Bare Fists and the True Dragon Raid
Torman, sprawled in the courtyard, propped himself up with one hand and rose to his feet. "Not bad, Dorne."
Dorne, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, couldn't muster a reply to Torman. He was on the verge of fearing this mad warrior. His own party had barely escaped with their lives from the second floor of the labyrinth, yet this man was plunging barehanded into the depths.
(Dorne's party had an uncanny knack for getting swept up in the labyrinth's wild variables.)
Torman spoke to Dorne, who stared back and forth between his shield and the giant in bewilderment. "What's the matter? Can't wrap your head around why I don't use weapons?"
Dorne swallowed hard and nodded.
"There's a reason for it."
Red Fighting Spirit cloaked Torman's hand. He didn't clench his fist—instead, he spread his fingers, nails raised like blades. If those five shimmering strands of Fighting Spirit touched a monster's body, they'd shred it to pieces.
Torman's abilities were Iron Man, Giant, and Fighting Spirit! Most explorers with three combination abilities stuck to shallower floors, but Torman's lineup was overkill. He'd cherry-picked the three most coveted combos for a warrior—if the third-year senior who'd ridden in the carriage with Dorne three years ago saw this, he'd die of envy.
"Let's keep going. No holding back—give it everything you've got."
Torman charged, leading with his Fighting Spirit-wreathed hand. Dorne ducked low and grabbed the giant's legs, yanking them out from under him. He had to topple him before Torman could steady himself with his arms. If those Fighting Spirit-sharpened nails pierced his back, even Dorne's Iron Man might not hold.
Dorne was talented with Iron Man, but his opponent was a monster who layered Fighting Spirit on top of it.
Dorne wrenched Torman's legs, flipping him over, then planted a knee on his stomach and rained down punches.
Thud. Thud.
Lying on his back, Torman blocked Dorne's ground-and-pound with palms wrapped in Fighting Spirit. Even with his prime abilities, he had to protect his head. His iron skin would absorb most of the impact, but it couldn't stop his brain from rattling.
Torman shoved Dorne's knee aside and tried to roll to his feet. Easier said than done. The advantage Dorne had seized at such risk slipped away all too easily. Now he saw it—both Torman's superior speed and strength stemmed from the base abilities fueling his Fighting Spirit.
Dorne leaped onto Torman's back, locking in a choke grip around his neck and pulling with all his might. With that much pressure on his carotid, Torman would black out in about ten seconds.
Torman knew it too. His Fighting Spirit-clad fingertips stabbed toward Dorne's face. Dorne flinched back in shock, breaking the distance.
In the MMA Dorne knew, eye gouges were fouls that never happened. But here, they were fair game.
Torman regained his footing without a scratch. The two stared each other down. Dorne racked his brain but found no way to counter this monster.
The spar ended with Dorne taking a few more hits. Unable to find an opening, he'd turned to flee like a vampire when a startled Torman called it off.
Once things calmed, Torman sat across from Dorne and offered advice. "Judging by your physical prowess and durability, your Iron Man outshines mine."
Dorne, lacking Fighting Spirit, had traded blows evenly with Torman. Without it, the giant would have been weaker than him.
"I don't know how much you're tapping into your Iron Man, but you're definitely not using it to its full potential. You've got to unlock the shackles your subconscious has put on it."
Dorne and Torman stood in the courtyard, discussing how to unleash that power completely. Methods like punching iron chunks barehanded or jumping from heights to practice landings came up. (With a priestess along, it wouldn't be an issue.)
Dorne, hearing that weapon techniques were best learned from Rien, who'd come with them, asked, "Still, Mr. Torman... even you must've struggled to ditch weapons entirely. What made you switch to bare hands?"
Torman looked up, reminiscing. "I loved weapons before getting Giant. But once I completed Fighting Spirit, Iron Man, and Giant... no weapon could keep up with my body's durability. I kept losing them in the labyrinth, getting into binds. So I ditched them."
Weapons empowered by Fighting Spirit grew stronger. But the synergy between Fighting Spirit, Iron Man, and Giant was even more potent. Fighting Spirit's boost to Iron Man hadn't quite outpaced weapon strength yet—but adding Giant amplified Iron Man's gains beyond any gear.
Dorne, who'd been eyeing Fighting Spirit as his next ability, reconsidered. The Eastern Labyrinth is still a ways off. Plenty of time to think it over.
"I'll go learn weapon use from Ms. Rien, then."
"Let's go together. I've got nothing else to do anyway."
Dorne's party, along with Torman and Rien, gathered in the annex dining hall for a meal.
Clink. Clink.
"Oh, so you two—Ms. Rien and Mr. Torman—are explorers sponsored by the Wendi Labyrinth Merchant Group?"
The Wendi Labyrinth Merchant Group was the premier merchant house in the Western Labyrinth city, just like Oren Labyrinth Merchant Group in the east.
"That's right. Don't worry—we're on good terms with Oren Labyrinth Merchant Group."
"The merchants'll sort themselves out. No need for us explorers to pick sides."
Dorne's party and Torman's shared a laugh.
"Impressive, though. You're already a full party on the lower floors."
"We got lucky. Minus the variables we hit during exploration, we've been fortunate overall."
Lilia asked Rien, "By the way, Ms. Rien... what was it you wanted to ask about combinations?"
"Oh, that. About the True Dragon."
"True Dragon?"
"Our priestess heard at the temple. An explorer from the lower floors encountered the True Dragon and lived. Mind sharing the details?"
All eyes at the table turned to Dorne.
"Hm... Not much to tell about the True Dragon. I just killed a vampire and took its breath to the face. Blacked out after that..."
Rien turned to Inoi. "What did the priestess make of Dorne's wounds?"
"Mm... It was bad. His gear was nearly corroded, skin peeling off. Considering his Iron Man, that's insane power. If he'd been breathing, his lungs would've been wrecked—probably unsalvageable."
Rien eyed Torman after hearing Inoi out. "Mm... Dorne's Iron Man is stronger than mine. With a resistance potion and Fighting Spirit up, I bet he could tank it?"
"Think I could?"
"Yeah. You too."
Rien lacked Iron Man but had Endless Stamina, letting her wield far more Fighting Spirit than most warriors.
Torman, having tested Dorne himself, confirmed it. Rien fixed Dorne with a stare.
"Serious talk now. Want to join us in taking down the True Dragon?"
Dorne blinked at the unexpected offer. "Uh... I'd need to discuss with my party. We don't even have a mage yet."
"Don't sweat it. We've got two mages, and we don't expect much from you. It's just acknowledgment for discovering the hidden second-floor boss. A foot in the door for your trial."
"When do you need an answer?"
"We're not heading out right away. Contact Wendi Labyrinth Merchant Group within two weeks. If you're late, we'll go without you!"
Business done, Rien and Torman stood.
"Alright, that's it from us. Great meal. We'll wait for your call."
"Dorne. Next time we meet, be a true Iron Man."
Dorne's party saw Torman's group off at the door.
Thud.
Back at the table, Dorne's party slumped into their chairs, hearts pounding.
"This feels like a huge opportunity."
"I think so too."
"Any chance it goes wrong?"
The lesser panda beastkin clutched her plump tail, brows furrowed in worry. Dorne's injury flashed in her mind.
The others pondered, excluding Eresa.
Dorne had taken the breath unprotected and lived. Torman's party—vetted by Wendi sponsorship. Their deep-floor experience.
No anxiety would be a lie, but rationally, accepting their goodwill made sense.
"I get the worry, Eresa. I'd be lying if I said I felt none. But it's worth the risk. Think it's more dangerous than eating a True Dragon breath with zero prep?"
Eresa's moist eyes met his. "......Got it. Then let's spare no expense on prep."
And so, Dorne's party committed to the True Dragon raid.
"But don't tell Lucian yet. If he joins, we're over capacity. Wait till he finishes his magic tools."
"Yeah."
"Sure!"
A week passed. Dorne's three warriors trained relentlessly under Rien and Torman's methods, never missing a day. Eresa and Inoi patrolled the courtyard. Dorne borrowed a finished shield and a javelin with launcher like Lilia's.
No armor for the True Dragon raid. Its deadliest attack was the breath—unprotected gear was useless against it. Same logic: unable to shield with Fighting Spirit, Dorne couldn't contribute by brawling. Better to hurl javelins like mad.
Thud. Thud.
Lucian arrived at Dorne's party's annex, magic tools complete.
"Mr. Lucian! Finished the magic tools, I see."
"Haha, yes, Dorne. Glad you're fully recovered?"
"Of course. Actually, I have something to tell you."
"Funny—I do too."
"Let's talk over food."
Dorne's party plus one mage gathered in the dining hall.
Lucian couldn't hide his shock at their plan to hunt the True Dragon. "Good heavens! You've just started delving, and you're taking on a True Dragon? Unbelievable!"
Dorne calmed the excited mage. "It's not that big a deal, Mr. Lucian. We're just tagging along—the real raid's on Torman's party."
But Dorne's words fell on deaf ears. "I've only awakened Flame Creation and boosted my output with custom magic tools. Your party defies imagination."
"Haha, thanks."
Lucian, still in his sensual attire, scanned Dorne and his comrades.
The unprecedented ability-grabber and stellar leader, Dorne. Lilia, the bear beastkin with innate physical gifts and Fighting Spirit. Raon, another Fighting Spirit user, farmer's son turned perfect warrior. Cute lesser panda beastkin Eresa. And Inoi, his childhood friend whose skills and heart he trusted.
Lucian steeled his resolve. "Dorne... I want to join this amazing party too."