This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

After that, the expedition continued descending—smoothly, steadily.
We’d changed our strategy.
“Saint, you are the most important asset in this expedition. You're the only one capable of neutralizing unexpected threats, and the only one who can save a life in the event of catastrophic injury. Therefore, your power must be conserved for emergencies. We cannot afford to place you on the front lines recklessly.”

Ban repeated the obvious: that the Golden Company surrounded me for good reason, guarding a transcendent force of battle.
“But hiding your abilities entirely—after what we saw in the last engagement—would be too much of a burden on the expedition. I won’t ask for much. Just one ranged strike each time monsters appear. That alone would conserve a tremendous amount of ammunition.”
No one objected to Ban’s proposal.

And honestly, I didn’t want to just sit around getting guarded all day either.
So what was my role?
“Saint! Target neutralized!”

Upon reaching the second underground floor, the monsters became noticeably larger—and more dangerous.
They now housed larger mana stones and unleashed multiple magical phenomena.
Whenever enemies appeared, I stepped out.
I approached the giant sling, made from ropes and the skinned hide of a monster we'd taken down on the first floor.

The leather pouch of the 3-meter sling was filled with fist-sized stones, carefully broken down and packed by a Golden Company squad.
I gripped the rope with both hands and faced the charging beasts.
Then I started to spin.

[I’ll handle the trajectory correction and launch acceleration. I’ll give the signal—release your left hand when I say so!]
With Corn’s assistance, I began twirling the sling. The three-meter rope and its loaded pouch spun rapidly, building terrifying centrifugal force.
Then—

[Now! Let go!!]
I released on Corn’s cue.
BOOM!
A thunderous crack exploded as the rope tip broke the sound barrier.

Hundreds of sharpened stone fragments, packed into the sling pouch, screamed through the air toward the incoming monsters.
Guided by Corn’s psychic force, the barrage sliced through the sky and struck down in a perfect arc, shredding everything in its radius.
“Direct hit!”

Dozens of monsters—fast, shielded, deadly—were torn apart before they could even let out a scream.
No matter how powerful their barriers or movement techniques were, they simply weren’t fast or tough enough to withstand the kinetic hell I launched at them.
“Fire!!”

Then it was time for the rest of the team to work.
Machine guns.
10-gauge shotguns.
And the bolt-action rifles of the Golden Company roared into life.
The Hunters handled themselves with practiced ease.
And though the Great Labyrinth was new to them, the Golden Company performed brilliantly under Ban’s command.

“Go for the legs! The skulls are too thick to penetrate! Cripple them first!”
Only the best sharpshooters in the Empire had been selected for this mission—and it showed.
Their precision surpassed even the seasoned Hunters who made a living from their rifles.

Ban used that fact strategically.
He had the Golden Company focus on crippling shots—clean, disabling hits to knees and ankles.
And once the monsters were limping or dragging themselves—

The Hunters moved in.
Machine guns and shotguns turned them into pulp.
“Nothing but trash!”

Ban’s shout, in both the northern dialect and the Empire’s common tongue, was our cue that the battle was over.
His command, honed through countless engagements, lifted morale in ways most couldn’t see.
The Hunters found strength in knowing that a living legend stood beside them.

And the Golden Company, new to the Labyrinth, found steady footing under Ban’s leadership.
After every engagement, I would tend to the few injured and we’d move forward again.
The expedition was going almost too well.

In fact, it only took us two days to clear the second and third floors of the Labyrinth.
The Luciferians?
After that ambush on the first floor, they hadn’t shown themselves once.
A part of me dared to hope…

Maybe we could finish the entire expedition this way.
Maybe it would stay quiet. Peaceful.
Maybe we could just… keep going like this.

Of course—
“There it is. Devil’s Summit. The path to the fourth floor... and the place most likely to house an ambush.”
Yeah.
Of course not.

 
****
Devil’s Summit.

It looked like a big, steep hill. That was all.
The problem was that the entire slope was densely packed with trees—so thick that just glancing at it made your head spin.
And, according to Ban’s explanation, the terrain beneath the forest canopy was a nightmare: dips and sudden drops, erratic slopes, visibility barely a few meters ahead. Every step was unpredictable.

“Because of the terrain and the trees, our movement speed will be drastically slowed, and visibility will be severely limited. But there are a thousand places for enemies to hide. The Luciferians set out ahead of us, and if they have even a shred of strategic sense, then they’ve already set up an ambush there.”
The guild leaders backed Ban’s assessment.
“On top of that, we could start seeing high-risk beasts as early as the fourth floor. Don’t forget that the core power of the Followers of Pride is beast taming.”

Jerome closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with a troubled expression.
“Is there a safe way through?”
“There is not. No matter how carefully we proceed, there will be casualties. This place heavily favors the side that sets up the ambush first. And remember—we’re on the clock. We have to reach the seventh floor before the Luciferians do. That means we’ll have to force our way through, even at risk.”

“What’s the estimated casualty rate?”
“Even conservatively… at least 10%.”
Jerome’s face hardened.

The guild leaders didn’t look thrilled either—but they weren’t surprised.
“In fact, it’s strange no one’s died so far. Once you enter the Great Labyrinth, you’re effectively already dead.”
“We took the money. That means we finish the job. Even if it costs us our lives. That’s the rule in Labyrinth.”

Ragot let out a short, wry laugh.
“We understand the situation. We know that recovering the God of Courage is the only way to ensure the safety of all mankind. We’re throwing our lives away for something bigger than us. We’ve got no complaints. Just let us do our job.”
No one here had been forced to come.

Sure, Cecilia had paid an enormous sum for the expedition—and the promised reward for success was equally generous—but none of the Hunters who made it this far came just for money.
They understood what this mission meant.
Their willingness to die without fuss—it was stoic, maybe even noble.

But unfortunately, it was my job to break that mood.
“I’ll go in. Alone. I’ll eliminate any Luciferians lying in ambush inside. Once the path is clear, you can follow. That way, we might get through without losing a single person.”
The Hunters’ eyes widened.

“Saint, we can’t allow that.”
That was all I needed to hear before I cut them off.
“I’ve fought three Demon Lords alone. I’m used to working solo. In fact, I prefer it. And I have Corn. You all know how effective his detection ability is. Give me half a day.”

Devil’s Summit was—generously—a ‘summit.’ Realistically, it was about the size of your average neighborhood mountain back in Korea.
With Corn’s sensory field, half a day would be more than enough to root out and exterminate every ambusher.
“If anything happens to you—if you’re incapacitated—this expedition becomes meaningless.”

“If more than half of you get injured, it’s just as meaningless. Whatever’s waiting for us on the seventh floor, I don’t want to be the only one left to face all the Luciferians. You’re not expendable. You’re just as important as I am.”
I stood up.
Now was the time to be firm.

“I don’t want to see any of you die. I’m the only one here who can eliminate that ambush. Stay here. I’ll return when it’s clear. When I do, guard me again. That alone is enough.”
It was a huge difference from my previous solo excursions.
Now I had people to guard me while I rested from divine overload.
That mattered.

Everyone fell silent under my voice.
They must’ve realized I wouldn’t be stopped.
Ban looked around at them.

He said something in the northern tongue—and the guild leaders all let out small chuckles.
Then they stepped back in unison.
“We’ll follow your orders, Saint.”

Jerome, too, seemed to weigh things for a moment before nodding.
“Just return in one piece. We’ll take full responsibility for guarding you while you recover.”
“That’s all I ask.”

I looked down at the psychic amplifier hanging from my neck.
[...Yeah. I figured you’d do this.]
Corn’s voice was resigned. I couldn’t help but laugh.

There wasn’t much to prepare.
Due to the Labyrinth’s nature, my skills had a drastically reduced range—but I could still layer Time Stop around my own body like armor.
I wrapped it around myself like a shield, layered in Physical Reconfiguration.

I was ready.
“Until the Saint returns—everyone on full alert!”
With the shouts of the guild leaders and Golden Company behind me, I sprinted toward Devil’s Summit.

Amayel.
“Speak.”
These guys love Hell, right?

“Yeah.”
Let’s send them there.
That one made me grin.

My pace quickened.
I ran faster and faster toward Devil’s Summit.
 
****

The Followers of Lucifer were deeply familiar with the Great Labyrinth.
For the Followers of Pride—masters of domination—the beasts of the Labyrinth were nothing short of the ultimate weapon.
In pursuit of stronger, more devastating creatures, they had made countless forays into the depths.
They knew the terrain and its quirks nearly as well as the veteran Hunters did.
Devil’s Summit.

Here, they intended to inflict maximum casualties on the expedition team headed for the seventh floor.
Why aren't they coming up?
Crouched inside the hollowed-out base of a tree—its core gnawed away by one of his own beasts—one of the cultists realized something wasn’t right.

The expedition had reached the base of the Summit quite a while ago.
But they hadn’t advanced.
They were just sitting there.
They should be feeling the pressure by now. Aren’t they worried about falling behind us?
Nine ambush teams of ten cultists each were spread out across the key ascent routes of Devil’s Summit.
They were armed to the teeth with traps, ambush patterns, and beast-based tactics—all refined and drilled in advance.
Now, all they could do was sit in their foxholes as meaningless time ticked by, their bodies growing stiff and their nerves fraying.

This won’t do.
Technically, direct communication between units was prohibited while in ambush formation. The goal was to minimize the risk of detection.
But the longer this stalemate dragged on, the more unbearable it became.
The leader of Squad 3 made a decision.
He broke protocol and discreetly contacted Recon Squad 1.

A small, insectoid familiar detached from his chest and crept up to his ear.
“Squad 3 to Squad 1. The expedition hasn’t advanced yet, right?”
A short delay, then a voice came through the bug’s relayed telepathy:

Still no movement.
“Why aren’t they advancing?”
No idea.

“Can you get closer to investigate?”
Impossible. The Golden Company’s marksmen are too sharp.
And that damn Saint’s detection ability is too strong.
If we get anywhere near them, we’ll be spotted instantly. All we can do is observe from a distance.
What the hell’s going on…?

Just as the Squad 3 leader muttered to himself in frustration—
the insect familiar on his ear shrieked in agony.
He flinched, wincing sharply.
What the hell was that?

All the familiars were psychically linked.
They could share sensory input—including screams.
“Squad 8, do you copy? What happened over there?!”
The Squad 3 leader sent out another telepathic signal in the direction of the scream, his expression hardening.

“Squad 1, can you divert a recon element toward Squad 8?”
Why? What’s going on?
“I just heard a scream come through the link.
You’re too far to have received it directly, but something’s wrong over there.”

Copy. Moving now.
The Squad 3 leader clenched his fist.
Please, no.

Please let this be nothing.
Let it just be a mistake.
Let it be some kind of accident—a beast pulled from the fourth floor that hadn’t been properly tamed yet.
Let it be anything but that.
But just like anyone else, cultists knew:
bad omens always came true.

S-Saintsighted!! He’s moving!! He—
A wet explosion cut off the message from Squad 1.
The Squad 3 leader burst from his hiding place inside the tree.

“Break formation! He has detection abilities—there’s no point hiding!”
The situation had flipped.
They were no longer the hunters.

“Move to Squad 8’s position! That monster can only be fought head-on—and only if we stick together!”
They were now the hunted.