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Orario

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*Clang*

The sound of a clash between two weapons that were hitting each other echoed through the misty landscape of Dungeon's 12th floor. Two groups, four Adventures against five Monsters, clash in the struggle for the right to live to tell the tale. One was fighting for the sake of fame and glory, while the other fought for the sake of their carnal desire to kill. 

The Spearman. A human boy in his fifteen with light skin, messy brown hair that reaches to his shoulder while wearing a grey bandana on his head, green cloth with a matching long pant with the slightly darker color beneath his light armor that covers his pauldrons and his chest, a brown leather glove cover his hands, and a matching boot with the same color cover his feet. Considering his occupation, his weapon of choice is a spear. A white wooden spear made from the same wood that came from this Floor, with its sharp tip in the form of a spade made from reliable steel that can easily pierce a monster's body. Well … as long as said Monsters did not come from the Middle Floor and below, then it’s a reliable weapon.  

The Spearman raises his spear up over his head, and with his two hands holds it in a horizontal manner. In this position, he hoped he was ready for what would come, he watched as a wooden club the size of a small tree swung from above toward his head.

The one that swings such a crude weapon is none other than a Monster that normally dwells on this misty Floor, it was an Orc. A humanoid shape Monster that can easily reach three meters in height, with a pig head as his head, having a fat body with green skin color, and wearing an old hide as its skirt. It was a huge and strong monster capable of keep fighting while taking a direct hit.

The orc raises his club and swings it down as quickly and powerful as it can, so it will break the spear, pass it, and straight to his body with the intention to kill and smear the ground beneath them with the Spearman’s blood and guts.

*Clank*

The club meets the spear with a deafening sound. Yet the two weapons were unbudging as they hit each other. The two were made from the same material, and as such, they were equally strong. And while true it was thinner than the club that wields by the orc, it was crafted in such a way that make it stronger than what it appeared. So the fight change from who has the sturdy weapon, to who’s the strongest between the two. 

The orc growled in anger when his attack was stopped by something that is clearly thinner than his own weapon and also because its desire for a bloodbath was denied. He starts to increase the power in his hand, pushing his club down. 

The Spearman grit his teeth as he parries the Orc heavy attack. True that his spear manages to block his attack, but that can’t be said the same for his body. Falna, the blessing of the god, may grant him a power boost. But that doesn’t mean he’s invincible and considering his level, a high-level one, that means his journey as an Adventure has not even begun yet. He grits his teeth hard as he receives its attack, his body tense and his knee-buckling from the force he receives. But he’s not given up. With his spear in his hand, he forces his entire body up against the orc, forcing them into a stalemate. A stalemate that only lasts for a mere second, yet it feels like hours. But that mere second was all it needed as the other monster sees the struggle as a chance, and plans to capitalize on it.

As both the orc and the spearman lock in their struggle. The other monster closing in on them. Another orc came from the left, with its own club in its hand and an eager face for carnage on its face as he slowly walked to them. In the air, two monsters in the shape of a bat-like creature, unimaginatively name Bad Bat, circling closer and closer toward them. And lastly, another orc. This one while doesn’t have any weapon in its hand, its body looks bigger and stronger. Luckily, there is still a considerable amount of distance between them. Unfortunately, that distance quickly shrinks as each step he takes becomes faster and faster.

‘Shit,’ is what the Spearman thought as he realized his current predicament.

The orc on the left raises his club, intending to crack the spearman's skull. The Spearman can only close his eyes in despair as the club swings closer toward his head.

But it was not just the monster that plan to use this chance,

*Clang*

Another deafening sound echoes as two hard materials clash. The Spearman gingerly opened his eyes and quickly became wide open from what he saw.

Between the Spearman and his impending doom is a man. He was a little taller than him as he was older than him, with a darker color than his friend, purplish short hair, blue clothes of the same color as his long pants beneath his armor, that covers more than the one used by the spearman, gray gloves, and a matching boot that covers up to his ankle. His weapon of choice is a small round shield in his left hand and a war hammer in his right. 

“Mark!” The Spearman happily exclaimed as he call his friend.

“Leroy,” Mark hissed through his gritting teeth as his left hand hold his shield up, blocking the attack from the second orc. “After this,” he twirls his war hammer in his right hand till he gets a better grip on it, “we need to talk.”

The Spearman, Leroy, quickly bobs his head up and down the moment he hears his tone. He know what it mean when Mark used the Voice, as our Familia fondly likes to call it no matter how displeased Mark is with the name.

Mark doesn’t need to see nor hear his answer as he is sure his message is clearly received. He twirls his war hammer once more before finally gripping it firmly as he finally feels comfortable. He slightly retracts his shield. The sudden loss of force surprises the orc and throws him out of balance as he suddenly leans forward, creating an opening for an attack. He bashed his shield forward with enough force so it hit the orc club. The club trow to the side, but while the orc still holds it, it’s now flailing safely to the side creating a wide opening for an attack. Not wanting the perfect chance to slip away or waiting for the orc to react. He makes a wide swing from the side with as much force he can gather, his war hammer flew toward his head. 

The attack connects to its target and the steel hit the side of its head, leaving mark on its target. The orc can only scream in pain as the solid steel hit his head with such a devastating force. 

Mark felt, and heard, the skull crack from the force as the orc swayed to the side from the impact. ‘It’s not enough,’ he thought as he see the orc still standing albeit he keep wobbling around like a drunken person, ‘but another hit will,’ he finished his thought. He quickly retracts his right hand and prepares for another swing. A small amount of blood, skin, and flesh stuck on the steel as he retract his war hammer.

While all of this happens, the other monster starts to respond. The first orc was stunned at what happened to the other orc. He looks to the side, seeing the damage the human creates. The slight loss of focus is the opening Leroy needs to turn the table.

Leroy tilts his spear to the side so the pointy end of his weapon aims toward the ground while the blunt back of his spear toward the orc's head.

The club slid to the ground from the sudden change of the angle and the orc lost its balance as he suddenly lean forward as the monster put too much weight on the front for trying to kill his opponent. 

Leroy grabs his spear firmly and thrust it toward the orc's head. The blunt back of the spear hit the spot between the orc's eyes. He thrust it hard enough that from the sound of the orc groan and the mark it left in it, his attack was effective. He then spins his spear, so this time, the pointy end of his spear points toward the orc. As the orc wail in pain, while its free hand covers the spot where the spear connects to its head, Leroy thrusts his spear. The spear hit its target as the sharp steal bite the flesh and pierce through its neck, cutting the throat and all the blood vessels in it. The orc wobbles around from the injury it receives and starts to have difficulty breathing as it starts to get choked by its own blood. The orc drops its club and with its two hands grabs the spear and starts to pull it out. But Leroy will not that happen. With his hands firmly holding the spear, with his knee buckled and his feet's planted to the ground he pushed harder, trusting his spear dipper to the orc's neck. As they struggle, the two Bad Bat now glide closer above them. They open their mouth and prepare to attack with their Sonic Blast.

‘Cih … just what I need,’ Leroy thought as he glances upward.

Then Leroy heard it, two distinct whistling sounds in the air followed by the cry of pain from the two Bad Bats. He now sees that both creatures now have arrows stuck to their body. One of them stuck true to its target as the monster quickly tumbled down and crumble to dust the moment it hit the ground. While the second have more luck on its side, as the creature was still able to fly even with an arrow stuck to its side. Leroy glances back and his eyes meet the Archer's eyes.

The Archer was a Cat People. She was as tall as Leroy, with her yellowish hair color, the same color as her cat-like ears and tail. A yellow short sleeve shirt underneath brown leather armor, a gray cloak that reaches her knee, long pants of the same color, and matching brown boots. She holds a longbow in her left hand, a quiver hanging from her hips, and a short knife on the other side. 

Beside her is another girl. Her grayish ash cloak covers her entire body except for a small part in front of her that reveals her light blue clothes and her frilly short skirt. A matches blue shoes with white leggings that cover her entire feet. The wide pointy hat with the same color as her cloak rests on her head and hides a small part of her face. But her long blue hair and a small part of her long point ears can still be seen. She holds a magic staff with her two hands in front of her, hugging it closer to her body. Confirming that she is, the Mage of this small band of the party. 

“Nya!” She exclaimed, “I miss, nya!” She said in her cat-like accent, as she realize she missed her second target.

The Archer quickly nocks another arrow. She aim the injured flying monster and when she was ready, she let it loose. A distinct whistle can be heard as the arrow flew through the air toward its target. With a thud sound, the arrow pierces the monster's body, hitting it in its Magic Stones. A shout of pain later and its body crumble into dust.

After much struggle, the first orc is finally dead, choking on its own blood. Its body fell, while still standing on its knees. 

“I did it,” Leroy said tiredly in disbelief between his breath. His spear is still buried deep in the monster's neck. On his side, Mark manages to bring a decisive blow to his opponent. The orc fall as his war hammer cracks its head like an egg.

But it was not over yet.

The last orc, now only a few meters from them. And in just less than a minute, it will close enough to grab Leroy with its monstrous hands.

Leroy tries to Pull his spear, but it won't budge as it is buried too deep and in his panic it only makes it stuck deeper to its neck. 

Mark moves to its side, trying to protect him from the incoming orc. But no matter how fast he moves, he knows it will not make it. The archer nocks another arrow and aims it toward the incoming orc. And before she loses it, that is when she heard the melodic voice coming from her side …

[Oh, the blazing spark of life, obey my call.]

[The fire that with which will burn my foe.]

[Gather to my call, and set my foes ablaze.]

[Fire Ball!]

A fireball forms from the tip of the staff that the mage hold. And when it finishes, it shoots through the air and into the orc, hitting it square in the face and follow by an explosion. The orc, however, is still alive. Staggering on its feet, screaming pain as the explosion burns its face beyond recognition and also makes it blind. But more importantly, it stops its movement.

Mark finally stood in front of the last orc. He rises his war hammer and swings it hard. It hit its head, and with a cracking sound that he was sure came from the orc skull, it finally falls to the ground and without a doubt, Dead.

As the rest of the three orcs explode into a cloud of dust and Exilia, leaving only their core, their Magic Stones scatter on the ground. The fight is finally over, and the one to live for another day is the group of the young Adventures.

Leroy falls to his butt while groaning tiredly, “Finally it's over,” he said. His weapon rests on his side, with his face down while trying to catch his breath. The lack of adrenalin, that fuels him in the fight after the fight is over, makes him remember how exhausted he is.

Mark brandish his weapon to clean any blood that was still stuck or had yet vaporized, before finally hanging his war hammer on his hip. He steps toward Leroy, standing tall in front of him, arms crossed in front, while he gazes down at him. 

Leroy flinches from his action, slowly he rises his face only for his eyes to meet the ‘I’m not mad, I'm just disappointed’ stare from Mark. “Ummm …,” He begins.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Mark said, his voice evenly while still keeping his stern gaze.

“... I’m, sorry …?” Leroy quietly said.

Mark raised an eyebrow, “Is that a statement or a question.”

“... um, both?” 

A twitch forms in his head, “Do you realize what have you done!” He exclaimed, almost shouting. 

“um, become adventures.” 

“No, you just become stupid.” Mark quickly admonish him.

“Hey! I’m not stupid.” Leroy tries to defend himself.

“Oh? then tell me … what word can describe someone who charges a group of monsters without a second thought the moment he sees them while screaming like a mad man.”

“... but we won …” Leroy quietly said, hoping that Mark doesn't hear him.

“What's that?” But he heard him.

“We won!” Leroy said, this time louder. “So what's the problem!?” The frustration can be heard in his voice.

“The problem is that without us, you will be the one that becomes a pulp, smearing on the ground.” As if to prove his point, Mark pointed his hand toward the place where Leroy almost die where a small pool of monster blood still exists. Leroy follows his hand toward the pool of blood and flinches at the thought of his cold body lying in that place. “Do you not understand how reckless you are.”

“... I’m just want to quickly Level Up.” Leroy quietly mumbles as he tucks her knee closer to his face.

Mark can only sigh when he heard this, “I know you're frustrated. But that doesn't excuse your behavior. Your action is not just endangering yourself but others as well,” Leroy can only nod as he listens to what mark try to say. “What if there is another monster nearby and they start attacking Naia and Mira.”

“... you can just help them …” It was a weak excuse and he know that.

“and leaving you to die?” Mark bluntly said.

“... I’m sorry …” Leroy quietly said with his face down.

“For…” Mark urges him to continue.

“I’m sorry for being reckless … I will not do that again.”

Mark's only response is a nod, while in his mind he knows that he still needs to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do anything reckless. 

“Is it done, nya?” The catgirl asked as she got closer to them.

Mark turns toward the voice, and his eyes meet the two girls. The catgirl archer, Naia, smiles widely while waving her hand. The elven mage, Mira, on the other hand only shyly nods while tugging her hat down to cover more of his upper face. 

“Naia, Mira-san,” Mark great them with a smile, “Yes, and thanks for the support.”

“Eh, don't mention it, nya.” Naia quickly said before crouching beside Leroy. “Leroy boy,” she begins, “are you crying, nya?” a mischievous smile forms on her face. 

“No,” is Leroy's only answer.

Naia obviously doesn't believe him, so she pokes him with her finger and said, “liar, nya.”

“No, I’m not!” Leroy raises his head so he can stare at the catgirl.

Naia can only smile as she sees the slight puff eyes of her friend, “Ow, you are such a crybaby.”

“Leave me alone will ya,” Leroy growled only met with an amusing smile from the cat girl. 

As both Leroy and Naia play at each other, Mark's attention turns toward the elven mage.

“By the way, thanks for the magic Mira-san, you are a lifesaver you know that.”

Mira smiled beneath her hat as she tug it down, “Um, I just do what I can.” she said softly.

“Still, that was a good shoot.”

“R-really!?” She perks up at that.

“Yeah, I feel like your magic is getting stronger.”

“You think so.” Mira looks at Mark's face, trying to see if his word is true or not. Which she finds that he tells the truth.

“Yup!” Mark said with a nod. “If you keep the pace, maybe you can be in pair with the Thousand Elf or even the Nine Hell.” He said convincingly.

“W-what!? I-I don't think I–” Mira stammer in her words, now starts to get an embrace from how sincerely Mark's word is. and now she tucks her hat down to cover her face, as her face starts to become red. It's always weird how his simple word always affects her.

“Of course, you can.” Mark cut her speech, not realizing the effect of his words on her. “You have the talent, I know that, remember what Kami-sama said.”

“Th-that I have potential.”

“Yup, so believe in yourself.” Mark paused before he continue, “I believe in you.” he add his remark with a smile.

“Th-thank you.” She said softly while covering her entire face with her head unless she want to show her red face to Mark.

Mark quickly turns toward the bickering between Leroy and Naia, missing Mira's reaction entirely and obviously not realizing the internal struggle in Mira's head.

“Knock it off you two,” both Leroy and Naia stop and turn their head. “let's wrap it off, we are done here.”

“Eh, can’t we stay longer, nya?” Naia tilt her head and cutely pleaded. 

“No,” Mark voices his final decision, “we have all we need and we are also low in potions. So it's time to return,” he reason. “Leroy, gather any Stones and Drops we got. Naia, gather any arrow that still can be used.”

“Yes, dad.” / “Okay, dad, nya.” Both chorus in unison.

A twitch forms in Mark's temple, “I’m not your dad!” he exclaimed, “I’m only three years older than you guys!”

Naia snickers, “I doubt that, nya.”

“Mira-san, I’m not that old right?” Mark snaps his head toward Mira, away from the loud noise that is Naia's laughter.

Mira jolted from the sudden question. She peered from below her hat, “U-um, I think … you look mature,” Mira softly said, “... and cool.” and she add the last part in an even more soft voice as she hold back her blushing face. 

Unfortunately, her last remark was not heard as both Leroy and Naia gave a loud laugh, drowning her voice beneath the sea of laughter.

“That just means you are old, nya!” Naia said as she dissolve into laughter.

Mark can only feel despair, he sighs and grumbles, “I swear you guys.”

They quickly finish their task and start walking toward the stare that leads to the upper floors. 

Unknown to them, their entire battle was being watched. None of the members of the small group realized or were even aware of such presence. 

A single white dove-like creature, perch in one of the branches of the many withered white tree not too far from them. 

A single glance is all it needs to realize how strange this situation is. After all, there should be no living animals deep inside the dungeon. The reason is simple, they are all scared. There is something about the Dungeon that makes animals instinctively want to avoid this place. So a single bird, casually watching a group of Adventures battling against a group of Monsters deep inside of Dungeon is something that should not ever happen.

The little bird watched as the group collect their thing and then move in formation toward the exit. It watches as the groups quickly disappear behind the white mist that covers the entire floor. The dove starts to spread its wings and begins to fly off. It flies casually and without care within the mist as if the creature flies on the outside of the Dungeon, beneath the blue sky and not the stone's ceiling. The bird also easily evades any branch and twig, even with poor visibility as the mist blanket the entire floor.

The little bird finally arrives at its destination. It flaps its wings a few times to slow its flight and gently lands in the awaiting open palm. It chirps happily as it lands on his black-gloved hand and the owner of said hand only can chuckle in its antic.

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Nox lightly chuckles, as the little critter happily reports what it sees. “Good job,” he says as his other hand stroke its feathers, “now you can rest.” 

With Nox's final word, the little bird stares at its master's dark eyes before giving him a last chirp. Its body is suddenly engulfed in blue fire. In a matter of seconds, its body crumbles, living nothing but ash and a single magic stone. 

The small bird was a Doll-type Familiar. The one used by Nox was the lowest form of Doll-type Familiar. Using paper as its construct body and a magical crystal or a sigil as its source of power, it was one of the most simple forms of Familiar. While it's true it was the most simple and one of the low forms of magic, it doesn't mean it was weak or useless. It was useful for its versatility, and its power lies in the imagination of the user. In fact, the Eastern Mystic, the Onmyōji, uses what they call Shikigami as one of their signature styles in their art of Mystery. 

Nox create this bird after he heard someone shout a warcry.  Curious, he makes an impromptu Familiar, to see the situation. Considering what he going to do, he prefers to do so without the distraction of curious eyes. It wasn't that he needed to be wary of such a thing since he had already put up a Warding Barrier around him. But it's better to be safe than sorry. So he sends the little bird. Only to find a group of young Adventure, well they are technically not that far from Nox age from the looks of it but that is beside the point, engaging in a fight against Monsters. One of them looks too eager to cross the River of Styx. But in the end, they win the fight. Nox can also watch someone from this world using magic, so that's good. He will use it for reference.

He hummed as he tilt his palm slightly so the remaining ash fall from his palm, leaving only some who stubbornly cling to his glove, which is clean easily by just a soft blow which he promptly does, and the pale Magic Stone. It was definitely paler than the one before it was used as a Mana source. With his two fingers, he brings it closer to his eye so he can inspect it more clearly.

“Hmmm, interesting,” he voiced his thought, “so it can be used as a source of energy even though it has not been refined yet. It is clearly stronger than the one that came from the surface, but considering how unstable it is,” he pauses as he twirls the Magic Stones in his hand, a myriad of idea and theory cross his mind but all quickly push to the side as his gaze moves toward what beneath him. “Let's leave it at that for now,” he said as his eyes traced the unfinished lines of Magic Circle and Runes, his trusty bag lay there on the side. He pulls the silver walking cane from the ground, its tips glowing in silver hue the moment he touches it, and using it as if it was a brush he quickly returned to what he was doing. The cane was made from the same silver that he always carries, with a simple Alchemi technique, he can change its form to whatever he liked. A few lines and runes later and it's complete.  

“And done!” he thought aloud, “now all it needs is just–”

A unique reptile-like sound loudly roared in the distance, cutting off Nox's train of thought, and he responded by quickly turning his head towards the sound.

In the distance, Nox can now see it, from the mist emerge his three Familiar Hound followed by an enraged Infant Dragon. Its body was full of bite and claw marks, no doubt from his familiar. The dragon roared as it chase them with its strong four legs and with its long neck, it tried to bite his hounds. But every time its open jaw is close to them, his Familiar simply jumps to the side, effectively evading its jaw. And every time the dragon tries to bite one of them, the other simply assail the Monstre with their fang or claw, giving it more wounds to collect. This of course only makes the dragon furious and fuels its desire to kill his hound.

For those who don't know, this scene might look as if the three hounds manage to find the dragon and try to bring it down but eventually fail. Every attack, while successful, seem doesn't to have any effect except make the dragon more irritated. So from the outside perspective, it seems as if the hounds are turning tails toward their master after failing their task. While in truth, those assumptions are not even close to the truth.

From Nox's point of view, all three of his Familiar are currently enjoying their hunt. They may look like they running from danger, a prey running away from the hunter, but what really happening is that the role was reversed. They are the hunter and the dragon is the prey, the creature does not even realize it, as the hound is merely leading the oversized lizard to their master. He can see how they play with the small dragon. They bark, taunting and mocking for its inability to even fight back while they can easily do that.  

Nox slowly sighs, “When I say, You can bring anything you want,” he said tiredly while he smacks his face with his palm, as if the notion of his Familiar only brings some trouble, “I never thought you guys will bring me a Dragon,” but the grinning face behind his hand betray all his words. “You guys really know me well,” he quietly said as his hand gripped strongly at his walking cane from the excitement.

They are close to him now, a few hundred meters, and then three hounds do something that the dragon never expected. 

For the first time, they split up, their body becomes a white haze-like mist that surrounded them. And just like that, they disappear without a trace, swallowed by the mist as if it was part of them all along. The dragon was surprised, its claws deep into the grounds, stopping its body death on the track. It swirls its head from side to side while roaring in anger. The paint and the humiliation it receives cloud its mind like a plague. It needs to vent its anger, it does not care to whom it lashes its wrath so long it satiates its fury. And the dragon found it. Not far from where it stands, hidden behind the veil of mist is a silhouette of a man. 

The clatter of its claw against the stones can be heard by Nox as the dragon came closer in its furry. 

‘Wait for it,’ Nox thought, ‘Let it closer,’ his cane tapped against the stone surface. He waits not for a moment later, and his spell flows easily from his mouth.

[Gravitatem, duplex coniunctum!]

(Gravity, amalgamate it into twofold!)

The sudden increase in gravity surprised the small dragon and it make him stumble down, its body falling flat to the ground, right in the middle of the magic circle. 

The dragon grunted and growled as it tries to push his body up. It moves its neck so it can stare at the man.

“You don't think I will let you do that, right?” Nox said as he stare calmly toward the dragon's eyes. 

Nox taps his cane to the ground once more, and the Glyphs, the Runes, and the Magic Circle that he previously draw light up in a golden hue. Strings of golden ribbon, with Runes inscribed on each side, came from the line and runes on the ground. It circled the dragon's body, binding and tightening its body to the ground, traping its body to the spot.

The dragon, even in this state lashes out, it tries to squirm and wriggle its body out of this golden net. But in its futile attempt, the bound only becomes stronger, and just a mere second later, its body is perfectly bound to the place. The dragon can’t move, not even open its mouth. Realizing its state, the dragon grumbles in irritation and annoyance.

“There you go,” Nox said as he releases his grip on his cane, which is now stuck to the ground with some golden string binding it in its place in an upright position. He takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between the dragon and himself, close enough to let his hand run through its scales. The dragon can only growl menacingly as Nox touches its body.

“Right! Now then,” Nox stopped, pulling out his hand and walking toward where he left his bag. He retunes with a tray of tools in his hands, tools that can easily find in the laboratory. 

Nox put on a mask to cover his mouth and change his black gloves to rubber gloves. “Let the experiment begins.”

The last thing the dragon see is a pair of dark eyes that look too eager to gut its body open while it's still alive.

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