Viktor’s lip curled as four familiar figures entered the arena of sand.

  Cedric was in the front, leading the charge. His longsword flashed, decapitating a frogling on his right, while his shield slammed into another on his left, shattering its bones and sending it crashing into the others. Right behind him, Noi’ri blurred into the fray, his curved swords slicing through the minions’ hands and legs. Severed limbs flew through the air as the whirlwind of steel and fur swept past, splattering blood across the sandy ground. With the two warriors as the spearhead, the party carved a path through the swarm of froglings toward Blondie’s location.

  Sebekton roared, tail lashing. He would not let the newcomers steal his prize. The towering Crocodilian barreled forward, his massive axe hewing a downward arc toward Cedric’s head, aiming to end the fight in one single brutal strike.

  A frogling leaped into the blade’s path.

  It must be Lucian’s handiwork, Viktor thought. Obviously, the creature had no say in the matter. The Cabalist had simply used his power to force it to throw itself in harm’s way to block the Guardian’s attack.

  Sebekton snorted, redirecting his swing at the last second. The flat of his axe smacked the brainwashed creature sideways, and it was flung into the water with a splash.

  Noi’ri didn’t waste the opening.

  He sprang, curved sword screeching against the Guardian’s scaled forearm. Sebekton spun around, pulling his hand back, while his spiked tail lashed out in the same breath. The gnoll leaped clear, narrowly evading the retaliatory swipe.

  “Let’s dance, Crocodilian!” said Noi’ri, a savage delight evident on his face.

  He’s enjoying this, Viktor thought. Well, hardly surprising. Gnolls were frenzied warriors, after all, driven by an insatiable hunger for combat. No matter how Noi’ri tried to remain civilized, this was his true nature. Once he had tasted blood, the primal instincts would take over.

  Then again, it was not like Noi’ri was the only one who had the bloodlust here.

  “Try not to die too quickly, gnoll!” Sebekton laughed, predatory eyes boring into the challenger. Looking at him now, no one would have guessed this murderous, muscle-bound monster was actually a bookworm.

  Sebekton swung. Noi’ri dove as the massive axe, still wet with Manfred’s brain and Redhead’s guts, whistled through the air above his head. The Guardian followed with a fast kick, but the gnoll rolled cleanly away. The attacks didn’t stop, of course. They came in wide, punishing arcs meant to shatter bones and mangle flesh. Any one of them could end the fight instantly if it connected, but Noi’ri was never where he was supposed to be. He was a shadow, constantly moving. Whenever the deadly blade arrived, the gnoll was already gone, shifting just out of reach.

  Now that’s how you fight someone bigger than you, Viktor thought, nodding in approval. Unlike the gnoll, Sebekton’s previous opponent was an idiot, and she had paid the ultimate price for her folly.

  Still, while Noi’ri could keep up with the towering Crocodilian’s blows, winning the fight was a totally different matter. Maybe he was merely trying to stall so that his companions could rescue Blondie.

  Strange, wasn’t it? Risking his life to save someone who tried to kill him just the other day.

  Suddenly, the gnoll leaped, his curved sword aimed at Sebekton’s left eye.

  What’s he doing? Viktor was taken aback. That’s suicidal.

  There was no way he could reach Sebekton before the latter’s axe struck. And he was mid-air. No footing, no leverage, no room to dodge, nowhere to go. Just as Viktor expected, the Guardian’s hand moved, preparing to send his weapon upward to end his opponent once and for all.

  But then—

  Sebekton froze. And the gnoll’s blade found its mark, sinking into the socket at the top of his flat head.

  What?

  The Crocodilian howled in pain. He drove his fist into Noi’ri’s chest, sending Noi’ri hurtling backward, crashing hard onto the sand. The gnoll gagged, spitting blood, his ribs crackling as he scrambled to his feet.

  “Celeste, ask Sebekton what just happened,” Viktor told his Dungeon Core.

  [Understood, Master.]

  After a few seconds, the Core spoke again.

  [He said that he was not sure what was going on either. For a moment, he couldn’t move his body. When he regained control, he had already been struck.]

  “It must be Lucian’s doing then,” Viktor said.

  There was no other explanation. The boy mage must have attempted to take over Sebekton’s mind. However, unlike weaker foes like goblins or froglings, he couldn’t dominate the Guardian outright, but could only stun him briefly. While the spell by itself was not really dangerous, when coordinated with an assault launched by Noi’ri, it was deadly effective. Also, judging by the flawless timing, this was obviously not the first time the duo had pulled off this trick.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The situation was getting problematic. While the gnoll had been injured from the retaliation, there were still Cedric and Fiora. If they attacked Sebekton’s weak points while Lucian stunned him again, the outcome could be catastrophic.

  But it looked like the adventurers didn’t want to overstay their welcome either. Cedric had hauled Blondie over his shoulder, while Lucian helped Noi’ri when the gnoll staggered back to the group. Fiora grabbed the severed hand on the sand, before lobbing a smoke bomb to shroud their retreat in a thick, choking cloud.

  [Should we pursue them, Master? There are still merfolk and froglings that can fight.]

  “No,” Viktor replied, shaking his head. “That’s enough for today.”

  His vision followed the adventurers as they sprinted across the third floor of the dungeon. Noi’ri could still run despite his injury, while Cedric didn’t slow down one bit even though he was carrying a deadweight. His pauldron jabbed Blondie’s stump with each stride, and blood gushed out, but she didn’t make any sound. Fiora, who jogged beside them, pulled a bandage from her pouch and swiftly wrapped it around the other woman’s mangled wrist as she kept pace.

  If they could find a skilled Emerald Mage in town, they might be able to reattach her hand. Well, whatever. Not his problem.

  Viktor opened his eyes, and the bird’s-eye view vanished, replaced by the familiar sight of the Core Room. Celeste hovered nearby, emitting a faint blue glow.

  “Give me the battle report.”

  [Understood, Master.]

  The Dungeon Core had reached LV8, which meant new skills had been unlocked for him to use. He wanted to check them out, but that could wait. Sebekton’s injury needed his attention first.

  Thus, Viktor left the Core Room and entered the water realm, where the fierce battle had just taken place. According to Celeste, the Guardian had withdrawn to his house to rest.

  Three corpses lined up neatly in a row outside the stone building. Manfred, whose head gaped open like a split melon, brain matter spilling onto the sand. Redhead, whose bisected torso framed a bloody mess of viscera. And Brunette, whose soaked body had been hauled from the depths, her once-porcelain skin now pale and waterlogged. His minions had picked the corpses clean. Only three empty husks remained, meat to be consumed by the Crocodilian.

  When Viktor entered the house, he saw Sebekton slumped in a chair. There was a dark, hollow void where his left eye ought to be, the surrounding tissue torn and twisted, and dark streaks of dried blood clinging to his face. Yet he grinned when he looked up.

  “Master!” Sebekton began to rise.

  “No need to move,” Viktor said. He stepped closer to study the wound. He could see the dungeon’s healing power had already taken effect, and the bleeding had stopped. It would take time, but eventually, the Guardian’s eye would be restored. Nevertheless, it was not going to be a pleasant process. “How’s your injury?”

  “It hurts, of course.” The Crocodilian laughed. “But it’ll make a fine reminder not to underestimate my opponents. That gnoll...” Sebekton paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He’s one tough bastard.”

  “He wouldn’t have been able to land a hit without the mage’s help.”

  The Guardian shrugged. “True. But it’s not like I fought alone either.”

  The bloodlust that had fueled him in the battle was now completely gone, as if Sebekton had worn his menace and ferocity like a suit of armor, so that after the fight, they could be simply discarded, leaving behind a jovial, gentle giant.

  Viktor had expected him to react more violently to the outcome: baring teeth, lashing out, erupting in fury, vowing to exact vengeance. That was what predators did when prey bit back—they snapped. But Sebekton was unbelievably calm, as if it barely mattered at all.

  “You didn’t seem too upset that they had gotten away.”

  “Them getting away just means I wasn’t strong enough to stop them,” the Guardian said. “I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”

  Viktor nodded. “The strong take, and the weak yield.”

  Sebekton sat in silence, his remaining eye narrowing as he contemplated the words. “Harsh, but true,” he finally said. “That’s how the world works.” He shifted slightly, his gaze drifting towards the windows. Outside, three carcasses sprawled in the sand. They perished because they were weak, and now, they were going to become food for the strong.

  Viktor’s lips curled into a smile. “Anyway, it’s still a victory. I’m sure you’ll have a full belly by the end of the day.”

  Sebekton guffawed. “Yes. Thank you very much, Master.”

  As they shared a laugh, Viktor’s gaze swept across the room, until it eventually settled on an axe leaning against the wall, right next to Sebekton’s own.

  The Reliquary.

  “That was the warrior woman’s weapon, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. I was a bit curious, so I borrowed it,” Sebekton said. “It belongs to you, of course, just like everything else taken from the fallen foes. I’ve asked Celeste for permission. She said she didn’t mind if I kept it for the time being, and told me that you wouldn’t either.”

  “I can give it to you if you want. Have you tested its power?”

  “I did. The ability to launch invisible projectiles is certainly useful. But I doubt I would take it.” The Guardian stood up and walked toward the axe. “Too small for my hand,” he said, hefting it up, his massive fist dwarfing the haft.

  “You can bring both axes. Use the small one for ranged attacks and the big one for close combat.”

  Sebekton’s laughter erupted. “Too cumbersome. I’m not going to haul two weapons around like I’m some sort of pack animal.”

  [Master.]

  Viktor frowned as he registered Celeste’s sudden interjection. “Did something happen again?”

  [No, Master. I was listening to your conversation with Sebekton. I just want to tell you that I can transfer the power of the Reliquary to his old axe.]

  “You can do what?”