Ace decided in a single heartbeat.
“Split up!”
The other six scattered in different directions at once, leaving the center entirely to Mary.
Mary held her position like the party’s anchor. She raised her hands slowly, and holy power unfurled from beneath her feet—spreading into a wide domain.
Holy Sanctuarium.
A curtain of sacred light sealed the area around her in an instant. Undead monsters that rushed in and collided with the boundary looked as if they’d slammed into an invisible wall—repelled so completely they couldn’t get even an inch closer to her. Worse, the barrier struck back, dealing damage the moment they made contact.
Only non-undead creatures—Sand Golems, Deathsting Scorpions, Sand Serpents—could force their way across the line.
But the instant they crossed into the sanctified zone, their strength dropped off a cliff. Bodies that should have been crushingly heavy suddenly weakened, reduced to something barely more threatening than termites—because inside Holy Sanctuarium, it wasn’t just defense.
Within the veil, a massive cross of light erupted in midair.
Grand Cross—slamming down on anything that slipped through.
Then a wall of radiance layered over it—
Holy Light Wall—surging forward to block and crush the path, dense and relentless.
Explosions of sacred light thundered in rhythm. Any monster that tried to push through was destroyed—or blasted back—almost instantly.
Mary didn’t take a single step back.
She became a holy fortress—purging everything within her domain with flawless, absolute control.
On the far side of the massive hall, the thunderous impact of a hammer rang out in steady intervals.
Valda swung again and again, smashing into monsters without pause. Every blow was heavy and precise. The moment a body shattered, loot scattered across the sand like fruit dropping from a tree.
In the same rhythm, she flipped open her Itembox—a bag with absurd capacity, as if it had no limit at all—and began collecting the “harvest” without wasting a second.
Weapon materials. Armor components. Potions that dropped from high-tier monsters.
Everything was swept into the bag quickly, efficiently, and methodically—not a single piece left behind—
while her hammer continued to erase anything in her path, never once breaking its tempo.
Romeo didn’t charge in headfirst like the others.
He chose the kind of move that kept the team alive longer.
His gaze shifted to Lily—who was in motion within the orbit of her seven elemental magics. Colors spun around her like a rainbow circling a tiny planet, every rotation carrying pressure so dense it made the sand beneath them tremble.
Almost in the same instant, a cluster of monsters lunged for Lily.
Some were fast. Some were crushingly heavy. Some slid across the sand-streaked stone like shadows skimming the ground.
Romeo stepped forward—and a flash of light slipped through his body.
Sentinel’s Flash.
The crusader tank vanished from where he’d been—
and reappeared somewhere else in a heartbeat, as if the battlefield held multiple Romeos at once.
He moved into Lily’s position.
Monsters that tried to seize the opening slammed into him—and Romeo received them with absolute stillness.
The instant the attacks connected, a shimmering light burst from his armor like shards of glass.
Reflection.
The force rebounded at a perfect one hundred percent.
Cracks and ruptures sounded across several points at once. The monsters that had charged in were thrown back and torn apart by the strength of their own blows—wounds splitting open as if their strikes had been fired back into the center of their chests.
Romeo didn’t need to do anything else.
He only had to stand there—
and every attack meant to pierce the team became a fatal mistake, paid for with life.
On another flank, Sight chose the position that gave him the most control.
He didn’t stray too far from Mary—just far enough to open up clean firing lanes, while still staying close enough that they could back each other up instantly. The faint shift of his bow sounded in the air, and the half-hungover look in his eyes vanished—replaced by the stillness of a hunter staring at a field packed with prey.
“Good”
he muttered.
“The more of you there are… the less time I waste choosing.”
His right hand drew the bow.
His left released in a blur—almost like a machine.
Machine Gun Arrow.
Enchanted arrows poured out in a stream, so fast it was impossible to count.
Fff—fff—fff! The sounds overlapped until they became a single continuous noise.
The front line of monsters jerked as shafts pinned them mid-charge. The next row staggered as explosive impacts tore through their momentum. The ranks behind them were swept down like they’d been caught in a rainstorm of bullets.
And the terrifying part wasn’t just the speed—
it was that he swapped arrowheads as naturally as breathing.
Explosive tips—BOOM! to blast open gaps.
Silver—bane to undead, slicing what needed to be cut.
Fire—burning everything into chaos.
Ice—locking movement down—perfect against monsters in a pyramid.
Cable lines—snapping out to bind legs and torsos, or stretched into barriers—restricting motion until targets became helpless.
Sight kept switching between physical arrowheads and spell-infused shots with surgical accuracy, like he was pulling tools from a box without even looking. His hands never stuttered. His rhythm never broke.
Then he lifted his free hand, and his razor-sharp gaze flicked up toward the hall’s towering ceiling.
Eagle Eyes Vision.
A shadow unfurled its wings out of thin air.
A hawk shot upward above the battlefield, circling fast and silent—then looking down from an angle no human could ever claim.
In a fraction of a second, Sight absorbed everything into his mind: every enemy position, every movement route, every gap between groups, every line that was about to surge toward the party’s front.
He exhaled slowly, adjusted his aim like he was rearranging a map with arrows—
and now, in his sight…
there was not even a trace of the words I can’t see left behind.
On another side of the battlefield, Lily shifted her footing by only the slightest amount—
and the pressure around her changed instantly.
The seven magic stones orbiting her began to slow, as if waiting for a command from their owner. The wind in the vast hall stilled for a heartbeat, and then her incantation flowed out—crisp, deliberate, and heavy, as though each word carried weight of its own.
“Let earth bear witness to the unyielding mass of mountains that never bow, steadfast until the end of all ages
Let waters run driving the gears of life, granting abundance that shall never dry.
Let winds pass carrying the currents of change, in the exquisite vortex of uncertainty.
Let fire blaze burning away the dark to begin anew, in crimson flame that births all things.
Let lightning judge the heavenly blade that strikes, punishing those who dare defy the gods.
Let radiance shine guiding lost souls with hope both sacred and pure.
Let delusion devour in an endless abyss where all things must return to nothingness.”
“I invoke the seven great elements origin, existence, and end of the universe itself.
Embrace these scattered fragments of dust that have fallen from the cycle of rebirth the remnants that cannot be released, the remnants without self, the remnants with no place to dwell within this samsara!
Accept this offering of chaos, and awaken the power that sleeps within my body I who am both master and servant of all great elements, here and now!”
She held her breath for a single beat—
then declared the spell name with a calm stillness that nevertheless crushed the entire hall.
“Avatar of the Hepta Great Elements.”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
In an instant, the seven stones around her erupted into aura—each glowing in a different shade, their overlapping light forming layers of color so dimensional it stung to look at head-on.
Lily’s eyes shifted into twin rainbows. Even her hair, fluttering in the air, faded into the same spectrum, as if dyed by heaven’s own light. And the golden aura coating her body from Mary’s blessing—
was swallowed and overwritten by something new.
Lily’s aura became pure rainbow radiance—brilliant, blazing—too overwhelming to be called ordinary magic anymore. It felt as if something exalted had descended, fully incarnating within this pyramid.
When the summoning of the seven great elements completed, the battlefield around Lily was no longer the same.
She no longer needed long chants.
No more sacred phrasing.
No more repeated spell names.
Now she only had to lift her staff—and the world moved with it.
Every swing, every flick of the staff’s tip, was a command sent straight to the elements themselves.
The ground beneath their feet shifted, as if something had awakened under the sand.
Some areas turned to ice in a heartbeat, freezing monsters solid where they stood.
Razor-edged storm winds swept through like hundreds of blades, shredding bodies that rushed in.
A wall of fire erupted in a ring around her, denying any close approach with absolute finality.
Lightning struck without hesitation—fast and brutal, like execution.
A beam of holy light flashed, cleansing whatever stood in its path into nothing.
And sometimes…
the air collapsed into a small black hole, swallowing nearby monsters until only emptiness remained.
Everything happened in a relentless chain—rapid, precise, terrifyingly accurate.
Because Lily wasn’t casting anymore.
She was simply thinking.
Her thoughts became both offense and defense at the same time—as if the seven great elements were responding directly to her will, with no delay, no gaps for an enemy to exploit.
Amid a battlefield filled with roars and swirling sand, only Lily stood in the center of chaos, utterly composed—
and everything that came close had its fate decided the moment she thought of it.
On Ace’s side, there were no tricks. No ceremony. And no need for any.
He chose the real thing from the start—pure physical force.
The only skill he had active was Lion Heart—a unique skill possessed by him alone in the entire world. And even if that was all he had…
it was more than enough. No argument required.
His base stats were already beyond what ordinary people could even dream of reaching. Add Mary’s all-stat buff, lifting every parameter another step higher—then stack Lion Heart on top, doubling it all again.
At this point, even if you lined up the entire kingdom’s army around him…
it still probably wouldn’t be enough.
Ace gripped a plain bastard sword tightly.
A weapon that should’ve been nothing more than an ordinary chunk of steel in any other person’s hands—
but in his, it became the eye of a storm.
One swing, and the air itself shuddered.
Another swing, and the sand-streaked stone floor split open in a long line.
The power packed into his arms was so brutal the blade could barely endure it. Chips formed again and again along the edge, like the sword was screaming a warning:
This is not power an ordinary weapon is meant to hold.
Sometimes Ace’s strike didn’t even need to connect with an enemy directly—
because the shockwave that followed did the work for the blade, just as viciously.
It was as if an enormous invisible sword swept through the space.
Some monsters were flung away by the force of the swing, hurled off the battlefield like they’d been flicked aside. Some shattered instantly—bodies exploding into fragments before they could even cry out. Others were lifted into the air—
and the moment they rose, Sight—controlling range from farther out—raised his bow without waiting for an order. A single arrow snapped out to finish the job from a distance, flawless and exact. Whatever struggle remained fell back down as meaningless pieces.
The combat of the party’s six fighters across the battlefield looked like a group born to be heroes—everything fast, violent, elegant, and utterly controlled.
And yet…
what was happening here still couldn’t compare to the far side—
the very edge of the pyramid, beyond the limits of sight—
where something was unfolding in silence.
Something that made the atmosphere there… feel completely different.
A black aura laced with gold shot across the edge of the battlefield like a storm wind—so fast that ordinary eyes couldn’t even register what it was. All they could see was a streak slicing through space… and with each pass, the perimeter tightened, little by little, as if someone were cutting the borders of the world smaller.
It didn’t simply pass through.
It left something behind.
Monster remains carpeted the ground in its wake—countless bodies torn apart into scattered pieces. Some were severed cleanly. Some were shredded into tiny fragments, as if an unseen force had sliced them again and again.
And it all happened so fast the monsters never even realized what was happening to them.
At the center of that silent motion—
was the dark silhouette of a boy.
He held only a short blade, carving through everything in front of him with such precision it felt like he already knew every enemy’s death point. Each movement was short, straight, and absolute—no flourish, no hesitation, no mercy.
And the strangest part was this:
there was almost no sound.
No ring of steel.
No death roars.
No screams.
Only motion—
motion that made the area feel as if a kamaitachi were loose there, an invisible sickle-wind slicing through everything in its path.
The one making it happen… was none other than—
Earp.
The assassin of House Ripper. Another member of the party.
He was clearing the edge—silently tightening the circle inward. “Herding” wasn’t quite the right word, because this wasn’t pushing anything back.
It was cutting them down, one by one.
And when that image cut against the center of the battlefield—
the party’s elegant, heroic formation—fighting like a perfectly arranged unit—was erased for a moment.
Replaced by something else entirely:
soundless brutality.
No proclamations.
No fanfare.
Not even a single second of space in which survival could exist.
In a situation like this, if it were any other adventuring party, there wouldn’t even be anything to think about. There was only one outcome:
disaster.
A massive army of high-tier monsters on Floor 98—
even if you survived the first minute, you’d never survive the next.
But with this party…
everything ended in only a few minutes.
The monster remains strewn across the sand began to be slowly absorbed back into the dungeon, as if the floor were cleaning itself. The sandy ground—once carved with wreckage and battle scars—gradually smoothed over again.
So clean it was as if no monster had ever lived here at all.
Even the frightening speed at which the dungeon could generate monsters—something Earp had warned about earlier—now seemed meaningless, because it looked like the dungeon simply couldn’t create them fast enough anymore.
With no enemies left to face, everyone started to lower the tension in their bodies and release their skills, one by one.
The light, the aura, the crushing pressure that had blanketed the area faded away, leaving only the silence that always followed a heavy fight.
There was only one person who didn’t look like she felt the job was done.
Valda.
She was having the time of her life, seriously choosing and collecting the scattered loot—picking up one piece, placing another, arranging everything with the same level of focus she used when forging a weapon.
Meanwhile, Ace sheathed his sword almost immediately.
The edge of his plain bastard sword was chipped so badly it made your stomach drop—like it could break at any moment. He tried to act casual, but his hands moved fast.
Fast like someone who had already been punished once… and had absolutely no desire to be punished again on the same day.
Romeo looked around the now-empty floor and let out a quiet sigh.
“So… how much longer do we have to wait?”
Earp answered instantly, as if there was a clock ticking inside his head.
“Not long, I think. Probably no more than twenty minutes.”
Mary, resting nearby, lifted her head. The wariness still hadn’t fully left her face.
“And what about Floor 99… is there anything else up there?”
“There isn’t,”
Earp replied plainly.
“Floor 99 is a small hall. There are no monsters.”
That answer loosened the mood another notch.
So everyone sat down and rested—both to wait for this floor’s condition to trigger, and to let their bodies breathe after the clash they’d just survived.
As for Sight…
he pulled out his liquor and took a drink again, as usual—
as if what had just happened was nothing more than a warm-up.
Time passed exactly as Earp had predicted.
With a grinding krrr… krrr…, the mechanism rumbled. The wall of Floor 98 shifted slowly, revealing a passage leading downward—like the dungeon was finally willing to open its door to those who had officially passed the trial.
Everyone stood and followed one another down the stone stairs, one by one.
And at the end of it, it was exactly as Earp had said.
A small hall—silent, empty, stripped bare. No pillars. No altars. No grand carvings like the floors above.
There was only one thing that stood out so aggressively it felt deliberate—
a single enormous coffin, looming in the center of the room.
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not opening that!”
Mary declared it immediately—clear, final, leaving no room for negotiation.
No one argued.
Because the ones already walking toward the coffin were Sight and Ace.
The two stood on either side and lifted the lid together. Inside lay a corpse wrapped neatly in cloth—layer upon layer, tight and formal, like the burial rite of someone important.
It was completely still.
…At least for that moment.
Because not long after, the body that should have been lifeless began to move—slowly.
Sight and Ace both jumped back almost in perfect instinct.
“WAAAAAHHH!”
Mary didn’t need anyone to confirm anything. She screamed at full volume, loud enough to shake the room.
The figure rose like something waking from a sleep far longer than any human life. It stepped down from the coffin with weighty steadiness, then sat on the coffin’s platform—
as if it were a throne.
Then a voice boomed, reverberating through the hall.
“Who are you… and where is this place?”
Ace answered immediately, voice firm, not giving an inch.
“We’re adventurers. And who are you?”
The figure paused, as if turning the word adventurers over in its mind.
“Adventurers… do such people still exist in this age?”
“They exist in every age,”
Sight shot back without missing a beat.
“So who are you?”
He hadn’t even finished the question when the figure roared at them.
“You ill-mannered wretches! How dare you stand before me and not kneel!”
Sight didn’t even flinch. He looked like he was about to take a sip of liquor.
“Hey, hey, hey. Relax, old man.”
His voice stayed flat.
“Why don’t you start by telling us who you are instead of yelling? Keep this up and it’s not gonna end pretty.”
“Hmph… not end pretty?”
The figure chuckled deep in its throat.
“Who, exactly…”
Before the sentence could finish, the mummy lunged straight at Sight—moving far faster than its earlier sluggishness had suggested.
But what happened next ended even faster than its intent.
A black blur cut in first.
Earp.
His short blade moved only once.
The mummy froze midair—then dropped and slammed into the floor with a dull THUD, as if it had been commanded to stop without a single spoken word.
Sight looked down at the body on the ground and sighed like a man who didn’t want his time wasted.
“How about we start over.”
He said it calmly.
“Alright. Who are you?”
The figure moved again—slowly—then answered in the same voice that still echoed through the hall.
“I am Khnum… a king of Vanir of divine blood.”