With a bag over his back, William stepped into the cave and was met by several stairs that led him below the surface level.
'Talk about a gloomy start.'
The moment he stepped inside, he expanded his senses, not missing a single detail as he continued to step down the stairs in silence.
He couldn't hear a thing, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be targeted—
*CRACK*
William flinched as he felt he had stepped onto something and broken it.
A second passed before his foot was suddenly engulfed in something gooey and hot, coating his whole foot and slithering its way upward.
Since it was far too dark, he couldn't see what exactly it was, but whatever it was, it meant harm.
Focusing on the being, he used telekinesis to try and remove it—however, the more he tried, the stronger its grip grew.
William growled, "This is annoying," as he crouched and finally touched the sludge that was coiling around his leg.
Pulling a stick from his bag, he folded it from the middle—instantly, light illuminated the dark stairs, revealing the green, slimy object wrapping around his leg, trying to break his muscles and bones.
William narrowed his eyes calmly and ascertained, "Maltoven Slime. Stimulation-driven and resistant to flames."
Without much delay, he took off the string from his bag and tied it tightly around his thigh, applying enough strength to slow down the blood flow.
As he did that, the movement of the slime slowed too. For it, blood was the stimulation it was responding to, but now that his leg was numb—dead to it—the slime began to loosen its grip.
William stayed like that until the slime loosened and released his leg, before he finally used his telekinesis to lift the human-head-sized green slime to his eye level.
Releasing the string, he sat on the stairs to let his leg regain its blood flow as he told the slime, "I haven't even reached the first floor, and you're already being a pain in the ass."
Shaking his head, he clenched his fist, and the slime detonated, hitting the side wall and the stairs, but not remerging.
William didn't waste his time there and got up. There was a floor he needed to reach.
…
[In the Academy]
"Quick thinking, admirable composure, and useful knowledge. Those are quite rare traits to have," murmured one of the members of the Great Hall who came to assess William's performance during the trial.
But unlike them, the students were quite shocked to see that a monster strong enough to be on the First Floor tried to trap William even before he reached the floor.
Vitori silently watched the young man with his arms crossed, knowing very well that his daughter had her eyes on him.
…
*DHAK*
His foot landed; there was no stair beneath this one anymore.
William came to a pause, the light stick illuminating the surroundings as he observed the place.
The floor was solid and dry, but the red splatter around him said it hadn't always been dry. The smell of dried blood was thick in the air. He could already hear subtle rustles and restless thoughts around him.
He could feel several beings advancing toward him. However, the darkness was so dense that he could barely see anything beyond arm's length.
Thinking quickly, he broke the light sticks twice, and instantly, his breath caught in his throat.
"Woah…"
…
[In the Common Hall]
"Are they… Ironhides?" Gizel asked, her tone tinged with disbelief.
"A level… two monster? What the fuck?!" Natalie cursed, frustrated rather than shocked.
Emma just watched with her brows furrowed as she saw the heavy-weighted monsters making their way toward William.
Their bodies were formed of silvery-grey stone, uneven and jagged, as if carved by cruel hands rather than nature.
Thick, round heads sat atop squat frames with no clear necks, their stone skin grinding softly as they moved. They didn't walk—there were no steps, no rhythm—only a slow, heavy slide, as if the ground itself was dragging them forward.
Each movement carried crushing weight, the sound of stone scraping against stone echoing like a warning.
Ironhides were creatures built for pure destruction. Their massive arms could shatter bone with ease, and a single grip was enough to pulp a human skull.
There was no speed, no finesse—only inevitable force, closing in without haste, certain that nothing standing before them could escape being crushed.
They are generally found on the second floor. Usually, it's goblins or imps populating the first floor.
But clearly, someone had changed the setting to the point that it felt absurd.
For someone challenging the dungeon for the first time, even if it was the strongest student of the academy, it would surely overwhelm them.
"This is unfair, Father…" she mumbled under her breath as she directed her fiery gaze at the man standing at the front, his back facing her.
But Emma knew he could feel her gaze on him.
….
William could see more than twelve Ironhides closing in, their malicious intent filling the space like suffocating pressure.
He knew trying to lift them or blast them away would be a waste of energy. They were far too heavy to be thrown aside, and far too strong to be fought head-on. Every one of them was built like a moving fortress, their mass alone enough to turn brute force into a losing gamble.
The Drop of Oblivion was something he would rather not use. This dungeon was a closed space, and he remembered vividly what had happened back at the island—the destruction, the collapse, the uncontrollable aftermath. Using it here would be reckless. Foolish.
Connecting with their minds was completely pointless as well. He didn't need to probe deeper to understand them. Their thoughts were crude, loud, and painfully simple.
To crush him.
To trample him.
To grab him, squeeze him, and turn him into a formless blob against the stone floor.
There was no fear in them. No hesitation. Just certainty.
Running away wasn't an option either. If he didn't defeat them, the boss monster wouldn't appear. And without defeating the boss, he couldn't advance to the second floor. The dungeon was forcing his hand, herding him into confrontation with deliberate cruelty.
William exhaled slowly, grounding himself. His usual methods—control, precision, overwhelming force from a distance—were all being stripped away, one by one. Every familiar solution felt useless here.
So, he did the only thing left.
Try something new.
°°°°°°°°°
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