D/D Chapter 6 : Minotaur Stampede.

"Speech."

"Thoughts."

The following week passed quickly, almost in a blur. And Al found himself settling into a routine: wake up, eat, dive into the dungeon with Bell, eat again, sleep, rinse and repeat. Despite the monotony, small changes emerged. For one, Bell started treating Al like an actual human being instead of an unholy calamity sent from the deepest pits of hell, engaging in somewhat normal conversation, albeit with a slight stutter. And Al couldn't help but think, "Took him long enough."

Their dungeon runs were straightforward, mostly limited to the upper floors filled with goblins, kobolds, and other low-tier monsters—nothing Al couldn't handle. However, he sensed Bell's competitive spirit pushing him to outdo Al at every turn. Whenever they faced a group of monsters, Bell rushed in, striking quickly and glancing at Al as if to prove something. "I'm not even trying to compete…" Al mused, rolling his eyes when bell wasn't looking at him. "Come on, man. We're not keeping score here."

To Bell's credit though, this little one-sided rivalry of his caused him to improve. Al noted that the kid moved with more confidence; the trembling that once accompanied his grip on the knives had faded. His strikes were now fluid and precise, driven by a desire to outshine Al. "Heh! Guess that's my influence," Al thought with a smirk, keeping it to himself—no need to bruise Bell's ego.

But Bell's newfound attitude wasn't the most shocking experience; it was the fact that Al was growing at a staggering pace. Every time Lady Hestia updated his status, the numbers seemed to leap even higher than the last time, almost as if he were ranking up overnight. That didn't make sense to him. "How could I be getting stronger so quickly?" He asked himself.

When he asked Hestia about it, she dodged the question with a laugh and a wave, brushing it off as unimportant. But Al wasn't convinced. "Yeah, sure. Nothing weird about growing nearly three times faster than Bell," he thought, raising an eyebrow at her evasiveness. "Totally normal."

Bell was noticing this too. Each time Hestia updated Al's status, Bell's eyes lingered on the numbers, measuring himself against them. Al sensed a flicker of childlike envy but brushed it aside. "Suck it up, kid!" he thought. "Not my fault I've got whatever this is going for me." He then mentally added, "Plus, I'm cursed to death, so it kind of balances things out. Wait scratch that; the balance still tilts toward the cursed-to-death part…"

The weirdest part of it all? Al didn't even feel much stronger. Sure, the stats said otherwise, but in the middle of a fight, it felt like he was just making things up as he went. Maybe strength wasn't as simple as numbers on a page.

But today held promise. Al and Bell decided to test their skills on the fifth floor, taking a step toward a real challenge. Al kept telling himself that dungeon diving was just a means to an end—an essential step toward becoming stronger. He hadn't died yet, which was always a plus. With that in mind, he resolved to get stronger, one step at a time, until he was ready to face that damned Dragon.

As they walked through the bustling streets toward the dungeon, Al and Bell fell into their usual banter, the atmosphere lightening their spirits. Al shot Bell a side glance, arms crossed. "So Bell, who do you think would win in a fight? A Ligerfang or a Minotaur?"

Bell frowned, giving the ridiculous question genuine thought. "W-well, a Minotaur is definitely stronger, but the Ligerfang is f-faster... so maybe... the Ligerfang?"

Al snorted, shaking his head. "Nah, The Minotaur wins every time. One punch and that big cat's done."

Bell looked unconvinced. "B-but if the Ligerfang could dodge—"

"Dodge?" Al interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "Are you kidding? Have you seen the horns on a Minotaur? It would skewer the Ligerfang like a kebab before it could even move."

Bell tilted his head, clearly struggling with the image. "B-but what about the speed? The Ligerfang could get in and out before the Minotaur even knew what hit it! It could zigzag around it!"

Al shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Zigzag? You think this is some kind of video game? Don't make me laugh Bell."

Bell blinked, puzzled. "W-what's a video game?"

Al shrugged. "Hell if I know. Just a word my pops used in debates like this. The matter of fact is, the Ligerfang ain't winning."

Frustration began to grow in Bell as he crossed his arms. "S-so you're saying that if they f-fought, the Ligerfang would just... s-stand there and take it?"

Al smirked, his expression teasing. "Exactly! It would be like watching you try to talk to a pretty girl."

Bell's face turned bright red. "Wait! Th-that's not fair! I just—"

Suddenly, a soft voice interrupted their debate. "Excuse me, Mr. White-haired Adventurer!"

Both Al and Bell jumped, startled, and quickly turned around. Standing behind them was a young woman with silvery-grey hair, dressed in a green waitress uniform. She held something small in her hand, an amused smile lighting up her face.

Curious as to why she had addressed Bell, the two approached her. "Um, d-did you need something Miss?" Bell asked hesitantly.

The woman held out a small, purple glowing stone. "You dropped this. A magic stone."

Bell's face flushed with embarrassment. "A-ah, th-thank you, Miss...?"

"Syr," she replied with a kind smile. "Syr Flova. And you are?"

Bell fumbled over his words, stammering, "My name is Bell Cranel—" Just then, his stomach let out a loud, unmistakable growl, cutting off the rest of his introduction.

Al sighed, shaking his head. "Oi, you didn't have breakfast, did you?"

Bell rubbed his neck awkwardly, a sheepish look on his face. "I... d-didn't have the t-time..."

Before either of them could say more, Syr's smile grew even gentler. "Wait just a moment, please." She ducked inside the building behind her, returning moments later with a neatly wrapped lunch box. "Here. Have my lunch! It should help."

Bell blinked in surprise, hesitating. "I can't take this! It's your lunch!"

"Oh, please!" Syr insisted, her smile unwavering. "It's meant to be shared. Plus, I made too much anyway."

Bell's reluctance was evident. "But I don't want you to go hungry!"

"Don't worry about me," Syr reassured him, her tone gentle yet firm. "Just think of it as a way to fuel your adventures."

After a moment's hesitation, Bell sighed and accepted the lunch box. "Alright then… thank you, Miss Syr. I really appreciate it. I don't know how to repay you, though..."

Syr's face lit up at his response. "Well, I work at the tavern right behind me—it's called the Hostess of Fertility. If you want to repay me, you could have dinner here tonight!"

Bell nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with excitement. "Yes! We'll definitely try!"

Not wanting to be left out, Al chimed in, trying to be polite. "Well then, see you tonight, Miss Syr."

However, the warmth in her voice vanished as she glanced at Al, her smile turning cold and edged. "I don't remember extending the invitation to... everyone."

Al's face went pale, his stomach knotting as her words hit him like a jab. "Hrk—" was all he could manage, while Bell remained completely oblivious, still smiling cheerfully as they waved goodbye. "Why do I even fucking try..." He sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as they walked away.

As if on cue, Bell mused, "Man, Miss Syr sure is kind!"

Al shrugged, glancing back at the tavern. "You think so? I mean, it's not the impression I got from her, though."

Bell, ever innocent in his observations, replied, "Well, you can't blame her for keeping her distance with that curse of yours."

Al stopped in his tracks, shooting Bell a deadpan glare, his eyes narrowing with mock offense. "Why does your stutter only disappear when you're talking shit?"

Bell blinked, nervously scratching the back of his head. "W-Well, it's a selective skill!" he stammered, avoiding Al's gaze as they continued walking toward the dungeon entrance, the lively streets of Orario buzzing with energy around them.

Once inside the dungeon, Al and Bell navigated the dim fifth floor, torches flickering against the stone walls. They faced the usual goblins and kobolds, monsters that had become routine. Each fight honed their skills and teamwork, and Al found the grind oddly reassuring.

After a solid session, they took a quick break against the cool stone walls. Al wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at Bell, who still looked a bit tense. "Not bad for a couple of rookies, huh?" Al said, trying to keep the mood light.

But instead of a chuckle, Bell merely fidgeted, his brow furrowing in thought. Al noticed the shift in his friend's demeanor and let out a sigh, turning to face him fully. "What's with the long face? You look like you're about to be handed a death sentence."

Bell hesitated, his gaze darting away as if searching for the right words. "C-can I ask you something?" he finally stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sure, fire away," Al replied, crossing his arms. "But I can't guarantee I'll give you an answer."

Bell took a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the floor. "S-so, what did you do to get cursed, Al? W-what does the curse do to you? D-does it make everyone who looks at you afraid? Is that what m-made you become an adventurer? To try and lift it? B-but, I mean, how do you even d-deal with it? It must be t-tough, right?"

Al shrugged. "It's not that deep; just a minor setback," he replied, trying to keep it casual. "Some people get cursed, some people get blessed, and some are just stuck in a boring desk job. I just happen to land in the first category."

He paused, letting that sink in, then added, "And no, my curse doesn't make everyone afraid of me. That's just a side effect." He paused. "As for what it actually does… well, maybe one day I'll tell you—"

Just as he brushed off the last question, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, and he froze mid-sentence. "Wow, this sure is a pair of big-ass cows. Wait, what are cows doing in the dungeon—"

Bell froze next to him, his expression shifting from confusion to sheer panic. The air thickened with tension as Al's pulse quickened.

"Oi, B-Bell-san, those are Minotaurs, aren't they?" Al's voice cracked just slightly, his feet itching to backpedal.

"Y-yeah, Al-san! Those—those are called Minotaurs," Bell stuttered, his eyes wide, glued to the sight of the hulking creatures.

Al's mind scrambled for the information Eina had drilled into him. "A-aren't they supposed to be found after the 15th floor?" He shot a glance at Bell, hoping for some kind of confirmation.

"Y-yeah! Al-san, they usually appear after the 15th floor" Bell replied, his voice shaking as much as Al's hands were.

Al gulped, the weight of the situation crashing down. "A-and these things can kill us with one strike, right?!"

"A-Al-san, y-you sure are s-smart! Y-yes, those things are strong enough to k-kill us if they even breathe in our direction!" Bell replied, his voice trembling more with every word.

Al's eye twitched. "So... why are we just standing here talking instead of, I dunno, running and screaming for our lives?!"

"I-I was kind of w-waiting for your signal to do it, Al-san!" Bell replied.

Al blinked, his brain taking a moment to catch up. "Right! M-my bad! Okay, uhhh, Bell-san. Run for your damn life!"

With that, they took off, a pair of terrified adventurers sprinting full tilt, their legs pumping as if their lives depended on it—because they absolutely did. Behind them, the Minotaurs roared, their thunderous hooves pounding the ground as they gave chase.

Al stole a glance over his shoulder, heart hammering in his chest. "H-Hey Bell, why did you wait for me to say run?! You should've just run!" he yelled, his voice cracking as he tried to keep his breath steady.

Bell, running just a step behind him, gasped for air, his face pale. "B-because y-you seemed c-cool under pressure!" he stammered, stumbling slightly but regaining his footing just in time to avoid face-planting into the stone floor.

"Cool?! I'm sweating like a fucking pig!" Al snapped back, his legs burning as they kept up their breakneck pace. He wiped his forehead with his hand, immediately regretting it as the sweat only made the grip on his spear slippery.

"Oi, Bell!" Al shouted, glancing at his companion as they sprinted for their lives. "Do you have any idea on how to lose these things?!"

Bell, struggling to keep up and gasping for breath, replied, "W-We can try to zigzag? I mean, it might confuse them!" His voice trembling slightly.

Al shook his head incredulously, barely keeping his pace. "Man, what's it with you and fucking zig-zagging?!"

Bell protested, out of breath. "W-well, it's a perfectly valid escape tactic!"

Al rolled his eyes, shouting over the pounding hooves, "Valid if we were running from crocodiles! These things have hooves—they'll just stomp us into a bloody batter!"

Bell gasped between breaths, glancing over desperately. "A-any chance you have a super-secret speed skill, Al?!"

"Nope! And my legs aren't gonna last much longer either!" Al huffed, his heart hammering as he felt the ground shake beneath them with every monstrous step. "Well, we're screwed together then!"

The Minotaurs let out another deafening roar, closing the distance. Bell's voice trembled as he clutched his knife tighter. "M-maybe we can s-slow them down with something?!"

"Oh yeah, sure!" Al barked. "Toss them your knives and hope they're into gourmet cooking!" His sarcasm did little to ease the growing tension as the monsters loomed closer, their hot breaths practically on their necks.

Ahead, the path suddenly split into two dark tunnels, from their memories one led to the exit and the other to a dead-end, but Al couldn't remember which one led to which. his heart leaped into his throat. "Bell! Which way—"

"I-I don't know!" Bell stammered, panic creeping into his voice.

"Alright, let's maximize our chances! I'll take the right tunnel, and you take the left!" Al said, forcing a deep breath through his lungs.

"O-Okay!" Bell nodded, his voice shaky. "B-but what if one of us doesn't make it ba—"

"If we both survive, dinner's on me at the Hostess of Fertility!" Al cut him off, his voice light despite the fear gnawing at his gut.

And without further hesitation, they exchanged a brief, tense look, the gravity of the situation settling between them like a heavy weight. Then, without another word, they bolted into their respective tunnels, the roars of Minotaurs echoing behind them, shaking the very walls.

Al's heart pounded as he sprinted through the darkness, each breath jagged and desperate. Shadows seemed to reach for him from every corner, thickening the silence until it felt more terrifying than the noise. Suddenly, he skidded to a halt, his stomach lurching as he faced a dead end—a towering wall of unyielding stone.

"Motherf— I took the wrong tunnel!" The words ricocheted off the walls, sounding more mocking than his usual tone. He leaned back against the stone, heart racing as he forced himself to think, though his mind was frighteningly blank.

A heavy snort yanked him from his blank thoughts. He looked up just in time to see the Minotaur, muscles rippling, eyes blazing with bloodthirsty satisfaction. It dug its hooves into the ground, preparing to charge. Al's heart hammered, each beat sounding like a countdown.

With nowhere to run, a strange calm settled over him. There was no point in fighting back, no chance to win. But if this was it, he might as well go out defiantly. Closing his eyes, he forced out a broken, bitter cry. "F-fuck you, Nyx!" he shouted, his voice a mix of anger and resignation.

He braced for impact, eyes squeezed shut, ready to meet his end. But the crash never came.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, half-expecting to see the beast looming over him. Instead, the Minotaur staggered, its fierce snarl fading into a confused grunt. Al blinked in disbelief as the creature's knees buckled, and it collapsed to the ground with a resonant thud, a loud snore filling the air.

"Is it… asleep?" Al whispered, dumbstruck, barely daring to believe his luck. He stood there, frozen, as the Minotaur's snores echoed through the corridor. Moving cautiously, he tiptoed around the snoring beast, careful not to make a sound. When he felt he was at a safe distance, he broke into a full run, his heart pounding with relief—and disbelief.

"I actually survived… a Minotaur… by exhausting it?" he muttered to himself, still in shock. Shaking his head, he kept up his pace, adrenaline coursing through him, though his thoughts flickered to Bell. "Bell's probably fine," he reassured himself, "probably… still running for his life."

As he turned a corner, Al spotted two figures up ahead: a blonde swordswoman standing tall yet visibly tense, her brow furrowed in concern, and a green-haired elf whose sharp, assessing gaze was tinged with worry. Both women wore expressions that betrayed their unease as Al stumbled forward toward them.

"Halt! Have you seen any Minotaurs?" the elf asked, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

"Y-yeah! One's, uh, sleeping in the right tunnel, and the other's still chasing my friend!" Al panted, his words tumbling out in a rush.

The elf raised an eyebrow. "Sleeping?" she repeated, clearly skeptical.

Al threw up his hands in exasperation. "Don't look at me like that! I'm just as confused as you are!"

The elf exchanged a glance with the swordswoman, who nodded before turning toward the tunnel Al had indicated. "I'll go after your friend," the swordswoman said firmly. The elf added, "I'll investigate the one that's sleeping."

Before Al could overthink it, he blurted out, "I-I'll come with you!" The swordswoman's piercing gaze sent a chill down his spine, but after a brief pause, she gave him a curt nod. "Fine," she said, her tone steady and unyielding. "Try to keep up."

With the elf already disappearing down a different path, Al realized he was now running headlong into even more danger. But he swallowed hard, pushing himself forward.

Elsewhere in the dungeon, Bell ran like a rabbit fleeing from a predator. His legs burned, his breaths coming in quick, ragged bursts as the sound of the Minotaur's relentless pursuit reverberated behind him, drowning out every other thought but one: "Al took the wrong way."

The guilt gnawed at him, heavier with every step. "I left him behind. I left him to die."

Caught in that thought, Bell's foot caught on an uneven stone, sending him sprawling to the ground, pain flaring through him. Dazed, he looked up, and his heart sank as he saw the hulking form of the Minotaur bearing down on him, red eyes locked onto his, unyielding and merciless.

Bell's lips parted in a broken whisper, "I'm so sorry, Al… Goddess… I'm sorry." He braced himself, eyes closing as he awaited the final blow.

Instead, a thick, wet sound filled the air. Bell opened his eyes, startled. The Minotaur's figure slumped in front of him, its massive body splitting in half, blood spraying out in a hot torrent that drenched him as the beast's body hit the ground with a resounding thud.

Disoriented, he looked up, his gaze meeting that of a golden-haired warrior who stood above him. Her eyes, as fierce and unyielding as her stance, held him captive. She was a beacon amid the shadows, and Bell felt himself drawn into the presence of Aiz Wallenstein, the Sword Princess.

For a few precious seconds, he couldn't think, couldn't move—only stare at the woman who had just saved his life. He could barely breathe, entranced by her calm, almost otherworldly beauty.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice steady, drawing him back to reality.

Bell managed to nod, though he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, the weight of his guilt returning in full force. He looked away, his voice trembling. "I-I'm… n-not alright," he admitted, barely able to hold back the sob building in his throat. "I left my friend to d-die—"

But before he could finish, an all-too-familiar, breathless voice echoed from down the hall.

"Oi!... haah… You run… hah… way too fast, woman!"

Bell's head snapped up, eyes wide with shock as he saw a breathless but very much alive Al stumbling toward them. Relief washed over him in waves, leaving him unsure whether to laugh or cry. "A-Al?!" he choked out, disbelief lacing his voice.