Chapter 118: 2nd Attempt XVII

Fifth Floor

Beaumont’s boots scraped against the final step as he emerged from the stairwell, the sound echoing into a vast oppressive silence. The transition was immediate. This level felt almost deceptively serene, yet the serenity carried the same heavy weight that had clung to every floor above. Vast openness stretched before him, a cathedral-like hall carved from midnight stone, its true scale hidden in shadow and distance.

Enchanted lamps hung high along both walls, their cold silver-blue flames flickering in perfect symmetry. They stretched in unbroken lines toward a vanishing point far ahead, casting long, gloomy silhouettes. Between the lamps rose colossal pillars, thick as steel. The architecture was gothic and domineering, pointed arches lost in the gloom overhead, vaulted ceilings that seemed to absorb in the light rather than reflect it. The air tasted faintly of old incense, cool against his skin, somehow warm where it brushed the exposed stone.

Beaumont paused, rolling his shoulders. The deep crimson health potion had done its work; the sharpest edges of pain had dulled to a persistent throb in his ribs, and strength had returned to his limbs. Still, exhaustion lingered in his bones like rust. He inhaled slowly, letting his earth mage senses extend through the floor beneath him.

“This texture… gives a warm feeling,” he murmured, voice low. The stone here responded differently, almost welcoming.

Though it looks creepy as hell, he added silently.

He moved forward with measured steps, hazel eyes sweeping every angle. The pillars created natural corridors of shadow, perfect for ambushes. His amber sigils flickered faintly along his forearms, ready.

What could this floor house? Another golem? The thought twisted in his mind. No, not after what I just put the Ironclad through. It has to be something else. A beast? A chimera? …A demon?

A cold shiver traced his spine. Please don’t let it be.

The hall seemed endless, yet his instincts sharpened as he advanced. Something waited ahead, at the center of the far end, bathed in the strongest concentration of lamp-light. A figure, Humanoid? Too distant to tell clearly at first. He narrowed his eyes, squinting against the glow. Person or animal? The silhouette was too composed.

Then his senses caught it: a faint, elegant thread of mana drifting through the air like perfume on a breeze.

Beaumont stopped. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, centering himself, then opened them again.

“So,” he called out, voice ringing clear and strong through the vast chamber, “it’s you. No… it has to be you.”

Deep within her sanctum, Agatha reclined on her ornate chair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. She watched him with those hollow, luminous eyes, a faint trace of amusement playing across her porcelain features.

When his voice echoes through to her, she tilted her head slightly.

“Tell me, little Earth-born,” she spoke, her voice silken and calm, carrying effortlessly across the distance as though she stood beside him, “why do you push further? When it only grows harder from here?”

Beaumont barked a short, dry laugh that echoed off the pillars. “Isn’t that a stupid question to ask an adventurer?”

“And I suspect you’re not dense enough to miss the meaning behind it,” Agatha replied smoothly. Even though you might be.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“Are you saying I’m stupid?” Beaumont asked, genuine offense coloring his tone.

“Are you?” she countered, voice light.

Beaumont’s jaw tightened. He planted his feet wider, staring directly toward the distant figure. “I’m smart enough to know that overthinking gets people killed down here. You want a deeper meaning? Fine! Step aside and let me take what I came for. The sooner I leave, the better for both of us.”

Agatha let out a soft, melodic chuckle. “Your overconfidence will bring about your downfall.”

“I could say the same to you,” he shot back, pointing with his right arm. “Just because you’re a master-level sorceress doesn’t make you invincible. You’ve seen my magic, sure. But you think that’s enough to best me?” His voice dropped, edged with disdain. “Which, by the way, I find pretty perverted, watching me the whole time like that.”

“Oh?” Agatha’s smirk widened, visible even through the mirror’s transmission. “Really?”

Beaumont relaxed his stance a fraction, though his eyes never left her distant silhouette. “And just so you know, sorceress, I’ve got over a hundred calamity-class spells I can cast on a whim.”

Agatha rested her chin delicately on the knuckles of her right hand, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “Surely you jest.”

Beaumont’s heart gave one heavy thud, but his smug expression held. “You don’t believe me, Can’t blame you can I. I’m hard to read sometimes.”

“I know you don’t,” she said. “If you had claimed nearly a hundred, I might have believed it, given your prodigy status and the gods’ blessings.”

Beaumont felt a chill race down his back. How the hell does she know about the blessing? Is she...?

Agatha’s smirk sharpened. “But over a hundred at your age? You’re bluffing. It would be more believable if you were over fifty.” What a joke. “You only said it to intimidate me, to shake me off. It won’t work.”

Beaumont paused, mind racing. He weighed his next words carefully. “And what if I am telling the truth? Maybe I’m a two-hundred-year-old man in a youthful body.”

“A regression?” Agatha’s smile turned predatory. “Or should I say… possession?”

“who knows,” he pressed. “And you’ve underestimated me from the start. That same mistake has brought death to everyone who’s stood in my way before.”

“Uh-oh,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m scared.”

“Just like you should have been from the beginning,” Beaumont growled, taking a deliberate step forward. The stone beneath his boots seemed to hum in response to his presence.

Agatha shifted upright in her chair, her posture becoming more regal. “Are you certain you’re taking the right course of action? If you had retreated from the fourth floor, you might have returned fully prepared.”

“I follow my instincts,” he answered with clear distaste. “Had I left and come back, I might have run into something far worse than just that metal golem.”

Agatha’s eyes gleamed with dark delight. “Oh, that. Tell me, how did you like my present?”

“Present?” Beaumont’s voice rose. “That thing moved like an assassin, built specifically to kill casters. But thanks to my exceptional prowess, I turned your toy to dust. Everything you thought could counter me has crumbled.”

“I did create it after finding something…someone very interesting,” she said, a distant smile touching her lips as if recalling another.

“Yours truly is very grateful for your honesty...” Beaumont began.

“I wasn’t referring to you,” Agatha cut in sharply.

The words landed like a slap. Offense flashed across Beaumont’s face. “That’s it, enough talking.” His voice hardened with finality. “I’m about to send you to your maker. It is I…”

“…Beaumont, the Earth-born!” they declared in eerie unison.

Beaumont froze mid-step.

“I know,” Agatha said, almost wearily. “It’s annoying hearing you say that all the time.”

“Since it’s apparently etched into your soul,” he retorted, “tell me, who are you?”

“You won’t live long enough to need my name,” she answered coolly.

“Acting high and mighty,” Beaumont snarled, “you feel untouchable, yet you’re full of yourself. Hear me, sorceress, I will put you down. I’ll shove that pride of yours down your throat all the way to the depths of hell!”

He dropped into a combat stance, warm amber sigil circles blazing to life around both hands. Power surged through him, drawing deep from the dungeon stone itself.

Agatha’s expression turned stoic. She rose gracefully from her chair, every movement precise and commanding. “Let me be clear with you, brat.” She took several measured steps forward, then planted her hands firmly on her hips in a pose of absolute authority. “Do not refer to me as a sorceress!”

Her voice carried a dangerous edge now. “You’re the one who has been giving attitude since the very beginning. If you truly believe you have what it takes… come.” Her eyes burned with otherworldly intensity. “I’ll show you just how far apart we truly are.”

Beaumont hesitated for half a heartbeat. Her mood just switched in an instant. She’s exhibiting a dangerous demeanor now. I need to go all out on this one. His expression hardened into grim focus. No doubt about it, she’s the final obstacle. The dungeon Lord.

A strange wave of mana rippled through the atmosphere. Beaumont’s senses ring's in warning. This is it.

He immediately poured his mana into the stone floor. A vast amount of earthy power flooded outward for several long seconds, amber light pulsing beneath the surface in rhythmic waves that encompassed both him and the distant Agatha. Yet almost at once, he detected another magical energy colliding with his own from below; precise and terrifyingly strong. His eyes widened slightly before he masked the surprise.

She’s contesting the earth as well? Now this is bad. She might have learned it from watching me on the previous floors.

Should I use my trump card already? No… too risky this early. I’ll draw the battle out and deploy it from her blind spot. Whoever you are, I’ll drag you into the light....

“Earth-brat,” Agatha’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blade, laced with sarcastic amusement, “weren’t you going to shove something down my throat?”

Beaumont’s head flared with anger at the deliberate misnomer. “It’s Earth-born!” he roared.

His arms struck forward in a flowing arc. The amber circles spun violently. Nine massive javelin-like drills of compressed stone and earth exploded forth, screaming through the air toward Agatha with devastating speed and power. At the same time, enormous elongated roots of living stone erupted from the floor all around her, whipping upward in a swirling, cage-like formation designed to crush and impale.

Agatha made a faint smirk.