"Ottar, I believe your new sword was finished."
The words of their goddess made the slight bit of movement at the table from eating come to a sudden halt, gazes turning towards either Lady Freya or onto himself.
The dinner table of Freya was currently filled. Alongside himself on the opposite end, all the other executives of the familia were present. Allen, Hedin, Hogni, Alfrigg, Grer, Berling, and Dvalinn. As usual, one more member of the familia was present to round out the total number to ten. This time it was Heith, the leader of the Andhrímnir. In lieu of any other members of the familia having recently had an accomplishment worthy of sitting at the table with their goddess, the leader of the familia's healers was the usual reserve. Her ability to allow the training on the Fields of Folkvangr was so essential that Ottar considered her the most important of their second-tier adventurers.
All of their eyes now focused on him.
Ottar didn't care though, only caring about one set of eyes.
He met his goddess' eyes calmly, seeing that she clearly had some intent in there and accepting it already. From the moment they'd sat down, he'd seen a familiar glint in those familiar eyes. Mischievousness, amusement, even some ire. He had waited till she deemed the time right, simply eating the food before him wholeheartedly as he waited to hear his goddess' words.
Now that she had acted, he lowered his head in a nod before informing her, "Yes, my Lady. I picked it up from the Goibnu familia just earlier."
"Heh, the sword that even the Goibnu familia struggled to make," Hedin spoke up, adjusting his glasses while subtly glaring at Ottar. "Only heard it's expensive. Twice as much as anything else ever commissioned from them."
Ottar rather doubted that was all Hedin truly knew, but he was just emphasizing that he had the intelligence assets even inside the Goibnu familia while not giving more information away.
"Keh, wasting money in effort to show off some showpiece," Allen scoffed too. "Didn't think you'd fall so low, but what can you expect of a simple-minded brute."
Ottar ignored the insult.
"No, he's too much of a meathead to even consider such a play. Ottar only knows blunt force," Hedin countered with his own insult.
Ottar ignored that too.
He did react slightly though when Hedin continued by adding, "No, I simply heard he brought in a material that was extremely hard for them to work. Required Goibnu himself to advise and assist them."
Odd. Hedin usually held such information back while hinting at knowing more.
"What?!"
"A new material?!"
"Where did you get it, Ottar?!"
"You think you can hide from us?!"
The Bringar stood at once, speaking in order after one another seamlessly. Their eyes were the same as they glared at him too. All four looked an inch away from attacking him now that such had been revealed.
They weren't alone either. Allen was glaring at him, slowly standing up in comparison to the Bringar but giving far more the sense of an animal about to pounce. Heith, despite knowing this knowledge was out of her league, was watching too. Even Hogni, who usually kept his head down in such groupings, had looked up to start eyeing Ottar.
"A new manifestation of power, seeking a new form," Hogni whispered.
Ah~, Ottar turned to meet Hedin's eyes briefly.
So that was why he brought it up. Revealed this much. Hedin hadn't been able to learn what Ottar had given to the Goibni familia with the commission. Revealing it here was about letting everyone else know this too. Apply more pressure that might force him to reveal what drop or material he had discovered.
"Hmmmm," Ottar merely hummed.
"I want to see it," the only voice able to drag the eyes of everyone away sounded out. Lady Freya was smiling, looking at Ottar. "Your new sword, Ottar. I want to see it. Bring it to me."
"Yes, my Goddess," he answered immediately, moving.
None of them carried their equipment into the dining hall, obviously. There was no need for such. It would only ruin the atmosphere of the meal, their goddess claimed. Anyone attacking too would quickly find that every single executive in the room – first-class adventurers all – was willing to resort to teeth and claws if necessary.
Although as they were adventurers, it was also only natural that they usually couldn't do more than leave their weapons just outside the room.
Ottar quickly grabbed the sword he'd laid down when he had arrived last.
It felt good in his hands.
It was the first time in years he could honestly claim such. It was more than just weapon design, after all. The weight and reliability mattered too. Twenty-five years of risking his life with but pieces of metal offering protection had allowed Ottar to develop a sense for reliability. Especially the last decade.
Ottar had gotten used to carrying many weapons and little armor, since he couldn't rely on either anymore.
It was natural when you outpaced the ability of smiths to provide equipment suitable for one's strength.
The last time Ottar had gone into battle with equipment suitable, it had been against Gluttony nearing seven years ago. Arrayed in the best equipment Orario could provide, from both their best smiths and loot leftover from the Zeus and Hera familias, as a Level 6. Gluttony had proceeded to shatter all the armor and every weapon but a single sword before even a thousand blows had been exchanged. As a Level 7, there was no longer any armory or smith in the world able to equip him.
This was the first time since that he held a weapon that felt on the same level as him.
Nonetheless, he didn't hesitate to sink to his knees before his goddess and offer it up in both hands, saying, "It is yours, my Goddess."
Freya took it with a hum, despite its weight. Looking over it with a practiced eye that many would not know of. Appreciated the sleek black metal that formed it after reforging. The simple elegance of the design of the greatsword. Measured it with her own palms, taking into account how it was proportional to Ottar's own size as opposed to a smaller man.
She wasn't alone either. The others present were doing the same. Most of them trying to identify the black metal that made it up. Hogni quietly scoffing at the simple design, even if his following mumbles were too soft for even Ottar to hear.
"Have you named it?"
"No, my Lady. I grant the honor to you."
"Hmmm," Freya hummed, settling the sword across her lap. "Then what was it made of, my Ottar?"
"The sword of the Udaeus, my Lady," he answered, making the others present audibly suck in their breath at the revelation.
Freya seemed amused, but unsurprised, by his confession, and questioned, "I was not aware that the Udaeus possessed a sword, despite its similarity to spartoi."
"It seemingly draws one under certain circumstances," he answered easily, under the gaze of everyone present. It wasn't like he was so petty as to deny the knowledge, at least to members of his own familia. Ottar had no care for suppressing others, even if it wasn't his Goddess' will that they all grow stronger.
Admittedly, the Bringar's own brand of questioning that appeared more interrogation under threat of violence usually put him in more a mindset for fighting than answering.
Ottar continued to explain, still on his knees, "I set Cyclops against the Udaeus with the other suitable members of her familia while they requested aid. I interfered minimally, merely acting to extend the fight as long as possible. Her own solo effort against Udaeus lasted several hours. The Udaeus eventually drew its sword, which I then claimed. I believe that either fighting for a certain amount of time, or against a single adventurer, might be what moves it to act so."
That got everyone there thinking.
Solo defeats of Monster Rex weren't common, despite it being possible if one desired to. There was simply little point. Not even the fast-spawning Goliath was so plentiful for Level 4's to bother when it would earn the ire of so many. There was elsewhere in the Dungeon where they could find challenges.
Fighting a long time against them was the same. If you were too weak to finish them, you were likely to retreat or be killed before more than an hour or two passed. If you were strong enough to play so long against the Monster Rex, you were also strong enough to kill it and gained nothing from delaying. A small group 'playing' against the Rex's to extend the time was simply counterintuitive.
Overall, to fight alone or have a small group fight a long time were both not something that was a natural occurrence.
This event was nothing more than an odd event due to certain circumstances and whims.
"So, Hephaestus wasn't lying to me," Lady Freya said with an enigmatic smile, merely having hummed at his explanation. Her finger started tapping the blade of the weapon. "I wonder if that makes what else she informed me of as true."
Ottar didn't move, even with the revelation that his goddess had already known the answer to her questions.
Freya looked at him, eventually speaking with that same smile, "Hephaestus claimed that you stated an intent to fight the Balor, alone, and use that as your great feat to level up."
That made the air in the room freeze, the intent of over half a dozen first-class adventurers making the room feel far too small.
"She speaks true, my Goddess," Ottar still answered, not flinching a sliver from the atmosphere. He had nothing to hide. "I was intending to fight the Balor on said dive, but pulled back to allow this weapon to be forged after gaining the Udaeus' drop. I now intend to dive again tomorrow."
It was not Freya who reacted to the open confession.
"Bastard," Allen hissed, hands slamming on the table enough to leave handprints in the wood.
"Bold, Ottar," Hedin said, adjusting his glasses in the way he did to disguise a more visceral reaction. "Bold."
"Hiding such from us!"
"Let's see how sneaky you are after this, bastard!"
"Taking the entirety of Balor!"
"You think you're such hot shit!"
Finally, even Heith spoke up for the first time, staring at him blankly and stating in a matching voice, "You'll die."
That made the others quickly follow that line, with Allen snarling, "If you want to die, I'll gladly turn you into excelia, bastard!"
"Like hell! We'll kill you all!"
"Better that than have you stain our goddess by fleeing!"
"Might as well wait and kill you off then, boar bastard!"
"Turn you into our own meal of excelia!"
Hedin now glared too as he commented, "The Balor is an opponent even you can't take lightly, Ottar, meathead or not."
Ottar allowed it all to flow off him, even if it all illustrated the reason he'd not intended to reveal it.
Asking forgiveness instead of permission was something even he had picked up, despite not understanding so much of what others took for granted.
He didn't respond though, for the most important voice had yet not spoken.
Meeting his gaze, Freya smiled again before asking, "Must you do this, Ottar?"
He paused briefly, considering, but still answered firmly, "With what is available to me, this is the only way I see before me to take a step further."
"The only way?" she repeated.
"Considering the makeup of the Dungeon, yes," he confirmed again.
Which was true.
Ottar would not consider himself a smart man, by any metric. He did not have the sort of tactical or strategic acumen of Hedin or Braver. He lacked too much inherent knowledge other people took for granted to be wise. He also did not feel so many things others did that would be require for any accomplishment towards empathy.
Even he could see something before him that was apparent though.
And that something was that the Dungeon was intelligent in its own way.
The Dungeon was planned, and insidiously so. Especially in the Deep Floors. No longer were the greatest hindrances random monster parades, the occasional monster species stronger than the norm for that floor, or even poison that wears you down – even if the Dungeon still utilized those. It instead turned its very structure against adventurers.
By depriving adventurers of the high quality excelia they needed – having very clearly noticed the pattern of how adventurers grew.
An adventurer could reach Level 5 before needing to confront the Udaeus on the 37th floor. In fact, that was all but necessary. Even if another killed the Udaeus, even trying to operate on the 37th floor without at least one Level 5 was more likely a suicide mission than not. Even on the 24th floor, one could find the Green Dragons that had potential to be as strong as Level 4's. Irregulars also offered surprisingly strong monsters for their floors.
As a new Level 5, Ottar had camped and spent weeks fruitfully training at a time on the 37th floor while eating fruits from the Dense Forest Ravine on the 36th.
From the 37th floor on, the Dungeon changed that. From the 37th floor to the 48th, one won't find a single monster greater than equivalent to Level 4. Outside of rare irregulars. It just sends a great number of them. Armies of them. Not till Balor will you find anything stronger. Past the Balor, from the 50th to 58th floors, almost the same repeats. All you will find is Level 5 enemies, and generally lower ones as well. The sole exception is the Cadmus Dragon, barely stronger than the Udaeus and hardly faster at respawning. Even the Volgang Dragons of the 58th floor are more artillery than proper challenges. Always a threat that they'll blow the floors out from under you as you descend, but big and slow enemies with few melee options once you reached them. No Monster Rex either.
Worse was the design of said floors. The Grand Forest Ravine on the 36th floor is the last area where the Dungeon grows food. All the way to the 49th floor, the Dungeon is some form of rock or volcano with not a morsel that can be eaten. The 50th floor to the 58th is not only more stark rock landscape, even the Cadmus Springs only offering water and some nonedible vegetation, but also a labyrinth. A labyrinth that slows any advance and changes subtly in the local area whenever the Volgang Dragons blow a hole in it. Even the floors beyond it, which Ottar had not yet reached, were known as the Glacier Territory. The records from Zeus and Hera familia's paint it as a frozen hellscape of snow, ice, and cold water. The only known fruit being an ice-cold fruit that kills anyone Level 6 and under that ate it from freezing their stomachs, and even renders Level 7's forced to warm up somehow. The monsters once again 'merely' Level 6, with some whale monsters in particularly having the tendency to burst out from ice-covered water to destroy wagons and supplies.
Simply put, the Dungeon started depriving one of chances for high-class excelia while also switching instead to challenging one in logistics.
It was not even a new phenomenon. The Hera familia had a Level 9, two Level 7's, ten Level 6's, and over two dozen Level 5's when they undertook the Three Great Quests. The Zeus familia had a Level 8, three Level 7's, eleven Level 6's, and over two dozen Level 5's.
The pyramid structure was not accidental.
There simply wasn't enough to go around once you reached the numbers of the Zeus and Hera familias. The respawn rates of the larger monsters made it so. Only so many Level 5's could generally level up from monsters, and only so many Level 6's, and even less Level 7's.
It was why the two familia's had so much encouraged fights between familia.
Because if the Dungeon doesn't provide the monsters to help you level up, you had to find the challenges in fellow adventurers.
Opportunity and accessibility were the real factors that determined who leveled up and when once one reached first-class as an adventurer.
"I have considered and contemplated my further growth as much as I am able, my goddess," Ottar spoke up, bowing his head slightly to Freya. "Forty-eight years ago, Maxim leveled up following a death match against the captain of the Osiris familia – the father of the Level 7 that tried to displace them again twenty-eight years ago. Before, a Hera member that leveled up following being stranded in the Glacier Territory alone after being mistaken as lost, and then trapped by Balor's spawning for over a month till an expedition killed Balor to inadvertently rescue her. The next leveled up following an unusual monster spawn on the 58th floor after experimenting with blasting their way through the labyrinth that killed multiple other Zeus members. The one before that was Cere-…the Quee-…"
Ottar struggled to get the words out, irritating him even if he refused to consider why.
"The captain of the Hera familia, I presume," Freya suggested, voice even but pointed.
"Yes, my Lady," Ottar said, still bowing his head as he felt awkward meeting her eyes here for some reason. "She leveled up a hundred and twenty years ago following three decades as a level 7. She reached Level 9 fifty-five years later when she fought the Monster Rex on the 69th floor with the other two mentioned Level 8's before Maxim…Only she survived."
"I see. Not exactly replicable achievements," Freya murmured.
"No, they are not," Ottar admitted, lifting his head finally. Meeting her eyes once again. "Besides waiting for such a…fortune, I have only one option available to me."
"Kill Leon Vardenburg?" Deval whispered.
Which made Gren then add with a smirk, "Then whether Ottar or the Knight of Knight wins, we could pick off the other."
Their interruption this time made Freya send them a look that quickly quieted them.
When she then cast a gaze at him, he finished, "I had already decided that defeating Balor alone would be the feat I would seek to make the next step. There is no other option available to me that doesn't require me to wait even longer."
"'Wait even longer'," Hedin quickly repeated, eyes narrowing at me. "You planned this."
"I did," he admitted easily.
"For two years," Hedin added, smile too sharp and hard to be anything but threatening as he realized.
"Bastard, I'll kill you," Allen snarled too as he realized as well.
"It appears there's another layer to this," Freya remarked, eyes narrowing.
Ottar explained simply, "Two years ago, after defeating the Balor following the Loki familia's failure, the other executives came and requested I allow them to handle the Balor alone. I agreed to allow them to choose how to handle the Balor the next two times, if I would be able to decide the arrangement the time after that. This time."
"Oh," Freya commented, eyes scanning them. "How ~amusing~."
None, besides a wide-eyed Heith still watching these events while disconnected from them, met her eyes. After all, their goddess was no fool. Such a request had one goal no one could miss, even beyond gathering more high-class excelia for themselves. Denying Ottar access to Balor was no different than directly inhibiting any chance to level up.
"And you agreed to this, Ottar?"
"Of course he did," Allen declared, recovered already.
It's not like this was so unusual in their familia. To struggle and fight, even against each other, in the effort to grow stronger and draw Freya's interest was the core drive of their familia. Successfully inhibiting another while accelerating your own progress was a victory for much of the familia.
Ottar acknowledged that by saying, "I did, Lady Freya."
"Seems he planned it," Hedin added, looking at Ottar with newly evaluating eyes. "To the year it seemed."
"No," Ottar denied though, turning to Hedin to make something clear. "I first requested Allen allow me to handle the Balor afterwards by my directive. He refused. Repeatedly."
"Heh," Allen let out with a smirk, likely remembering his refusal to do anything but bluntly deny Ottar.
Ottar merely stating firmly, "I had believed my status sufficient to attempt to kill Balor two years ago."
And the two years since had been…unproductive.
Less than a two hundred points gained since. 67 in Dexterity, 21 in Agility, and 46 in Magic. A level of progress slower than he'd ever had to endure before. For the most part, all he'd been able to do was join the Fields of Folkvangr while holding back, trying to rely solely on and hone his weapon skills.
It had been exceedingly irritating, even by Ottar's oft muted emotions.
Cyclops of the Hephaestus familia might not have appreciated his actions regarding the Udaeus, but once she sought to level up and realized the only opportunity she had for high-class excelia was the Udaeus – which she only had access to once every…eighteen months – she would appreciate every scrap she'd earned under his watch.
After all, even beyond the past two years, he was familiar with the feeling.
If anything, the two years had reminded him of the time before the Great Feud.
Ottar had leveled up to 6 back in the Zeus and Hera era. After watching them defeat Behemoth, he'd descended. With Balor having been cleared by them, he'd spent weeks in the Deep Floors solo with even the 50th floor and lower available to him. A timeframe only possible because Mia had organized whole expeditions merely to resupply him – a feat impossible with the familia nowadays. He'd returned to surface to level up…and to learn of the defeat of those familia's against the One-Eyed Black Dragon alongside Mia's retirement without even offering him a final fight.
Starting a new era, where he was the mightiest because everyone stronger had died or retired.
An era with an aggravating start, in so many ways. The Balor's return had blocked him from going deeper than the 49th floor like before. Requiring several Level 6's and just as many Level 5's at least to defeat, he'd been forced to slowly improve his stats against the monsters of the 39th to 49th floors. The same routine he'd done as a Level 5. What was once two years for previous levels turned into eight, and still required final training during the Great Feud to push his basic abilities to the limit as he was used to. Even the Udaeus had been monopolized by the Level 5's of his own and Loki's familia, preventing any chance of high-class excelia.
If Gluttony hadn't shown up – as irritating as it was to acknowledge – he would have been trapped at Level 6 till others leveled up to join him.
The last two years felt like that again.
Not a good thing, as those years led to his first humiliating defeat to Gluttony.
The five before that hadn't been too stimulating either, as the labyrinth floors served as an immovable wall for a solo adventurer like he. He'd only managed to reach the limit with his stats due to learning to raise monsters of the Deep Floors with training and magic stones, then fighting and killing the resultant Irregulars that gained a level or two of strength.
It was arguably another reason that he'd acted as he had with Cyclops and the Hephaestus familia. Even with Ottar's willpower, he knew that even he could lose something after years of not truly being able to push himself. A burden of being the mightiest. In his own way, watching another struggle, bleed, and fight against a Monster Rex had been preparation for himself. To know that he would soon be in the same condition – without the same protection – and get into said mindset.
"As captain, I granted you all your request and restrained myself for two years," Ottar said, still on his knee before their goddess and yet his eyes turned sharper while his own intent cut through the room. "If you seek to deny me here though, I shall not stand aside."
If he had to go through every single one of them before reaching Balor, he would.
"Keh," Allen scoffed, clicking his tongue. He merely crossed his arms though as he continued, "I don't need to do anything. Not my job to save your dumb ass."
"The Balor is not an enemy to be underestimated, even by you," Hedin acknowledged, adjusting his glasses. "If you fail too…"
"We'll clean up after you."
"Yes, we'll correct your error."
"You'll only have yourself to blame."
"Trying to eat a feast yourself, only natural."
"Enough."
Lady Freya's voice once again silenced everyone in the room.
Their eyes turned to her, watching as she once again examined the black sword that remained in her possession.
"I ask once again, my Ottar," she started again, eyes locking with his. "Must you do this?"
…
"Yes, my goddess," he told her. "This is how I shall take the next step."
…
"Then take this Supreme Black Sword, and take said step," she stated grandly, finally standing up herself from the seat she'd held all this while. Holding the blade for him to grasp. "You are not allowed to lose, my Ottar."
"Of course, my Goddess," he said, grabbing the hilt of the sword and finally standing.
She moved here though, pulling herself close to him so she could whisper in his ear, "You are also not allowed to die. That's my most important command to you."
"Of course, my Lady," Ottar returned. Especially since the Great Feud, Freya had become protective of him. While he disagreed with the sentiment, she spoke often enough of returning to heaven if a favored soul left that he had little desire to test her. "I shall leave to prepare for tomorrow."
"Won't make a difference," Allen claimed, a growl hidden in his voice.
Such sentiments – or more accurate, hopes – showing in the other executives too, Ottar couldn't help frowning.
Which Freya seemed to catch, making her let out a mesmerizing chuckle before commenting, "It seems you have something you wish to say, Ottar. Come, I want to hear it. Best not hold anything back at this juncture."
It made Ottar turn to survey the other executives in the room.
"Petty."
A moment followed of silence.
Then the tension in the room spiked. Teeth started to be gnashed in frustration, and eyes turned bloodshot in an instant as they glared. Every executive in that room knew just who he was referring to.
If their goddess wasn't in the room, more than one would have attacked.
They had in the past for less.
Ottar merely met their ferocity and hostility head on though, refusing to budge.
"You don't just…choose to level up."
"I would also remind you that the number of level 6's alive since Zeus and Hera fell is in the single digits, and all but two leveled up during the Great Feud alongside Tsubaki. They have not leveled up either in the time since."
"And to make clear, you too leveled up during the Feud and have yet to level up either."
He had been unbothered when Cyclops and the Divine Smith spoke such words to him. He had already decided to level up, and chosen a trial he was ready to undergo. He had merely been delayed by factors both small and large.
Remembering them however as he looked at the other members of his familia, the others serving Freya, a sentiment sparked inside him.
"Before comforting yourself with the idea of my failure and planning to capitalize, perhaps remember that you'll never catch up to me if you do not keep moving forward yourselves," Ottar said, turning away from them dismissively. "At least then such a word wouldn't describe you so all so well."
He walked away, hearing Freya's amused chuckle at the rare provocation offered by himself towards the others.
It only increased the vitriolic intent digging into his back.
It was clear to Ottar this would be his only chance against Balor. If he failed, his own familia would move to 'correct' his mistake with all haste by killing Balor. Work to prevent him from trying again in the future too, should Ottar be so reckless as to attempt to kill-steal from the Loki familia in five months or them the time after that.
He'd known since the beginning, but this only ensured he recognized that as more than a vague, theoretical acknowledgement.
He knew in his heart that this might be his only chance.
Despite that…he felt his heartbeat speeding up though, the trace of excitement borne with the Udaeus sparking and building.
"I'm going to kill Balor."
Out of caution towards potential reckless acts by his fellows and with Freya not having called upon him, Ottar chose to not spend the night at Folkvangr.
He instead sat on a bench in the Central Park around Babel. A night of sleep wouldn't make a difference, and the moon in the sky always spoke to him. To sit and watch it cleared his mind. Almost meditative. Eventually the moon fell behind the horizon though, the sun peaked out, and the early-rising adventurers were starting to walk by to the Dungeon.
It made Ottar stand, raise a hand to grasp a sword hilt, and then call out, "Elgarm, Nine Hells, Braver…have you come to stand against me?"
"Not at all, Ottar," Braver said as he stepped closer, hands up in a gesture of supposed harmlessness and a purposefully amiable smile on his face. "We did not wish to disturb you."
"Standing around for an hour as you stared at the sky was boring, but we were the ones to come," Elgarm added, amiability far superior to Braver's.
Nine Hells didn't say anything. She merely glared, and clicked her tongue. Ottar ignored her too.
Even before events happened to ensure the rivalry between their familias, the two had always had a natural enmity that left even the performative civility – at times – with the other two a nonstarter.
"If you do not intend to stand in my way, then I care little," Ottar told them, walking past Braver without even looking at him. "I am heading into the Dungeon."
"To face Balor?" Braver's voice asked.
That did make Ottar stop.
"…it appears the Divine Smith is not as discreet as hoped," Ottar finally said, looking over his shoulder at the pallum hero.
"I believe it came from a good place," Braver claimed easily though, almost amused. "Despite what you might believe, Orario would be quite devastated if you died in the Dungeon for no rea-."
"To face the Dungeon in spite of the risk is the basis of all adventurers," Ottar cut off.
"Yet often, it's what happens outside the Dungeon that is actually important, no? That which saves the most lives?" Braver countered. "The Guild fears that without at least one Level 7, we might return to the Dark Age. I might not think the same, but I remind myself that threats that I miss can always lurk."
Ottar scoffed at such, bluntly declaring as he started forward again, "Such fears shall only prevent our achieving greater heights. If you fear Orario lacking a Level 7, seek to change that yourselves. I am looking higher."
"Haha, spoken like the King," Braver said, voice wry and almost mocking. "Yet, do you really think it's that easy anymore, Ottar?"
"You don't just…choose to level up."
Hearing words so similar from Braver's mouth made Ottar stop.
Which Braver naturally took as the opportunity to continue, "When the time comes, and Orario truly needs its heroes, they shall rise to meet the threat. I believe that. That more pages in the Heroic Legend shall be written. Risking your life trying to force it…Things happen as they are meant. Don't die trying to defy that."
"It would indeed be a shame for it to end that way," Elgarm commented himself, scratching his nose and speaking roughly. "Not only as it denies us the day when we'll eventually beat you either, King. I've not yet had a drink with you, or seen you truly grow beyond that little brat holding Freya's hand. I've seen too many meaningless deaths from those who still had a future ahead of them."
"Basically, we came here because, even as rivals, have no desire to see you die a meaningless death."
…meaningless?
"So, remember that more is lost from your passing than shame over being forced to flee," Braver finished.
"Meaningless?" Ottar now spoke aloud, turning enough to glare at the pallum. "You believe what I am doing is meaningless?!"
"A fight you do not need to be fight alone? Against a foe that needs not be beaten now? Where no lives are on the line? A fight that no one shall see or remember?" Braver threw back rhetorically, the look in his eyes almost disdainful as he rattled off the questions. "As I said, there is no shame in fleeing when it becomes necessary. Nothing that compares to risking Orario losing you."
When.
Condescension? Ottar genuinely wondered in that instant if this was mere mocking. These three hearing of his intent, and coming to offer trite words while inwardly anticipating that he'll end up fleeing from Balor in defeat.
…he preferred it was so.
Otherwise, Braver believed his words, and that set something alight in Ottar even more.
"I have endured shame, humiliation, and defeat more times than I can count. I gladly will dirty my hands in such blood and filth if it means to build the steps from it that shall allow me to overcome the walls before me," Ottar said, walking forward. "I need no comfort in the face of that."
"I'm glad," Braver said, seemingly satisfied. "I hope we see you again, Ottar."
"I'm bothered more by one question," Ottar continued though.
It made the three stop.
"When did the heroes of Orario become so fainthearted?"
He didn't bother waiting for a response.
As Ottar approached Babel, the tension rose with each step as thoughts came to him.
Tsubaki Collbrande, the greatest mortal smith alive, focusing on negotiating purchases and exclusivity over reaching a level where everyone who wanted the best could only come to her.
His own familia executives, languishing as they tried instead to hinder Ottar over pushing themselves and snarling at each other over acting?
Now even Loki's Great Three, talking about preserving their lives and waiting for a threat to appear so they can finally rise higher?
By the time he arrived at the facility above the Dungeon entrance, adventurers were splitting before him and everyone inside froze as he stepped inside.
And they aren't alone either.
Even he knew that Shakti Varma did not truly seek to go further, despite having ten Level 5's in her familia to support her and it being a total waste of her talent to languish as a second-rate Level 5.
Phryne Jamil wasn't even worth consideration anymore, Ishtar's obsession with Freya for these years having let her familia degenerate into a mob to be swept aside.
Did the Astraea familia die and take Orario' courage with them?!
By the time he reached the entrance to the Dungeon, everyone was keeping their distance.
Not him.
He shall face Balor merely because it's a worthy foe that he needed to climb over.
There was a mountain before him that yet remained unclimbed.
He didn't need any further reason to climb.
As he took his first step the Dungeon itself, Ottar felt wholly different from the last time he descended. When he pit several smiths against the Udaeus simply to try and put himself in the proper mindset. He wasn't sure if it was indignation, pride, anger, or even disappointment, but two years of malaise and tedium were being shaken off as his heart started beating fast and energy filled him.
The Balor was a monstrous thing.
A being that deserved to be called 'monster' more than any other Ottar had seen but the Great Three Monsters.
It was really little more than an upper body. At its waist where legs might be instead a twisted collection of dwarf limbs and longs toe-like claws. Helping keep it upright. Two thick arm limbs, with hands more like clawed feet that once again help keep it up. Great bone spikes erupting from both forearms and back. A torso with thick ribs bulging out. Black skin with red spots at places that almost resembled eyes. A long, thick neck leading to a fanged mouth and head. A single, piercing eye.
Balor – The Piercing Eye.
Even from miles away, Ottar had no difficulty looking at it.
Or knowing that it was looking back.
Ottar still took a moment to look beyond the Monster Rex.
The floor itself was nothing important. The Moytura was Balor's domain. A single, great room making up the entire floor. No grass or greenery showed in the desolation of this floor. Merely hard black rock and gritty reddish-brown sand.
More concerning was the monsters. Just as the Udaeus would call upon spartoi, Balor innately drew monsters to it. It was why taking it out quickly was paramount. Catching it to the day it respawned was near impossible, the Dungeon was never so convenient or predictable, but within days was preferred. The two weeks – just two weeks – that Ottar had delayed were enough for the Balor to have gathered a small army of monsters from both the 48th floor and 51th floors.
It reminded him of worse times. There were old legends of the Balor leading armies to the surface, and the Guild at least believed them. After Zeus and Hera fell, when they couldn't kill off the Balor for years, they'd ordered Ottar to cull the army of monsters it gathered.
For years, he had come here to do so. Came knowing he wouldn't win. Came knowing he'd be forced to flee.
Again and again and again he'd been forced to flee Balor.
Even after the Great Feud when he'd finally been able to return and kill it with the other executives, he hadn't felt any relief.
He had known why, and he wouldn't deny it was the core of why he'd decided this would be how he took the next step.
"I cannot continue on till I overcome you," he spoke softly, looking back to Balor. He raised a hand to grasp and draw the Supreme Black Sword. "You have been a wall before me for fifteen years."
A wall as great as Gluttony or any other.
The years he spent as a Level 6, incapable of going past it to reach the deeper floors. Stuck on the floors above this. Progressing hideously slow. Losing something as a deep malaise set in.
As a Level 7, the only worthy opponent available for him. The only one that granted a glimpse of something further. The final remaining obstacle before he started charting new ground.
"Fifteen years ago, you became another wall blocking my path forward. Now, you are the only one that remains," Ottar said, lifting the Supreme Black Sword before him. "Today, that ends. Today, I don't just scale you. Today, I go through you."
Despite the distance, it was almost as if the Balor heard as it let out a high-pitched shriek.
"Today, you fall."
A glint of red in the distance showed that Balor had its own response to that.
Ottar held the Supreme Black Sword in a block, using its flat side to catch the red beam that came at him. The force was indescribable, but his own body held. His feet dug trenches in the ground, but that was the only give even as the ranged attack lit up the world. The blast, something that would wipe a Level 4 from existence in a single blow, died down.
Ottar let out a breath, slowly coming out from his defensive stance.
He glanced at the Supreme Black Sword he'd blocked with. The black blade had started to glow red, but that died down even as he watched. Leaving its black blade untouched.
"A good weapon," he commented simply, moving to rest it on his shoulder as he turned back to Balor.
Which let out another screech, and was no doubt preparing another attack.
Balor. The monster capable of wiping out tens of thousands with a single attack. Those ranged attacks were on a level that to bring even Level 4's against it was to all but offer them up on a platter. One needed to be Level 5 to have the speed to avoid the worse attacks, and the durability to survive even the glancing blows. Level 6 if one wanted to harm its thick black skin.
Ottar took a breath.
Then he blasted forward, his dash creating a shockwave behind him as miles disappeared.
Balor still responded, firing more blasts. Ottar zigzagged. Dodging one, two, three blasts. They slowed him down, but hardly enough. Balor held a blast, to intercept him if he jumped over the horde of monsters that still stood between him and it.
He didn't jump, and instead went through. He connected with the horde of monsters like an arrow through flesh. The level 4 monsters that stood in his way were all but minced by his body traveling at these speeds. Yet they threw themselves between Ottar and Balor. A swing of his sword cut them through like paper, and even the shockwaves let off tore and shredded any monster it connected with.
After the strike, Ottar caught a glance at Balor.
It was hesitating. A known weakness of Balor. A reluctance to kill the monsters that came to surround it.
A useful shield.
Also providing a moment for Ottar to launch himself. This time, straight at Balor. He stabbed the Supreme Black Sword into Balor's chest before his feet connected too, the force of the impact rippling out and tossing nearby monsters away.
Balor only barely staggered, and responded with a screech that landed almost like a physical blow. Ottar flinched, and had to wrench out his blade in a bloody spectacle to then dodge as one of its great hands swiped at where he had just been. While still in midair, it repeated the strike. Its hand didn't connect, but it didn't need to. Three great claws of red energy instead ripped towards Ottar, and landed. Blood spurted as skin and muscle was cut.
Ottar felt the pain of the strike, but no more. He landed on the ground, and blurred with strikes that killed every monster within twenty feet of him. He juked to the side, dodging another such strike of the Balor and then jumped right back onto it. Multiple strikes followed as he again and again cut into the Rex.
Its skin was hard and thick though. More than any steel. Even his strength and the Supreme Black Sword couldn't cut deep enough to be anything but surface damage, and that allowed Balor to keep swiping at him. On the body of the monster, bereft of any grips and with the monster shaking, it was an intense test of agility and nimbleness.
Then it let out another screech with the strength to throw him through the air.
Its eye then unleashed another red beam as he was suspended in midair.
Ottar's eyes glowed red and smoke flowed from his mouth.
"Graaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"
He swung the Supreme Black Sword at the incoming attack.
An explosion rang out, deafening him. The shockwave landed like a dozen blows on his body. His hands numbed.
Yet the red beam flew away, and Ottar landed on his feet despite being thrown away too. He didn't pause before unleashing an even faster and more devastating attack. The level 5 monsters like the Black Rhinos falling as easily as the Level 4 Fomoire or Flame Rocks.
"Sterling compassion, golden plains."
He started chanting, speaking a line at a time between strikes.
"It is my fate to serve as a brute of war."
Balor let out another high-pitched screech, and this time it unleashed a beam from up close as soon as Ottar was open.
"Run through, carrying divine will of the goddess."
As close as the strike was, overwhelming speed won out. Ottar darted right towards Balor, head down. Just enough to barely dodge the beam. So close his skin blistered and blackened, and hair on his head was burned.
He still completed the chant, golden light emitting from him.
"Hildis Vini!"
He then let out a horizontal strike at the torso of Balor, weapon wrapped in the golden light of his spell.
"KreeeeeeaaaaaAAAAHHHHHH!"
Balor shrieked hideously as its torso was cut open by the magic-empowered strike. That wasn't all either. The shockwave followed, a golden wave of light pouring forth and seeking to envelop the Monster Rex. Despite its macabre base that usually held it firm, black rock cracked and shattered as Balor's bulk was pushed back.
Yet, Balor did not fall. It retained its balance, massive hands and claws digging into the ground. Eventually it came to a halt, the magical strike failing and fading.
"Kreee…AAAAAHHHHHHH!" Balor then shrieked in utter fury, single eye glaring at Ottar.
It didn't attack though, instead allowing Ottar a moment to watch. His previous strikes to its skin had already closed, and he watched as the far greater wound just inflicted did the same. This time it wasn't just regeneration though. He watched as bone sprouted from the great cleft he'd left in its chest, the bone expanding till it melded together to create a thick plate over the former wound.
Ottar breathed deeply, and forced Vana Arganture to pull back. To de-beastify. Each activation consumed a great deal of stamina and magic, but better to accept that than drain even further in a futile effort. The boost in his base abilities was useful, but that display made clear that killing Balor in a rush was impossible.
This would be a battle that couldn't be finished quickly.
So, Ottar sheathed the Supreme Black Sword. He instead drew another, inferior one. He then waited, tilting his head to listen as the horde of monsters moved to surround him even as he met the single eye of Balor as it stared. Both sides seemingly waiting for some signal to attack after that opening exchange to feel each other out.
The signal soon came, and the entire floor soon started shaking again.
Balor was an interesting opponent. If one looked at its durability, attack power, and ability to summon monsters, it would easily rank as a Level 8 Monster Rex. Its regeneration especially tended to create a hike in difficulty. It did have several weaknesses though which made it susceptible to enemies far below its level.
One, its ranged attacks – while devastating – were clearly meant for larger numbers of weaker enemies. It was not an exaggeration to say Level 4's did not even belong on the same battlefield as it. Armies could, and supposedly even have, fallen to it in single attacks. Even if you took a large and highly mobile unit of Level 4's or 3's, it would still be a monumental challenge for them to even get close enough to attack. If you were Level 5 or higher though, it wouldn't have the ability to hit you from too far a distance. It could from up close, but the cost in concentration on aiming and charge time for stronger attacks was there.
Second, its relative lack of mobility. Relative to a monster of its strength, true, but it didn't have legs. Its ability to turn and rotate its body was simply not suitable for confronting multiple enemies Level 5 or higher. It made approaching it from behind entirely possible if it had an enemy in front of it.
Third, its head. While massive enough that striking its head when it was focused on you was something even Ottar couldn't manage, it was still a weakness. If you were going to kill Balor, and you didn't want to have to break every bone in its regenerating body in the process, you went for the head with the biggest strike you could.
All these together actually formed a relatively simply and remarkably effective strategy for killing the Balor. Firstly, you came to face it with a number of allies. Six was considered ideal, preferably with at least three Level 6's and Level 5 the lowest allowed. You then surrounded it from a distance on all sides. If you had six, simple geometry ensured that if it was facing one enemy directly, another was right behind it. If said person was a Level 6, they could then strike at the back of its head.
A full-power finishing strike of a suitably strong Level 6 to the back of its head was by far the simplest and most effective method of killing Balor.
Not even monsters were able to escape such inherent and obvious weaknesses.
It was a strategy that allowed Level 6's to kill an enemy that some might argue should be two levels above them.
Unfortunately, as he was facing it alone, exactly none of those weaknesses applied to Ottar's own battle with it. Alone, it was able to concentrate all of its attacks and energy against Ottar. Nor was it so slow as to allow him to gain its back. Without its back, reaching the head without being swatted or blasted out of the air was…difficult.
It was all very difficult.
The blast struck him after he delayed a few moments too long culling the monster horde. The great red beam of Balor. It hit with the same force and energy as before, and he raised the butcher sword to block it.
He realized his mistake when the blade soon glowed red too.
Ottar raised an arm over his head as the blade shattered – nay, melted- under the attack. His flesh was then afflicted with the attack directly. Skin blackening and disintegrating even as pain screamed through his body. His feet came out from under him from the assault, and he was thrown back.
The attack ended, and the monsters came swarming in to try and finish the weakened enemy.
"Raaaaaahhhh!"
The monsters were smacked back as nothing more than meat and blood, and Ottar surged out from the pile of smoke the attack had left. In his left hand, he grasped a great hammer. Hit right arm however was almost limp, and dripped blood.
The attack had stripped the skin from his shoulder to elbow. Skin burnt away. Flexing muscle revealed as if someone had taken a flaying knife to it.
It didn't stop him from diving back into the monsters, crushing and bashing them with the hammer one-handed.
Making distance to try to grab a few minutes of breath only provoked Balor to look to the sky.
It then launched a great beam into the sky, where it arced and hung at its crest. It then exploded, and thousands of beams started falling from the sky. As if calling a meteor shower down upon him.
Ottar could only grasp his weapon, starting the chant.
"Sterling compassion, golden plains."
"It is my fate to serve as a brute of war."
"Run through, carrying the divine will of the goddess."
"Hildis Vini!"
He swung his blade upwards as they were about to impact, releasing a golden shockwave from his weapon that impacted the beams coming down on him. Dozens – hundreds – of explosions erupted above him as the remaining buckshot landed around him like artillery, shattering the rocky ground and sending chips of stone into his skin like shrapnel.
None hit him directly though.
Ottar glared at Balor, which shrieked at its failed attack, before looking at his weapon.
Chipped. Showing accumulated damage. Not likely to last long.
He growled, but shot back towards Balor and its remaining monsters. Balor wouldn't wait. In a contest between its ability to fire its ranged attacks and his own ability to use Hildis Vini repeatedly, he would lose.
Balor's strike with its hand released three more energy slashes, but Ottar blocked them. It tried again. He blocked those too. Ottar's feet planted, he defended against a barrage of such strikes from Balor that kept even its monsters away.
Angered by this, its head tilted back before shooting forward with a cry to unleash a beam at him.
He'd predicted thus, and his planted feet flowed into a step movement that allowed him to dodge it by inches. More skin burnt off, but Ottar managed with a jump to gain its flank. Another then sent him flying right at it.
It raised a hand in defense, and he chose to strike the shield itself.
Balor roared as one of its fingers was cleaved.
Ottar grimly acknowledged the shattered fragments of his axe flying through the air.
He grabbed the severed finger, spun it around, and drove its massive claw into Balor's forearm like a spear.
Balor swung its head with unexpected agility, leaving Ottar's golden strike not close enough to land properly.
Its untouched hand then rose and actually grasped him out of midair. For a moment, he was in its grasp. Then it slammed him into the ground. Then it did it again, and again. Trying to crush him under its palm like a bug. The ground itself braking and shattering along with the bones in his body.
After three such impacts though, Ottar firmed himself and managed to act when it tried again. Slipping his feet under him, he raised the tip of his blade so that the strike stabbed the weapon into Balor's palm. He also lowered his head, as that hardly stopped its palm strike that slammed into his shoulders. He found himself knee deep in the broken rock, like a nail under a hammer.
Balor cried, but still raised its hand before slamming it down again.
Strike after strike drove the blade into Balor's palm. Strike after strike fell on Ottar's shoulders like a building being dropped on him. Strike after strike pushed Ottar deeper and deeper into the rock foundation of the floor.
Balor was intent on literally burying him.
Ottar merely muttered under his breath, enduring the crushing assault that left his spine, shoulders, and legs groaning and cracking under every strike.
Another strike came down.
"Hildis Vini!" he roared; chant completed.
This time, his golden strike stabbed right through Balor's hand, and he then wrenched it to the side to cleave it from palm to out between two of its claws. It was a wound even Balor couldn't ignore. It drew back with a cry, providing Ottar the chance to force himself out of the stone coffin that had now reached his shoulders.
Unfortunately, Balor used its other hand to smack Ottar away. He blocked, but the sword shattered under the strike. Ottar took all the remaining force right to the chest, and it was enough to send him flying straight back with a shockwave released. He tumbled and broke ground as he slowly managed to come to a halt.
Balor followed it up with a trio of energy blades from its hand as it tried to regenerate the wound on the other.
Snarling, Ottar drew the Supreme Black Sword and deflected the three strikes. He then shot forward. He blocked more energy blades. Ignored and fought through the screech that caused a shockwave. Dove over the swipe of its hand.
And finally swung down the jet-black blade, cleaving right through the arm of Balor.
Crying in pain, sheer anger still provoked Balor to not hesitate a second in throwing its head forward to unleash another beam right into Ottar's chest. This time he didn't even manage to block. He could only take it, blasted back with the beam carving out a thick trench even as it tried to go right through him.
Balor cried out afterwards, arm severed.
Only when the smoke from its attack cleared to reveal Ottar did its rage once again triumph.
Ottar stood firm. The dungeon outfit had been destroyed. His entire chest was a mess. Skin blown apart, muscles and even bone exposed. Still, he stood firmly.
Meeting Balor's glare and growling to match its own cry.
Balor's severed arm soon bulged, and he watched as a bone sprouted. It extended, the tip sharpening. All till Balor eventually had a bone spear extending from its forearm in place of a hand.
Ottar was unmoved, and stepped forward.
Ottar killed the horde of monsters around Balor.
A new horde of monsters arrived from the 48th floor.
He killed that horde too.
How long had they been fighting? One hour? Six? Half a day? He didn't know.
The floor clearly showed that a battle had taken place. The floor had shattered till the once flat landscape was now littered with canyons, gulleys, and protruding rocks The floor was also now illuminated. As Balor let off its attacks, it felt like it was changing the floor itself. Transforming it into a domain where Balor's nature showed itself. Red flames burned rock, and red lightning had started flashing and striking the ground randomly. The very air seemed to vibrate with the destructive energy of Balor, making it feel like breathing foul, hostile air.
It was hell.
Fitting, as Ottar felt like he'd been through hell.
Only Stortus Ottar and the Healing Power DA it granted prevented him from looking like nothing more than a pile of meat by this point. The slow but automatic regenerative ability at the cost of Mind was truly essential in preventing Ottar's willpower outstripping what even his body could take. It also matched exceedingly well with the Spirit Healing DA also granted by Stortus Ottar, which automatically started regenerating Mind after usage. Which in this case included the Mind drain from Healing Power.
That's not to say he wasn't a mess. His shirt was gone, and wounds littered his body. He had to have between half a dozen and a dozen cracked bones. Every muscle felt strained and weak. Most of his equipment was destroyed by this point too. His boots were gone, and his feet bleeding, shredded, and stabbed constantly with black chips of the ground.
Balor was hardly better. Much of its body now had bone plating to cover wounds too great for it to regenerate properly, and they clearly affected it. It moved slower now. Heavier. Its arm was gone, even that bone spear shattered again, and its balance went with it. It was moving like someone with a crippled leg. Its other hand lacked a finger. A near miss had also cut open part of its face, slashing its equivalent of a cheek to extend its mouth on one side to create a hideous mockery of a half-smile.
Honestly, both were half dead by this point.
Yet, they continued fighting.
Ottar cut into its body, before jumping and rolling over as swipe of its arm. Another cut to its arm. Balor tried a wide-spread beam, and it connected. Ottar just went right through it though. Slashing it through the middle, and enduring what remained to connect him. It got him close enough to its arm to shoot forward, drawing a spike from his belt. The last spike. A spike which he drove into the upper arm of Balor's remaining arm, and then lashing out with a double stomp that drove it deep even as it launched him away.
Balor cried, its arm slumping in a way that made it clear that even that one had now been rendered largely useless.
Ottar sensed opportunity, and prepared to move in again.
But then he heard noise. Balor did too, crying victoriously as he looked to see the new arrivals. Yet another monster horde, this time coming from the 50th floor. Took longer, due to the Safe Floor there.
Ottar turned to glare at Balor again, before turning his gaze to the weapon in his hand before himself.
Both he and his enemy were in terrible shape. Ottar's own body was reaching its limit, and he knew it. Yet, the Supreme Black Sword remained in his hand. Worn and tested, but still whole. With that last spike used, his last remaining weapon. That had also made a difference. Both half dead or not, Ottar had very much felt the tide turning. Balor's arms were broken and useless, and its movements slowed.
He could win this if things had remained as they were.
Yet now, another horde of monsters was arriving.
Level 5 monsters – when he was at his weakest.
He hadn't felt this weak and broken since Gluttony had forced him to his knees seven years ago.
Ottar…hesitated.
And Balor sensed it, letting out a new cry that made his head snap up.
Balor's head was raised, and energy was gathering. A great magic circle formed before its head, and he saw a symbol form in its eye. The energy didn't peak either. Already as strong as any other attack it had let out, it was still gathering more.
"So, you do have a secret too," Ottar growled, all his feelings of weakness and hesitation flaring as he looked at this new attack gathering.
Run!
You'll die here!
You can come back another time!
There's no shame in retreat!
Such words and sentiments ran through his mind with such clarity that it was as if people screamed them into his ear.
And Ottar felt himself instinctively take a step back.
Shame overcame him, yet he remembered the words of those before he came down. Freya's command that he come back alive. He had willingly suffered defeat and disgrace before, for he was one that challenged walls he could not hope to climb. So long as he used that to create a block that is later used to overcome it, he would suffer a hundred defeats.
As his fighting spirit fell, his hand dropped till the Supreme Black Sword clanged on the ground.
The noise it made forced his eyes away from Balor and its charging attack to the sword.
Immediately, he felt buoyed. All his other weapons had broken, but this one yet remained. Ottar's hand grasping it still had strength too.
Who said that he was lost here? Who decided that? Why did he allow despair and defeat to creep up on him without resistance?
He was as beaten and broken as he had been when Gluttony forced him to his knees, but Ottar had still been able to stand back up then and keep fighting till he claimed victory.
Ottar was still standing, and still had a weapon in hand.
That was enough to not retreat.
Balor shrieked with unmistakable anger, drawing Ottar's gaze again. The sound repeated when he planted his feet and raised the Supreme Black Sword again. Utterly furious.
"I wonder…" Ottar mumbled aloud, taking a step forward.
King, don't die!
Orario's mightiest can't fall here!
Why are you risking yourself like this?
Voices he didn't know seemed to clamor in his head, drawing to mind the voices that had once called upon him against Gluttony for salvation.
"Is this just all in my head?" Ottar mumbled to himself, stepping forward again. Feeling the noises dampen with each step forward. "Fears and justifications manifesting from my own desire to flee, on the edge of death as I am? Or is this you?"
Don't be selfish!
Your life can't be spent without dire need!
This is not a fight you must win!
"An attack on an opponent's will?" Ottar continued, stepping forth again. The noises falling even more silent. "Does it even matter? In the end, I must overcome them regardless."
"Brat, you've gotten cocky."
Ottar's eyes flicked to the side, seeing a figure clad in black armor that drew forth a rush of memories of defeat, disgrace, and weakness.
Zald smirked, and spoke, "Do you think surpassing me is so easy? Or did the little boar genuinely think he already had with that farce of a du-"
"Pointless," Ottar firmly stated, Supreme Black Sword lashing out to slice and disperse the vision of Gluttony. "I already killed that guy."
Poison doesn't matter. Every fight is uneven, and everyone comes into it with their own strengths and weaknesses. Zald had been superior to Ottar in every way walking into that fight. To rage and grasp any possibility for victory was the nature of an adventurer. To face someone your superior yet grasp that one possibility in a hundred that allows you to surpass them was the greatest of victories.
"That a beast seeks to defy fate and reach beyond his place and talent," a new voice now spoke, the figure of Alfia now appearing. Disdainful look already on her face. "Do you believe yourself a hero, boar? The one this world needs-"
"Silence," he cut off, walking right past her. "I need not heed the words of one who hit her limit at Level 7."
The Incarnation of Talent. Starting as an adventurer within six months of him, yet so often making him feel weak and slow. Especially the speed in which she leveled up after reaching Level 5 had shocked all, making everyone seem her inferior. Yet her very talent was derived from her doom. The skill that enhanced her talent and power tied to her limitations. A person who surpassed all others, but never once truly considered going beyond the limits that fate and her own mindset had placed on herself. A person that would never become Level 8.
"Ottar, why are you disobeying me?" a new voice now spoke.
This one actually made him stop.
The vision of Freya now pressed against him, almost making him feel her as she spoke, "I ordered you to come back. My most important command. Why do you press forward when even you know that you can die?"
Ottar took a deep breath, but still moved to step past her as he said with eyes fixed forward, "Because I am listening to you. Your oldest desire from me. To become the mightiest. You might believe that I accomplished that seven years ago, but I know differently. So now, I shall step forward in your name."
Freya disappeared too, and no new visions came forth.
Ottar was relieved. Maybe another might have sought comfort in the appearances of others. Somehow managed to turn the visions into encouragement.
Ottar was not one such person.
Just once, he had listened to others beyond his Goddess. He had sought victory for others. Listened to the cries of souls ascending to Heaven for a hero. Allowed the passion and roars of others turn into his own strength.
Once.
Planting his feet again and meeting Balor's gaze, he spoke only to himself, "Here, we are alone. Let others be called heroes, and be cheered. Let cheers and pleas give strength to ones who need it. I shall triumph by my own strength."
Ottar fought for his goddess.
Yet, here and now…
"This is a battle I have chosen," Ottar said, raising the Supreme Black Sword before him. "For reasons I have deemed worthy."
"You don't just…choose to level up."
"Petty."
"Before comforting yourself with the idea of my failure and planning to capitalize, perhaps remember that you'll never catch up to me if you do not keep moving forward yourselves…At least then such a word wouldn't describe you so all so well."
"Yet, do you really think it's that easy anymore, Ottar?"
"When did the heroes of Orario become so fainthearted?"
It shamed him, but only the last several days had revealed something crucial to Ottar.
Orario had lost something.
Ottar was not a people person. He was no Braver, to make speeches. He was no leader, to rally adventurers. He was no hero.
He was a simple man…and he saw only one way for him to proceed.
"I shall take the next step," he whispered to himself, yet it echoed in his own heart.
By giving them an example. An unreachable goal. A back to chase.
"For there is still further to go," he continued.
After all, that was how he yet drew strength. Once, he had looked up to Gluttony and others that repeatedly cast him into the mud of defeat and humiliation. Dreaming of the day he'd surpass them. Resolving himself to ensure that day arrived.
Gluttony and Silence were the walls of seven years ago, but more yet remained.
He remembered that old man. The fool that always talked of heroes. The man who came back broken and dying from the Black Dragon, yet still talked of heroes. Who use his final act to deal Ottar a final defeat as a new Level 6, only to then go and die on Braver's spear while talking of sacrifice.
"You are an interesting kid, Ottar, but you shall never defeat me as you currently are. So…keep growing, and don't stop."
Maxim, The Sword Emperor. Captain of the Zeus Familia. Level 8.
He…he remembered that mad elf. The healer who despised the world and wouldn't die. The one who one-sided forced promises on Ottar, and yet broke them herself. The immortal who died out-of-sight and without even a whimper.
"This world is hell, my little piggy. It's just a matter of how long the Heavens curse us with enduring it. If you don't like it, you must grow to defy the Heavens. That'd be amusing to watch."
Cerea…The Queen…Captain of the Hera familia. Level 9.
And yet more even beyond that.
Level 10.
Albert Wallenstein.
"There are walls yet to scale," he declared, gripping the handle of the Supreme Black Sword so hard his fingers hurt. "A mountain that waits to be climbed."
And when he reaches the peak of the summit?
…
That's when he starts building that peak higher himself – to stretch a hand towards the sky itself.
Ottar lifted the weapon before him, feeling something crystallize inside him. The development of a dream long spoken. Something tempered and refined by experience showing him the true weight of said dream. The eight years he spent as a false mightiest. Seven years as an underwhelming mightiest.
And only alone like this, where only he was speaking only to himself, could he declare such aloud.
"I shall become…the true mightiest."
His eyes now looked beyond Balor, even as Balor screeched as if it understood just that.
"Sterling compassion, golden plains."
Balor screeched in victory as he started to slowly chant, its attack charging yet further.
"It is my fate to serve as a brute of war."
If Ottar wanted to kill it as effectively as possible, he should have jumped at it. Interrupted its final attack. Forced it to fire prematurely.
All he was doing was allowing it to build up even more power, and for the horde of monsters to approach.
He was needlessly choosing a harder path.
"Run through,-"
Yet, Ottar's eyes were fixed beyond this.
He wouldn't take a step if it came at the cost of the next.
This was no longer about Level 8. It was about Level 9. Level 10.
If he could not endure this, then becoming the mightiest was a mere fantasy and he should fall here and make way for one who can.
"-carrying the divine will of the goddess."
A power like none other gathered, Balor unleashed its attack that dwarfed all previous.
The beam destroyed the ground as it homed in on Ottar, seeking nothing less than the complete annihilation of all who opposed it.
Sword encased in gold and resolved to win or die, Ottar met it.
"Hildis Vini!"
The 49th Floor had been warped beyond all recognition.
Half of the floor was now cut by a trench. No, not a trench. A canyon, carved by the mere passing of its attack.
And at the end, a massive hole. Blown open by the explosion of clashing attacks. Reaching through the Dungeon itself, opening the way to the 50th floor.
And on the other side of that hole, Ottar was on his knees.
The Supreme Black Sword was shattered. The hilt and half-blade remaining weakly grasped in a single hand. Blood dripping down onto it, as Ottar bled from all over his body even as dust and smoke seemed to flow off his body.
Balor let out a shriek, for the monster horde that had been moving to follow up the attack fell. Red motes of light blown back from the explosion floating amidst them. Casting light on the Level 5 monsters that turned their bodies to stone, leaving them roaring even as they crumbled into dust.
Petrification.
Truly, the Balor's trump card was worthy of such a beast. An attack worthy of being called a Death Beam. The sheer raw power to totally overpower Ottar's Hildis Vini, drive him back miles, and still destroy the Supreme Black Sword. Survive, dodge, or even counterattack lethally the attack itself, and the mere light would do an adventurer in. Anyone with insufficient Magic Resistance would turn into dust just from the aftereffects.
The aftereffects that the counterattack and explosion made the monster horde also succumb to.
Not that such didn't mean Ottar wasn't affected. Even with Magic Resistance ranked F and further boosted by Stortus Ottar, he was affected. The dust falling off him was his skin, petrifying and crumbling off him, and the blood flowing was from that. As if sweating blood from every piece of skin exposed to the light that yet hung in the air. Blood also dripped from his nose from the Mind Down from putting everything he had into the spell so only his weapon shattered before it.
…
Who cared?
Glowing red eyes shot up to fix on Balor with rabid intensity.
A shockwave was released as he leapt, and he shot at Balor like an arrow in a straight path. Balor cried, but couldn't react in time. Ottar's feet planted in Balor's chest to release another shockwave on impact.
And Balor finally tipped over, failing to keep its balance and falling onto the ground.
Baring his teeth, Ottar raised his hands up before bringing them down while bellowing like a beast, "Graaaaahhhhhhh!"
Even the thickly plated torso of Balor caved in under the blow. Balor shrieked, but its attempt to fire a beam failed. Too much energy spent on the Death Beam, and too little time to have recovered. It allowed Ottar to land more hammer blows, hurting it more and more. The Balor thrashed though, and finally managed to use its remaining arm to smack him away even if it was barely half-functional now.
Ottar tumbled across the ground, but he still regained his feet and dived back in.
Supreme Black Sword shattered? It had served its purpose admirably. He still had his body, and Vana Arganture.
On the edge of Mind Down? The mind can be pushed further than many thought. He did not need to think now. He just had to act.
Skin fragmenting and falling away? He had Stortus Ottar for that, enhancing his Magic Resistance and granting Healing Power to regenerate. Plus, even without that, it was just skin. If his bones remained whole and muscles functioning, he could keep moving.
Maybe a hero would have some divinely blessed weapon that wouldn't break. Or would have sacrificed his life to properly wipe Balor out in a single blow. Perhaps even pull out some surprise victory that would be spoken of for ages. If so, Ottar might not measure up.
Regardless, he was going to muster his willpower and keep fighting till the end.
He slammed back into Balor before it could stand up, forcing it back down. Its arm rose again, but he caught up. Grasping it with both arms, he screamed as he wrenched at it. Feeling it crack and break.
Spotting a spike he'd driven into it earlier, he reached it and concentrated Mind in to it.
"Sterling compassion," he let out.
Then he initiated Ignis Fatuus.
The spike exploded. The arm of Balor was blasted off. Ottar was thrown back too, sprawled across the ground.
He laid for a moment, hearing Balor's cries.
Then he saw the hilt of one of his ruined weapons. A slight bit of blade remaining. He grasped it, and then rushed back in.
He jumped on Balor's neck, and stabbed it in before it exploded too.
He grabbed another, and repeated the process.
If he made a single mistake, he'd lose.
…no, even that was too generous. That was arrogant. To assume you'll win if you do everything right. To be an adventurer was to know and accept that you didn't even have that.
Knowing that even if you did everything right you might still lose and die in some abominable Dungeon, and yet still diving into it and putting everything you had into the battle.
He didn't know how this was going to end, but he refused to stop regardless as pure willpower kept him going.
Repeated Ignis Fatuus ripped and tore at the flesh of the Balor with explosions. Ottar utilizing the nature of Hildis Vini covering his weapons to push the Ignis Fatuus out of his body. Turning it into a weapon.
Balor shook and cried; neck systematically being destroyed.
Ottar's bled from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears as he pushed beyond Mind Down and kept going, bones and muscles of his hands fracturing and ripping from the explosions he kept doing again and again.
Until he ran out of ruined weapons, and just started stabbing and cutting into Balor's neck with the remains of the Supreme Black Sword.
Balor shot back in this feral brawl between them.
A beam engulfed him from just feet away, catching half his face and most of his upper body. Blood boiled, skin burned, and the attack only continued. He took it all, and instead pushed right through it. Putting his life on the line to take advantage of what instinct told him was Balor's mistake.
Moving its head too close.
Ottar drove right through the attack, suffering all the damage, to emerge right in front of Balor's face. Face burned and one eye sealed shut, his hand shot forward regardless right into Balor's eye. It tried to throw its head back, but he had a grip. His other arm came around to also force its way into the eye socket of the Monster Rex. Balor's eye was as large as Ottar's torso, but both his arms wrapped around it before he pulled.
And the red eye of Balor was pulled out.
A screech unlike any other burst out of its maw, and even the Dungeon seemed to shake and howl. Ottar's ears would be bleeding it they weren't already. He tossed the eye aside, even as it seemed to shine. By the time it landed, the eye had turned into a red, glass orb with the same symbol as Balor's final attack.
Ottar didn't even care about the unexpected drop.
He was back on Balor's neck. His arm grasped at its thinnest part, where the flesh was most torn and destroyed. His hands felt vertebrae. Gripping, he pulled. Feet pressing down even as he pulled up on its upper neck and head. Every muscle in his body straining to the limit as he wrenched and tore. Intent on tearing its neck apart with his bare hands.
Balor, eyeless and dying, still surged forth with the vindictive instinct of a monster to bite right onto Ottar. Half his torso engulfed by its mouth. Pierced by needle-like teeth that tried to tear him in half.
He didn't stop.
Right now, both of them were just beasts trying to kill the other even if it took breaking themselves too.
Ottar's bones protested and cracked. His muscled tore. His spine was about to fold in half. His heart about to give out.
Still he pushed.
He was not afraid of breaking at this moment…so long as Balor did too.
A great crunch rang out alongside a series of cracks that Ottar didn't know was his own body, Balor's, or his own limits.
Balor's jaws loosened as Ottar's body straightened, the bottom part of the Monster Rex's neck falling limply to the ground.
And Ottar then tossed the decapitated head of Balor away, watching the life fade from the eyeless Balor with his one eye.
…
Vana Arganture faded alongside Stortus Ottar, and overwhelming weakness hit him. He felt himself start tipping sideways. He didn't have the strength to strike a victory pose. Or to roar in victory. Maybe not even to keep his own heart beating. His entire body felt an inch away from dying alongside his foe.
Yet…he shifted a leg to catch himself before he fell onto the ground.
Ottar smiled at that small, humble victory.
No one challenged Ottar as he ascended the Dungeon. Even if he was more than half-dead. All who saw him simply retreated, and watched him pass with wide eyes.
About to keel over or not, he carried an aura around him that demanded that much from them.
By the time he exited the Dungeon, word had spread. People were waiting. Watching as he emerged from the Dungeon.
A large, red, glass-like orb under one arm. The other holding the remains of the Supreme Black Sword over his shoulder. Wounds still littering his body.
Yet they all went silent as he looked them all over, waiting until he finally announcing quietly and simply, "Balor is dead."
He then walked past them, heading back to his Goddess.
The news spread across Orario with remarkable speed.
"The King killed Balor."
"Ottar solo'd Balor."
Only picking up speed and urgency as more came out.
"A Great Feat!"
"The King has done his Great Feat!"
Confirmation inflaming the interest and disbelief of all who heard.
"Ottar has leveled up!"
"The King has reached Level 8!"
"Orario's mightiest has taken the next step!"
Until the news eventually reached a Manor of Twilight, and its Pallum Hero.
Who dropped his pen with a blank face as he heard.
If anyone can tell me of a Danmachi fic where Ottar levels up to 8, I'd be very happy if you inform me.
Otherwise, writing a fight with Balor was hard. We barely know anything about it too, besides what Knights of Fianna showed and that came down to a single self-sacrificial strike. How Ottar would have had his canon fight with it is a bit harder to handle, so had to fill in plenty of spots. Almost skipped all of it, going from his starting his descent to walking out victorious. The entire first half of the battle, which was just writing some combat. The entire second half of the battle, which had some rather weird motivational visions and stuff (seriously, OG Finn against Balor had a rather sudden depressive moment against Balor with visions of his comrades appearing which very much made me think that Balor's final attack might have some spiritual challenge aspect). Not sure if much of this, much less all of it, shall land, but...
Well, if I'm going to make Ottar killing Balor and leveling up the plot point of the second part, might as well at least try to have it be hardcore or cool.
Now, Finn is the primary POV of the third and final part of this not-so-short three-parter. It will primarily cover a the wider aftermath of this part though. Ottar got pissed off for the first half of this chapter, and so in response he's raised the bar for all Orario.