Several figures stood gathered near one of the wider sections of the corridor, illuminated by clusters of magic lamps.
Various maps were spread across the floor, chalk marks covering them like a child's drawing, scribbles, lines, half-erased smudges, and red crosses layered over one another.
— We should head north. Last week's records show at least one stable corridor. If we're lucky, we'll hit the stairs in half an hour.
— North is risky. That area had two major shifts this month. If the map is wrong, we'll waste time backtracking.
— Then west. The path there is elevated and reaches the height of the eighth and seventh floors, where monsters are weaker. We could circle left and come out behind the southern passage.
— Why not take the western passage directly?
— Normally, the western passage is a massive, steep cliff that drops straight to the fifteenth floor. Taking that route with this many injured would be reckless. The southern passage is just a staircase to the next floor, longer, but safer.
— Longer means more chances for monsters to respawn. We should turn back and use the same route we came from, through the south.
Voices overlapped, fingers tracing different routes, arguments forming and breaking just as quickly.
Navigating the Dungeon had never been about knowing the path. It was about understanding one's own limits and reading the Dungeon's habits, because it would always find a way to surprise you.
Through it all, Finn Deimne stood slightly apart.
Spear resting against his shoulder, he observed the exchange without interrupting, letting the discussion run its course.
'I remember when this was easier.
When the passages stayed mostly the same, and all we had to worry about was proteting the supplies and letting the weaker ones learn in the way before reaching the lower floors.'
— Haa… — A quiet sigh slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
'When did the Dungeon start changing so much? In my day, things were easier... wow, I sound like an old man now.'
Finn straightened.
The sound of his spear shifting against the stone was enough to silence everyone.
— I've heard enough. — he said calmly.
All eyes turned to him.
— I understand everyone's concerns. But right now, none of that matters. Our priority is securing a place to rest the wounded.
He tapped the map once.
— The nearest Rest Sanctuary should be somewhere here. According to every record since its discovery, it usually allows entry to slightly less than half our total numbers.
His finger traced a short line.
— We'll move straight to it. If the Dungeon gets in the way, we'll deal with it as appropriately as needed. Once we arrive, the wounded will rest inside. The rest of us will establish a perimeter outside.
His tone never wavered.
— Five hours. That's enough time for prolonged-action healing potions to do their job and get everyone back on their feet.
He shifted his finger south.
— After that, we'll return the way we came and take the fastest route to the eighteenth floor. Any questions?
For a moment, no one spoke.
Whether because they understood the strategy or because they hesitated to challenge the captain's authority, it was hard to tell.
Then someone did.
— Captain… are you sure that's the right call...? — the man asked carefully.
— Heading north means more monsters. Wouldn't it be better to wait longer before moving?
Finn turned his gaze toward the speaker.
The man immediately shrank back, shoulders stiff, head drawing into his neck like a startled turtle. One look at his equipment was enough to tell Finn that he wasn't from his Familia, nor from any group he dealt with regularly.
'Figures… to him, I must look like some kind of strict, unapproachable commander. Not entirely wrong, but still.'
Finn let his eyes linger for a second longer than necessary, then looked away, expression unchanged.
'Do I really come across that badly? I do pay attention to how I present myself. I try to keep a balance between being professional and being approachable. Firm enough that people listen, calm enough that they don't panic.'
'But from the perspective of the weaker ones… I suppose that just turns me into another monster wearing Pallum skin. It doesn't help when I can kill dozens in seconds.'
Finn exhaled slowly through his nose and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching it briefly.
'No wonder I've never had much luck with Pallum women. Must be hard to approach someone so far above you on both the hierarchical and power scale.'
For just a heartbeat, the corner of his mouth twitched, then stilled.
'Should I smile more? Or maybe change something simpler… a different haircut, perhaps. I heard mohawks are popular lately...'
Quiver
A shiver ran down Finn's spine.
His thoughts stalled for a brief moment, as if something cold had brushed against the back of his mind.
Unbidden, the image of a certain overly energetic Amazon woman forced its way into his consciousness.
'What am I even thinking? If Tione ever catches me doing something like this, I'll never hear the end of it.'
Finn took a deep breath slowly, calming his mind, before refocusing on reality.
— I understand your concerns. But they're unnecessary.
The tension in the air shifted. Several adventurers exchanged glances, unsure whether to relax.
— Captain, what do you-
— I'll move ahead. — Finn cut in, voice firm, leaving no room for interruption.
— I'll clear the path while you guys follow behind at your own pace. Place the wounded and the weakest in the center of the formation. Those still capable of fighting will reinforce the rear and the flanks.
— Just leave the front line to me.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then shoulders eased.
— If the Commander is taking point… — one adventurer muttered, relief evident in his voice.
— Yeah. If it's the Braver, we'll be fine.
— A level 6 is relly another thing.
Nods followed, confidence spreading with de idea of someone this strong actively protecting them.
Finn reached back and slipped a hand into the rear pocket of his trousers, pulling out a pocket watch.
He opened it, eyes scanning the face for only a second before snapping it shut.
— That's enough discussion. The rest time is over.
He looked up.
— We move out in five minutes. Inform everyone of the situation.
— Yes, sir! — multiple voices answered at once.
Adventurers scattered immediately, boots striking stone as they rushed off in different directions.
Within moments, the corridor was alive with movement.
Equipment was checked and secured, wounded were gathered toward the center, and the formation began to take shape once more.
The expedition reorganized with practiced efficiency, preparing to set out once again.
...
The expedition led by Finn continued its advance exactly as planned.
True to his word, the Pallum captain walked several meters ahead of the main group, spear in hand, dealing with any threat before it could even think about reaching the formation.
Most of them had already witnessed Finn's capabilities earlier, during the chaos of the previous battle. Back then, with the constant pressure of survival, it was hard to properly process what they were seeing.
Now, with the formation stable and their footing secure, they could finally observe it clearly.
Finn Deimne was absurdly strong.
Monsters that normally required careful planning to engage. Enemies that forced adventurers to form dedicated teams, combine skills, coordinate timing, and still accept the possibility of light injuries just to bring them down the safest way possible.
Creatures that demanded everything a party had just to inflict meaningful damage without hitting certain spots.
Those same monsters... were now being cut down like livestock.
A casual step forward.
A simple swing of his spear.
And monsters far larger and heavier than him were reduced to shattered cores and scattered remains.
It was ridiculous!
Since when were Pallums this strong?!
Wasn't their defining trait supposed to be agility?
Well… considering Finn had literally chased down a Elite Horned Habbit and skewered it with his spear, yes, he was definitely fast.
But that wasn't the point!
Bell, watching everything from a safe distance within the formation, couldn't close her mouth no matter how hard she tried. If this were One Piece, her eyes would already be popping out of her skull, jaw hitting the floor in complete disbelief.
'Captain is this strong?!'
And it was probably best not to even mention the collective trauma caused when Finn casually punched straight through the chest of a Chief Variant Lizardman like it was a water balloon.
Just to clarify, Chief Variants were the strongest version of their species.
An entire level stronger than normal monsters, usually surrounded by Elite Variants and a large pack of their kin.
A full-fledged dungeon miniboss.
And it had just received a one-hit kill, Saitama-style, from a short blond Pallum.
Seriously!!!
At this point, Finn had to be showing off on purpose. There was absolutely no need for that level of overkill unless he was trying to look cool.
Which, annoyingly enough… he absolutely was.
'I should make the best impression possible. For myself and for the Familia.'
'If someone talented sees this and decides they'd rather fight under our banner, that's not stealing.'
'That's just me doing my job as captain.' He smiled a little.
Even so, no matter how overwhelming Finn might be, the Dungeon was not a place where anyone could simply charge ahead alone and expect things to go smoothly.
There were limits that even strength could not brute-force.
Spiritual monsters still roamed these floors.
Entities that ignored physical strikes entirely. Against such foes, even Finn Deimne's absurd power meant little.
That didn't mean he was helpless.
As one of Orario's two Kings, Finn had long since gained access to grimoires, assuming he hadn't already possessed innate magic to begin with.
Which, by the way, he had
But his options were… impractical.
HellFinegas was nothing more than a comprehensive boost, pushing his abilities close to an entire level higher at the cost of control. A last resort, one he avoided whenever possible, especially during large-scale operations where his judgment as a leader mattered more than raw power.
And even then, it was still not a magical attack.
As for TirnaNog…
Ehhh... that was less a solution and more a catastrophe waiting to happen.
A single, overwhelming strike that poured all of his power into one strike, followed by twenty-four hours of cooldown. Using it here would be like dropping a siege weapon on a minor obstacle.
Completely unreasonable.
Because of that, Finn relied on what an expedition was supposed to rely on.
Teamwork.
Whenever Will-o'-Wisps, Wind Sprites or Earth Golems, the magical species of this floor in question, blocked their path, it was the magi who stepped forward.
Even the occasional Specter from a few floors above was swiftly dealt with through coordinated spellfire.
In the end, the journey to the Rest Sanctuary proceeded without incident. Even the route itself remained largely consistent with the most up-to-date maps.
Upon arrival, the wounded were swiftly escorted inside the sanctuary, where they could rest in safety under the care of dedicated medics, allowing for more precise and careful treatment.
However, the sanctuary's capacity was limited.
Only part of the expedition could remain inside, forcing the majority to establish camp outside its boundaries, maintaining vigilance as usual and keeping watch for any sign of danger.
Only a handful of wandering monsters appeared during that time.
The Dungeon, it seemed, had decided that provoking them further simply wasn't worth the effort, granting the group a rare moment of peace, one they were deeply grateful for.
Five hours later, after a well-earned rest, the expedition reorganized once more.
Everyone was back on their feet, injuries treated, strength restored.
With Finn once again positioned at the center of the formation, the group set out anew, their destination clear.
The eighteenth floor awaited.