Madness of the Blue Blood Labyrinth - Chapter 12

Let’s say there’s a beginner who’s acquired a powerful combat skill.

If they were to dive into a random dungeon, relying solely on that skill, how far do you think they could push through?

Veteran explorers with plenty of experience would almost always answer: “The tenth floor.”

That’s because in most dungeons, every ten floors, there’s a wall.

Gatekeepers. Guardians. Barriers. Protectors.

Different names depending on the country or region, but the one most commonly known is the Floor Boss.

A unique creature of which there is only one per species. It sits at the exit to the lower floors, as if blocking the way, and even if you manage to defeat it, it’ll revive after a certain amount of time. Worse still, it doesn’t drop any items, not even a magic stone, making it both troublesome and hated.

Most of all, it’s strong.

The defining feature of a Floor Boss is that its combat ability far surpasses the other creatures on the same floor.

The boss on the tenth floor in particular has shattered the hopes of countless beginners who had been cruising along smoothly, plunging them into despair.

Clearing the tenth floor on your own strength.

By overcoming this first trial, an explorer can finally graduate from being a beginner.

“Iron Blood.”

A massive beast, nearly three meters tall, resembling a cross between a rhino and a bull.

As it charges at me with a thunderous roar, I brace myself and deflect its momentum with my hardened body.

The impact is like being hit by a truck. But, there’s no damage.

That’s the power of Iron Blood, the skill that gives my body the toughness its name implies.

Still, there’s no denying the weight difference. If it turns into a contest of raw strength, I’ll eventually be overpowered.

That’s the first major flaw of my skill, Twin Blood. The physical power boost of Brute Blood and the body-hardening effect of Iron Blood can’t be used at the same time.

Before I’m overpowered, I grab hold of the horn on its nose.

“Brute Blood.”

The blue glow tracing my veins switches to a red light coursing through my arteries.

With an image of a judo throw in mind, I lift the creature with both arms, now bursting with enough force to tear a stack of five-hundred yen coins like paper. I hoist it up and slam it down from above.

From the beast’s perspective, it must have felt like being flipped 180 degrees just after charging, and then having its multi-ton body slammed into the ground, momentum and all, spine first.

Yeah, that kind of impact could make your organs spill out.

“Hah! Tough, aren’t you?”

If it were human, or even just a regular animal, its bones and organs would have been crushed beyond recognition by that hit.

But despite taking such a blow, the creature struggles to get back up. That’s the kind of toughness you expect from a Floor Boss.

“Too bad for you, though. I’ve already figured out your weakness.”

Though my wrist device has detailed maps and information about the dungeons and creatures humanity has conquered over the last forty years, I haven’t bothered to look.

The reason is simple: it’s more fun to figure things out myself.

“Your weak spot is hidden behind those three big horns on your forehead and the sides of your head.”

The thick, rubbery hide covering its entire body leaves just one spot vulnerable: its brow.

In our previous battle, I noticed that attacks to this area triggered a clear reaction.

“Iron Blood, again.”

When it comes to crushing bones, hardness beats raw strength.

I punch through, letting the impact penetrate deep into the skull.

Before the sound reaches my ears, I feel it—bones shattering through my fist.

Blood spurts from the beast’s rolled-back eyes, and after a twisted death cry and violent spasms, its massive body melts away, leaving not even a hoof behind as it’s swallowed by the dungeon.