"Fire Bolt!"
--------------------------
Blinding orange-red lightning-like flames spun wildly like blooming lotus flowers, surging unrestrained through the passage.
In the blink of an eye, the horde of monsters that had nearly filled the entire corridor was reduced to ashes under the overwhelming power of the spell.
Fron shook his hand lightly, his expression calm, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile.
"Level 3 monsters might be intimidating for an ordinary adventurer, but unfortunately… in my eyes, they're nothing but cannon fodder. You're still trying to use a swarm tactic against me when I'm already at Lv.6? Hoping to wear me down and break through by attrition? What is this, a tactic from a century ago? You really think too little of me."
His narrowed golden eyes glinted coldly, his expression as frigid as the northern winter.
After a while, Fron arrived at yet another enormous, gloomy chamber.
This time, things were different. Other than the gate through which he entered, the other three doors were all open, as if waiting for him to choose his path.
"So, they've given up on leading me by the nose? Or… they've already achieved their goal, and in their eyes, I'm now expendable?"
Standing in the center of the hall, Fron lowered his head slightly, his face hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. No one could see his expression.
'Judging by the time, Finn and Ais may already be in danger. If they've stopped targeting me, that means… I have a chance to regroup with my companions. But first, I need to find the right way.'
Sorting through the situation in his mind, blue light flickered in Fron's eyes as the skill Reader activated.
In his mind, the fog over the artificial dungeon peeled away, and a mental map unfolded. His reasoning and calculations raced forward at full speed.
, ,
Watching him intently, the god of death Thanatos was taken aback when Fron suddenly raised his head. Then, with a hint of amusement, he turned to look at Barca, who had just returned.
"My dear Barca, I assume you have faith in your so-called masterpiece? Are you sure opening three paths for him won't lead him straight to the rest of Loki Familia?"
Barca's expression remained as grim and tight-lipped as ever. He walked slowly to the control console, eyes cold and deep as he stared at Fron, who was striding down one of the passages.
"Have faith in the wisdom of our ancestors. No matter which path he chooses, all of them lead to death."
His words carried absolute conviction. He was certain Fron could not possibly find his companions. After all, this was no mere Dungeon, it was an artificial dungeon built with their own hands.
But Fron's next move shattered that arrogant confidence to pieces.
…
Cloaked in black that melted into the surrounding darkness, Fron walked steadily down a narrow secret path, his staff in hand.
Under the faint blue glow of the magic stones embedded in the walls, his footsteps were calm and measured.
Those watching through the monster statues that monitored him had no idea that the blue light in Fron's eyes was brighter than ever before.
At this moment, he was unleashing the full capacity of his Lv.6-level attributes for the first time.
His analysis, computation, and logical processing abilities surged to an inhuman level under the effects of Reader, Scholar, and Infinite Super magic.
But there were details even he didn't notice. Pressured by the external environment and the strain on his own mind, he entered an unprecedented state.
In this state, his concentration sharpened to its peak. His body moved on pure instinct, muscle memory guiding his steps, while all his reason and intelligence condensed into a single concept, Wisdom.
"Thinker, activate."
[T/N: Bruh, he is not in any life threatening danger. So this should not activate.]
[Status]: Total Concentration.
Judged as an adversity state, Fron unconsciously triggered his fifth ability, Contemplation.
...
The young man walked forward slowly. The only sound in the entire passage was the sharp "tap, tap, tap" of his boots.
The crisp rhythm of leather striking stone echoed through the empty place, each sound beating like a drum upon the heart.
Combined with the dark and oppressive atmosphere, any ordinary person would have been scared witless by now.
But for Fron, there was not even a flicker of fear.
"...Tap."
The footsteps suddenly stopped. Under the watchful eyes of Barca, Thanatos, and countless onlookers, Fron slowly turned his body.
Then, before anyone could react, he raised his empty hand and pressed it gently against the cold wall.
"Hey, that damned Night Weaver, did he get scared stiff? What's he doing?"
"Shut your foul mouth. I'd like to believe he's lost his mind, but think for a second, you fish-brained fool. What kind of adventurer reaches level Lv.6 and is still 'simple'? If you ask me… something bad's about to happen up there."
Thanatos narrowed his violet eyes, glancing at the commotion among the cultists below.
'This kid really isn't easy to deal with. Looks like giving up on him was the right call. As long as he's stuck in the dungeon, we can finish off his companions first, then deal with him afterward. A sound strategy. But still… what is he doing now? Surely he can't break through the passage, can he?'
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Thanatos caught sight of Barca's face, an expression that hadn't changed in decades, suddenly twisting with shock, disbelief… and even a trace of madness.
"...Barca?"
"..." Barca's mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a fish gasping for air, his expression shifting wildly, yet no words came out.
Finally, with visible effort and horror, he managed to whisper as he stared at Fron pressing the tip of his staff against a specific point on the wall,
"This… impossible! That young man, how did he find the thinnest point of the passage? And worse… that direction leads straight to another team's trap chamber!"
"What…?" Thanatos, too, was dumbfounded.
Impossible. How could someone, in such a vast artificial dungeon, find the weakest point purely by intuition, and in the direction of his allies?
Even the cultists below understood now: this man, the sworn enemy of the Dungeon, intended to blast through the dungeon by force and reunite with his comrades!
And Fron did not disappoint them. He ran his hand thoughtfully across the wall's surface, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"A layer of anti-magic coating beneath the stone, huh? But… in a structure this massive, you couldn't possibly have built every inch with reinforced metal. Heh…"
"Magic Dominator, activate!"
With a low growl, Fron's eyes flared wide, and an overwhelming surge of magic exploded from his body, whipping his cloak in the gale.
"Finisher: Flames of Surtr (Surtalogi)!!!"
A thunderous roar followed,
"RUMBLE!"