This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

“The Flame Dragon, you said?”
I nodded.
In the memory of the last ambush squad commander I encountered on the 5th floor, there had been a brief scene—just under a minute—of a magical beast that, by all appearances, could only be described as a flame dragon.

“Red scales. Enormous wings. Two horns sprouting from its head. And that choking stench of sulfur. There’s no other way to describe it—it was a flame dragon. It was moving through the 6th floor. The area was littered with bloodied Lucifer cultists, and one handsome young man with long, white hair was touching the dragon.”
Right after witnessing the flame dragon, the commander had been urgently dispatched to the 5th floor.
So, that one-minute glimpse was all there was—but even in such a short scene, a surprising amount of information could be drawn.

As soon as I finished explaining, Old Ban spoke up.
“The Eastern Warden of the 6th Floor. The Berserker Flame Dragon—Dalloran. Around 2,000 Lucifer cultists were said to have entered from the 1st floor, correct? All the ones we’ve fought so far—the ambush squads—don’t even total 500.”
“You’re saying the remaining 1,500...”

“Must’ve gone ahead to the 6th floor to try and tame Dalloran. They must’ve known from the start. That as long as the Saint was present, no matter how many soldiers they sent, they wouldn’t win using conventional methods.”
Ambushes. Night raids. Machine gun nests at choke points.
Everything we’d encountered until now had been desperate, ruthless attempts by the cultists.
They twisted their minds into knots trying to come up with the most efficient ways to stop the expedition—but because of me, every single one had failed.

So they must’ve committed only a quarter of their force to the ambush units, and sent the rest directly to the 6th floor to try and claim the berserker dragon for themselves.
“This was probably a first for them too. Until now, the Lucifer cult has never successfully tamed a dragon. If they had, they’d have already weaponized it to torment the Labyrinth.”
“Which means... the gamble paid off, didn’t it?”

“If the memory the Saint saw was real—yes. It seems it did.”
Sighs rippled quietly throughout the tent.
“A flame dragon... and not just that—one supported by Lucifer’s cult and their black magic.”

“And of all things, it had to be a berserker flame dragon. That’s the worst possible outcome.”
Even the seasoned Guildmasters, veterans all, looked visibly shaken by the name.
The term “berserker flame dragon” carried that much weight.

“What kind of monster is it, exactly? This berserker flame dragon?”
Out of sheer curiosity, I asked—and Mayor Lagote shook his head slowly.
“A nightmare. That’s the best word for ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) it. It’s also the reason expeditions beyond the 6th floor are so rare. Most dragons won’t leave their territory. That’s why the standard tactic for 6th-floor expeditions is to map the dragon territories and move in paths that avoid them.”

Lagote sighed, his face heavy with tension and unease.
“But this one—this berserker flame dragon—it roams. Frequently. Leaves its territory. And it’s violent as hell. If it sees a human, it doesn’t ask questions. It breathes fire first. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of expeditions have vanished without a trace in its flames.”
“6th floor expeditions are basically luck-based. If the berserker dragon is at rest in its territory, you might reach the 7th floor. If it’s out roaming, you’re as good as dead.”

It was undeniably a worst-case scenario.
Ban stated it bluntly.
“If Lucifer’s cult pushes forward with Dalloran at the front, the chances of us winning are incredibly slim. Even with the Saint here, the expedition will suffer catastrophic losses.”
At that, I raised my hand and countered him.

“What if I use Absolute Hypnosis and make the flame dragon mine?”
“Dragons fly. Dalloran glides at least 100 meters up. Even if you could leap that high, he’ll be surrounded by a barrier—far tougher than anything you've faced with other magical beasts.”
“And if I leap with enough force to break through that barrier? As long as I make physical contact, it’s over.”

“There will be elite black mages riding the dragon. They won’t need to cast anything fancy. Just a little telekinesis to push you off course or throw you back will be enough. No matter how strong your body is, you can’t accelerate midair. That makes you helpless against telekinesis.”
“......”
“They know your powers, Saint. They’ll be ready for them.”

An unprecedentedly strong magical barrier—many times more powerful than anything we’ve seen so far.
Black mages likely stationed across the dragon’s body, ready to interfere.
It was true—physical contact would be nearly impossible.

Unfortunately, Ban wasn’t done.
“And one more thing, Saint. The man you saw touching the flame dragon in that memory—you said he had white hair, correct?”
“Yes. White hair.”

“Were his eyes... completely black? No sclera, no irises—just solid black like marbles?”
I was startled by his words.
“Exactly. Do you know who he is?”

But the answer didn’t come from Ban—it came from Priest Mathieu.
“Balaam. The oldest and most cunning of Lucifer’s followers. High Priest of the Arrogance Cult. The strongest black mage among them—and a tamer.”
Mathieu gritted his teeth.

I’d never seen that expression on him before. Not so full of venom.
“A hundred years ago, he pretended to be a descendant of Hero Karim. Caused a schism in the Hero Order. Led to the deaths of countless people. As far as our Church is concerned, even breathing the same air as him is disgusting.”
Both Ban and Mathieu growled low in their throats.

Ban continued.
“Balaam won’t let you get anywhere near that dragon. He’s known to command dozens of magical beasts—and he’s not just the strongest tamer ever recorded. He’s also the most powerful black mage we’ve ever documented. With him actively obstructing you, getting close enough to touch the dragon... it’s nearly impossible.”
Silence blanketed the tent.

Dalloran.
Balaam.
And alongside them, however many hundreds of surviving Lucifer cultists still remained after the dragon-taming attempt.

I clenched my fist tightly.
People were going to die.
Even I couldn’t prevent casualties—not when the enemy had that kind of firepower.

“Is there any way to kill the berserker flame dragon?”
I asked the Guildmasters.
But they all shook their heads.

“Even without the cultists, the odds of victory are negligible. Add in several hundred cultists and Balaam? There’s no chance.”
For the first time, Mayor Lagote said it outright—we couldn’t win.
I kept grinding my thoughts.

What if I used localized Time Stop under my feet, creating stepping stones to accelerate midair?
What if Corn used his psychic power to disrupt Balaam and the black mages?
What if I went all-out and froze time across the entire 6th floor?

I ran through scenario after scenario—but every one of them ended the same way.
Too many risks. Too low a success rate.
I couldn’t gamble the expedition’s survival on something that shaky.

My heart felt heavy.
Because the only one with the power to tip the scales—was me.
Think.

Think harder.
Amayel.
I had to think of something.

If I didn’t, everyone here would die.
I racked my brain—literally fighting for my life.
And that desperation finally—

Led me to one insane idea.
“Is the Flame Dragon the only dragon on the 6th floor?”
Mayor Lagote shook his head.

“No. There are others... Wait—Saint, don’t tell me—”
“If taming a dragon is impossible because of Lucifer’s interference, then shouldn’t we just bring in a dragon without interference? If the enemy has a dragon and that’s made things worse for us, then we should have a dragon of our own to even the odds.”
The Guildmasters immediately shook their heads.

“We object, Saint. It’s far too dangerous.”
“All I have to do is break through the barrier and make contact. Absolute Hypnosis is absolute. Not even a dragon could resist it.”
“That’s exactly the problem—breaking through that barrier isn’t easy. And that’s not the only danger dragons present. The magical phenomena they can unleash aren’t limited to barriers. Their Dragon Hearts—massive mana cores—are bigger than three adult men combined. You’ll be bombarded by relentless, exhausting magical attacks like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll just heal myself with my divine power.”
“If you take a direct hit from a dragon’s breath, you won’t even have time to heal. Your body will melt before you can react. The power is overwhelming. Even if you survive, the pain will be unbearable. Saint, this is not like facing those ambush cultists at Devil’s Peak. This is on a completely different level.”
“Mayor Lagote.”

I stood with a smile.
Honestly, I was scared too.
A dragon.

The kind of creature you only see in fantasy stories.
And I was saying I’d face one alone.
Still, I smiled.

I forced the best smile I could—so that everyone else could stay calm.
“Please trust me. I can do this. I don’t want a single member of the expedition to die or be injured. If I can suffer and increase our odds of survival, then I’ll do it a hundred times over.”
This was the only way.

Once I’d made the decision, I had to act fast.
“Don’t move the expedition until I return with a dragon. Establish a strong defensive perimeter and stay on the defensive. Be cautious. If the expedition is annihilated or weakened to the point it can’t continue, then it’s all over.”
After giving those instructions to the Guildmasters, I turned to Captain Jerome.

“Stay here and help defend the expedition. There’s no need for you to follow me. Anyone else would just get in the way while dealing with a dragon. I’ll return as fast as I can.”
Captain Jerome looked like he wanted to say something—but in the end, he could only nod.
No one else had come up with a solution.

What I said was, in truth, the only viable strategy.
“Please come back alive.”
I nodded.

Then Old Ban and Priest Mathieu suddenly raised their hands.
“We’ll go with you, Saint.”
“I’m heading to face a dragon. You’d only get in the way.”

“Not necessarily. Saint—have you ever fought a dragon before?”
Ban proudly pointed to his chest.
“I led the first expedition that ever brought down a dragon on the 6th floor. And Priest Mathieu was with me then, too. You’ll need my advice. And don’t worry—I’m not planning to charge in. I’ll keep my distance and support you with long-range sniper fire.”

“But Ban—”
“Besides, isn’t there a chance you could lose consciousness again? Like last time? You’ll need someone there to save you if that happens. Let us come. Just the two of us.”
He wasn’t wrong.

I nodded.
“Then just you two—come with me.”
From around my neck, Corn let out a dry laugh.

[Dragons now? This shit just keeps escalating.]
“You’re going to help, right?”
[Fuck me, getting a body’s harder than ever at this rate...]

And so the decision was made.
Me, Corn, Priest Mathieu, and Old Ban.
The four of us jumped into the usual carriage and immediately split from the main force, galloping away like lunatics.

The objective had been clear from the beginning.
“To fight the king of the East, we need to bring in a king of our own.”
The Western King.

The Immovable Dragon—Alcassas.
That was our target.