This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

"Here. And here. Lastly, over here. They’re prepping to block us at this point with a trap where pre-cut logs will drop down, and over here, they’re planning to use flying magical beasts—Kueras—to rain down rocks and halt our advance."
I calmly explained the situation to the Guildmasters and Captain Jerome.

"That’s all of it. These are the traps being set on the 4th and 5th floors."
"...How do you know all this?" Captain Jerome asked, still dazed.
I grinned.

"I have the ability to look inside people’s minds. I confirmed it with that."
The Guildmasters and Captain Jerome exchanged glances.
Old Ban, who had been silently listening to it all, finally offered his opinion.

"The Great Labyrinth is a place where using magic is extremely difficult. Even magical beasts with enormous mana stones can barely cast spells at the level of a novice mage from the outside world. Most of the time, their power is drastically reduced or their range is completely screwed."
Ban pointed at me.
"The same applied to the Saint. You mustn’t push him any further."
The Guildmasters and Captain Jerome nodded in agreement.

"We concur."
"The good news is that across both the 4th and 5th floors, there are no terrain features as specialized for ambushes as Devil’s Peak. That means there’s no need for the Saint to go off and fight alone anymore."
"And since we now know all of the enemy’s plans ahead of time, we can counter them."

As heads came together and the discussion began, the plan came together in an instant.
Old Ban didn’t say much during the tactical debate between the Guildmasters and Captain Jerome.
Just short comments—each one hitting the core issues.

"The Golden Company should take sniper duty. It’s not that the Hunters can’t shoot, but for long-range precision, the Golden Company’s far superior."
"In tight terrain, shotguns are better than machine guns. Forget slugs—go with double-aught buckshot."
"This spot needs a heavy machine gun, no exceptions. We’ll need anti-air capability."

Once Ban provided rough direction, Captain Jerome and the Guildmasters worked out the finer points with impressive speed.
Just like that—
A plan to annihilate Lucifer’s followers, built entirely on the intel I had provided, was complete.

"This should be enough."
Seeing Ban nod in satisfaction, I quietly raised my hand.
"Then what about me? You’ve seen what I can do in combat. Keeping me in the rear just because I got into danger once would be a huge waste of power."

Ban nodded.
"Join the strike force. That’ll be much less strain on you as well. Follow the field commanders’ orders, act as a healer most of the time, and switch to offense or defense only when necessary."
He gave me a vicious smile.

"Let’s give them a taste of hell, Saint."
Now that was a phrase I really liked.
I nodded.
 

****
About half a day later, the expedition reached the first ambush zone.
At either end of a large V-shaped valley, Lucifer’s followers were lying in wait, ready to drop massive logs the moment we stepped onto the path.

What they didn’t expect was—
“Fire!”
Leaving the main force behind, the strike team—made up of veteran elites—had circled around in secret and attacked the sides of the cultists who were prepping the trap.

Bullets flying in both directions—an all-out firefight.
Victory tipped decisively toward the strike team.
[Machine gun nest! Over there!]

"On it!"
[Kill them all!]
With explosive speed, I kicked off the ground and lunged forward.

The machine gunners spotted me, and the heavy machine gun opened fire.
Black magic was still magic.
Even if it used mana stored in stones, the range and power were massively diminished, so Lucifer’s followers relied heavily on guns.

And I didn’t dodge a single one of those incoming rounds.
The Time Stop armor I wore deflected all of them.
"Snipers! Aim for the joints!"

[Yeah right, you dumb fucks!]
Even Time Stop armor had its limits.
It couldn’t fully protect joint areas, so a few skilled snipers tried to take advantage of that.

But Corn wasn’t about to sit still.
Every bullet aimed at my joints was smacked away by his telekinesis.
There was nothing that could stop me.

"Fuck this! Ready the black magic!!"
Once I closed the distance, the warlocks stationed at the machine gun nest began casting spells in my direction.
But I had no intention of letting them finish.

Before they could complete their chants, I crushed the gunner and mangled the heavy machine gun.
And that was it.
My job was done.

“He’s disabled! Fire now!”
The snipers of the Golden Company—positioned far beyond the reach of any black magic—let loose from their bolt-action rifles.
Each rifle had a freakishly long telescopic sight mounted on it, and the Golden Company’s accuracy was on another level entirely.

The warlocks were gunned down instantly, holes torn clean through them.
Next came the Hunters.
Yelling something in harsh Northern dialects, they charged in, auto shotguns blazing.

Loaded with 10-gauge shells that chambered through recoil, their shotguns turned Lucifer’s followers into bloody pulp in seconds.
It was easy.
Seriously easy.

As long as I crushed or disabled the key figures, the Hunters and Golden Company took care of the rest.
After the final machine gun nest was neutralized—
There wasn’t a single living follower of Lucifer left in the area.

Except one.
“P-please don’t—gk!”
The strike team dragged the one who looked like a commander over to me without killing him.

I placed a hand on his head and read his memories.
Right after that, a hole punched through his skull.
"Clear the logs!"

The Hunters, well-trained, skillfully disarmed the trap—cut a single rope and the logs would have rolled down.
Thanks to that, the expedition crossed the valley without incident.
And after that—

And again after that—
It was the same.
"That black mage over there! Please deal with him, Saint!"

"Understood!"
Machine guns placed precisely at choke points.
Black mages who posed serious threats.

Magical beasts kept as trump cards.
I either disabled or obliterated them—and returned to the strike team.
The rest, the bullets handled.

"Saint! This guy’s artery’s been severed!"
"Bring him here!"
"His finger’s been blown off!"

“I’ll heal him! Lay him down—over there!”
“His lung’s been pierced by shrapnel! He can’t breathe, Saint!”
“I’ll take care of it!”

It took five full days to break through the 4th and 5th floors.
And in those five days, we had to survive four separate ambushes.
Naturally, since I wasn’t moving alone anymore, injuries piled up.

But as long as I was watching—
I couldn’t allow a single person to die or suffer.
“A frontal charge is too dangerous, Saint.”

“You could be exposed to black magic!”
I kept volunteering for the most dangerous missions.
Of course, the Guildmasters and Golden Company officers who led the strike team tried to talk me out of it.

But I didn’t listen.
“It’s better for me to take the hit instead of any of you. I don’t want to see my people die in front of me. And even if I fall, won’t you all save me? Isn’t that why we came together?”
The bullets meant for others—

I took them myself.
Even against black magic, I threw my body forward, trusting the Time Stop armor and Corn’s psychic power.
[Not happening, fuckers!!]

Corn used telekinesis to desperately distort their aim, and the moment a spell missed, he’d snap the warlock’s neck with another precise twitch of force.
Precision.
If there was one thing you couldn’t underestimate, it was Corn’s psychic precision.

If not for him, the fights would’ve been far worse.
And after those grueling five days—
“That’s the Lake of Silence. If we ride it down, we’ll reach the 6th floor, Saint.”

The expedition finally arrived at the entrance to the sixth floor.
Zero casualties.
Zero injuries.

 
****
Beginning of the 6th floor, Great Labyrinth.

The expedition had set up camp and was resting.
The scent of food cooking drifted through the air, along with the hum of conversation.
I was leaning comfortably against the carriage I always rode in, quietly watching the people chatting below.

Over the last five days—
I could feel the way the expedition’s gaze toward me had changed.
[Everyone’s staring at you, Amayel.]

Corn’s voice came through, oddly pleased.
I nodded slightly.
The Golden Company had always looked at me with respect.

But now it felt closer to reverence.
The Hunters were the same.
The eyes that once saw me as just an important asset to protect—those looks were gone.

The Hunters who met my gaze would place a hand over their hearts and bow their heads slightly before stepping away.
“It’s the respect shown to someone who saved their life. Very few people ever earn the admiration of Labyrinth’s elite Hunters. You should be proud, Saint.”
Old Ban said this as he handed me a wooden bowl of stew.

“I only did what had to be done.”
“You threw yourself in front of machine guns and black magic without caring whether you’d die. That’s not just doing your duty. That’s something great.”
“I had Time Stop, Corn, and my healing powers. I wasn’t pushing myself beyond my limits.”

“To possess such tremendous power, and yet rush in for the sake of the weakest among us—that’s what makes it great. Saint, you deserve that respect.”
Old Ban chuckled and began sipping the stew.
I watched him quietly from beside him.

“Then by that logic, aren’t you far greater? You knew one bullet or one bad spell could kill you, and yet you still charged the frontlines.”
Ban had volunteered for all four strike missions.
He stood at the very front, firing his shotgun with more intensity than anyone else.

I had Time Stop armor and healing abilities.
Ban had none of that.
“Well, I’m practically a walking corpse already. Doesn’t matter when I die. The young ones should live, and the old should die. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

Ban gave a faint smile.
I took a few spoonfuls of stew to match him.
Simple—but nutritious and delicious.

“When you finally meet Ponemkin, what’s the first thing you want to ask, Ban?”
“I want to ask if our family really is descended from Hero Karim.”
The unexpected answer made me let out a dry laugh.

“Didn’t you come all this way for 300 years based on that one belief?”
“Yes. That belief is what carried us here. But it’s still just that—a belief. We don’t know if we’re actually descended from the hero’s bloodline.”
Ban tapped his eye.

“No blue eyes. Everyone in our family has dull brown eyes, going back generations. No blue eyes, no heirloom artifacts, nothing. Just the word of one ancestor a long time ago who claimed we were Karim’s descendants. That’s all we’ve ever had.”
Ban clenched his fist tightly.
“For 300 years we’ve been called liars. My grandson—my ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) last remaining bloodline—will live free of that. I’ll prove our ancestor’s words were true. That’s this old man’s final wish.”

Ban ate fast.
He emptied his wooden bowl in no time, then stood up.
“The sixth floor. From here on, I hear the cult has no more plans.”

He was right.
Even after combing through the memories of countless followers, there were no more ambush strategies planned for the sixth floor.
“They probably figured out we were reading their minds, and decided not to share any more intel with lower-ranked members.”

“That’s likely. Or maybe it’s just that ambushes are no longer viable. From the sixth floor onward, the magical beasts get extremely dangerous. They might not be able to construct large-scale traps anymore.”
“Then... how are they planning to stop us?”
“Most likely? By sending someone strong enough to take on the entire expedition alone. Or unleashing a beast capable of doing the same. Have you seen anything like that in their memories?”

At Ban’s question, a memory flickered in my mind.
From when I scanned the last ambush leader’s thoughts.
Just a brief, hazy image.

“It must’ve been top secret—even within the cult. None of the people I scanned had any clear knowledge of it. But... there was one scene I remember.”
“Would you tell us, Saint?”
I prayed I was wrong.

But in this place, assuming the worst was the only way to survive.
“I hope I’m wrong. But if there’s anything on the sixth floor meant to stop us... it’s probably the Flame Dragon.”