If one wanted to possess great strength within the original system of the DanMachi world, there were no shortcuts to take—what it required was the hard work and sweat poured out in the Dungeon.
For example, the Sword Princess of the Loki Familia, Ais Wallenstein.
She became an adventurer at a young age and, over the course of a little more than a year, broke world records to become the fastest adventurer in Orario to reach Lv.2.
And then there was Bell, the original protagonist.
Ron had no intention of aiming unrealistically high.
Especially within the high-pressure environment of the "Soul-type Dungeon," as long as he could return safely every day, it was enough to improve his own strength as much as possible.
With new tactics in mind, he followed familiar routes and arrived at the first-floor area.
Having gradually grown accustomed to the special treatment of "Dungeon Hatred," he glanced toward the stairway entrance. Seeing that there was no elite goblin there, he instead felt an unusual sense of discomfort.
"Don't tell me the Dungeon realized that arranging goblins was useless—and is preparing to throw some Souls-level difficulty at me, like a Tree Sentinel or something?"
Ron frowned as he observed the Dungeon environment.
Relying only on the faint illumination along the dungeon walls, it was impossible to clearly see the monsters lurking in the dark corners. Yesterday, he had been ambushed by a goblin archer in exactly this way.
To be cautious and conservative.
He decisively drew the short sword hanging on the outside of his thigh. Under the faint light, the blade continuously gave off a cold, piercing gleam.
"…"
And right at that moment...
From deep within the cavern—which had originally been extremely empty—there suddenly came a heart-chilling echo of canine barking, accompanied by rapid footsteps that were continuously drawing closer.
"Grrrk, grrk, grrk…"
Who was barking like a dog?
Ron frowned and abruptly turned his head.
But recalling the introduction given by the Guild staff member Eina, he remembered that most of the monsters active on the first floor were ordinary ones such as goblins and kobolds.
At once—
An ominous premonition enveloped the boy's heart.
Looking in the direction from which the disturbance had arisen, what finally appeared before Ron's eyes were kobolds crawling on the ground, already completely twisted and deformed.
To call them dogs would be somewhat insulting to humanity's loyal companions.
To call them beastmen, on the other hand, they were clearly malformed breeds whose evolution was incomplete.
Their bodies, originally close to human in shape, seemed as though they had been twisted by the great hand of the Creator. Now, they were staring fixedly at Ron with a canine gaze, their crimson eyes filled with hatred.
Their small, emaciated bodies were fully exposed, yet they bore completely asymmetrical dog heads.
Within their gaping maws, the canine teeth were as sharp as saw blades. The foul-smelling saliva was extremely viscous, hanging down to the ground in transparent strands.
Good grief.
After counting the number of monsters, the corner of Ron's mouth could not help but twitch. He always felt that the scene before him carried an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
The Three-Dog God-Slaying Formation!
Although it was a kind of monster he had never encountered before, even before he had become a Souls-game expert, he had already been tormented to the point of living death by this sort of thing in games.
Because the playstyle didn't allow him to waste mana, and warriors were also very easily ambushed by monsters that coordinated their attacks.
As a result—
After crossing into the DanMachi world, those bad memories were still chasing after him.
"Damn that cheap trick of attacking the groin! Why do you keep obsessing over those damn three dogs?" Ron untied the straps bound to his chest that connected to the heavy brass shield.
Bang!
The heavy shield, possessing astonishing weight, crashed to the ground with a loud clang, kicking up a cloud of dust.
He realized that the level of danger before him was absolutely several times higher than when facing goblins. With even the slightest misstep, it was very possible that he would be finished for good in the Dungeon.
First, under no circumstances could he allow himself to be surrounded by the three dogs.
Ideally—
He needed to kite them, pull the monsters apart to create distance between them, prevent the mutated kobolds from coordinating, and then break the monsters in front of him one by one.
"So I just enter the Dungeon and it's already a high-end match, huh."
The prerequisite for kiting was speed.
Ron was not yet prepared to use the "shield thrust tactic" to deal with the mutated kobolds, unless it became absolutely necessary. For now, his priority was still to improve his technique.
And once freed from the restraint of weight, he could feel his steps become much lighter.
Taking advantage of the moment before the mutated kobolds could react, Ron suddenly lunged forward—but this time, he chose to use two weapons simultaneously.
The slender thrusting sword was extremely sharp. It was not suited for slashing, but it possessed formidable penetrating power.
It all happened in an instant.
The thrusting sword in his hand pierced through the mutated kobold's massive mouth at an extremely tricky angle, and finally burst out from the neck.
The injuries were unable to be instantly fatal.
Ron decisively withdrew the thrusting sword from the monster's body. After evading the monster's retaliatory head-twisting bite, the short blade held in his right hand slashed again.
Only when the mutated kobold's head was severed did it end.
This monster, whose body proportions were extremely uncoordinated, completely turned into black dust. A purple magic stone containing energy fell to the ground, producing a crisp sound.
"Two left."
The two mutated kobolds that had kept a bit of distance finally seemed to react. Howling, filled with hatred, they launched an attack toward Ron.
The posture of the monsters sprinting at full speed was very strange.
Yet in terms of speed, it was not something to be underestimated in the slightest. In the end, a kobold leapt high into the air, using its momentum to lunge and bite toward the weakest point of the human before it—the neck.
"Damn it!"
Ron did not even have time to catch his breath.
His expression turned grim. Just as he was about to counterattack the mutated kobold with a sliding maneuver, he only felt a tremendous force come from his waist, sending him crashing heavily outward.
Even with the protective effect of the chest armor, his internal organs still felt a surge of pain.
Lowering his head to look, Ron discovered that in an area not covered by armor, a shocking claw mark had already been left behind, with blood continuously seeping from the wound.
What was going on here?
The surge of adrenaline brought on by the dangerous situation allowed him to ignore the pain for a short time.
He finally saw clearly the culprit that had ambushed him—the mutated kobold that had charged out from another passageway. Fortunately, it had not used its huge mouth to tear at him.
Otherwise, the uses of "Revival" would very likely be consumed right here!
"So that's how you want to play it, huh?"
The Four Heavenly Kings usually number five—even the Three-Dog God-Slaying Formation had a fourth stray dog!
This was Ron's first time encountering this kind of mutated monster. His handling method was also based on Souls-style techniques, yet reality gave him no room for error.
He decisively took out a glass vial from the potion case at his waist.
A pale-blue potion.
It was not the recovery potion given by Airmid, the "Dea Saint," but rather a new medicine entrusted to him to be consumed when injured—its effects still unclear.
But where was there time to consider all that now?
Pulling out the wooden stopper sealing the glass vial, Ron drank the entire new potion in one go. Immediately after, a violent burning sensation surged up from his abdomen.
The effect was obvious.
He could no longer feel the pain from the claw marks at his waist, but the intense, unavoidable burning in his stomach suppressed what had originally not been a severe injury.
Was it the potion healing the wound, or an obvious side effect brought about by the treatment?
Ron could not figure it out. But he knew the urgency of the situation. Rolling deftly up from the ground, he looked toward the mutated kobolds that had finished regrouping ahead of him.
He was only certain of one thing.
"Very well."
"With this kind of setup, you're trying to leave me here in the Dungeon for good, aren't you?"
And so—
He abandoned the combat techniques he took pride in, choosing instead the more execution-heavy "shield thrust tactic"!