On the second floor of the dungeon…

Furor encountered more guards within five minutes than he did the entirety of the time he spent on the first floor.

He held one up by his throat before crushing it. The man limply fell to the floor.

(“Hmm, a prior intruder that no one got a good look at…”)

He managed to get some information from the man before he killed him.

He told him an intruder had thrown themselves down the stairs and escaped the priest. It seemed there was an earlier meeting and this priest of theirs told them to watch throughout the floor more carefully.

It seemed their leader was on this floor based on what he said.

In unrelated matters, his blatant disregard for stealth or subtlety made him quite the target.

“There he is!” A man shouted.

Several men ran from behind a corner, holding spears and swords.

They charged at him but didn't look bothered. He slowly pulled his sword and…

“Stop FUCKING running you assholes!”

They all stopped and he wasted no time running towards the group. He slashed at their necks and left the hallway painted in red instead of the dull grey of the stone bricks.

One struggled out of his magic and blocked the blade aimed at his neck.

A knife pierced the side of his neck and he fell to the floor.

Furor rolled his eyes and looked towards the corner the men came from, to see three from his group ahead.

They spared him a glance and formed a circle. Based on what Furor saw, they must have been playing rock paper scissors. One of them lost and placed his hands against his head, almost in agony.

Furor didn't have the time to watch these idiots goof off and turned around. They quickly pushed the man forward and he ran towards Furor.

He considered running but they were allies, regardless of their strength.

“This better be good dipshit.”

The man who approached him had a few cuts and bruises on but nothing major. There was nothing but the blood of enemies on Furor.

The man looked nervous but tried his best to hide it.

“Of course. Say Furor do you have one of these?”

He pulled out a piece of paper and showed him.

Furor gave him a cursory glance before stopping. He grabbed it out of his hand and turned around. He turned the piece of paper around.

“Is there another one?” He asked.

The man breathed a sigh of relief for not being ridiculed. “Not that we know of.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Tch, I should have expected as much.”

The man had brown long hair and was a mere inch shorter than Furor, yet had none of the intimidating presence Furor had. “Come on dude, we're trying here. Only a few of them had a map.”

“Dude? Dipshit, don't get so familiar with me.” Furor remarked, almost disgusted.

“Right, dud- Sir.”

“Just say Furor or I'll knock a tooth out.” He coldly added while looking at the map.

“R-right. (Fuck you guys, why couldn't we have approached him together!?)”

His two friends made sure to keep their distance.

“So none of them had a map of the floor below this? You know who else is on this floor?” He asked.

“No and no.”

“Hey fuckface, give me a reason you should be walking beside me right now and not taking your ass back to the carriages. You small fries should at least be good for this much.”

“(Bro, I don't think I've encountered a dude this moody. Hehe maybe he gets a period with how cranky he is.) H-”

Furor noticed the expression on his face and asked a simple question. “What the fuck were thinking right now big man?”

“Hehe just that you whine so much I'm wondering if you have period-” He tried to cover his mouth but most of the words had already come out.

Furor only looked annoyed while his friends had a good laugh watching his reaction.

He fell to his knees and kneeled before Furor. Furor ignored him and kept on walking. He slowly raised his head, thinking he was spared.

Furor stopped and looked behind him.

“Don't worry, I'll set you straight when we return home.”

He continued walking with his friends on the floor trying to stop themselves from laughing.

…..

After twelve minutes of walking the impromptu group came across an especially dense group of guards near the stairway.

The two in front of Furor had already started the slaughter.

(“I guess small fry should deal with small fry.”)

They ran through the group like an Asian hornet through a hive of honeybees. It seemed almost unfair from the cultists' perspective that these abnormally powerful people coming out of nowhere had begun killing them.

He slowly walked forward as they dealt with the group in front of them, leaving limbs, blood and viscera across the floor.

The man at the back couldn't help but sigh. On the outside.

(“What's so bad about this? I get to chill while those idiots are doing the hard work. And when that asshole who iced Ezekiel shows up, I'm gonna be fresh enough to get him. I wonder what favour I should ask for when they gas themselves overdoing it and I have to save them?”)

Slaughtering the guards was a man and woman duo. The man used a plain-looking shortsword, while the woman used two claw-like blades on each hand. They had four blades each and she used them well.

(“You godforsaken Bastards! You took him from me! W-we were gonna-”) She thought with a nasty expression as she cut through them.

A close confidant of hers had gone missing during the initial cultist attack. She had spent enough time penting up her anger.

The guards began running away and towards the stairs. They rushed down them but before the two marauders could continue their cleansing, a man emerged from a room nearby. The smell of viscera was strong but the smell of food was stronger. Was he a chef? Given his apparent age, it wouldn't be unthinkable to give a child such a position. But the way he looked at them was anything but childlike. He looked at them with the same concern of an unflushed turd.

He clapped his hands and the men all stopped. The two stopped as well to observe his actions.

“Right, I'd appreciate it if you all walked down in an orderly fashion.” He asked, turned to his men.

The woman ran towards him. She didn't care if he was a child, he had to die.

She stopped in the air.

Two punches assaulted her body before-

“Fucking stop!” Rang throughout the air.

The priest stopped his punch and immediately backed away further into the room.

Several of the guards stopped dead in their tracks.

The woman fell and Furor grabbed her before throwing her to one of the men outside.

Both went to the ground when she fell into his arms.

“Three more this time?” The priest said more annoyed than angered.