"-I have to say though, the idea of putting a giant mark on the front of your chest seems like a poor match with the costume you've designed for yourself, and it happens to have the negative of drawing attacks to you. At the very least, the fact that it's bright red contrasts with your costume according to your intent."

"Not really, if you pay attention to the costume, I've added slight highlights of red throughout my gear, from the strings to random spots of red being made. So the red x still fits in aesthetically, and it serves as a big fat marking for enemies. I'm telling you, better to know when your enemies are aiming, that way you have time to-"

Swish

A streak of magic flew by the minotaur, hitting Grant clean on the chest, knocking him back, as Granite reacted immediately, pulling out his bludgeon.

He gave a quick look over to the fallen adventurer, seeing that Grant was untouched, but clearly showed no signs of stirring.

"I told you to aim for the minotaur!" complained a rough voice, one that the minotaur recognized, causing him to flare his nostrils in anger.

It was no bandit, but a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Reggie, to think you would be this vile. I believed there was a certain code all adventurers followed, no?"

"Ignore the bull; hold him off for a second or two. Freddy should be done in a minute or two, and then we can take him out."

An adventurer came out of the bush, a scar on his lip, and a gaping eye hole. In his grasp an unconscious man holding an artifact of sorts. He shook him furiously.

"Useless trash! We'll have a talk once you're out of there." He snarled.

Behind him came 20 adventurers, who quickly surrounded the minotaur.

The minotaur eyed them and they eyed them in turn, one side more emotional than the other.

"You should understand at least half of you will die?" he noted stiffly.

Perhaps it would be more but from what he could see, they were wearing good gear and seemed to be well stocked.

This was premeditated, and Granite wasn't sure to what extent.

"Who cares!" shouted one of the many. "Even if we die, we get to die taking out a minotaur of all things! A minotaur!"

Another one nodded furiously in agreement. "He's only an A-rank though, so I guess we're killing a weaker one than average."

"Doesn't matter. In the end, a minotaur is a minotaur; they're all monsters." Another retorted.

"Shut up and go kill that bull! And kill that bothersome D-rank already!" Reginal snarled.

Immediately the ones with bows let the arrows fly, as Granite quickly constructed walls of earth to block the arrows, only for the vanguard, consisting of close ranged fighters rushed in, carrying relics of some sorts that when they came into contact with the walls.

Dammit. Of course, they'd have something like that prepared. Minotaurs are well known for their usage of earth magic, reminiscent of the first and his maze and he was a decently known A-rank, so it wasn't that hard to counter him.

Using his bludgeon, he managed to sweep 5 of them, sending them barreling into nearby trees, but they got up quickly afterwards, moving back into position.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Suddenly a shot rang out as an arrow flew towards Grant's unprotected body.

Fred was taking too long to finish off the random eccentric adventurer for his liking.

Why bother waiting when he could just kill the man.

His answer came in the form of a golden blur that quickly blocked the arrow, making clinking noises all the while.

The golden blur moved quickly as it rattled and soon Grant was completely encompassed in a golden blur.

As the golden blur slowed down, its shape became more apparent as the clinking became the louder rattling and the blur became golden chains covered in extensive symbols, forming a golden ball around the raven masked adventurer.

The sight of the chains made Reginald uneasy for some reason, a feeling that would change to fear once he noticed something.

"Dammit! Fred's bleeding!" Noticed one adventurer that was shooting at the minotaur, and one look at Fred confirmed the man's statement.

Fred was bleeding from all the orifices on his face, as it contorted in agony.

What the hell was going on in there!

----------------------------------------

squish squish squish

Fred trekked through this weird mind.

He couldn't see anything, for the whole area was covered in fog as he walked though what he could only assume was a marshland with all the gooey-like substances that he had to get through.

He had aimed the artifact at the minotaur, and yet the spell changed directions for some reason, hitting the D-rank for some reason, something he only had a moment to ponder before being dragged into the man's mind.

Yes the artifact was one that allowed him to enter the mind of another.

He'd already used this a few times in the service of the human supremacists to take out the more powerful nonhumans that couldn't be beaten head on, who didn't have any defense against mental attacks.

interesting

Came a slight whisper and Fred spun around, looking for the source, before giving up.

Whatever. This shouldn't take too long.

All he had to do was enter some memories, sabotage them, and slowly destroy the mind.

Time passed differently, and it would be but a few minutes outside, more than enough time to then jump to the minotaur's mind.

Soon the fog parted, giving way to the first memory he found.

A swordsman and his family, eating at a table jovially, as the man sat with his two kids, telling them about how he'd bring back something for them to eat.

Was this the D-rank? He seemed different, though Fred couldn't tell, because the D-rank had been shrouded in mystery, and ultimately ignored.

And yet the feeling was wrong.

Nothing lined up with what they knew of the man.

Perhaps he changed.

Perhaps these kids died.

A traumatic even perhaps?

Well then, killing them again would surely trigger something!

He grabbed the wife's head, and bashed her head into the counter in the house until her head was a bloody mess,

Fred imagined long claws before tearing their happy faces to shreds, ripping their heads off!

Could he do that in reality?

Of course not, but this was the mind, and what mattered in the mind was whether or not you could imagine it.

He looked at the swordsman, seeing if it triggered anything.

The swordsman merely looked at him quietly.

He just stared at him, melancholy in his eyes.

Melancholy.

The person just kept staring at him.

He just killed his whole family in front of him. That should affect him somehow!

Did he realize that this wasn't real?

But he was just a D-rank!

Even A-ranks are rarely resistant to the effects of mental attacks.

The man flickered for a moment, and then the environment changed.

The house was gone, replaced by a battlefield, in which countless individuals were fighting, as death could be seen everywhere.

The battle terrified Fred, but it did not concern him.

It was the death of the swordsman that confused him.

In the midst of the battle,

that very swordsman he had seen but a moment ago was on the floor, as a man pulled a sword out of his chest, before cleaning the blade on the floor.

A scarred young man, his eyes a shade different from each other.

And he was looking at him.

It was unnerving when the swordsman had showed no reaction, but now that the man was watching him, he felt unnerved once more.

Before he could think about it the environment changed once more, and by now Fred was starting to realize he wasn't in control. He wasn't the one who dictated the memories.

This D-rank was clearly aware of mental attacks and how to fight back.

But he couldn't escape.

Fred had never needed to escape and thus, didn't know how.

He could only fight back.

Now he was in a mountain, and upon this mountain he saw...

...dragons

A gathering of dragons.

Fred nearly pissed his imaginary pants out of fear

Why?

Where is the swordsman from before?

How are these memories those of a random D-rank adventurer?

Who is he?

Who is Grant?

Whose memories are these!?