“Who is that?” Aster muttered, frowning at the brunet.

Stella grabbed onto his shirt and shook her head. “He’s the monster in the center of the labyrinth.”

“Him…?” Aster asked. He squinted. That’s the guy who was howling like a monster? He… looks like a normal adventurer. In fact, those clothes he’s wearing look like what was fashionable about… twenty years ago or so, when I was a kid. He’s too young for that to be the case, but maybe he’s too poor to afford new clothes.

The man’s eyes flashed. His face went blank, and his hands moved at double speed. In the blink of an eye, he slammed his hand through the massive rat’s chest and through the rear of its body. For a moment, he clutched the rat’s still-beating heart in his hand before he closed his hand, squelching the heart to a pulpy red mush. Eyes faintly glowing, blue traces of light following after them as he moved, he tipped his head back and let out one of those unearthly howls, then charged back through the portal.

Never mind, I understand now, Aster thought. He shook his head. So he’s a berserker.

Some people classify berserkers as human-shaped monsters, while others simply see them as adventurers with a natural talent for battle. They’re humans born with magic woven into their very bodies the same way monsters are born with talents.

In a way, seeing them as “human monsters” is perhaps the best way to understand them. Just like monsters, they have built-in skills, battle prowess, and utter control over a narrow realm of magic—in this case, body-enhancing magic—as opposed to ordinary humans, who must learn their skills, battle prowess, and spells. However, comprehending them as monsters is exactly what causes the problem, since monsters aren’t allowed to live outside dungeons.

Exacerbating the issue is the fact that berserkers’ magic gives them great strength and regeneration… in return for insanity and uncontrollable bloodlust.

Once the battle-madness grips a berserker, they treat everything they see as a foe. Friend, family, lover, it doesn’t matter. In the depths of battle-madness, the berserker will kill all that they lay eyes on. The luckiest ones end up as solo adventurers. The less lucky ones are driven into dungeons by their fellow villagers or outright executed. Even in the best case where the young berserker ends up as an adventurer, they’re pariahs, existing on the very outer edge of adventurer society. Inversely, those who are cast into dungeons usually die, too weak to survive, or end up killed by adventurers, treated no better than common monsters. They’re unfortunate beings who can’t fit in anywhere.

“He took on your mom and won?” Aster confirmed, remembering their earlier discussion.

“They had a conversation, and Momma rerouted the labyrinth away from him,” Stella replied.

Aster glanced at Milo, who hung back from the battle, his staff at the ready. “It was a conversation because he didn’t kill her mom.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Milo blinked at him. “He… huh? What is he, anyways?”

“A berserker,” Aster explained.

“Oh… that’s truly unfortunate,” Milo murmured, gazing toward the portal. He shook his head and sighed.

“Why’s it unfortunate?” Stella asked.

“Because it means he can’t control his strength, or direct his fury,” Aster explained.

“Oh,” Stella said. She pointed, and one of the fire slimes burst, splattering fiery slime over the swarming rats. “Like that?”

“Like… like that,” Aster stammered, somewhat taken aback. She’s so protective of her monsters, how could she—

The tiny bits of slime splattered all over the labyrinth and the labyrinth’s walls jiggled, then gathered themselves. Each of the bits of slime became a itty bitty slime, all bobbling along to the same beat. The slimes nodded at one another and wobbled off, spreading out in a net-like search formation to enflame all the rats that their parent’s explosion hadn’t set on fire.

Aster blinked. I… didn’t know slimes’ reproduction techniques were so violent! Though… maybe it’s just fire slimes? Fire slimes do seem more volatile and explosive than ordinary slimes.

Stella clapped. “Yay, baby slimes!”

Milo raised a hand to his chin. “They are kind of cute. The little ones, anyways.”

“I’ve always found slimes to have a certain appeal… even if I hate them,” Aster said, adding the last bit under his breath.

“That’s right. How do you fight slimes? Especially only-weak-to-magic slimes…” Milo wondered aloud.

“Salt,” Aster replied.

“You said that last time, but I still don’t understand,” Milo muttered.

“They’re like slugs. Hate salt,” Aster said, nodding.

“Ooooh… that’s why the old abbots would put out salt at their thresholds,” Milo said, nodding as he finally connected the dots.

“You really are a young noble,” Aster chuckled under his breath.

“There were slimes outside?” Stella asked.

“No, they were… fighting slugs… never mind,” Milo mumbled.

Viki pulled up alongside the two of them, occasionally reaching out a tendril to pick off a nastier looking rat. “We’re doing well, right now. Better than I expected.”

“Yeah, the rats aren’t that much of a threat,” Aster said. He casually smashed a rat out of midair, grimacing at the smear of blood that splashed after his hammer’s head.

Viki nodded. “It’s good to relax during the first wave.”

Aster and Milo both turned. “The first wave?”

She nodded again, crossing her tubby tuber arms. “The waves get stronger as the other dungeon sends monsters from deeper in their depths. I thought everyone knew.”

“Humans don’t know a whole lot about the intricacies of dungeons,” Aster said, shrugging.

“Well, isn’t that the truth,” Viki muttered under her breath. She snatched a rat out of the air and pierced it with a thicker, fleshier, rootlike vine. The rat squealed as the blood drained out of its body, and it diminished to a shriveled husk.

Milo’s eyes went wide. She could do that? I was trapped in those vines, five seconds away from becoming a blood snack? He shivered, running his hands over his arms.

The berserker backed out of the portal again, hair a mess, blood running down his arms and chest. His breath came ragged, his eyes blurred, and he limped. A vicious-looking bite wound leaked bright red blood and thin pus down his calf.

Milo leaped upright. He hefted his staff and began to chant. White light swirled around the berserker’s body, and his wounds instantly closed under the combined weight of his own regeneration and Milo’s spell. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around, then caught sight of Milo and tossed him a nod.

Milo nodded back.

The berserker glanced away, shy and nervous.

Aster laughed quietly. It looks like someone isn’t used to human society anymore. Well… would I be, after twenty years in a dungeon?