Bang Bang!
Bang bang! While the vampire held Dorne's attention, the elite zombie casually pounded on his shield. The elite vampire and zombie were probably thinking the exact opposite. With the zombie pinning down this iron giant, the vampire could exploit any opening. And who could blame them? The iron giant showed no signs of fatigue. He looked like he could hold that shield up forever.
But the reality was different.
To maintain the shield and withstand the zombie's attacks, Dorne was steadily burning through his precious remaining mana. Finally, his patience ran out, and he made his decision.
Thwack! Whoosh—
He shoved the zombie back with his shield and hurled both shield and sword at the skulking vampire to keep it in check. The shield and sword grazed the vampire before dissolving back into mana just three meters out, which Dorne reabsorbed. Raising his bare fists like Torman, he targeted the zombie.
Thud— Pow!
Dorne's one-two punch and knee strike slammed perfectly into the zombie's head. Even without weapons, Dorne himself was a devastating weapon. The zombie stiffened from the shove and follow-up punches, leaving it wide open for Dorne's full weight behind the knee strike. The head—strong enough to be called a layer-four nightmare—shattered like a watermelon. The zombie's face caved in the shape of Dorne's knee, collapsing like a marionette with cut strings.
Thud.
Scraaape, clack clack.
Converting his sword and shield back to mana had added 50 to his usable pool, but it was already down to just 30 after blocking the elite vampire's furious assaults.
Thump! Dorne, having finished off the zombie in one go, snatched the vampire's hand as it lunged for his nape. The vampire convulsed like it was having a seizure, severing its own wrist to retreat. Dorne, holding the severed hand and whirling around with purple-glowing eyes, faced off against the elite vampire whose hand was already wriggling back to life. For a moment, Dorne worried the cunning beast—smart enough to cut off its own wrist like last time—might flee again.
"Dorne hyungnim!"
His party members, having cleared the wave behind him, rushed to his aid. The vampire's eyes flicked toward the noise, flashing a sinister grin before bolting in that direction. Dorne couldn't catch an elite vampire on speed alone. In his desperation, he thought, If I can't chase it, I'll throw something at it. A person might top out at 30-40 km/h running, but a thrown ball could hit 160 km/h. (Of course, Dorne could run faster himself—but only with enough mana.)
In a pinch, Dorne conjured a handful of iron balls in his right hand and hurled them. Time was critical, and it cost mana. To avoid wasting it, he needed stopping power—and that meant throwing with everything he had.
Shraaaap!
Like a sidearm pitcher, he crouched low, timing the spread of iron balls to blanket the vampire and its path. Papapapow! Pierced by dozens of balls like shotgun pellets, the vampire lost mobility and tumbled.
Thud thud thump!
Boom! Bang! Slash!
Dorne rushed over, pinned the fallen vampire, bashed its head twice—then, struck by a flash of insight about its regeneration, squeezed out his remaining mana to form a dagger and slit its throat.
To Raon and Lilia, the scene looked like a grinder's aftermath: wave remnants pulverized, an elite zombie with a shattered skull, a vampire gushing blood from its half-destroyed head—and Dorne rising, holding the head like a baseball.
Seeing it fully finished, Raon and Lilia breathed sighs of relief.
"Phew…"
With mana scraping bottom, it finally ticked into recovery. Another wave overcome—it was time to clean up.
Extracting magic stones from monsters was typically a scout's job, but even so, having just two scouts mine stones from this many beasts wasn't normal division of labor. So the ten explorers excluding Dorne rummaged through bone piles and rotting flesh. (Dorne wasn't mining because no one dared ask the man who'd soloed most of the wave to help.)
The explorers advanced in a neat line, looking like farmers tilling fields. Around the middle of the line for stone extraction, Baren Tois kept pestering Inoi.
"Inoi. Join my party for explorations. I made it a five-man team just for you. Two priests would make delving way more stable."
Baren flirted while half-heartedly mining visible stones, forcing the scout next to him to cover more ground.
"Baren. Enough already. I said no. If you like me, stop doing things I hate."
Inoi spoke with near-resigned bluntness, worn down by years of his advances during her priestly life. There had been a time when she'd politely deflected with euphemisms. Being courted so persistently boosted a woman's pride, especially by a scion of a famed house. But she was a priest racing breathlessly toward high priestess rank. No time for that, no help from it, and above all, not her type. Having turned down noble offers to be a concubine thanks to her beauty, she wasn't swayed by affection alone.
Dorne Party members shot Baren dirty looks, but none intervened. Lucian stayed out since he knew Baren from before and knew meddling would stir more drama. The others hesitated due to the weight of the "Tois" name and priests' labyrinth influence.
That intangible barrier was crumbling. Eresa perked her ears toward their one-sided exchange, her swishing tail signaling her patience was thin.
Just as Eresa was about to jump in, Dorne—mana partially restored—stepped between Baren and Inoi. Backlit by moonlight from ceiling windows, the Ironclad Giant was impossible to ignore.
"Wh-what do you want?"
Baren's "courtship" was basically poaching, so he felt guilty facing the party leader. (I'm just intimidated by him, Baren excused inwardly.)
"Baren Tois?"
"Yes. That's me."
Average height, build, looks—Baren had only his family name. Not even the eldest, he'd been tossed to the temple. Yet he stood tall before the towering Dorne.
Dorne usually bared his face or showed courtesy in talks even in full armor, but not this time—deliberately. Baren met the giant's elongated purple-glowing eyes and puffed his chest.
Not bad for a guy harassing an unwilling woman, Dorne thought, changing his mind from brushing him off casually.
"Right. I'm Dorne. Inoi, my party member, doesn't want to join yours, does she?"
"Not so far."
"Then there's another way."
"What...?"
Expecting a reprimand, Baren was baffled by Dorne's curveball.
"You join our party. Pick one to kick out in your place. If it's mutual, we'll boot them and take you."
Baren eyed Dorne's smooth iron face suspiciously. Not the move of a no-name nobody.
He didn't want to dance in this guy's palm, but in the isolated labyrinth, after the man had mulched a wave including two elites, defiance was unthinkable. Baren pointed uncertainly at one of Dorne Party.
"That... guy warrior over there looks useless. Why need two more warriors when you have one like you?"
"Sorry, Raon's like a brother to me. Pick someone else."
Raon clutched his chest, thinking he'd been marked for expulsion by a noble scion—then relaxed in relief. Naive and straightforward as ever. Quick-witted Lilia would've seen Dorne toying with him.
"Then the bear beastkin warrior."
"Sorry, Lilia's like a sister too. Her dad's a merchant guild leader, even."
"My dad's Count Tois."
Baren bristled at Lilia's background being invoked.
"As a priest, aren't you cut off from your family now?"
"…."
Two party members left, but Baren didn't point again. He knew Dorne was mocking him—and swapping their scout and mage for a duplicate priest? Absurd.
As Baren hung his head in humiliation, Dorne spoke.
"Baren Tois. Some things just don't happen in this world. Me becoming a Tois son. You becoming a woman. A newbie explorer jumping straight to deep delves... And you poaching from Dorne Party."
Dorne's massive hand clapped Baren's shoulder. It engulfed half, leaving Baren's shrunk in intimidation.
"Now you get it. Don't pull this again."
The nine explorers finished mining stones. Per agreement with Lilia and Baren's employer mage, they split them, and Dorne Party moved out. Led by the colossal Ironclad Giant Dorne, the tight-knit six passed Baren. Even Inoi—the kindest to him despite his torment—left coldly.
Clank clank clank...
Iron boot steps faded, leaving Baren's hired five amid wave wreckage. They wouldn't delve again.
Dorne Party had saved one party from a wave and now sought the exit portal, heading opposite the wave's origin—where no portal would be.
"Ahem, cough…"
Raon awkwardly soothed his boiling emotions. When Baren Tois picked him to boot, his heart had plummeted to his hips. He knew he was the least capable in Dorne Party—replaceable. The excuse of his slightly longer bond with Dorne had kept it buried, but now it surfaced.
Yet Dorne's firm refusal... Declaring him "like a brother" in that resolute voice... It conveyed Dorne truly valued him.
Sniff…
Raon ducked his head to hide teary eyes. His helmet's shadow helped. But he couldn't fool his party mates.
Dorne spoke up.
"Raon. Whether delving labyrinths or anything else, skill's only second. The top priority is trust. And I trust you."