Multiple bumps appeared on the ground, and around ten monsters resembling monitor lizards jumped out, each as big as a human adolescent. But the lizards were unable to perceive the red glimmer before them, and all of their heads were cut instantly from their bodies. In front of the Lightspeed Blademaster, jumping out from anywhere was a foolish act akin to suicide. To put it in extreme terms, to go up against Sazaki, one would need a body that couldn’t be cut, enough mass that it couldn’t be handled with just a sword, or speed comparable to his. It was impossible to put up a fight against him without any of those.
“Let’s keep going, ’kay?” The monsters were cut down one after the other, being slaughtered more casually than the casual words that came out of Sazaki’s mouth.
Man, that’s crazy... Makes you think that his theory about the fastest also being the strongest is right. Max’s comrade was always so skilled that it made one think that nothing could stand in his way. This made it hard to argue with his childish philosophies.
Thanks to Sazaki’s efforts, the group quickly made it through the upper layers and arrived at the problematic location.
“Hmm. There they are...” Stein had a strange expression as three red humanoid figures that were thought to be true monk slayers jumped out of the river of lava. His reaction was akin to what one might expect to see if someone was told about a demon wolf that could destroy the world, only to find a dog-shaped monster.
“Seems like those dwarves who encountered them didn’t know, but these things aren’t even taking a stance,” Max said.
“I was about to say the same,” Sazaki added.
Even though three of the monsters that had melted the dwarves’ special magic armors appeared, Max and Sazaki lost all motivation at the sight.
“We’re in a hurry. I’ll just check quickly.” Stein, who was still half scratching his head in confusion, spread his arms slightly and adopted a monk stance of the Church of Roaring Earth.
The true monk slayers didn’t react to this, simply charging toward Stein to ram into him with their scorching hot bodies, which not even the magic armors had put up any resistance against. Their behavior made everything clear: They weren’t using the martial arts stance specifically developed to oppose monks—in that respect, they were fakes. Right after one of the fakes swung its arms at him, Stein silently punched the lava creature without even exhaling. Thrusting one’s arm into lava was an unbelievably foolish thing to do. Yet, it was the fake that now faced something unbelievable—before it even had the time to be confused, the lava in its torso was blown away as punches rained all over its body. And then, unable to maintain its form, it vanished. The remaining two didn’t seem to care about the first one’s fate and attacked Stein, not having learned any lesson from this...and just like the previous one, they were struck until they vanished.
“They don’t have any ability to learn either. These really are different creatures,” Stein said.
Stein hadn’t used a layer of air or his muscles to counteract the heat of the lava; he’d protected himself using the Null Wave. However, it wasn’t through magic or mana but sheer force of will that he’d disregarded even lava, which was frankly not a human achievement. But to Stein, who’d once gone so far as to swim in lava, a body of lava attacking him at a fast speed posed no threat at all. Even Stein had been given the impression that true monk slayers were dangerous enemies, but these fake ones were no match for him.
“They didn’t react to your stance at all. They didn’t change their behavior when one of them was defeated. They only moved through instinct. They weren’t the monk slayers we know,” Ferd reviewed the facts.
“Right,” Stein agreed.
Even the monsters’ lava bodies, incredible speed, and immense numbers—more than ten thousand—were not enough to make them the monks’ sworn enemies. But the Great Demon King had equipped his true monk slayers not only with a body that could cause death with a single touch, stamina, and speed, but martial arts skills that surpassed the average monk’s, with learning abilities specialized against them. It was no wonder that the Boiling Mountain had almost fallen when the monks had faced such a unique threat.
Moreover, even after the battle on the Boiling Mountain had ended, the monk slayers continued wreaking havoc. Those who’d somehow managed to survive and gained experience during the final years of the great war possessed bodies of lava, had absorbed monks’ martial techniques, and had honed their own unique martial arts, making them fearsome creatures that could even be called masters of the craft.
He really is insanely strong. Max recalled the master-level monk slayers they’d fought during the end of the war, which reaffirmed Stein’s incredible ability, given that he’d killed most of them back then. Okay, I get it, calm down already! I’ll do it! Max shouted silently at the ring with a blue gemstone on his finger, which had been pestering him this entire time.
The Hero’s party continued pressing farther into the dungeon, never pausing. Sazaki cut down any monsters that stood in their way, and Stein slaughtered the fake monk slayers that occasionally appeared, so they were never impeded.
“Max, can you do something about that shrill noise?” Lara, who was floating slightly as she moved, seemed dissatisfied, and she frowned as she glared at Max’s ring, who was farthest in the back.
“I’d love to know that myself. If you have any ideas, please let me know.”
Lara’s abnormal senses had detected thoughts emanating from the ring, which sounded like a high-pitched voice. To Max, the ring’s owner, it was like there was a bell constantly ringing inside his head.
“What is it saying?” Ferd asked with a hint of laughter.
“I’ll try to put it elegantly. ‘If the adventurers managed to kill that filthy imitation, then so can you. Let’s go murder it. Let’s kill it now.’ Something along those lines.”
“Same as ever.”
“Tell me about it. It’s surprising, really, when the one who created it and put power into it is so ladylike.” Max frowned even more than Lara as he glared at his ring.
The majority of the equipment Max was wearing actually couldn’t be removed; it was as though it was cursed. The ring with the blue gemstone was one of these items, constantly tormenting its wearer.
“If that counts as ladylike, then I’m a Saint,” Lara said.
“Bwa ha ha! Well, she’s usually a quiet woman! She just can’t contain herself when it comes to other dragons!” Sazaki chimed in.
Apparently, Max, Sazaki, and Lara had different opinions about the creator of that equipment.
“Then we’ll leave the dragon to you,” Stein said
“Yeah. I really don’t wanna do it, but I should be able to handle a dungeon dragon...though please help me out if things get dangerous.”
“Or so you say, but seventy years ago, I learned that getting in the way of an expert can spell trouble. I never expected there would be a dragon near impervious to physical attacks... Not even my muscles were enough.”
“Tch. You just made me remember that pesky magic-reflecting dragon,” Lara said, clicking her tongue.
Stein decided to leave the dragon to Max, whose equipment was urging him to go kill it. He wasn’t being coldhearted or anything; it was just a rule of thumb to leave dragons to the specialists. In particular, during the great war, both allied and enemy dragons had been at their peak of power, and some had even given the Hero’s party trouble, as shown by Lara’s reaction.
“I wouldn’t really call myself an expert or anything... Wait, is this the end of the middle layers? If I remember correctly, there are a lot of fire spirits beyond this point.” Max was about to sigh, but when they arrived before the large gate separating the middle and deep layers, he changed gears and started considering the monsters beyond the gate.
Spirits, also known as elementals, were beings that could manipulate natural energy at will. They could cause a lot of trouble by simply running wild and spreading their power everywhere. The fire spirits in the area separating the middle and deeper layers of the Nightless Inferno were out of control, scattering flames. But since they were unintelligent, their behavior was simple, so they weren’t that difficult to defeat as long as one took the proper countermeasures. However, there was one problem.
“When an overreaction occurs in the dungeon, monsters from the depths might take their place, right?” Ferd asked.
“Apparently so. But something unusual seems to be happening this time, so I can’t predict what awaits,” Elrica replied.
According to the explanation they’d received beforehand, when a phenomenon known as an overreaction in dungeon technical terms took place, not only were monsters enhanced, but the bosses found in the areas between layers became more powerful too. Or a boss from a lower layer might end up higher up.
“Let’s go.” Ferd passed through the gate.
“Groaaaaar!”
A bright-red dragon, which should have been at the bottom of the depths, waited for them in the area between the middle and deep layers. It was about as strong as the one the rising legends had recently defeated, and was definitely not something that should have been there.
The next moment, Max’s blue ring shone.
“Grargh?!”
The dragon’s roar, which was accompanied by shock waves, turned into a scream of anguish. An arrow was sticking out of each of its inhuman eyes. Dragons’ eyes were relatively weak compared to their scales. However, there were practically no defensive barriers convenient enough to allow the user’s own attacks to pass through them, so in order to hit a dragon with an arrow, one had to stay focused while remaining defenseless on the brink of death.
Max was the one who’d achieved that extraordinary feat, but his appearance was strange. Gone was the old man who seemed to be imitating a young person’s fashion without regard for his own age. He was clad in a helmet with a design like a white hawk and full-body armor with hawk wings sprouting from its back, a red cloak swaying behind him. In his left hand, he wielded a black sword bearing a crest of a roaring lion’s head, and in his right, a gray spear adorned with a design like a dancing wolf. The bow he’d just used was on his back, with grass vines twined around its bowstring. The dagger at his waist was jagged like lightning. His equipment lacked any sense of unity, like a fine knight had picked up whatever he could carry at the moment. Every last item was full of pretense, befitting of the man named Max.