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They were the lowest-class monsters in the Dungeon—three goblins and two kobolds.
Goblins were grotesque, green-skinned creatures, their hideous appearance matched only by their aggression.
Kobolds, on the other hand, looked like bipedal canines with sharp claws and fangs. Like goblins, they were among the weakest enemies in the Dungeon.
For a rookie adventurer, encountering this group right at the start would usually mean one thing—run.
That Ronen had run into such a group on his very first dive said a lot about the Dungeon's nature. It wasn't kind. It didn't care about experience or preparedness.
To the Dungeon, adventurers were just intruders. And like any living body, it would react to intrusions with violence.
Magic Bullet
Two glowing shots of magic burst from his hand—bang, bang!—and exploded through the skulls of two goblins. Their heads popped like overripe fruit, their bodies collapsing in silence.
His casting was fast. Just a thought, and two enemies had fallen.
"The power's increased... Dropping it to a tenth should be enough to pierce their brains cleanly."
Refining his magic mid-battle, Ronen conjured another shot. A moment later, a kobold's forehead was punctured with a clean, round hole.
"This is the Dungeon, after all. Best to conserve mana."
He nodded to himself, pleased. With his current efficiency, his natural magic regeneration almost outpaced the mana cost of such spells—unless he started spamming them, of course.
The last kobold was taken care of with a Shockwave spell. The concussive blast sent the beast flying, and the internal trauma shredded its organs. It twitched once, twice, then stopped moving.
Only one goblin remained.
It had stopped its charge and now looked around nervously, clearly confused by the sudden disappearance of its comrades.
"Alright, Mr. Goblin. Let's have a fair and honest duel, shall we?"
Ronen grinned, drawing his shortsword. The goblin, despite being alone, didn't retreat. It hesitated only briefly before shrieking and charging, claws bared, its bestial instincts taking over.
Monsters might have instincts, but they weren't rational. They wouldn't flee—they would only lash out, desperate to tear down their foes.
This one was no different.
Ronen swung his blade. With a clean motion, the goblin's head flew off its shoulders.
It was only when the battle was over—when his blade stopped humming and the blood stopped spraying—that Ronen finally relaxed. There was something visceral, something undeniably thrilling, about using cold steel to end a life.
Detection Wave
He cast his sensing spell again, just in case. No monsters nearby. Safe, for now.
He bent down and picked up the seven magic stone fragments scattered across the ground.
They were tiny—no bigger than fingernails. Calling them "magic stones" was generous.
One goblin tooth had also dropped, but it wouldn't fetch much.
"Well, better than nothing."
It was his first Dungeon loot, after all.
He packed everything into his pouch and continued on his way. But not far behind him,
Hera Familia member that has been secretly tailing him was already having a minor existential crisis.
"That magic… it's the same type as Lady Alfia's. But I thought… he wasn't even an adventurer?"
The girl frowned, trying to piece things together.
He wasn't from magical race , and he hadn't chanted a single spell .
Even if he had awaken innate magic.
How in Hera's name he is casting it chantless. Th-This don't make sense!?
She remembered when Meteria had asked her to keep an eye on him.
At the time, she had laughed at the idea, scoffing at how Ronen was clearly overestimating himself.
But Meteria hadn't argued back. She had only smiled in a strange way at her, knowing way.
That smile made sense now.
"…So, clown was me all along."
She groaned and smacked her own forehead.
And on top of that, Meteria had changed. She used to be gentle and reserved, but now she was practically a little devil.
It had to be this man's influence. He had corrupted her!
Remembering her sweet, innocent friend turning mischievous—and realizing she'd totally misjudged everything—she was overwhelmed by shame.
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Wind Blade—Edge Spiral!
Back in the fray, Ronen unleashed another spell.
A whirling disk of wind spun through the air, slicing clean through the heads of two lizardmen before embedding itself deep into the chest of a frog shooter.
BOOM!
Ronen even added a little sound effect for flair.
The disk of wind detonated from within the frog's body, shredding it from the inside like a thousand tiny blades tearing through flesh.
Lizardmen were common on Floors 2 to 4. Like goblins and kobolds, they were considered low-class monsters.
Frog Shooters, however, were particularly nasty—one-eyed monsters with long tongues that could snatch up adventurers and swallow them whole. Many a rookie had met a grotesque end inside those things.
Just thinking about it made Ronen shudder.
"Yeah, Wind-Edge Spiral is still the most useful."
He muttered to himself and moved forward again.
He could control the blade within an eight-meter radius. Beyond that, his precision and power started to fall off. If the magic circle lost contact with his will, it would detonate automatically depending on the element: Fire spirals exploded, Wind spirals shredded.
The best part? The mana cost was practically negligible—less than what it took to swing a sword.
And honestly, Ronen wasn't built for physical labor. He was a mage, after all.
Still, he'd come to the Dungeon today specifically to see blood.
He needed to train his instincts—to keep himself from freezing or panicking when real combat started.
"Hmm?"
He casually cast another Detection Wave.
Even though it was a basic spell with laughable cost—cheaper than a single Magic Bullet—it had become a habit. Ronen could maintain it constantly now.
But something strange showed up on this scan.
In one of the Dungeon's corners, a shadow peeled itself away from the wall.
It was moving fast.
Thanks to memorizing the monster compendium ahead of time, Ronen immediately recognized it.
A War Shadow.
It was a monster from the sixth floor—faster than goblins, more deadly than kobolds. It looked like a living shadow, black as pitch, with a single glowing red eye burning with murderous intent.
And it was rushing straight toward him.
"A sneak attack, huh?"
Even the upper-floor monsters had started using tactics.
Ronen released a Shockwave. The blast slammed the creature into a wall with enough force to disrupt its entire body. A moment later, all that remained was a scattered puff of black smoke and a single dropped magic stone.
He picked it up, thoughtful.
"So even the upper-floor monsters can't put up a fight, huh?"
With that, he decided to stay on the sixth floor for a while.
After using spells to thin out the excess monsters, he began engaging in one-on-one fights with the rest.
He was a professional magician.
Technically, there was no need for him to be swinging swords.
But then he remembered Alfia—an elite magician who could mimic sword techniques after seeing them just once.
She was a mage, yes, but with strength that rivaled front-line fighters.
That kind of hybrid mastery…
Ronen quietly lifted his sword again.
He didn't expect to reach Alfia's level—without cheating, that sort of thing was practically impossible.
He suspected Alfia was inspired by some swordless swordsman and her own idea.
Still, Ronen needed to reach a baseline: even if he couldn't dodge a strike, he should at least be able to throw up a magical defense or counterattack.
He didn't want to be one of those idiots who stood frozen in fear and died because their brain short-circuited during combat.
Now that would be a tragic, laughable end.
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