Again and again, I urged myself on. This time, it was my own voice—Eremi’s voice.

Stand up, stand up, stand up!

But my knees wouldn’t straighten, and I rolled over once more.

Quickly, I got my knees under me again, stabbing my wakizashi into the ground for support. The dragon was right in front of me now, mere inches away. Its massive jaws gaped open.

Eremi’s voice screamed in my head.

—You’re going to return, aren’t you, Blythe!?

The dragon’s scorched breath engulfed me. Its upper and lower jaws were already positioned to clamp down. If they closed, my body would be torn apart in an instant.

Retreat! Fall back! Quickly!

Eremi was shouting at Blythe.

Then, amidst his voice, another one mixed in. Not from within my mind—this was a voice that entered through my ears.

—Guruaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

A shock ran through my entire body. My skin crawled. The impact from my fall spread through my flesh, surging to the tips of my toes. That voice carried such power.

A thunderous war cry, or perhaps the battle cry of a lone warrior.

“—”

The moment I recognized it, my consciousness, which had been wavering between Blythe and Eremi, snapped into clarity.

And the dragon, just about to bite down on me, also froze at that roaring voice.

Charging forward, he gripped a massive iron slab—a weapon as large as his own body, an ogre’s sword—in both hands. He swung it down, slamming it into the dragon’s lowered forehead just as it was about to devour me.

“Oooooooraaaaaaahhhhhh!!”

No technique, no finesse—just raw, brute force.

Then—!

A tremendous sound, as if two colossal masses had collided, roared through the air.

The impact rippled through space itself. The dragon’s massive head recoiled violently, its long neck bending backward. The scales on its forehead shattered, scattering through the air.

The dragon twisted its body, letting out a scream.

—Giiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!?

“Hah, not bad. Better than that lousy Bundi at least.”

Unbelievable. What kind of monstrous strength…?

The dragon staggered back several steps. A broad back stood between me and it, blocking my view. Ears pierced multiple times, a back far too large for a mere student.

He swung his weapon around, resting the hilt on his shoulder before lowering the massive iron slab of a sword onto the ground with a powerful thud.

With a deep, echoing sound, cracks spread across the dungeon floor.

“Yo, Eremia. Still alive?”

It was Void Scale.

“Yeah.”

“I look away for one second, and you’re already on death’s doorstep. Don’t go dying on me yet, bastard. I still plan on squeezing plenty of protection money out of your old man.”

Same as always with this guy…

“So, what’s with that weak-ass stance? C’mon, you can still stand. Quit slacking off.”

“Of course! No, wait—Oujin first—!”

When I turned to look, Ilga was already there, driving his longsword through the dragon’s severed right arm, flipping it over by force.

“Like hell I’m letting this thing have its way! Guh… oooooooohhh!!”

Ilga repeatedly stabbed into the writhing arm, its fingers still twitching violently. Eventually, a thick, black oil-like fluid gushed out, and the severed limb went completely limp.

Breathing heavily, Ilga steadied himself.

“Hah… hah… hah…”

Oujin grimaced as he pushed himself upright. Blood dripped from his throat, but the wound seemed shallow.

“You saved me, Ilga.”

“Not yet, Ryoka. Whether we’re saved or not depends on whether we defeat that dragon.”

“You’re right.”

Void clicked his tongue as he looked at Ilga.

“So that bastard’s still alive, huh? Thought he was the kind to rush to his death first.”

I wanted to clear up the misunderstanding, both for Ilga and for Void, but now was not the time for that.

“Void, what happened to Squad Four and Five!? What about Riona!?”

Still keeping his gaze on the writhing dragon, Void pointed his thumb backward.

When I turned to look, I saw Squad Four and Five with Seneca at the lead—or rather, behind them, Squad One and Two had also joined up.

“We regrouped. Both sides were retreating.”

“I see… that’s good.”

One by one, our classmates poured into the hall, which had once been the ogres’ living quarters.

The noble parties, seeing a dragon for the first time, widened their eyes in shock. But the commoner parties, likely facing it for the second time, didn’t falter. It seemed Seneca and her group intended to strike while they had the momentum.

Seneca shouted.

“Don’t stop! Keep charging straight ahead!!”

“Ooooooooh!!”

Spurred on by their energy, the noble parties also raised their voices and followed suit.

Normally, I would have to rush to stop them immediately, but the dragon was in no condition to retaliate. Void’s blow had done considerable damage—it had lost both arms and couldn’t even clutch its wounded forehead. It was in a state of near panic.

—Gaaaaah! Gugiiaaaaaaaaah!!

Right now, it was biting into a pillar it had stumbled into.

Unless someone was exceptionally foolish, they wouldn’t get caught. Oujin and I needed time to recover—at least until we regained full control over our limbs.

Seneca and the others rushed past me and Void toward the dragon. As they passed, various classmates patted my shoulder and head, causing me to stumble slightly. My legs still weren’t steady.

“Rest for a bit! We’ll buy you some time!”

“You did great.”

“That was amazing, Neu!”

But each pat, each word, felt like a rallying cry, bringing sensation back to my limbs. It was a strange feeling. The inexperienced backs of Squad Four and Five, which I had always watched over, now felt reassuring.

Void grabbed my head and twisted my neck in a certain direction.

“That giant old-man-looking bastard is in Squad Two, right? He’s at the very back.”

Following Void’s pointing finger, I saw Bernald running at the rear of the combined squads, approaching us.

Even in this situation, I couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. So others saw him as an old man too.

Squad One passed by completely, then Squad Two followed, with Letis waving at me as she ran past.

“Yo, Eremia! Thanks for protecting our leader!”

I nodded in response.

Bernald lumbered forward, his pace slow. He was skilled in mounted lance combat, after all.

I muttered to Void.

“That’s Bernald Balkin of the Yasha tribe.”

“That Balkin bastard said you and Oujin went out of your way to look for us, so we ended up in this damn mess of back and forth. Seriously, you made us go through a whole lot of trouble.”

It seemed we had both returned to the depths of the sixth floor, each intending to save the other.