A thin waning crescent shone its weak light on the evening streets of Orario, peeking out from behind the clouds travelling by overhead. Adama’s vision had been enhanced thanks to his blessing, though, so he had no trouble whatsoever navigating the city streets, even in the poorer districts when there was little to no artificial light. He made his way to Babel without incident and slipped inside.

His goal was to reach the 12th floor, a place that was widely viewed as the limit of Level 1 adventurers, since the Dungeon region called the Middle Floors began on the 13th. Common understanding was that it was dangerous even for Level 2 adventurers to solo the Middle Floors, and monsters classified as Level 2 threats began to spawn in large numbers there.

It was smooth sailing all the way down to the 10th. There, he encountered his first new challenge. He was in a large, white room and what light there was shimmered as though it was filtered through a morning mist. A large monster with a pig for a head and green skin ambled through that mist, looming over him as it approached. It dragged a rock formation like a club right behind itself, and it leered down at him with malice, red eyes burning like hot coals. It roared and brought that rock formation swinging down right on top of Adama. Or, right on top of where he used to be.

Agility was one of his weaker stats, since he didn’t do a lot of running around to avoid enemy attacks. He preferred to parry their attacks, or else to kill them before they even had the chance to attack at all. Even so, this attack was slow enough that it was child’s play to slip to the side and within the creature’s guard. A few cuts later and the Orc was dissolving into ash as he pocketed its magic stone. These lumbering oafs had tough skin and they could hit hard, but they were slow and stupid. So long as he didn’t let his guard down, he would be fine. As for the stone he was now pocketing, even though this was meant to be a training mission as opposed to a money earning one, he still couldn’t afford to leave anything behind.

He took on more Orcs, a pair this time, and made short work of them. Rippling Sword was sharp enough that it would kill in one shot if he hit them in the neck, and Hearthblade was easily capable of piercing their tough hide when swung with his strength. He didn’t have too much trouble with the other two new enemy types either.

Some tall, white grass rustling nearby was the only warning he was given that he was about to be ambushed. A group of small demonic humanoid creatures with tiny wings and beady eyes leaped out at him and tried to surround him. He cut each one down with relative ease, sending a Rippling Sword through two of them and finishing off the rest with his sword.

Imps delighted in group tactics, preferring hit-and-runs as well as swift ambushes. The only problem for them was that Adama had gotten so used to fighting multiple enemies at once that five Imps didn’t even making him break a sweat. He was only even slightly troubled when these pack hunters teamed up with a third enemy type.

He was facing down another gang of six Imps in leisurely fashion, and had just decapitated their leader when three small, dark monsters flew right out of the nearest hallway and right at him. He reacted quickly, shooting down two of them with Rippling Swords before they got close, but the third managed to close the distance and scream.

Its yell was a targeted sonic attack and it hit Adama dead on. He missed a step, suddenly disoriented, but he quickly closed his eyes and felt the flow of battle. An Imp pounced right for his back, but he stabbed it right out of the air without looking, sword in his left hand, before clubbing another Imp with a punch with his right as it tried to approach his blind spot. He felt the Bad Bat, the flying bat monster with the disorienting screech, try to take another pass at him but he brought it down before it even got close. Then, he finally regained full mastery of his bearings and slaughtered the remaining Imps.

Those Bad Bats could be deadly, though, he thought as he harvested his spoils. If they worked together with enough Orcs, he might had not choice but to find out exactly how hard the Orcs could hit. With his own body. Not an experience he relished thinking about. Or trying to survive. Even so, he cautiously made his way through the 10th, and found himself down on the 11th with little incident.

After clobbering a gang of Orcs, he was set upon by the first new encounter of the 11th. He heard a grinding noise, like a wheel over rock, in the distance and growing closer. It didn’t take him long to determine the direction it was coming from and dodge out of the way. Rolling right past him, and kicking up dust and wind in its wake, was a mid-sized gray and black wheel.

“Well, ‘wheel’ was probably the wrong term for it.” He thought, as it made a narrow turn and came back in his direction.

He knew from the books that this was a Hard Armored, an armadillo-like creature that rolled itself up into a ball and rolled around at high speeds to crush adventurers and any other enemies. Its defenses were legendary among Level 1 adventurers, but, just as a test, he sent out a Rippling Sword into the monster head on.

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It slowed a bit, its armor chipped, but it kept rolling right at him, forcing him to dodge to the side again. Which figured. His sword arts were much better at cleaving flesh rather than armor. He could keep dodging it without issue, but eventually backup would arrive, drawn by the sounds of fighting. That sounded like a real hassle, and Adama had already figured out how to handle this guy.

When it turned around for its third pass, it tried to weave around and confuse him, before finally closing on his position. He still hopped to the side to avoid it, and when he did, he stuck his sword out in a lightning quick stabbing motion. He struck the Hard Armored directly in the center, cutting through its soft underbelly and allowing its forward momentum to carry his sword through the back half of the creature’s body.

That took the fight right out of it, and it showed Adama that this strategy was viable. Most adventurers wouldn’t have the reflexes or the precision to strike so perfectly like that, but the Sage proved himself in a class of his own as he romped through the 11th floor with little trouble. He confidently danced around three of the little armadillo beasts at once, tricking two into colliding with each other and finishing both off before turning to the last one. That was his last fight before descending to the twelfth floor.

It was probably getting later outside, and he achieved his objective, but he had yet to face a severe challenge. It would have been dangerous, yet possible, to use bait to take on a small army of Orcs and Imps up on the 10th floor. But these monsters still outclassed him in terms of raw physical ability, at least the Orcs did, so deliberately fighting them in a gang would have bordered on suicide. That meant that he would have to explore the 11th and 12th floors for monsters that could cause problems for him in smaller numbers.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, his wish was not long from being granted.

After fighting his way through a few more of the same monsters, he finally found his quarry.

They were large, ape-like creatures with silver-white fur. Their bodies rippled with muscle that couldn’t be hidden by their long hair, their biceps flexing with latent power. They were just as tall as the Orcs and even wider, too wide to fit in some of the city streets of Orario, should one ever find itself up there. Their maws sported sharp spearheads of ivory death, and their eyes glowed with the same red savagery of the Orcs, only multiplied.

The three Silverbacks turned to glare at Adama the moment he stepped within their line of sight: Their minds were unified in bringing death to this unwelcome intruder. His heart sped up a bit in reaction, and he couldn’t help an anticipatory grin.

“That’s more like it. You little pack of whetstones!”

Their only purpose, in his mind, was to sharpen his blade. Without further ado, the battle began.

The trio spread out to try to surround him, but that wouldn’t do at all. He sent Rippling Swords, perfectly placed, right at the heads of the two flanking Silverbacks. They would have to deal with that, which they would, but they would do it while he cut down their brother.

He charged the central Silverback head on, feeling the gale tickle his hair as a titanic punch bore down right in front of him. At the perfect time, he dodged right past it and delivered a two-handed chop right on the inside of the beast’s elbow joint. Before it could even react in full to the pain of its severed arm, Adama used its distraction and his close range to fire off a Rippling Sword right at its throat. he didn’t quite behead the great beast, but he could tell from the sound that the wound was mortal.

Adama didn’t even have the time to be satisfied before he got hit.

He barely got his sword up in time to block the enormous clod of earth that smashed into him from his right side, sending him flying across the room. His muscles strained to take the impact, but he barely managed to retain his balance and eventually turn the projectile aside. Just in the knick of time, he ducked under another ball of dirt and stone, thrown by the Silverback across the room. He then rolled away from a two-handed club strike, swung by the other of its brethren that had decided to get close.

The force of the strike shook the ground a bit and the wind and flying debris threatened to knock Adama off balance. He stayed a step ahead, though, holding onto his footing and whipping a Striker technique at the arm of the ape who had nearly squashed him. Just as that monster made to follow up, its arm was half-severed, and it roared in pain as its attack was interrupted. Adama would have followed up and finished the beast, but he sensed danger from the ranged Silverback and moved to defend himself.

The beast had figured out that he was dodging its solid dirt balls, so it had crushed together a variety of smaller rocks and hurled them at him in a cone of projectiles. In a move that almost defied reason, Adama slid between the hail of bullets, cutting through some of them and dodging others. It was impossible to avoid it all, however, and he took several cuts across his temple and arms.

Eyes bright, he took off across the floor of the room towards this troublesome adversary. His arms ached, perhaps with a few small fractures, and blood now gummed up his right eye. He saw that his opponent had also lost an eye, presumably from his Rippling Sword at the start of the fight.

Even so, the monster roared and threw another volley at him, before picking up two stalagmites, one for each hand, and charging him. He weathered the storm again, undeterred, and met the ape head on. He dodged a frontal stab, but the monster prevented him from slipping inside its guard with its other weapons. It swung at him accurately but defensively, forcing him to be patient and look for an opportunity.

Eventually, he baited the monster into a stab with a downward angle. He jumped over the attack, landing on the pointed rock as it carved into the ground and running up the beast’s arm. A Rippling Sword deflected the stalagmite in the other hand, allowing him to snuff out the monster’s other eye with a well-placed stab. His sword pierced the beast’s brain, killing it, and largely ending the fight.

Largely, because the beast that had tried to club him was still alive. He had ignored it, though, because it had also gotten caught up in the cone of projectiles. Along with its other injuries, it was still alive, but it probably wished it wasn’t. A final Rippling Sword put it out of its misery.

Adama cleaned his sword off and sheathed it in triumph. That settled that.