Several hours earlier. The Dungeon, fourth floor.
The air in the narrow stone corridor was heavy and stale. Another kobold crumbled into a cloud of ash, leaving behind only a tiny magic stone, but it was too early to relax.
The walls of the Labyrinth suddenly rippled. The stone pulsed like living flesh, and with a vile squelching sound, new creatures were "born" from it. Three dungeon lizards. They didn't even touch the floor—their clawed paws immediately dug into the ceiling, and the monsters, writhing, dashed toward the intruders.
Rane and Bell merely exchanged a quick glance. No shouts, no unnecessary commands. Following a pre-rehearsed plan, they darted in opposite directions, widening the gap between them.
The lizards, obeying primitive instincts, split up: one darted after Rane, while the other two, snapping their jaws, rushed after Bell.
When the distance between the partners became safe enough, and the creatures on the ceiling were just a couple of meters from Bell, preparing to pounce, the boy sharply shoved his hand into his pouch. His fingers grasped a small canvas bag. Pivoting on his heels, Bell threw it with all his might—not at the monsters themselves, but at the wall right in front of them.
Impact. The thin fabric burst, the loosely tied string flew off, and a thick reddish cloud instantly billowed into the air.
The lizards flew right into it at full speed.
The effect was instantaneous. The creatures, having paid no mind to the incomprehensible obstacle, suddenly let out a hissing shriek. They dropped from the ceiling, crashing heavily to the floor, and began frantically rubbing their snouts with their clawed paws, rolling on the stones. They completely forgot about Bell.
The boy didn't waste a single second. With a lightning-fast dash, he rushed to Rane. Together, in a matter of seconds, they ruthlessly dismembered the lone lizard, then calmly walked over to the blinded pair and quickly, without extra effort, ended their misery.
"That worked out even better than I thought," Rane stated calmly, taking an identical bag from his own pouch and thoughtfully tossing it in his palm. "A little flour, cheap hot pepper, and there you have it—an improvised tear gas bomb. Cheap and effective."
Bell, wiping the blade of his dagger, looked at the dissipating red cloud with genuine amazement.
"That was incredibly effective!" he exclaimed. "But... why doesn't anyone else do this? I haven't read about anything like this in any adventurer books!"
Rane chuckled, putting the bag away.
"Because for most heroes, it's a 'trick for the weak.' Their pride won't let them throw spices," he shrugged. "Besides, it's a double-edged sword. In large groups, one careless throw—and you blind your own allies. And in the Dungeon, even a momentary break in formation leads to fatal losses. Plus, I'm not sure something like this would work against higher-level enemies. Stronger monsters would just blow the cloud away or ignore the pain."
Rane fell silent, sweeping his gaze down the corridor. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Strange, he noted to himself. The cloud hung in the air almost motionless. There's absolutely no draft here. No ventilation, even though we're deep underground. The air just... is. Like we're inside a giant lung that forgot to exhale.
"Let's move on," Rane commanded, brushing those thoughts aside. "Let's not dawdle."
After a while, they finally cleared the labyrinthine corridors of the fourth floor. Stepping out to the wide descent leading to the fifth, they stopped in sync and let out a sigh of relief, sheathing their weapons.
Without a word, they turned to each other. On Rane's face, usually so serious, appeared a boyish, enthusiastic grin.
"A-a-a-n-d... tha-a-a-t's..." Rane dragged out.
Bell happily matched his tone, and giving each other a forceful high-five, they shouted in unison:
"A record!!"
The sharp smack echoed through the empty hall. It was their best floor-clear time.
"Well then," Rane rolled his shoulders, stretching his muscles. He checked his stamina reserves—he still had plenty of energy. "Do we keep going or head back? What's the mood?"
"I'm ready!" Bell nodded with such energy that his white hair bounced. "Let's go to the fifth!"
The fifth floor greeted them with changes. The corridors were noticeably wider, and the air was more humid and cool. A light layer of moss covered the walls, making their footsteps sound softer, more muffled.
Their new opponent turned out to be a huge frog, the size of a large dog.
Frog Shooter, the information from the Guild's bestiary instantly popped into Bell's head. Soft, sluggish body, no armor. But there's one detail that requires extra attention...
"Get ready," Rane's sharp whisper pulled him out of his thoughts.
His brother was already in a fighting stance, shifted slightly to the side so as not to block Bell's evasion path.
The toad froze for a moment, its bulging eyes locking onto the boy. Its maw snapped open.
Fast! was all Bell had time to think, instinctively diving to the side.
A thick, muscular tongue whistled right through the spot where his head had been a second ago. There was a wet smack—the tongue slammed into the stone wall, leaving a small dent and a glob of slime, before retracting back into its maw with a vile sound. The toad croaked and clumsily hopped back, preparing for another shot.
Bell swallowed hard. Until now, all the monsters—goblins, kobolds, lizards—forced close combat. But this thing attacks from mid-range. If you lose focus, it'll just punch right through your chest.
The toad fired a second time. But now Bell was ready. He moved off the line of attack a split second early, sliding sideways with a smooth roll. At the exact moment the pink tongue reached its maximum length and pulled taut, Bell slashed down on it with a sharp swing of his dagger.
The blade easily severed the muscle.
The toad let out a gurgling, agonized wail and began thrashing wildly in convulsions, spraying green blood. Its suffering didn't last long—Rane, closing in from the flank, ended the monster's life with a precise sword thrust to the base of its skull.
The creature crumbled into ash.
They stepped closer, looking at the dropped magic stone. It was slightly larger than the ones that dropped on the upper floors, but it still looked tiny.
"To be honest... that was kind of underwhelming," Bell kicked the pile of ash. "Compared to the lizards, these toads don't have any defensive advantages at all. Sure, the ranged attack is dangerous, but knowing about it, it's not hard to dodge at all."
He sighed in disappointment, sheathing his dagger.
"Haa... Again, it all comes down to numbers. If it's a pack, then yeah, it's dangerous. But one-on-one, they're nothing special."
Rane slowly turned his head and looked at him with a mix of irony and mild skepticism.
"Bell. There's two of us too, in case you didn't notice," he said dryly. "Complaining that a monster loses because of a numbers advantage, while ganging up on it two-to-one... isn't that a bit weird, don't you think?"
Bell scratched the back of his head, feeling his cheeks turn traitorously red.
"...Maybe," was all he managed to squeeze out, conceding to the logic.
They moved further down the wide corridor. Bell, feeling a little more confident, decided to bring up a topic that had been bothering him for the past few days.
"Listen, Rane... The Familia Fair is coming up pretty soon. Do you have any options in mind yet? Who should we try to join first?"
Rane, walking half a step ahead, slowed down slightly, continuing to scan the shadows ahead.
"Well, actually, I was just about to bring that up," he began, turning his head toward Bell. "I think we should look into..."
Rane's voice cut off.
Bell saw his brother's face contort. The calmness vanished, replaced by an expression of primal alarm. Rane's eyes widened, staring at something behind Bell's back.
It all happened too fast. Faster than Bell could process.
Rane's muscles tensed, turning him into a coiled spring. He lunged forward with lightning speed—not at an enemy, but at Bell. Rane's left hand locked in a death grip on the collar of the boy's jacket.
A sharp yank. Bell was torn from the ground and hurled backward with such force that it knocked the wind out of him.
Mid-flight, Bell tried to turn his head to see what he was being saved from. But he only heard a sound.
The deafening, piercing clang of shattering metal.
And then he saw Rane. His brother, who always came out of fights without a single scratch, was swatted aside like a rag doll. Hitting the floor twice with a dull thud, Rane smashed into the stone wall of the corridor with a sickening crunch and lay motionless at the other end of the cave. He lay entirely still, the shattered remains of his blade clattering to the ground beside him.
Bell landed hard on his back, scraping the skin off his elbows, but he felt no pain. His wide, trembling eyes instantly darted from Rane's lifeless body to the spot where they had just been standing.
To the culprit.
A mountain of brown muscle. Coarse fur. Horns capable of piercing steel gates, and bloodshot eyes staring at them with terrifying arrogance. A Minotaur. A monster from the deep floors that absolutely shouldn't be here.
Bell shifted his gaze to Rane, beneath whom a dark pool of blood was already spreading, and back to the monster.
The fear that had paralyzed him for a second burned away. In its place came something else. A searing, all-consuming sense of loss and rage that eclipsed his survival instinct. The boy's face contorted in wrath, tears bursting from his eyes.
Gripping the hilt of his pathetic dagger until his knuckles turned white, Bell leaped to his feet and charged at the monster.
"A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!" his desperate, broken scream ripped through the silence of the Dungeon.