264 - - a thunderstorm swirling in the dark

I don't want to be called a hero.

That is Kikiriri's honest opinion.

The truth is, I didn't even want to go up to the vajra class.

It was because the big and nagging one had easily given up his promotion after he had beaten up a muddy giant who was a bit of a nuisance.

Well, that can't be helped.

It's only natural that those who are good at what they do should be treated accordingly.

Another big reason is that I was fed up with the grimy, muddy hunting grounds.

But that doesn't mean that I don't agree with being forced to go to such a dark and cold place and deal with troublesome monsters all the time.

The Kikiriri have no reason to risk their lives for the sake of those who are sitting in the safety of their walls.

They're happy to fight, even though they've never held a weapon in their hands.

But it is the Kikiriri who are actually running around, sweating, bleeding, and pissing themselves to death.

And so, they have no interest in the retrieval of the supposed cause of the noxious plague, which they loudly advocate.

The daredevil lovers who wish to challenge the master of the labyrinth are left to their own devices.

A little free money and the respect that goes with the position.

The rest of the day is spent relaxing, and occasionally, to relieve the stress, they beat the monsters to death.

This is the ideal of Kikiriri.　　

But to lead such a life, you must have achievements.

At least, they have to show some achievements.

And if the number of monsters increases too much and the border town becomes unfeasible, that would be a problem too.

The warrior with two purple eyes stared at the giant that stood in his way.

A long neck covered with pitch-black scales and a rocky mountain-like torso.

His jaws are so wide open that they could easily swallow a kikiriri in one gulp.

Lifting one of its wings, the dead dragon roared at the rude intruders.

But its vocal cords had long since decayed, and all that could be heard was the deafening sound of air passing through it.

The body of the dragon named Zoldamarg had been treated in various ways until its life ended.

The right wing was cut off at the base to prevent escape, and the left hind leg was missing from the knee down.

The other leg is firmly connected to the back wall by a thick chain ring.

However, it is the head that shows the most cruel aspect.

The right half of the face is bare white bone, as the flesh has been removed so many times.

Almost all of the fangs have been removed, and the jaw is so distorted that it is impossible for the victim to bite properly.

And the upper part of the jaw.

As a result of some kind of experiment, the eyes were not where they should have been.

Instead, seven eyeballs are distortedly arranged on the left side of the face along the long protruding upper jaw.

Except for the lowest one, all of them are still covered by a white dura mater, and are now nothing more than useless objects that only move around.

The head is not functioning properly.

The wings on the front legs and one of the hind legs are missing, and the animal is so chained up that it cannot move at all.

It would seem an easy opponent.

However, the labyrinth masters of the fixed dungeon are not so naive as to accept a hasty judgment.

The only remaining means of attack against the dead dragon is its mouth, which has lost one decent eyeball and fangs.

Its eyes, called "bind eyes," are imbued with a strange power that renders it unable to move if it stares into them for more than a second.

And though it has lost its power to bite, the famous dragon's breath still lives on.

But Zoldamarg does not emit a turbulent stream of flame, but a breath of ice that will freeze your entire body if you are exposed to it.

He glares at you to stop you from moving, and then mercilessly drains your strength with his cryogenic cold air, which he exhales over a wide area.

If you try to avoid them, their flailing wings and tails will intercept you.

These too were so powerful that they could easily crush even a tiny human body part just by grazing it.

Furthermore, they were not lacking in defense either.

The pitch-black scales that cover the dragon's decaying body seamlessly are as large as a two-handed shield.

Its hardness made it impractical to be used with ordinary weapons, and it even possessed troublesome characteristics.

They could absorb and nullify all the deeds of spirits, such as heat, ice, and thunder.　

However, there is a limit to the amount, and after being exposed to a certain amount of attacks, it turns white and loses its powers.

The previous defeat was won by attacking him with all the magical techniques at the beginning of the battle, bringing him into that state, and then using the martial arts he had released to drive him back to the front at once.

However, this time, the two rear guard members do not have the same powerful magic as Ninessa.

And there was no useful Stratchia who could take all the responsibility for the attack.

In the first place, the twins left "Platinum Flame" because of the disappearance of these two.

In their place came an aspiring swordsman and a constantly distracted flame wielder.

The obvious decrease in strength is directly related to death in this labyrinth.

And with Stratchia, who had been playing the shield role, gone, the two of them inevitably had to step forward.

It would be stupid or incompetent to stay in such a place with increased danger and no change in treatment.

Kikiriri and the others had been thinking of simply retiring, but then they received an unexpected call.

"Will you cooperate with us until we defeat the master of the labyrinth in the fifteenth layer?　After that, I will arrange for you to join a competent party."　

It was a sudden offer, but the twins decided to accept.

They had to have defeated the dragon of rotting corpses twice, and had to have broken through the third level of the fixed dungeon, which was enough to become a high priest of the temple.

Of course, the true intention of the person who said this has been carefully ascertained, and it has been confirmed that he is not lying by Nene's .

Kikiriri breaks his gaze for a moment from the dragon, who has begun to flinch, and takes in the scenery around him.

The fifteenth floor is only one room, but it is spacious with high ceilings and plenty of room to move around.

The floor is littered with the remnants of collapsed columns, leaving plenty of places to hide.

The stone walls have many uneven surfaces due to age and deterioration, so there is no shortage of footholds.

A window-like depression at the top of the wall caught Kikiriri's eye and he frowned slightly.

It seemed to be a remnant of the spectators' seats.

The staircase that one enters has already been barred, so escape is not allowed.

However, if two hearts were placed on the pedestal next to it, the doorway would open.

This is a remnant of the cruel spectacle that took place here long ago.

Chiru has told us to use ours in the worst case, but Kikiriri has no plans to do so.

Not because he is afraid to take on his friends, but because he does not expect to lose.

Glaring at the floor filled with a cowering chill, the warrior declared loudly, gripping his beloved axe in each hand.

"Let's get started!"

Despite his previous inner monologue, his brief words were filled with a tremendous fighting spirit.