For a moment, truly only a second or two, the Smith stood there, gazing down on the body of the boss monsters, catching his breath and feeling the limits of his mana.

And then he remembered his mother's wisdom.

Don't ever let up!

Don't stop until you're sure they're dead!

Don't fall for possum tactics!

Feeling sore and tired, his mana nearly exhausted, James raised his hammer again for another swing, partly to satisfy his mother, and partly for petty revenge on the monster that had slammed him into the ground over and over.

[Hammer Strike]

A simple strike aiming for the neck.

And then James saw it. Mid-swing, the body started moving.

Hastily, he shoved mana into the enchantment right before his strike connected with the monster's neck, as it started rapidly regrowing the large cat monster's head.

BOOM

A new crater formed, and the monster's regeneration ceased, but only for a moment. As fast as he could, he raised his hammer again, and the monster started regenerating, even faster.

James very nearly panicked. But he didn't even have time for that. There was nothing in his world but striking down with his hammer in that long moment.

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM…

The cycle repeated, at a stalemate, until a wave of dizziness nearly knocked James out of his rhythm.

He was very close to running out of mana entirely.

He had a choice to make: continue empowering his warhammer with [Heavy Blow], or continue empowering his [Blind] helmet.

With no time to think, he cut the magic power to his hammer, relying solely on his technique and the hammer's inherent weight.

And still, the room was growing brighter and brighter through his helmet.

Bam

Bam

Bam

Bam…

His strikes lost the deep sound of their impact, and craters no longer formed in the floor. James was relying entirely on his own Strength to drive the heavy hammer down and on his own skill and Dexterity to hit precisely where the spine was reforming, as that seemed to be the leading edge of the regeneration.

The long moment stretched on and James became intimately familiar with the anatomical structure of the cat monster's neck bones.

Bam

Bam

Bam…

...Bam…

Bam…

The Smith's arm grew heavy, but he forced it into motion. His strikes slowed, and the regeneration of the cat monster's spine overtook him, reaching to the cat monster's skull, where it slowed down somewhat, trying to regenerate more bone all at once even as flesh and fur quickly filled out around the monster's neck.

The light grew brighter. He could barely see now. His world was nothing but light and his target, faintly visible, just enough to aim at with his hammer.

The Smith persisted.

James broke one of his cardinal rules for the Dungeon, an oath he made on the second floor after surviving a critical mistake.

He shouted.

"Aaaaauuuuuugggggghhhhhhh!"

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He roared, forcing more strength into his arm, more rapidity into his blows, more magical power into his helmet.

The monster's head became slightly more visible in the light. James forced his eyes open despite the strain, squinting through the holes in his helmet's visor.

He held nothing back in this moment.

His life was truly on the line.

There was no retreat.

There was no escape.

Everything that comprised his life up to this point was focused on this moment in time: no take-backs, no hypotheticals, no regrets, no hopes or dreams. This moment was the sum total of his entire life so far.

And any future he had existed through this moment. Not around it, not waiting for it to pass. If he wanted a future, any future at all, he had to seize it with his own hands right now.

He shouted, but the sound didn't reach his ears.

He struck, but the feeling of the impact didn't reach hands.

His entire world consisted of nothing but the base of the monster's skull on the ground in front of him, and his hammer.

Two things happened nearly simultaneously.

First, James was totally blinded. Everything was white light, and he closed his eyes and still everything was light.

He was completely out of mana.

And yet he forced himself to stay conscious.

Second, among several other intrusive thoughts he hadn't registered, there were two new ones.

He brought his arm up anyway, relying on muscle memory to strike again, continue striking until he was dead, and as his arm came down the intrusive thoughts finally made their way to the forefront of his consciousness.

Bam…

His hammer sank just barely into the hard packed ground.

And he stopped.

[Enchanter] Class has reached level 11.

[Smith] Class has reached level 11.

He had leveled up.

That only happened in two ways: the first was crafting good items, which was what his classes wanted him to do. The second was by killing monsters.

It was how he had known the very first monster he fought was dead.

And he hadn't leveled up when he first thought he killed this boss.

But now he had.

And he had no more energy left.

James fell to the side with a clatter. He had not a drop of mana left in him. He couldn't see. He couldn't move, weak and weighed down by heavy armor as he was.

All he could do was process the intrusive thoughts.

Smith Class Skill [Stubbornness] has reached level 6.

Smith Class Skill [Stubbornness] has reached level 7.

Enchanter Class Skill [Persistence] has reached level 5.

Enchanter Class Skill [Persistence] has reached level 6.

Enchanter Class Skill [Persistence] has reached level 7.

He wished idly that he knew what those skills even did.

He didn't like being called stubborn. At least 'persistent' sounded almost like a compliment.

With such idle thoughts, he passed out completely, without even the time or energy to hope he wasn't about to die to the regenerating monster.

Some time later, James awoke.

Alive.

Still alive.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and circulated magic power into his helmet, [Blinding] himself so that he could see.

Opening his eyes, he saw the flat ground before him, clear of anything all the way to the shining white wall some dozen or so yards away. He rolled over, got to his hands and knees, and carefully stood up, and looked all around.

The room was empty. The iron door at one end remained closed, but James was sure that it would open with a push. There were no monsters he could see on the walls or ceiling, but then recalling the invisible lizard monsters, he decided to stay on guard anyway.

The boss monster was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, near a series of craters that had formed while he pounded away at the regenerating cat monster's head, there was a single large claw, as long as his forearm, glowing with golden light.

[Appraisal]: Holy Tiger's Claw, Holy Essence

James swept it into his magic bag out of habit before pausing, and then breaking out into a cold sweat.

Wait a minute, Holy? Like a Holy Beast? The Church wasn't going to get mad about this, were they?

He decided not to bring it up unless asked. Let sleeping Holy Tigers lie.

Also, it was self-defense anyway, so, uh…

Yeah, better to just keep it to himself.

He never saw any Holy Beasts, no sir…

That said, there was no magic stone, either. The kitten monster…

He pulled out the claw and the kitten monster's magic stone and compared them.

[Appraisal]: Holy Tiger's Claw, Holy Essence

[Appraisal]: Holy Magic Stone

Ah, they shared the exact same golden glow. The kitten monster must have been a Holy Tiger Cub…

Oh yeah, never telling anyone about this, ever.

So the Smith swore.

At the end of the boss monster room opposite the iron door was the usual tunnel leading to a staircase to a lower floor, and a treasure chest.

It survived his usual shovel poke, and appeared to the Smith's untrained eye to be free of traps, so he knelt down and opened it.

Inside was a rolled up piece of parchment, bound with a ribbon and wax seal. Imprinted in the wax was some kind of symbol, signifying what James did not know.

He picked it up, and turned it over in his hands, examining it from every angle. Then, shrugging, he put it in his magic bag.

Not every treasure in a Dungeon is something useful for every Adventurer. If he survived, he could probably sell it somewhere.

No, what would have been really useful was some food. Flour, meat, oats…

His stomach growled but he ignored it, and stood up.

The fifth floor of the Dungeon was cleared, and the tunnel down to the next floor beckoned.

He stepped into the passageway…

And was immediately plunged into total darkness. His foot found empty air instead of ground, and he fell forward, onto the staircase, rolling downwards in pitch blackness.

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