Chapter 122: The Human Body, Isn't It Fascinating?

While Roland wouldn't have been entirely opposed to staging a scene where he called the Dungeon "Father" if the price were right, the Dungeon really could have been more generous. Such a stingy offering was embarrassing enough to serve as a payment, let alone as an incentive for Roland to risk his life. What was the status of the Dungeon, and what was Roland’s own standing?

Compared to the "Mother of Black Qi," who had shared her primordial magic power from the very beginning and even generously bestowed the essence of human evil upon him without demanding a single task in return, this was true, unconditional love. By comparison, the Dungeon was far too petty.

After Roland explicitly refused, the Dungeon did not fly into a rage—unlike when it dealt with gods, it did not immediately spawn a powerful monster to attack him. After all, Roland did not possess the divine power that the Dungeon so deeply loathed. However, it still expressed its dissatisfaction with Roland’s casual destruction of its internal structure; the restriction preventing new monsters from spawning was lifted.

The residual fire patterns embedded in the Dungeon walls lit up, and an abnormally high number of monsters began to claw their way out of the stone.

"You really are a petty thing... Knowing these won't work on me, you still intend to be a nuisance?"

Roland sighed and reached out to take Aiz's hand. "Let's get this over with quickly."

***

A two-person party reached the twelfth floor with a speed far exceeding that of other adventurers. Although their numbers were significantly smaller than other groups, the identities of these two were renowned throughout Orario.

"The thirteenth floor is just ahead. Since we are the first ones through today, the number of monsters we encounter will be higher than usual. Be careful—after all, we aren't wearing fire-drake coats."

The tall, green-haired elf lady looked at the beautiful young girl with shimmering golden hair and a fragile appearance who was charging ahead alone. Despite her beauty, the girl gave off an icy, distant air, and the elf gave her a helpless look of caution.

"Riveria, you're noisy."

Facing the woman known as the "Nine Hell," the strongest mage in Orario, the golden-haired girl named Aiz didn't even turn her head, uttering only a brief complaint. Yet, only those familiar with Aiz knew that this kind of retort was proof of her closeness to the elf.

"Honestly, you child, you are always so careless. Charging forward blindly like this will eventually lead to a lesson." Riveria looked at Aiz with a weary expression. "It’s because of this attitude that Loki is so worried about you diving into the Dungeon alone."

"I know the twelfth floor poses no threat to you, but magic starts to appear here. If some anomaly occurs and you get hit, it will inevitably lead to trouble. You can recover from such things on these middle floors, but when the expedition comes, will you still be able to manage?"

"I know..."

Hearing this, Aiz lowered her head and replied softly, though her expression remained somewhat wistful.

"Is that boy really so outstanding? While it is normal for a hero chosen by a spirit to be strong, I am quite curious that he was able to defeat you upon your first meeting."

Riveria, of course, understood the reason for Aiz’s state. That frivolous deity had been complaining for ages yesterday, which was why she had brought Aiz down to the Dungeon today to clear her head.

"He... is very strong. Strong, just like a hero."

Not adept with words, Aiz recalled the figure from yesterday, her eyes glazing over slightly.

"Like a hero, huh..."

Riveria repeated the word, clearly moved. As a princess of the Elven race, her knowledge of secrets and history rivaled that of many gods. Having faintly guessed the truth of Aiz’s origins, she understood the weight of that word all too well.

"If possible, I would like to meet him."

As they spoke, the two stepped into the thirteenth floor. Before they could prepare to face the monsters lurking in the grotto, a series of terrifying roars echoed along the walls.

"BOOM—!!!"

It was as if something had exploded; powerful tremors surged from the depths of the cavern.

"Someone is fighting..."

Aiz drew her blade, looking toward the direction of the sound.

"The thirteenth floor shouldn't have such disturbances. Let's go take a look; it might be related to our mission."

Riveria frowned, and they moved toward the source of the noise. As they drew closer, they noticed the anomaly: not only had they not encountered a single monster on this short path, but the terrifying roar showed no sign of stopping.

When they finally reached the next open grotto, even Aiz, who was leading the way, stopped in her tracks, staring at the scene in astonishment.

In this trembling cavern, the source of the chaos was a legion of Hellhounds.

"What on earth happened to the Dungeon?" Riveria’s expression turned solemn.

As the signature monster of this floor, Hellhounds were distinguished from those on upper levels by their ability to cast fire magic. Many adventurers had lost their lives here due to a lack of preparation. But in Riveria’s memory, these monsters did not look like this.

They were the size of calves, their twisted, ferocious faces illuminated by flickering scarlet eyes, their sharp claws dug deep into the ground. They moved on all fours, and without needing to charge up, they sprinted with the agility of cheetahs. More Hellhounds stood on the perimeter of the formation, jaws agape, condensing searing flames into torrents of fire.

With a count of over a hundred, coupled with this abnormal behavior, it would be a bitter struggle even for these two high-level adventurers of the Loki Familia—a fight where a single mistake could lead to a serious injury.

But at this moment, Riveria didn't even have the leisure to complain about not bringing her spirit-forged armor. She simply stared, dumbfounded, at the retreating monster army and the young man standing there with a holy sword, laughing wildly.

"Useless, useless, useless, useless, useless!"

The black-haired, red-eyed youth moved with elegant, nimble steps, reaping lives in the midst of the Hellhound legion with a stroll-like composure. There wasn't a single wasted movement; as if every step had been calculated, he navigated the narrow angles between the lunging Hellhounds, provoking them into bouts of ferocious, violent roaring.

Massive Hellhounds lunged at Roland one after another, but whenever he reached a point where he couldn't dodge, the silver holy sword would flash, cleaving the monsters in two. For a moment, Riveria could only see a flicker of sword light dancing among the hounds, each flash accompanied by a howl and a severed corpse.

This combat style made Riveria look at Aiz.

"A dance... it's just like a dance."

Aiz, seemingly unaware of Riveria's gaze, watched Roland’s movements, entranced. Every swing of the blade reaped a life; every movement seemed more exquisite than the last. Aiz finally understood what Roland had meant that day: compared to the current Roland, her own fighting style was the clumsy imitation.

The magnificent realm before her, where power and technique were perfectly combined, was the truth behind the swordplay she had seen in her childhood.

A dangerous and mesmerizing sword dance.

She watched every move Roland made, hungry to learn something from it. Her clear eyes widened slightly, rippling with a strange emotion.

"Roland..."

"So that's it. He is that hero..." Riveria’s expression shifted to one of admiration. "In the Loki Familia, I fear no one could be stronger than him. Even the 'Ottar' of the Freya Familia would find it impossible to fight with such effortless grace."

Before Riveria could finish, the situation on the field changed again.

After Roland slaughtered the hundreds of melee Hellhounds in less than ten seconds, the remaining ones did not continue to swarm him. Instead, a cluster of brilliant fire illuminated the entire cavern. Countless fireballs converged in front of Roland, bursting with blinding light.

"DONG—!!!"

Roland merely looked at the searing flames with an indifferent gaze. He gently raised his holy sword, slowly channeling his magic power. He unleashed a magnificent sweep of light, a crescent-shaped arc that surged straight toward the Hellhounds that had released the fireballs.

The next moment, the roaring gale transformed into a tangible shockwave, blowing everything in the vicinity away. Amidst the dazzling sword light, the flames were sliced in two, the fierce heat scattering across the space as if trying to vent its pent-up energy.

"Oh no—!"

The sudden, violent force caused Riveria’s expression to change. She instinctively raised her staff, ready to chant a defensive spell, but her face was soon replaced by astonishment.

"Why... didn't it explode?"

The scattered flames were as if forcefully interrupted; after burning in frustration, they simply extinguished. The Hellhounds' magic had fully formed and been released, so such a result could only mean one thing.

"Did that sword... dispel the magic?"

Riveria’s smile became strained. A holy sword capable of cutting through magic was the exact nemesis of mages like them, an opponent they could not counter. She once held the glorious record of wiping out an entire city with magic, but before this hero holding the holy sword, she was nothing more than a powerless mortal.

"Dispelled the magic..."

Aiz stared blankly at the magnificent arc of light. After cutting through the fireballs, it hadn't stopped; in one breath, it had engulfed all the remaining Hellhounds. Even the strength to roar had vanished from them; they fell one by one, leaving behind a floor covered in magic stones and dust.

In the blink of an eye, the massive monster army had been reduced to nothing. Only the figure standing in the center of the grotto remained, rendered by the light of the holy sword, exuding a sense of sanctity and calm.

Looking at his masterpiece, Roland showed a satisfied smile.

"The possibilities of sword techniques have been explored enough. At this rate, this power will truly belong to me very soon."

While fighting the Hellhounds, Roland could clearly feel his potential evolving under the instincts of his body. From adaptation to a gradual leap, his powerful physique became increasingly proficient in receiving and processing surrounding information, allowing him to gradually learn how to utilize his strength in combat.

Until the charms, the doppelgangers, and the magic energy could be maintained effortlessly, even in his normal state.

He only needed to strive, and his body and consciousness would spontaneously understand and manipulate the power. The sword light he had just unleashed was identical in magical volume to the one he had used to intimidate Aiz the other day, yet this time it had slaughtered hundreds of Hellhounds in a single blow—the efficiency had increased more than several times over.

Thinking of this, Roland slowly looked up at the stunned Riveria and the earnest-looking Aiz.

"Hello there, Aiz, and Miss Riveria. We meet again."

"Should I consider it an honor to be remembered by the legendary Hero of the Sword?"

When Roland’s gaze fell upon her, Riveria instinctively felt a tremor of dread. This was not a lack of willpower, but a primal instinct—as if she, a princess of the Elven race, were nothing more than a tasty morsel of bread before Roland. Facing an existence that could take her life at any moment, the instinct for survival urged her to distance herself, but Riveria suppressed the unease in her heart and answered with the poise of a veteran.

"Roland, you are so strong," Aiz said, staring intently at Roland. "Why are you so strong?"

"Aiz!" Riveria chided her sternly. In Orario, everyone’s skills and magic were secrets. If one pried into the affairs of others, there would be no recourse even if they were killed. While Aiz was indeed naive, such behavior might be acceptable with comrades, but it was far too rude toward others.

Being complimented by a girl who had been technically superior to him just yesterday made Roland feel rather strange.

"It's fine. There's nothing to hide anyway. Though it sounds like boasting, this body was born with this power; I just happen to learn a little faster than others."

There was nothing really to brag about in this regard. While his crushing victory over two people yesterday was dazzling, to put it bluntly, it was the same as pitting his strength against a centenarian or his techniques against a primitive man. He felt it was almost cowardly himself.

"Born this way... A natural-born hero," Aiz murmured, just as she was about to say something else, her eyes shifted.

"Look out!"

Unbeknownst to them, a new Hellhound had spawned from the shadowy wall and, without hesitation, spat a searing fireball at Roland!

Although it was merely ordinary magic, an average low-level adventurer would be blown to pieces by such a hit, and even a frontline powerhouse like Aiz would not fare well if caught off guard.

But Roland didn't even turn his head. Before their shocked eyes, he simply extended his empty hand toward the fireball, allowing the violent heat wave to explode and dissipate within his palm.

"Such a feeble flame."

Roland glanced at the Hellhound with disdain, casually swung his sword to finish it off, and shook the hand that had caught the fireball. After the smoke cleared, his hand remained fair, without a single scar, not even a sign of redness.

After doing all this, as if he realized how earth-shattering his actions were, he gave a sheepish smile to the dumbfounded Riveria.

"Anyway, that's how it is. The human body... isn't it marvelous?"