Evolveable) -
Fire magic. Can become a second sun at it's peak.
Skills:
Eight Handled Wheel -
Adaptation to any and all p*******a.
Ittou Shura -
Burn life, transcend limits, for a single minute, become a One-Blade Shura.
Instinct (A) -
Your Instincts are the sharpest. In combat, You will see a path to victory.
Asura Soul Reaping (Sealed)]
He had gone head to head with a Level 3 monster for a whole minute, and had somehow killed it in the end.
To be honest, Bell was a little disappointed. If he had a growth acceleration skill, he might have already hit the growth limit of S-Rank.
But it is what it is.
Bell lamented while unsheathing liberator. His focus sharpened. His instincts awakened. Golden paths to victory materialised in his vision.
An Eight Handled Wheel tattoo loomed in the space between his brows. It's handles started to shake.
1st floor of the dungeon.
Goblins ran towards him. Saliva dripping from their mouths. Liberator sung against the backdrop of darkness.
Shing. Sprrttt.
Blood splattered across the dungeon walls. Goblin corpses began to dissolve. His body moved like a well oiled machine, following only the golden paths to victory.
Dozens of goblins were decimated like trampled weeds. His sword going straight through their magic cores.
By the time he reached the second floor. The first floor was already cleared of all spawns. Even the dungeon struggled to spawn more monsters.
2nd floor of the dungeon.
He was surrounded by a large number of kobolds. All swinging their sharp claws at him with cruelty.
Bell took a single step forward. Getting inside the guard of a kobold. Liberator now in reverse grip. His hand and liberator wrapped in a V shape around the kobolds neck.
He gave a gentle side shove to the kobold, It's neck sliding across the edge of liberator.
Another kobold lunged at his calf muscle from behind, followed by another lunging at his head.
Bell bent his backbone like a flexible snake. His body arching backwards like a parabola. Liberator followed his movements, moving backwards, over his bending head.
Liberator pierced through the face of the kobold pouncing towards his calf muscle from behind. Further sinking into the ground. The kobold pouncing for his head missed it by a mile, flying over him.
Another kobold jumped at his bent body from front. Bell used liberator as a lever, flipping his bent body over. His heel connecting mid flip with the shin of the kobold pouncing from the front.
He finished his backflip and pulled liberator out of the ground.
Liberator flashed, singing against a tide of kobolds.
Dissecting. Severing. Cutting. Dancing.
The second floor looked like a slaughterhouse by the time he was done.
3rd floor of the dungeon.
Dungeon lizards tackled towards him like speeding muscles. Liberator danced in response. Scales were sheared like paper. Muscles were torn apart like wet clothes. Blood flew across dungeon walls.
A dungeon lizard tried to tackle him from behind. Another jumping at his side. His centre of gravity tightened. One leg supporting his weight. The other leg swung in a quarter circle in air, diverting the momentum of the lizard at his side and launching it against the one at his back.
A lizard thought itself smart, pouncing at his face, opening it's teeth wide just as he finished his last movement, his muscles locked for a moment.
He could see triumph in it's gaze. But he could also see his own reflection in it's eyes.
Eyes shining. Expression blank.
Dozen of golden lines in his vision rewrote themselves for a moment. Old ones vanishing and new ones coming to life.
His free hand came up, a finger gun gesture aiming straight for it's opened mouth.
"[Grega]..."
Flames roared to life, condensing into a ball. It launched like a flaming bullet, exploding inside it's vulnerable mouth.
It's head was vapourised, smell of burnt flesh and scales wafting in the air.
His vision was filled with only golden paths. His surroundings were irrelevant. His emotions were irrelevant. His sense of self was irrelevant.
For a moment, it became hard to distinguish the colour of his eyes.
Were they red? or Gold? or something else?
Adrenaline burned in his veins. Faster than [Ittou Shura] could burn his life.
Dragon lizard corpses piled surrounding him. Motes of their disappearance so dense that his surroundings became blurry.
By the time he reached the 4th floor. What he left behind on the 3rd was nothing but carnage and destruction.
4th floor of the dungeon.
Goblins flung their swords at him. Dragon lizards fired rock bullets at him. Kobolds swung their own brethren at him.
He moved through that onslaught of death like he had already choreographed his victory.
Before the goblins flung their swords at him, he already knew where they would aim.
Before the dragon lizards fired rock bullets at him, he already knew where they would pass through.
Before the kobolds swung their brethren at him, he already knew where they would pounce at.
Visions after visions passed through his mind.
He was looking. Not at them.
But his own victory.
Sometimes liberator moved like wind. Other times it moved like a silent harvester. In between it moved like piercing not them, but their future selves.
His sword was already there before they even moved. Waiting for their necks and guts. Like it moved before they even decided to.
The only thing left in his wake was decimation of the whole floor.
5th floor of the dungeon.
Frog shooters spawned to surround him. Their tongues taking aim for him.
Liberator disagreed.
It flashed, severing three tongues simultaneously reaching for him. Shrieks of pain resounded from the frog shooters.
[Grega] [Grega] [Grega]
Balls of flame rose behind him. Any tongues aiming for his back were burned off by their movement. Placing themselves in between their paths before the tongues were even launched.
Liberator sung, severing tongue after tongue.
Bell closed his eyes. His own blood roaring in his veins.
He did not need his vision when victory was already in his gaze.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
One frog was split in two. Another had it's limbs torn. Another had it's magic core pierced.
Bell was a war machine. More focused and serious than ever.
6th floor of the dungeon.
He walked forward. Eyes closed. [Ittou Shura] starting to rumble beneath his skin.
A vision flashed across his mind. His heart being suddenly torn out by a shadowy humanoid from behind.
He tilted his center of gravity forward. Letting himself fall towards his front.
A shadowy humanoid monster materialised behind him. It's claws grabbing towards his back.
Yet, It missed his back by a inch. Grabbing nothing but air.
His free hand was already resting on his back, finger gun aiming at the war shadow without looking.
[Grega]
Not even a shadow of the war shadow was left.
Liberator sank into the ground. Holding his falling form in a ramp pose.
[Ittou Shura] boomed to full throttle. His strength climbed upwards with abandon.
He was in a ramp pose with liberator at one moment. By the next, he was already at the edge of 6th floor, all war shadows in his path reduced to magic cores.
7th floor was a bloodbath, no killer ants there could stop him.
8th floor of the dungeon.
Killer ants, frog shooters, war shadows, dragon lizards all surrounded him.
Golden paths to victory shrunk in his awareness. Eyes closed.
He jumped towards the monsters surrounding him, dozens of attacks coming his way. He weaved through them, yet injuries accumulated over his body.
But for every injury he sustained. The life of another monster was snuffed out.
A sea of monsters surrounded him, numbering in the hundreds.
The dungeon seemed especially pissed at him.
The wheel tattoo started to turn, revolving with the rhythm of his breaths.
Injuries accumulated over his body. Blood dripped across his form.
Yet his ears only heard the roar of victory.
More monsters were spawned by the dungeon. Trying to flood him with numbers.
[Ittou Shura] kept the pace up. [Instinct (A)] showed him the way. [Grega] vaporised any monster too close to him.
He fought with everything he had against a tide of monsters.
Yet
The golden paths to victory shrunk in his awareness as more monsters swarmed him.
The roar of victory no longer resounded in his ears as monsters traded their very life for a slight injury on him.
The dungeon was trying to bury him under monsters.
He felt the burn of [Ittou Shura]. 60 seconds close to their end.
Golden paths of victory shrunk slowly, disappearing as a huge amount of monsters swarmed him.
His mana was close to running out. Flames of [Grega] flushing out.
[Ittou Shura] now merely had 2 seconds left.
All the golden paths left in his awareness vanished under the mad charge of a tide of monsters.
His mana ran out. [Grega] no longer being sustainable.
Yet there was not a hint of panic on his face.
Why?
Because he believed.
*Click*
In this.
The wheel tattoo spun for the last time.
[Ittou Shura] ran out of juice.
[Instinct (A)] showed no way to victory.
[Grega] was no longer usable.
Yet
There was a curve at the corner of his bloodied face.
Injuries all over his body started to heal. His wounds knitting themselves together, visible to the naked eye. Newfound vitality flooded his body.
He had finally gained a recovery ability. [Super Regeneration] quirk from *My Hero Academia*.
The restarting roar of [Ittou Shura] was heard all across the dungeon floor. His vitality burned with absurd speed. Yet it was recovering at an even absurd speed.
[Ittou Shura] burned his lifeforce without a regard for his life, yet [Super Regeneration] quirk kept recovering that lifeforce back.
Strength filled his limbs. He could feel it. He was already touching the surface of Level 3 in his current state.
[Ittou Shura] could now keep working indefinitely as long as his [Super Regeneration] could keep up.
Golden pathways to victory exploded across his awareness.
10...100...1000
There was nothing left in his awareness except gold.
10 seconds.
That was all it took to sweep the whole floor clean.
Monsters numbering in the hundreds were wiped so cleanly that even the dungeon was incredulous.
Bell sat.
On a mountain of monster magic cores.
Victorious.