On the 53rd floor of the dungeon, the Loki Familia found themselves in dire straits. Monts after their elite squad entered, they were hit by a second cross-floor attack from a cannon dragon. This ti, the strike landed dead center, engulfing Altair, who had been positioned in the middle of the group. The blast rippled outward, injuring everyone to varying degrees. Finn, closest to the epicenter, had one arm scorched by the dragon breath's searing heat, rendering it useless for combat.
Lefiya, caught off guard, was struck by debris from the exploding floor and gravely wounded. Without an elixir, she might not have survived.
In the wake of the dragon breath ca a swarm of flying dragons pouring out of the breach. The battered Loki Familia stared up at the sky, despair washing over them. Their sole magical powerhouse, Lefiya, was down, and their ace, Altair, had seemingly been incinerated by the dragon breath.
Finn had watched Altair take a single step before being swallowed by the flas. Even if Altair were LV7, surviving that kind of attack seed impossible!
Just monts ago, Finn had been planning to deepen ties with the Hestia Familia. Now, one thought consud him: *The Hestia Familia is finished!*
"Everyone, retreat at full speed!" Finn shouted, downing an elixir with his good hand.
The Loki Familia faced a hopeless situation on the 53rd floor. anwhile, two floors below on the 55th, Altair hung in midair, his left hand gripping a dialogue panel and his right clutching a massive blade jamd into the rock wall.
His passive skill [Look, I'm Talking] had proven itself a reliable detector of hostile intent. Whenever soone harbored malice toward him, it triggered automatically. The mont the panel appeared, Altair knew he was targeted—but he hadn't expected the attacker to be a cannon dragon from the 58th floor!
*Five floors apart, and you can still lock onto for an attack?*
Luckily, when the flas erupted, Altair had used the dialogue panel as a shield. It was invincible—limited in offensive power, sure, but unbeatable for defense. That was its design!
The panel absorbed most of the fiery impact, though the edges of his clothes were singed, and chunks of his armor had lted. Still, it was better than being roasted alive.
With a body like Tom Cat's, Altair figured he wouldn't die even if reduced to ash—he'd just pull himself together and keep going. But he wasn't fond of suffering.
Glancing up, he saw only darkness, punctuated by glowing, molten rock still radiating heat from the blast. He hadn't paid attention during his fall and had no idea which floor he was on now.
No matter. He could get back up regardless. The cannon dragon's attack had carved a straight path through the floors—no need to search for an exit. He could simply fly out through the breach.
But before that, he wanted to see just what this cannon dragon was—a creature bold enough to target him across multiple floors.
With a flex of his core, Altair planted his feet on the glowing rock. The heat seeped through his boots instantly, but he didn't linger. Pushing off, he yanked the blade free and flipped backward, plumting downward.
"Everything is permitted; nothing is true."
Arms spread wide like a cross, Altair fell, reciting a classic line as he went.
[Listen to ] activated instantly.
[Leap of Faith]
[When falling from a great height, you'll be blessed. A haystack will appear to catch you, ensuring a safe landing.]
Headfirst, Altair plunged through the breach left by the cannon's attack, descending deeper into the dungeon.
Each floor was over a hundred ters high—an absurdly vast underground space. It took him more than ten seconds to pass each level. He didn't know his exact speed, but it was well over 10 ters per second, aning each floor spanned hundreds of ters.
As he fell, Altair caught glimpses of each floor's layout. Flying dragons circled the air below, their numbers growing the deeper he went. That explained why they'd flown upward—too many of them, instinctively seeking any opening to explore.
So even noticed him falling and gave chase, but his descent was too swift for them to catch up.
After an unknown stretch of ti and countless floors, Altair crashed back-first into a small haystack. Miraculously, it cushioned his fall perfectly—no pain, no damage.
At that height and speed, a re haystack shouldn't have sufficed, yet it stopped him cold without a scratch.
"Quite a handy skill," Altair muttered, climbing out and brushing off the straw clinging to him.
Turning around calmly, he froze. Before him lay droplets of fire sizzling on the ground, beside an enormous clawed foot.
Following the trail of dripping flas, Altair looked up. Erging from the darkness was a nacing dragon head.
The cannon dragon!
Compared to Cadmus on the 51st floor, this beast was colossal. Cadmus had been about 5 ters tall when crouched; this cannon dragon stretched at least 20 ters while prone—a towering monstrosity dwarfing every floor boss they'd faced!
"So you're the one who blasted out of nowhere," Altair said.
The cannon dragon's wings unfurled slowly as it raised its head high, its massive pupils glaring down at him with contempt. A giant claw slamd the ground, sending out a threatening rumble from its throat. Flas leaked from between its teeth, splattering the floor like molten lava.
"What, showing off?" Altair chuckled. With its head raised, the dragon lood even larger—at least 30 ters tall now. Its sheer size was overwhelming.
But size wasn't the best ga to play against Altair.
Sure, he couldn't match the kiloter-spanning titans from the Godslayer world, but against this "little guy," he held the upper hand.
Magical energy erupted from Altair's body. His golden hair turned black and lengthened, enveloping him in shadow. The darkness swelled rapidly, growing taller and wider under the cannon dragon's gaze, easily surpassing its height.
As the dragon's expression shifted to bewildernt, the shadow solidified into an imnse black dragon.
Obsidian scales, each larger than the cannon dragon's eyes, glead darkly. Massive wings spread wide, forming a wall that encircled the "giant" cannon dragon.
At the center of this enclosure, golden vertical pupils erged, gazing down coldly at the now-diminutive beast.
Nidhogg, the mythical dragon standing a hundred ters tall, had appeared on the 58th floor of the dungeon!
Lowering his head to the frozen, gaping cannon dragon, Altair spoke in a low, deliberate tone, savoring the mont like a true boss-level nace.
"Now, tell …" He paused for effect, channeling his inner evil dragon. "Do you bleed?"
The cannon dragon's jaw hung open, emitting a garbled, aningless sound.
Then its pupils constricted sharply as golden-red flas flooded its vision.
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