Chapter 20: The Maneuvers of the Minotaur

After learning that we were willing to help him once again in the quest to find the iron hammer, Dingding Xiaoge instantly perked up, no longer uttering phrases like "I'm so tired I could die."

According to the elf druid girl, Fairy Descends Face First, we would need to circle the giant chasm on the boardwalk for over a dozen laps to reach its deepest point. Along the way, we would face frequent attacks from skeletal warriors. At the very bottom, beyond the masses of ordinary skeletons, a leader-level skeletal monster stood guard.

The greatest fear is not from the terrifying things themselves, but from the mysterious unknown. Just moments ago, faced with the bottomless abyss, our hearts brimmed with confusion and anxiety; yet now, we could hardly wait to set out—even if what awaited us was a horde of undead killers unlike any we'd ever seen.

The boardwalk was not spacious, but wide enough for two to walk side by side with ease. Bull Million and I led the way; no matter what unexpected events occurred, our heavy armor and robust physiques could withstand the brunt. The gnome bard, Bb Minor Nocturne, and the druid girl, Fairy Descends Face First, followed close behind, ready to support us at any moment. As for the orc warlock Dingding Xiaoge, he hung back at a distance, so we wouldn't have to worry about rescuing him during battle.

On the second circuit along the boardwalk, three withered figures finally emerged from the darkness. They wore tattered rags and wielded hefty pickaxes and hammers, every step accompanied by a clattering of fragments. Despite their upright posture, their movements were unnaturally stiff, as though operated by levers and bearings—utterly devoid of the flexibility and resilience a living creature should possess.

We approached cautiously, and when they were about ten paces away, the torchlight faintly illuminated their forms:

Just as the druid girl had told us, they were humanoid shapes assembled from gleaming white bones. Two large, hollow cavities were sunk where their eye sockets should have been, filled only with emptiness. Yet, whenever that soulless darkness swept over you, a shudder would seize your heart, as if some distant evil was watching from afar.

"Ah!" Upon seeing them, the druid girl let out a soft cry, clutching Bull Million's arm tightly, eyes squeezed shut, her whole body nearly burrowing into the minotaur warrior's embrace.

"Seeing these things again... so terrifying..."

A woman's vulnerability is forever the source of a man's courage. Though Bull Million's lips had paled from fear of these decaying beings that refused death's call, he gently patted Fairy Descends' shoulder and, with a trembling voice, comforted her:

"What's there to be afraid of? Just a few level-twelve skeletons, that's all. Don't worry... ow, ow, ow, don't squeeze so hard, you're hurting me, I’m losing hit points here..."

With Bull Million's reassurance, the elf druid appeared less frightened than before. I wondered, if she opened her eyes and saw the minotaur's legs trembling like a leaf, would she still feel so secure?

Though lacking eyes, the three skeletons still detected us. They lurched forward with their heavy weapons, jaws colliding in a cacophony of "clack, clack," as if shouting something. As they drew near, bone fragments flew from their bodies, scattered by their frenzied charge. One arm still bore remnants of flesh, mottled with yellow-brown, pus-dripping lesions.

Clang! I raised my shield to block a heavy hammer aimed at my head, then swiftly thrust my sword toward its chest.

This thrust was fierce, a technique honed through countless battles. It didn’t cause massive damage like a special skill, but was balanced, effective, and struck vital points. Whether facing wild beasts or ruthless bandits, this simple parry-and-thrust maneuver proved its worth.

But this time, I miscalculated.

My hand suddenly felt light—there was no satisfying sensation of piercing flesh. The Swordtooth Ripper slid straight through the skeletal chest, between the ribs, striking nothing at all.

"Don’t use thrusts," Bb Minor Nocturne reminded me from behind. "Skeleton monsters—thrust accuracy drops thirty percent, damage reduced seventy percent. Slash them, use your sword to cut!"

His words instantly enlightened me. Without withdrawing, I swept the blade sideways, slicing a rib cleanly, and a crisp "-18" floated above its head.

Once the trick was mastered, these fearsome undead no longer seemed so formidable. Against these bone-assembled humanoid monsters, the double-edged, serrated Swordtooth Ripper gnawed at their bones with ferocity, the grinding echo reminiscent of a saw cutting wood, reducing hard bone to shavings with gratifying ease.

Though level twelve, these skeletons could hardly be called "strong." Compared to the swarming giant bats, they were slow and clumsy. Their attack and defense were superior, but defeating them was only a matter of time.

Bull Million’s massive wooden stump proved even more effective than my sword. Against his crushing blows, flesh and bone made little difference—blunt weapons deal twenty percent extra damage to skeleton-type monsters. With each forceful swing, the skeletons before him suffered new losses. Now, I saw the one wielding the pickaxe had lost its left arm, and its right toes had been smashed to fragments. Before long, Bull Million hurled the last skeleton off the boardwalk into the chasm below, then leaned against the wall, panting.

"Phew... damn, they're creepy, nearly scared me to death..." He exhaled deeply, patting his chest in relief.

His eyes suddenly shifted to the elf girl behind him.

The druid girl gazed at him with large, worshipful eyes, filled with admiration.

In an instant, the minotaur warrior shifted his demeanor. Right hand on the wall, left thumb hooked lazily into his belt, left hoof planted, right hoof crossed before it, tapping the ground with its tip—a pose of relaxed, debonair ease:

"...But," he paused, his voice now round and resonant, speaking in poetic, magnetic tones, "no matter how high their levels, no matter how fearsome their appearance, under my merciless blows, they all turn to dust..."

Turning his head, he gazed down at the elf girl with elder-like concern: "...Were you frightened? Are you hurt?"

The elf girl stared at him, shaking her head absentmindedly.

The heroic minotaur smiled gently, effortlessly hefting the huge wooden stump onto his broad shoulder—displaying the taut muscle lines of his powerful arm—and roughly rubbed his horn. A turbulent gust surged from the depths, stroking his mane and locks, adding a wild, unrestrained flair to this robust outsider:

"...The battles ahead will be even more dangerous. Stay behind me; you need fear nothing!"

He said this to the elf girl, then raised his right hand in a grand, heroic gesture, like a leader rallying his followers: "Let us press onward!"

Without waiting for us, he strode ahead into the spiraling darkness, leaving behind a towering, heroic silhouette. The elf girl followed him foolishly, not even glancing at us.

"Merciless blows? Turn to dust? I never knew he was a poet," I joked to Nocturne at my side.

"What an outdated way to woo girls. Muscle men have been out of style since the mid-twentieth century!" Nocturne scornfully eyed Bull Million’s back, spitting with contempt that, to me, seemed tinged with envy.

"...You...only say that...because...you...have...no...muscle..." After a pause, Dingding Xiaoge’s pointed observation drifted from behind.

I found his remark unerringly objective.

As we strolled and chatted...

"Hey, are you just going to watch me die? Help, I can't hold them off!"

Bull Million’s wailing cries for help echoed from ahead...

...

After circling the boardwalk countless times and slaying over thirty skeletal warriors, we finally reached the last two levels above the ground, able to glimpse the bottom of the chasm.

It was a man-made plain, with several cavities carved into the walls. Hideous skeletons wandered aimlessly within, at least thirty by a rough count. Standing at the entrance of one cave was a squat, burly skeleton wielding a massive long-handled battleaxe, clad in battered but distinctly different metal armor, his head bearing a bright name: "Undead Robert Wellanst."

"The hammer is right there..." Fairy Descends Face First pointed to a sparsely populated area on one side of the chasm.

Following her finger, we saw a giant iron hammer slanted on the ground, half its head buried deep in the dirt. The hammer was enormous, almost as big as a typical anvil, with intricate patterns engraved on its head. A fiery red glow seeped from the grooves, refracting a strange magical energy that marked it as extraordinary.

"Ah, so many skeletons down there—can we even get through? Maybe we should head back while it’s safe," Bull Million leaned out and peered down, his pessimism on full display as he grumbled.

"Not necessarily..." Bb Minor Nocturne studied the skeletons’ positions, then said, "...Though there are many, their formation isn’t tight. If we lure them over and fight gradually, we could defeat them one by one."

Bull Million shrank his neck and muttered, "My gut says this is risky... let’s hope we don’t get wiped out..."

Fairy Descends Face First immediately echoed his suggestion: "There are too many down there, too dangerous... Maybe we should retreat..."

Unexpectedly, her words seemed to invigorate Bull Million. His timid demeanor vanished, replaced by newfound confidence: "Actually, it’s nothing. As long as we advance steadily, even if we kill all these skeletons, it won’t be a problem!"

"Tch, isn’t that what I said?" The gnome bard grumbled, indignant at the minotaur’s false bravado.

"But... last time, their levels were all higher than yours. Isn’t that too dangerous?" Fairy Descends asked Bull Million hesitantly.

Her advice had an immediate effect, though contrary to her intent...

"So what if they're a few levels higher? That’s nothing. Level isn’t the only factor—it’s all about skill. I don’t believe anything in this little chasm can stop me. Ha... ha... hahahaha..." Bull Million’s attitude grew ever more resolute, as if he could hardly wait to charge into the fray with his tree stump. Yet his laughter was dry and shaky, a forced sound squeezed from his throat, utterly at odds with his bold words.

"Skill? I can’t see what’s skillful about him..." Watching Bull Million’s shameless boasting before the elf girl, Bb Minor Nocturne couldn't help but sneer quietly.

After a while, the half-orc warlock Dingding Xiaoge’s classic retort drifted to us:

"His... blood potion drinking... is very smooth—none of us... can match it..."