CHAPTER 39: BOSS MONSTER (1)

"Hah... hah..." Amon moved his battered body, his breaths ragged and shallow.

Hector was a Third Rank. Yet, despite his level, Amon didn’t feel the overwhelming strength he had expected. Only one thought crossed his mind.

’He forced his way into Master Rank. No wonder he’s weaker than a true one.’

Still, after killing Hector, Amon felt something stirring within him. A strange rush of power—much stronger than anything he had experienced killing Rank 0 or Rank 1 monsters. It left a lingering weight in his chest.

He crouched and began rummaging through Hector’s dead body.

His hands brushed against a cuboid-shaped object hidden inside the man’s cloak.

"What’s this?" he muttered, pulling out a fist-sized black cube.

Strange runes were engraved on its surface. Ancient. Beautiful.

Curious, Amon pushed a sliver of his remaining mana into the cube. But nothing happened.

"Well... whatever. I’ll keep it," he said, trying to store it in his space ring.

Yet no matter how many times he tried, the cube refused to enter. Amon frowned.

"Why won’t it go in? ...Sigh." He tucked it into his pocket instead, shaking his head. Then, glancing one last time at Hector’s body, he pushed himself to his feet.

He walked over to Arnold’s unconscious form.

’What did Hector mean? Did he have other partners here? Or... was he trying to tell us to destroy the dungeon core?’

"Now I’ve got to carry you, bastard." Amon bent down, pulling Arnold’s limp body over his shoulder.

Every part of his body screamed in pain.

"Damn it... I should’ve bought advanced healing potions," he groaned, almost collapsing under Arnold’s weight.

"Ahh! Dammit! He’s heavy!" he cursed, forcing himself forward through the tunnel.

There was no map. No idea where to go. Just one path stretching ahead. So Amon kept walking, step by step, dragging Arnold with him.

After nearly ten minutes, he reached a dead end.

At the very end of the tunnel, set into the ground, was something unusual. A massive circular structure—like a giant door made of metal, covered in intricate runes.

It looked like an enormous manhole cover, but ancient.

Amon stood in the middle of the circle with Arnold. The metal beneath his feet was cold and alien.

"What’s this...? Let’s try this."

He laid Arnold gently on the floor and knelt, pressing his bloodied hand against the metal. Slowly, he channeled mana into it.

The runes lit up, glowing faintly.

Amon allowed himself a small grin, his bloodied teeth flashing. But then his smile vanished as a dreadful thought struck him.

’Wait. Dammit! What if it opens and we fall again, just like before? Shit !’

Before he could react, a metallic click echoed through the chamber. The circular structure split in the middle and opened.

And once again, Amon and Arnold began falling.

"Why didn’t I think of this sooner?! Curse it!" Amon’s voice echoed through the darkness as they plunged into the unknown.

---

While falling, Amon clutched Arnold tightly.

The tunnel was pitch black, but after a minute, a faint light appeared below.

They burst out of the chute, crashing into a massive chamber. The hall was made of dark brown stone, its architecture ancient and imposing.

But Amon had no time to admire it. He braced himself, eyes squeezed shut.

It’s gonna hurt! It’s gonna hurt too much!

Thud!

Both of them slammed into the ground. Yet instead of solid stone, it felt like they’d landed on something soft. Or rather—someone.

"Ahhh! Fucking bastard, get off me!" a familiar voice groaned beneath him.

Amon blinked, opening his eyes. His gaze dropped to see violet hair beneath him.

"...Marcus?"

It was indeed Marcus, pinned under both Amon and Arnold.

"Oh Marcus, you don’t know how happy I am to see you." Relief flooded Amon’s face as he rolled off, dragging Arnold’s body aside.

Marcus, drenched in both Amon and Arnold’s blood, stared at them with wide eyes. Shock flickered across his face.

Before either of them could speak, a thunderous roar shook the chamber.

"ROAAARRRRR!"

The sound rattled the walls, echoing through the vast hall.

Amon froze. Slowly, he turned toward the source of the voice.

And his blood ran cold.

A monster towered before him. As massive as a house, its skin blood-red, eyes glowing with fury. Two massive horns jutted from its head. Its body was humanoid, but its head... the head of a bull.

A Minotaur.

In its hand was a massive wooden club, easily large enough to crush a man with a single swing. Its aura radiated killing intent.

Normally, Minotaurs were Rank 2 monsters. But this one... Amon could feel it. This one had broken through to Rank 3.

"Oh, by the way... that’s the boss monster," Marcus muttered grimly, his Crimson Spear gripped tightly in his hands.

Amon swallowed hard, his throat dry.

The towering beast bellowed again, but it wasn’t charging at them. Instead, its focus was locked on three figures already battling it.

Seraphina. Eliana. Aisha.

Amon’s eyes widened.

The three girls were fighting desperately, their bodies covered in wounds, faces pale with exhaustion.

Around them, several other students lay motionless—some unconscious, others perhaps already dead.

The boss monster swung its club, each strike shaking the ground. The girls countered, but their movements were sluggish. They were on the brink of collapse.

Marcus glanced at Amon, his expression grim.

"How long have you been fighting it?" Amon asked nervously.

Marcus’s tone was serious. "Five minutes."

Amon’s mind spun. Five minutes... and they’re already like this?

Marcus exhaled sharply. "You should stay back. If you rush in, you’ll only die."

He tightened his grip on his spear, eyes never leaving the beast.

"If we want to leave this dungeon alive, our only chance is to kill that monster. Someone’s controlling the dungeon. That’s why our wristbands aren’t working—we can’t contact the outside."

And with that, Marcus dashed forward to join the battle.

His crimson spear shot toward the Minotaur’s side, but the monster swung its club, deflecting it effortlessly.

The creature roared again, the sheer force of its voice blasting Marcus backward.

Aisha, this time wielding her massive greatsword, turned her gaze toward Amon and Arnold. Her red eyes widened in shock, then softened with relief.

Seraphina and Eliana also glanced their way. Relief flickered in their eyes, but so did worry. Arnold was unconscious. Amon looked half-dead.

But there was no time to dwell on it. All three girls turned back to the Minotaur, focusing on survival.

Amon clenched his fists. His body screamed in protest. His mana reserves were nearly gone. Yet the sight before him left him with no choice.

The boss monster wasn’t just strong. It was unstoppable.

And if they failed here, none of them would leave this dungeon alive.