The earth trembled.
"He's just a rookie kid, and you couldn't subdue him? You're a useless piece of trash!" The leader of the pharmaceutical group raged, hurling insults at the demi-human.
"He won't get away."
The demi-human recalled their recent clash.
The youth's Status was mediocre at best — he only took the leader hostage by bluffing. If the demi-human fought at full force, that rookie wouldn't stand a chance.
"Hurry up and catch them! That white-haired brat and the Dea Saint — tear them both to shreds!"
The leader's sunken eye sockets burned with wrath that had consumed all reason. The fifth floor had become a hunting ground. Once those two were caught, they'd be tortured first.
"Help... Help me... Guh... Aaaah!"
A pitiful cry for help echoed through the passageway. That despair soaked into the labyrinth and became an endless wail.
Yes. This is it. Make those two taste agony worse than death.
The lament of [Madness], the finale's melody — how sweet a wail it was!
The leader's pupils dilated wildly, teetering on the brink of madness. A will within his mind seized control, only to be snapped by a sliver of icy reason.
This wasn't the boy's voice. It was the wail of his subordinate.
"...?"
What on earth had happened? Was the Dea Saint coordinating with the youth for a counterattack? She was skilled as a healer, but she was only a support class — a novice adventurer. How could she possibly defy us?
"There... there are goblins!"
"Run! Quickly!"
The panicked, fleeing subordinates answered the question.
"Where are those two?" The leader's rage intensified. "They're just goblins..."
His words were drowned by the overwhelming tide of monsters.
The labyrinth screamed as monsters swept the passages like an army. A torrent of malevolent force engulfed the entire fifth floor.
The leader gazed at the endless tide of crimson eyes. His madness flared to its peak.
Run.
His mind screamed.
Run now.
His legs trembled. Though terror consumed him, he could not control himself. He stumbled toward the sea of monsters.
"Ahhh... This is madness!"
Thud.
A dagger pierced his chest. Following that came mocking bites and devouring.
...
The demi-human sensed something wrong the instant the goblins appeared. The stench of blood was overwhelming. Even the breeze through the passage carried a thick, terrifying scent.
He sprinted toward the entrance to the fifth level. Survival was paramount now.
A pity about the potion that surpassed mead — just thinking of it made his skin itch.
Clutching his reward, the demi-human planned his future days. He would cherish this last pity. A full crate of it — compared to that treasure, even the Dea Saint's life was insignificant.
Ignoring the endless cries for help, he fled swiftly.
This is...
He froze at the entrance. The personnel sealing this area were gone. They hadn't escaped — they had met their end.
The gruesome scene at the site proved it.
Crimson blood splattered across the ground, while a mixture of bones, shredded flesh, and torn clothing lay discarded like trash. The stench of blood filled the air, so thick it made the demi-human retch.
Among the dead were even Level 2 Adventurers. Yet they too had been mercilessly slaughtered by some unknown force.
What had happened...
The Dungeon answered that question with cruel clarity.
The walls rumbled, the ground quaked. At the staircase between the fourth and fifth levels, several massive figures wielding enormous axes descended slowly.
The demi-human immediately understood. When monsters mutate, the adventurers stationed nearby are usually the first to escape. The reason they died here was simple — a new monster had been born on the fourth floor.
The Dungeon was imitating their tactics: blocking the path, pouring out pure malice. That was all.
Loud footsteps echoed from behind. Knowing there was no escape, the demi-human bared his fangs and charged toward the staircase.
The broad steps thundered beneath the movement of the giant Goblins. If he could just pass this area and reach the fourth floor...
The demi-human unleashed his Chienthrope speed to the limit.
Success.
Several giant Goblins stood like a wall. Solid as stone, but slow. By avoiding direct combat, the demi-human barely slipped through the encirclement.
Now, all he needed to do was sprint for the surface, and he'd be safe.
"...?"
The faint blue light of hope was swallowed whole by the Dungeon.
A sharp arrow bit into the demi-human's neck — from the rear side.
He instantly pinpointed the source of the arrow but didn't look back. Enduring the stabbing pain in his chest, he kept running, body swaying to throw off the aim.
A cold gleam flashed with a sharp whistle — the second arrow pierced his right foot.
The demi-human crashed down onto the stairs with a thud. The wooden crate slipped from his grasp, scattering its contents.
Glass shattered, and pale blue potions spilled down the steps.
The last thing the demi-human saw was a Goblin cloaked in darkness. It pulled back a longbow, sneering as it released the taut string with its powerful right hand.
The arrow pierced his heart with deadly precision — as if [Madness] itself had descended.
It was like a cruel answer to the demi-human's final prayer.
Blood mixed with the potion, greedily soaking up every last drop.
...
Wails echoed incessantly.
Airmid listened to the pitiful cries for help, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Thanks to the youth's quick wits, they had navigated several branching paths, barely gaining a moment's respite.
"I'm sorry, they…" Bell sensed Airmid's fear.
Hailed as the battlefield Dea Saint, one who spent her days healing the sick, she was bound to feel conflicted when faced with such horror.
Airmid stepped forward and placed a single finger against the boy's lips.
"Cranel-san, I said I would trust you unconditionally."
Even the dullest person could see it—the current situation had been triggered by the boy. He had used the Dungeon's malice to bring about this tragedy.
Some gods would surely condemn the boy's actions. But Airmid did not share that view.
Even if these people met a miserable end, she would feel no remorse. Since addictive potions first appeared in Orario, Airmid had witnessed too many tragic outcomes.
Even when she managed to cure patients, they lost something vital—something that made them human. Again and again, they fell into the abyss.
To her, those who sold such potions were far more detestable than the monsters of the Dungeon. Even without this kidnapping, the compassionate Dea Saint would never have pitied this group.
"I agree with your decision. Stay behind me. I'll eliminate as many monsters as I can and hold out until help arrives."
Airmid spoke with calm conviction, her words filled with trust and resolve.
Even Bell likely hadn't realized how pure and terrifying the Dungeon's malice could be. The monsters ravaging the fifth floor had long surpassed anything resembling Goblins.
There was no way out for them.
The youth gazed at her beautiful, fragile face and said nothing in reply. A healer and an Adventurer—how to face a monster's assault needed no explanation.
Bell had already made up his mind. When the Goblins attacked, he would step forward, and Airmid would naturally follow his lead.
He took a deep breath, waiting quietly for the final battle to begin.
The footsteps drew nearer. The Dea Saint, as if seeking courage, still hadn't released his left hand.