The minotaur had been transported to a new room shaped like a hemisphere.
The boundaries were distant. The ceiling was bluish and seemed to recede and draw closer in rhythm. The air felt unusually humid, and a sickly haze hung over the room.
Breathing the air burned the minotaur’s throat. This air would likely kill anyone without a strong resistance.
The floor was once again crooked, but it slanted up and down in soft waves as opposed to the jaggedness of the last room. Long, narrow, and flat blades of grass emerged from the floor across the room. They were all subtle shades of green or blue. Some of them appeared to be slightly brown as well.
Each blade of grass tapered to a thin point at the top and bottom. Their roots were extremely thin, making it appear as if they were floating.
The tallest ones reached the height of the minotaur, and the smallest ones were half that size.
The minotaur looked down and saw that it was standing on flat, circular stones shining with red light. Next to it were dull gray stones of the same shape.
The minotaur stored its barrel hammer in its Bag, withdrew two scimitars, and stepped down onto the floor. The sword in its right hand was called the Blood Scimitar, and the one in its left was called the Lizardman Scimitar. They were both weapons it had earned from defeating the lizardman, but the Blood Scimitar was a rare drop and had a blessing that increased its sharpness significantly.
The blades of grass began to tremble, rustling noisily, as if they were being blown by a wind that was not there. Depending on the angle from which they were seen, the countless blades either appeared wide or disappeared altogether as they wriggled.
It was as if the room had awoken after noticing the presence of the creature foolish enough to wander inside.
The minotaur quickly twisted its body and used the scimitar in its left hand to deflect an attack that came at it from behind. A second attack came an instant later, and the minotaur twisted out of the way and deflected it as well.
Two more blades of grass went for its feet, and it used both scimitars to slice through them simultaneously. The minotaur looked down and saw that both blades of grass had wilted.
A single soft-looking blade of grass that had been swaying in front of the minotaur detached from the ground and extended its body straight upward. It looked like the blade of a sword. It then pointed itself at the minotaur and charged forward.
The minotaur twisted out of the way.
The blade of grass flew past the minotaur’s back, slowed its pace, turned around, and attacked the minotaur once more. This time, the minotaur cut it down with one of its swords.
The minotaur felt pain in its left side. It had been stabbed by a blade of grass that flew at it from behind. It tore it out and threw it to the ground.
Something felt off to the minotaur. These grasslike things appeared soft, but when the minotaur was cut by them or deflected them, they felt as hard as a sword. Also, what it just tore out of its body felt like metal.
These grasslike things were not what they appeared to be.
Now that the minotaur thought about it, the way the tentacles in the last room felt did not match their appearance, either. In this place, the minotaur could not even trust what it saw with its own eyes.
Every blade of grass in the room detached from the ground simultaneously and bobbed up and down gently. An untold number of them were suspended in the air, filling the entire room. Every one of them pointed toward the minotaur.
The minotaur was greatly displeased with these enemies. The reason for that was not because they had been catching it off guard or because their true form did not match their appearance. It was because they did not have emotion.
Humans and monsters always had wills of their own. They would direct their hatred or their fear toward the minotaur and attack it, fully determined to kill.
Furthermore, living beings constantly projected signs of their existence. The minotaur would feel the activity of its opponent’s mind as wind and the presence of their life as heat. But it felt no wind or heat from these grasslike things.
These grasslike things are not fighting. They are simply moving.
These cold, mindless weapons are pointing their blades at me.
These weapons that do not know the ecstasy of combat or the joy of victory dare try to take my life?
A burning rage welled up from deep within the minotaur’s stomach. Then, with a frightening expression, it sucked its lungs full of the cursed air and let out an explosive roar.
ROOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRR!!
The minotaur used Warcry. The brutal roar resounded throughout the room.
Warcry was an area-of-effect attack that was equally valuable in all directions. The minotaur used it in the middle of the room so the effect was equal throughout the entire space.
The countless grasslike things paused in the air and began to shake. When the minotaur saw that they were not attacking, it understood that Howling had probably worked. If that was true, then their stamina had been halved, their resistance was lowered, and they were unable to move.
The minotaur sucked in another breath.
KUUUUUAAAAAAARRRRRR!!
This was a skill called Crushing Breath. The many grasslike entities floating in front of the minotaur began to tremble violently.
Eventually, thin cracks began to run down their bladelike bodies.
The minotaur continued to use Crushing Breath. The shock waves crushed the grasslike things to pieces, as the skill’s name suggested.
The minotaur gradually changed the direction it was facing and used Crushing Breath over and over again. When all the blades of grass had been reduced to a pile of mulch, the minotaur stopped roaring, and silence returned to the room.
The minotaur leveled up, and the injury to its left side was healed. The dull gray stones next to the shining red stones began to glow blue.
The minotaur reached up and touched its right horn. Half of it was still cut off.
It had been cut off by that man.
Every time it touched its misshapen horn, it was consumed by rage. Its horn could not be made whole again until it defeated that man.
The minotaur sucked in a deep breath. Its chest was burning, but not because of the filthiness of the air. It stepped onto the blue stones in search of its next opponent.