"Rrraaaahhh——!"
The snow-white Silverback beat its massive chest and unleashed a thunderous roar, feral and primal, the cry of a predator locked onto its prey.
Shrouded in a thick mist, Ryoji stood firm, his grip tightening around the hilt of his nameless katana. His expression was sharp, his body coiled and ready to strike.
They were deep within the 12th Floor of the Dungeon.
The trio had stumbled upon a formidable foe from the upper levels, a Silverback.
This creature, cloaked in dense, snowy fur, was a mass of raw muscle. Its arms and shoulders bulged unnaturally, and a tail-like stream of silver hair swayed behind it as it moved.
Despite being classified as only a Level 1 threat, the Silverback's sheer strength and lightning-fast reflexes made it one of the most dangerous monsters native to the upper floors.
"Boom!"
The Silverback slammed its fist into the ground where Ryoji had just been standing, splintering the earth and carving a crater in the overgrown stone floor. Without pause, it whirled around and lunged after Ryoji, its massive frame moving with shocking speed.
Every blow from the beast radiated a force that could easily send a man flying. Ryoji dared not take a hit head-on. Instead, he relied on his sharp battle instincts and keen vision, reading the creature's movements and slipping through its strikes with uncanny precision.
"Let me back you up!"
"No need!"
A tense voice echoed from behind, Line's.
From her perspective, every dodge looked like it could be his last. Silverback's fists brushed past him with mere inches to spare. One wrong move and he'd be crushed.
She itched to jump in, but Ryoji's unwavering tone stopped her cold. His calm confidence, even mid-battle, told her he wasn't truly in danger.
Ryoji's footwork was razor-sharp. Against the relentless pursuit of the Silverback, he danced around the monster like a phantom, swift and elusive.
Compared to just a few days ago, his speed had clearly increased. The Silverback was still a challenge, but no longer overwhelming. Occasionally, Ryoji's blade would flash, a thin silver arc slicing through fur and muscle, leaving long, angry gashes that drove the monster into a frenzy.
"Rroooaaar!"
Drawn by the chaos, another Silverback crashed through the fog with a guttural roar, its crimson eyes scanning the battlefield. It didn't challenge its kin for prey; instead, its gaze locked onto Line and Lefiya.
Line didn't flinch.
"Lefiya!"
She pointed toward the charging monster like issuing a command to a familiar.
"Eh!"
Lefiya blinked, then raised her magic staff. But instead of casting, she flipped it around and struck the oncoming Silverback square on the forehead with the reinforced base of her staff.
"Thunk!"
The beast froze, its eyes losing focus as it crumpled to the ground, out cold.
What looked like a simple knock had been backed by the physical strength of a Level 3 Adventurer.
"Just as expected from Lefiya! Reliable as ever at Level 3!"
Line offered a bright smile as she stepped forward, drew a small knife, and slit the creature's throat to ensure the kill. With practiced hands, she extracted the glowing Magic Stone from its chest.
"No, not at all… It's all thanks to Riveria Sama's training."
Lefiya bashfully scratched the back of her head, cheeks lightly flushed at the praise. Her mastery with a staff wasn't natural, it had been drilled into her by Riveria's harsh and patient tutelage.
When it came to magic, she was gifted. But in terms of close combat, her technique was barely passable. Her success here came from physical superiority, not finesse, relying on her Level 3 stats to overpower a Level 1 beast.
"Shkk!"
On the other side of the battlefield, the crisp sound of slicing flesh echoed through the mist. Ryoji's blade drew a clean, elegant arc across the Silverback's throat, and the monster let out a final gasp before dissolving into black smoke.
"Up close, your sword technique is something to behold. But if you ask me," Line said, walking over and picking up the dropped Magic Stone, "your dodging is even more impressive."
She tucked the Magic Stone into the large pack on her back.
As their rear guard, her combat duties were minimal. Instead, she acted primarily as a Supporter.
In Orario, Supporters were a recognized and vital role, Adventurers whose job wasn't to fight, but to carry loot, spare gear, and most importantly, retrieve Magic Stones.
Since frontline fighters had to focus completely on combat, they couldn't afford to be weighed down. As a result, many valuable drops were often left behind.
Supporters like Line ensured nothing went to waste. They collected everything, then split the profits with the party based on pre-arranged terms.
With a skilled Supporter, a party's take-home income could easily double or triple. Even a 50-50 split was considered worthwhile.
In this party, Line didn't just carry the gear, she made sure every effort counted.
However, because Supporters don't participate directly in combat and require protection from Adventurers, many look down on them. There's often a lingering sense of imbalance, Adventurers risk their lives on the frontlines, yet Supporters still share in the rewards. This resentment sometimes leads to exploitation: bullying, unfair treatment, or even being abandoned after the loot has been collected.
But when both the Adventurer and the Supporter belong to the same Familia, such tensions rarely arise. Loyalty, after all, is much stronger within one's own kin. At this moment, Line had taken on the role of a Supporter, carrying Ryoji's heavy pack on her back, ensuring there was no question or dispute over who was entitled to what.
"The entrance to the 13th Floor is just ahead. Let's rest for a bit."
Following the familiar route from their previous expedition, Ryoji and the two girls came to a stop in front of the descent to the next level.
"Line, grab the Fire Dragon protective gear from the pack."
"Got it."
Line set the pack down and pulled out three neatly folded sets of crimson clothing.
The material shimmered slightly under the dungeon's dim light. It was smooth and soft to the touch, light enough to feel like it wasn't there at all. Each set included a base-layer shirt, fitted shorts, casual travelwear, and a flowing robe, different pieces tailored into a full outfit.
Spirit-forged protective garments.
Crafted by Spirits themselves, these clothes were enchanted through the infusion of Spirit Magic, offering extraordinary protection. Each piece carried the blessing of a Spirit, its effects varying depending on the race or element of the Spirit that imbued it.
"No matter how many times I see them, Spirit gear is always incredible…"
Lefiya gently ran her fingers along the Fire Dragon garment, eyes sparkling with admiration.
As a Half-Elf deeply tied to the Spirit lineage, she had grown up on tales of the ethereal beings who once roamed the world, tales that painted Spirits not only as divine but as awe-inspiring allies to mortals.
Spirits.
Beings so rare they were said to exist only in ancient texts and legends. Called Holy Spirits, Elementals, or Mana Incarnates, they were often described as the closest race to the gods, some even referred to them as the "Living Echoes of Divinity."
"In the age of the first heroes," Lefiya began, her usual reserved tone replaced with wonder, "Spirits would descend to aid mortals in their battle against Dungeon-born monsters. It's written in the Chronicles of Orario and a few of the old bardic tales. Back then, their help was seen as equivalent to receiving a Falna. But nowadays… the bond between Spirits and mortals has faded."
Whenever the topic of Spirits came up, the usually quiet Lefiya would come to life, her eyes lighting up as if recalling a beloved bedtime story.
(End of Chapter)
You can read ahead up to 30 chapters on my Patreon, and I've also activated a (date-to-date) subscription model on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395