Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? On the Side: Sword Oratoria, Vol. 4

by Fujino Omori, Kiyotaka Haimura

  But he didn’t stop.

  Drawing a path of light behind him, he sped along the wall and came at the dragons like a supercharged bolt of lightning.

  He covered the distance in an instant—the whole of that great, gaping hole that spanned the entire way to the fifty-eighth floor, the Dragon’s Urn.

  With an enormous spurt of energy, he launched himself.

  Setting his sights on one of the mighty red dragons directly below him, he practically morphed into a flash of lightning and drove his Frosvirt into the beast’s body.

  “Die.”

  It exploded.

  The heel of his Frosvirt dug into the valgang dragon’s face as the resulting flash lit the tunnel on fire.

  It was massive. The attack power of the magic dagger together with his Frosvirt combined to form an electric kick that instantly disintegrated the dragon’s head. Its body fell with a slow slump.

  Like a crumbling tower, the dragon’s monstrous ten-meder frame sank toward the ground and caused the walls, the floor, and the ceiling to shake with a thunderous roar.

  Bete landed just off to the side, his gaze turning upward as the other dragons howled in confusion.

  “I’m back, you bastards…”

  The fifty-eighth floor. The deep levels.

  Similar to the forty-ninth floor—the Moitra wastelands—it was one big, wide-open space. No labyrinthine tunnel. No maze. Nothing to block their view. The graphite-colored walls and ceilings came together to form one massive rectangular room.

  This fifty-eighth floor was the deepest floor Loki Familia had ever reached.

  The last time they’d been down here, they’d been completely depleted of stamina and items (equipment included), and had had to abort their raid.

  Faced now with the overwhelming sight of the valgang dragons looming high overhead, coupled with the other innumerable monsters littering the fifty-eighth floor, the lone werewolf simply let out a sadistic laugh.

  “Aaaaaaand…second!” Tiona landed next to him on the ground of the fifty-eighth floor.

  The eyes of every monster on the floor turned simultaneously toward the two adventurers—valgang dragons included.

  In less than an instant, a new shadow appeared overhead.

  “Fall like rain, burn the savages to ash.”

  “Run!!”

  From above their heads came the majestic call of a chant, followed by a sudden shout of warning.

  Bete and Tiona looked up just in time to see Tione and Lefiya appear through the hole in the ceiling, the former fending off an attack from a wyvern while the latter pointed her staff toward the floor.

  Bete and Tiona cleared the area immediately, ignoring incoming attacks from the surrounding monsters as the midair spell reached its culmination.

  And then.

  “Fusillade Fallarica!!”

  A torrential deluge of fire arrows rained down on the fifty-eighth floor.

  Agonized screams swelled amid the storm of magic. While the red scales of the valgang dragons seemed to simply absorb the legion of fire arrows, the other monsters weren’t so lucky. Pint-size, midsize, and even the giant monsters of the depths found themselves wreathed in flame under the powerful, Mind-heavy area attack that raised the bar when it came to skills.

  Tens if not hundreds of monsters turned to ash around them, their carcasses joined by the wyverns falling from the sky with rustling wings. The whole of the fifty-eighth floor transformed into a bed of corpses.

  “Lefiya! Tione!” Tiona ran over to the two girls, somehow having managed to escape the blast radius of Lefiya’s spell.

  “W-we’re alive…” Lefiya muttered in blank amazement. Tione’s arms swept around her as she landed.

  “That’s what you have to say after that magic you just used?” Tione responded with a smile.

  Their happiness, however, was short-lived.

  “Those damn dragons blocked it, though. We can’t let ’em attack Aiz and the others,” Bete informed them, his twin swords at the ready. He was prepared to take on anything, his sharp amber eyes scanning the perimeter.

  Embers continued to dance in the black smoke rising from the charred wasteland of the fifty-eighth floor.

  Lefiya’s spell had taken out a good portion of the monsters, and there was no chance of them reviving, but there were still plenty more enemies scattered about the great room. Wyverns began popping out of the many holes littering the ceiling, and even more important, the remaining valgang dragons were still standing strong—seven of them.

  The awesome, floor-disregarding firepower of those dragons was still a threat. They needed to keep the beasts from hunting down the rest of their party, who were no doubt making their way through the Dungeon passageways above their heads at that very moment.

  “Agreed. Like I would ever let someone attack the captain.”

  “Lefiya, heal up if you need to,” said Tiona with a growl. The two Amazonian sisters stared long and hard at the valgang dragons, Durandal weapons—halberd and sword—resting on their shoulders.

  “S-sure!” Lefiya responded. She grabbed the cylindrical backpack from off her shoulders and hastily rummaged through it. Her breaths growing shorter and shorter, she finally found it—the high-magic potion with the Dian Cecht Familia seal—and gulped it down.

  “B-but…will we really be able to take out seven of them?” Lefiya asked hesitantly, eyeing the scene in front of them.

  “If we can’t, we’re pretty much done for, so why talk about it?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  Bete and Tiona replied similarly.

  The ominous red dragons practically radiated enmity; the wyverns circled overhead, their great wings flapping; and the myriad other monsters still lurked about the floor—even a large group of Moitra formoires were coming at them.

  As Lefiya looked out over them, she found herself more than a little overwhelmed. Bete and Tiona, too, despite their casual responses, knew there was no room for error.

  The group of first-tiers stared out across that landscape of certain death, their faces taut.

  “…How long do you think we’ll still have Riveria’s Veil Breath?” Tiona mused, her voice low.

  “That old bag’s spells usually last about an hour…so maybe two or three more fights?” Bete replied.

  The repeated, fierce attacks from the valgang dragons and wyverns had considerably chipped away at the gowns of light currently protecting the group and left them visibly dimmed. One more direct hit from one of those fireballs would obliterate it completely, no doubt, and fry Tiona and the others in the process.

  “…Once we’ve taken care of those dragons, we should probably hide out in one of the tunnels on the fifty-seventh floor until the captain and the others get here, yes?” Tione proposed, eyes veering first to the northern staircase leading up to the fifty-seventh floor and then to the southern staircase leading down to the fifty-ninth floor.

  Sticking around only to face the murderous wrath of the monsters on their every side wouldn’t be a wise decision.

  Lefiya and the others nodded in agreement.

  “WUUUUAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHH!!”

  One of the valgang dragons finally let out a roar, signaling the start of their second battle.

  The monsters moved almost simultaneously, and Tiona, Tione, Bete, and Lefiya readied their weapons before taking off at a running dash.

  Only then—

  “Gwuuoooh?!”

  A shadow appeared from overhead, flying down and instantly shattering the head of one of the valgang dragons.

  “”

  There was a thunderous boom as the beast’s giant frame came crashing to the ground.

  The red dragon’s head went flying. All movement came to a halt. Not only the adventurers but also every monster in the room stopped in confusion.

  Silence filled the room. Then the falling shadow, the dragon’s killer, rose from the carcass of the dead beast, slowly pulling his ax from the remains.

&nb
sp; “You buckwheaters still alive, are ye?”

  The old dwarf soldier peered out at them from beneath his helmet. Lefiya and the others simply stared at him in surprise, eyes wide.

  “Ga…”

  “…reth?” Tiona finished Lefiya’s hoarse murmur of wonderment for her.

  Tione and Bete, too, were rooted to the spot in amazement as the two axes of the first-tier adventurer, Gareth Landrock, glinted in the dim light.

  “W…wuuuuuuuaaAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHH!”

  One of the other valgang dragons let out a roar of fury at the death of its kin.

  Almost as if on cue, every monster in the hall began rushing toward the lone dwarf who’d appeared at the center of the dragon cluster.

  “Gareth!”

  “Gramps!!”

  As Tione and Bete let out simultaneous screams, Gareth flourished his mantle—then vanished.

  Kicking off the ground with enough force to crack its surface and uncanny speed for a dwarf, he was suddenly at the feet of a valgang dragon.

  The first-tier adventurer was a Level 6, and it showed. Eyes flashing, he plunged his twin axes into the dragon’s foot.

  “Gwwuh!”

  In a burst of flesh and blood, the dragon sank to the ground, unable to so much as retaliate.

  It was so quick and so sudden that Tiona and the others could only let out audible gulps.

  The valgang dragons, boasting enormous wings for forelimbs just like the wyverns, had no way to fight back. They possessed no means of attacking at close range. They specialized in long-range magic salvos with nothing but their long fat tails to swing around when it came to close-quarter combat, which made the area in front of them the one place a hopeful attacker could be safe. In addition, jumping atop one of the dragon’s chests supplied protection from fireballs, as its fellow monsters wouldn’t want to risk friendly fire.

  The dragons found themselves at a loss, and Gareth took advantage of those few moments to launch forward once again.

  In one hand was his Grand Ax, its weight rivaling even that of Urga, and in his other, the Durandal-made Roland Ax—both of which he suddenly tossed aside.

  His hands now free, he took hold of the tip of the fallen valgang dragon’s tail.

  “Hnngh…Gnnngh…Huuuuwoooooaaaahh!!” he grunted, using every muscle in his body to haul the tail, dragon and all.

  Fingers digging into the hard red scales, he lugged the giant frame of the valgang dragon step by step by step.

  His face flushed a brilliant red, veins bulging out across his forehead. The incoming hailstones of fire from the wyverns overhead didn’t so much as faze him.

  Then he let out a mighty cry of bravado:

  “…HnnnnnnnnnnnggrrrraaaaaAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!!”

  As his upper half twisted beneath the weight, the dragon’s body rose from the ground.

  —He couldn’t possibly be…?!

  But he was. The awed premonitions of Lefiya and the others were right on the money.

  Gareth began to spin. And with him, of course, spun the valgang dragon, the dwarf’s hands still clenched around its tail.

  The monstrous ten-meder frame of the beast was whirling through the air at the hands of a lone dwarf.

  “Gw-gwwwuuoooohhhhh!” the creature screamed in response.

  The dwarf spun that great dragon like a giant hammer, his already awe-inspiring might further amplified by the unique strengthening skill characteristic of the dwarves.

  “Oh, crap!” Tione cried out.

  Which was quickly followed by a scream of “Everybody down!!” from Bete, and the four adventurers dropped to the ground.

  ?!

  Three times. Four times. Five times. Six times, Gareth spun that dragon around.

  And with each spin, his speed increased, along with his destructive potential, knocking back any monsters that tried to approach. The cyclone even repelled other valgang dragons that got too close.

  Gareth Landrock. First-tier adventurer.

  A veteran soldier of herculean strength who truly embodied the dwarven race. His power and endurance rivaled not only the strongest in Loki Familia but all of Orario itself, and despite being a natural-born attacker, he’d come to rule the very back of the rear guard as an impenetrable wall. His fists were like hammers, smashing every enemy in his path, and his burly frame was like the world’s sturdiest shield.

  His ability to plow through enemies and absorb any attack was what had inspired the gods to give him his alias—Elgarm.

  It was said that he could carry a damaged galleon to shore single-handedly—a great dwarf soldier worthy of standing alongside Braver and Nine Hell.

  “GwwwwuuuuuuoooooOOOOOOOGGGGGHHH!”

  The sounds of pulverized monsters, echoing death cries, and the ferocious vortex filled the room.

  Gareth and the dragon had transformed into a veritable tornado, driving back every monster in their vicinity.

  “Off yooooooooou…GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” he shouted, releasing his grip on the dragon’s tail.

  The enormous centrifugal force sent the enormous missile flying at an upward angle to collide with the flock of wyverns overhead.

  The hammer that was that great flying dragon drew an arc in the sky, smashing through the wyverns and into the wall with a giant explosion.

  There was a thunderous crash, almost indiscernible from a meteorite strike, and the stone crumbled at the place of impact.

  “…N-no way!”

  Tiona raised her head from the ground and wiped at the dust covering her cheeks.

  She saw the five remaining valgang dragons splayed out with their tongues dangling from their mouths. She saw the scattered monsters, already barely resembling their original forms. And she saw the final crimson dragon, its head stuck in the rock along the far wall.

  The others—Bete, Tione, and Lefiya, the three of them still flat on the ground—could only stare at the storm-strewn landscape, their faces twitching.

  “I could use…a really strong drink right about now…Some proper dwarven stuff…” said the storm bringer himself, breathing heavily, before taking out a high potion and gulping it down in place of liquor.

  Roughly wiping off his mouth, he turned his gaze to Tiona and the others, who were still hugging the ground with befuddled expressions.

  “What do ye think yer doin’ down there, kids? They’ll be comin’ again soon enough. On yer feet!”

  As though in response, a crack appeared in the far-off wall.

  The holes in the ceiling were steadily growing in number, and another wave of wyverns was already on its way.

  Gareth grabbed his two axes from the ground and prepared himself for battle.

  “…Are you…sure you cannot handle things yourself, Sir Gareth?”

  Lefiya got to her feet unsteadily before joining the rest of the group.

  “Don’t be an ass! Ye think I can pull somethin’ like that off again?” Gareth brushed her off. “’Twas nothin’ but a fluke.” He crossed his twin axes in front of his chest. “We’ve gotta hold out till Finn and the others get down here, ye hear?” His armor was visibly charred from wyvern fire, his mantle tattered and torn. Cuts and bruises adorned his skin.

  As Bete and the others saw the damage he’d taken from that outrageous feat he’d just accomplished, they came to a realization.

  The reason he normally didn’t display this magnitude of strength was because he was always in the rear guard, making room on the front line for them.

  And the reason he did this was to protect Bete and the other first-tiers, as well as Raul and the other younger members of the familia.

  Gareth turned around to glance at Bete, at Tione, Tiona, and Lefiya, his teeth bared in a broad grin.

  “Come now, lads ’n’ lasses! Where’re those terrors I’m so used to, huh? Up and at ’em! Raise some hell! Or are ye gonna let some old man show ye up?”

  At the dwarf’s challenge, Bete and the others each raised an eyebrow before responding in kind.

>   “You gone senile or somethin’, Gramps?”

  “As if I’d lose to you!”

  “After seeing that, I realize more than ever that I am in no shape to be a leader.”

  Their respective words of youthful vigor prompted a laugh from Gareth.

  “Kids these days.”

  Seeing the others flourishing their weapons, Lefiya, too, readied her staff.

  “Hmph. Those our new species?” Gareth muttered, watching the northern staircase leading to the fifty-seventh floor. Repulsive shadow after repulsive shadow gushed from the entryway, and he narrowed his eyes at the sight of their unsettlingly vibrant yellow-green skin.

  “The…the path to the fifty-seventh floor…” Lefiya moaned, her voice hoarse.

  “Completely plugged up, yeah? Ye gods, if it’s not one thing, it’s another…Stay close, you lot!” Gareth replied before bounding off with a burst of energy.

  While the terrors of the uttermost depths nearly robbed them of their breath itself, the first-tier adventurers had no choice but to follow along after the dwarf.

  “We’re changing formation! Aiz, you’re on the front line!” Finn ordered almost immediately after Gareth dropped down the hole to save Lefiya.

  The two groups now separated, Finn and the others in the main party began making their way through the fifty-second floor, taking out swarms of monsters along the way.

  “Raul, you and the others stay on the midline and provide assistance to Aiz! Riveria, you’re now in the rear guard!”

  “R-roger!”

  “Understood.”

  Finn flourished his Durandal spear as he sprinted alongside them, backing up Aiz on point and attacking everything beyond the reach of her sword. Quickly ordering the emergency change in formation from his spot on the midline, he used his cultivated leadership to propel the party continuously forward. Despite the situation developing around them, the powerful voice of their leader helped assuage the unrest and low morale enveloping the party, guiding the adventurers along the path.

  Knowing all too well that following his instructions was the surest way of staying alive, Raul and the others made the change without fuss.