Rayos’s subordinates, tasked with looking after the Ruler’s absence.
Monsters on the 2nd floor of the Dungeon.
After some squabbling, the move from the 1st floor was completed.
The 1st floor is no longer under the Ruler’s subordinates.
Monsters that faithfully follow the orders of the original Dungeon Master inhabit it.
“Bumo. We were like that once too.”
“Gekogeko. Could you stop slacking off for a moment?”
A female Minotaur and a female Frogman.
Are amicably carrying lumber.
“Oh, my apologies.”
With a heave.
She readjusts the lumber she’s carrying on her shoulder.
Together with the female Frogman carrying it behind her, they carry it to their destination.
The lumber is for constructing a fortress to protect their lodgings on the 1st floor, from monsters attacking from the 1st floor, and from adventurers in the town near the Dungeon.
It’s made of wood.
The attackers know what happens if fire is used, so they won’t resort to arson.
However, if cornered, they might use fire as a last resort, taking others with them.
The temporary lodgings prioritize building a roof.
Walls are made of mud and grass, depending on the race.
Since being commanded by the Ruler, or perhaps threatened…
They can no longer live the way they used to.
Thump.
“Phew~. Let’s call it a day.”
“Geko. You’re right. …I wish these days would last forever.”
The female Frogman says, looking at a corner of the fortress.
In her line of sight.
Children of multiple races are playfully brandishing wooden swords and shields.
They are all children conceived by the Ruler’s seed.
It’s a joyous sight to see the next generation growing up healthy.
Moreover, they are doing so without fighting for their lives against other races.
“Yes, I want to believe that too, but it’s impossible.”
The female Minotaur tells the female Frogman that it’s impossible to achieve.
Sadly, she says so.
“…Geko. I know… I know about that.”
Diverting her gaze from the children training in combat, she heads towards the area reserved for females.
She sips tea, collected from the forests and hills of the 2nd floor, from a wooden cup as a brief respite from her work.
The males are out at the lake, guarding the slope leading to the 1st floor and the cave hidden at the bottom of the lake that descends to the 3rd floor.
Only the young males, who haven’t reached maturity yet.
Are still training in the area mentioned earlier.
Infants are in beds of soft fur and dried grass, and females appointed for childcare rotate their duties.
Clang clang clang!!
Clang clang clang!!
Clang clang clang!!
The female Minotaur, who was sipping tea for her break, nearly choked.
“Enemy attack? An enemy has reached the fortress?! Someone report the situation!?”
Report and communication.
The Ruler frequently drills this into them, but…
She ignores the reporting male.
Her communication is also casual.
She dismisses requests for release by saying things like, “I’ll pound your cunt!” without taking them seriously.
“Woof woof! Humans have come from the 1st floor, woof!”
A Dockman, who is becoming a communication operative, barks and informs them of the situation.
The alarm gong also doesn’t stop.
This arrangement of personnel means they can’t claim ignorance of the news.
“Let’s go join the fight too.”
“They will come someday. It’s for the future of the children, after all.”
The female Minotaur wields a warhammer.
The female Frogman uses a curved sword (coated with a venom that is treatable if detoxified).
Both of them, armed with their weapons, listen to their allies using bows from the watchtower and wind magic, and then charge out.
” “UOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH. DIE, HUMANS!” ”
Superimposing the Ruler’s image.
With the anger from the shameful and public acts in their beds and outdoors loaded onto their weapons.
They engage in close combat with a vanguard party of adventurers who have reached the 2nd floor.
They have the advantage in raw physical ability.
They close the distance before magic can be cast.
If it becomes a melee, they can brute-force their way through even with body strengthening and skills, the female Minotaur swings her warhammer.
“Guh” “Why are they here too…”
“Damn it! Even with preparation, this is it?”
Separately from the monster culling request.
The leader of the adventurers, a heavily armored axe-wielder tasked with scouting the 2nd floor.
Complains as he retreats, shouting to his surroundings, but…
“No one’s listening, huh.”
“Geko! Damnable humans! Die quickly, and become fertilizer!”
“Gekogeko, what are you talking about, you fuuuck! Tsk. Don’t come to my pillow in your transformed state.”
The heavily armored axe-wielder is aware of his surroundings, and the female Frogman thought she could kill him swiftly.
Irritated by dodging her attack.
She spits in his eyes to blind him and attempts to graze him with her curved sword.
However, the heavily armored axe-wielder suddenly leaps backward.
And then flees at full speed in the direction he came from.
“Geko!? Hey! Are you abandoning your comrade!? You came here risking your life! …You spineless bastard—!!”
“Go back and be killed by us!!”
The heavily armored axe-wielder abandons his comrade’s life.
Prioritizing his original mission of scouting the 2nd floor.
He returns information from the 2nd-floor entrance to the fortress.
The 1st floor has other parties to hold them back.
As long as he can escape this floor, his life and information will be safely returned to the town.
“Strategic retreat and prioritization.”
“See ya.”
The heavily armored axe-wielder, exhausted, merges with the party fighting fiercely on the 1st floor.
He safely returns to town.
Within days, strong individuals, from solo adventurers to parties, would gather from other towns, becoming a topic of rumor.
“…If they were that bored, maybe we wouldn’t have had to scout, would we?”
The heavily armored axe-wielder, who lost his long-time companions.
Drinks recklessly with the dual-sword wielder, the leader of the party tasked with holding them back.
He pours out his pent-up anger from the bottom of his gut, fueled by alcohol.
“Easy, easy. Thanks to you guys, we got the shortest route to the 2nd-floor fortress, and it contributed to the next expedition. Maybe you’ll even get offers to join parties, right?”
“Hmph. I lost all my companions in one day. Gulp gulp…”
The dual-sword wielder laughs, but inwardly thinks he’s quite a problem.
He signals the master to bring him more alcohol to get the heavily armored axe-wielder drunk quickly.
He receives a glass containing a potent alcoholic beverage designed to put a heavy drinker to sleep.
He offers another drink to the heavily armored axe-wielder.
“Gulp, gulp… Huh~? You can do more than just wield weapons… you can also… split into clones… zzz”
“Finally passed out. Master. Charge it to the (Adventurer’s) Guild~♪ Ugh, this man is heavyyy.”
The dual-sword wielder, thinking that being heavily armored is a profession.
Orders an extra drink from the master that temporarily enhances physical abilities.
It’s embarrassing, but…
He can’t leave the shop like this.
Besides, the Guild will pay.
Rather than pride.
He drinks the doping alcohol offered by the master, who smiles, to solve the problem.
He deposits the heavily armored axe-wielder at the Guild-designated inn and heads towards the large room in the inn where his companions are waiting.
“Still, they say there are tons of Minotaurs on the 2nd floor too.”
What kind of treasure lies in the lowest levels?
The Dungeon is a mysterious otherworld.
If you believe even questionable rumors.
You can gain power equivalent to the world’s strongest (unique skills), or regain eternal youth.
There are countless other treasures, perhaps no more than mere tall tales?
“I want to somehow squeeze into the next expedition group… Well, continuing to get the good stuff is probably impossible… Sigh~. There’s no debriefing today, but tomorrow is the debriefing… I should order some souvenir sake from the master… Ah, that’s impossible.”
He has to take the heavily armored axe-wielder to the inn.
“Ah! I could have had it delivered to the inn…”
Oops.
He realizes he’s also had a bit too much to drink.
The dual-sword wielder imagines himself being scolded by the recovery healers tomorrow.
He arrives at the inn, scratching the back of his head.
It’s late, so he’ll just sleep.
He reports that he has escorted the heavily armored axe-wielder to the few people who were waiting for him.
And then collapses onto the floor to sleep.
The recovery healers who will scold him tomorrow.
Have created a multi-layered barrier with their skills for protection.
And are sound asleep.
They must have consumed a lot of magic.
Upon entering the large room.
He heard from those who were awake that they had used up their remaining magic and fallen asleep.
They resent that their sleeping space has been significantly reduced.
