Bell hadn't cleared the entire floor, so the adventurers following behind didn't sense anything unusual.
Right now, he just needed to find a suitable floor to explore at a slower pace. Pushing forward too quickly often led to unnecessary trouble.
On top of that, the riot in the dungeon yesterday had been caused by him. Adventurers who hadn't gotten any work done would no doubt want to make up for lost time today. The number of people entering the dungeon was bound to be unusually high.
Stopping on the early floors to study monster behavior now would just be asking for trouble.
Bell had no intention of mingling with the other adventurers.
He continued to the next floor.
The Third Floor was much like the ones above. Upon entering, numerous intersecting corridors came into view. But starting from this level, dead ends began to appear, and many paths led to the same destination.
All roads might lead to "Rome," but Rome had started branching out.
That's just how things were from the third floor onward.
And this pattern would only grow worse. After the tenth floor, it would truly turn into a dungeon maze, with more and more dead ends each level—almost as if the Dungeon were trying to say: 'Keep going, and all that awaits is death.'
If that were really the case, Bell thought, then maybe this Dungeon wasn't meant to be conquered at all.
'Why does this Dungeon feel... kind?'
But it didn't take him long to realize—that wasn't kindness.
It was a calculated effort to weed out high-level adventurers.
The gentler the upper floors were, the more vicious the Dungeon's intent became.
The Dungeon was hostile to the gods. Would it really be kind to adventurers who bore divine blessings?
Of course not. That was unrealistic.
So what was the Dungeon trying to do?
Just look at how many Level 1 adventurers there were in Orario.
Wasn't this the so-called "Orario Wasteland Project"?
A life of ease had made many adventurers complacent. Even if their potential went beyond Level 1, they were content to stay there without pushing themselves further.
Why wouldn't they want to level up?
Because advancement came with the risk of death.
The Dungeon constantly reminded them of that, and the Guild did too. Naturally, this made most adventurers hesitant to gamble everything.
Bell understood that mindset—he used to be one of them. After all, surviving was surviving, right? Why go through all that exhaustion?
But he didn't have the luxury of thinking that way anymore.
Now that he had a goal, he couldn't afford to slowly accumulate stats like before. It was time for a change.
In the darkness, something black, like a fluttering ribbon, shot toward him.
Bell's sharp eyes instantly caught it—a long pink tongue, coated in disgusting mucus.
Lightning Command!
Just as the tongue was about to wrap around him, Bell's body surged with lightning once more.
The tongue missed by a hair's breadth, sweeping through his electrified form but unable to touch him.
This was another trait granted by Lightning Command—physical attacks were ineffective.
Only magic, enchanted weapons, or anything capable of interfering with mana could touch Bell while in his lightning state.
Of course, that assumed Bell didn't dodge. At a speed of 150 km/s, hardly anyone could react to him with pure reflexes.
The missed tongue snapped back instantly.
But Bell had already closed in on the source.
The monster that spawned on the third floor was a green frog, its large, bulbous eyes glowing like night pearls—though their size alone made them outright grotesque.
Half a meter tall and a meter long, this thing was massive by any standard. Its nickname: "Frog Shooter."
Just as normal frogs feed on insects, these Dungeon-dwellers hunted adventurers.
Its tongue could shoot out in a flash, wrapping around its prey and pulling them into its maw, where a corrosive mucus would begin dissolving them within seconds.
The Frog Shooter also excelled at jumping. In these narrow caves, that agility made them especially dangerous. Combined with their incredible visual acuity, once one was on the move, it became a serious problem.
But even these creatures had fatal flaws.
When they began secreting mucus after swallowing a victim, they became immobile.
In other words, as long as multiple adventurers acted together—and didn't all get swallowed at once—the Frog Shooter would be unable to resist.
Another fatal weakness: if its tongue was extended and hadn't retracted yet, the Frog Shooter couldn't move.
Clearly, Bell had the speed advantage.
With a clean slash of the lightning-enhanced "Hestia Knife," the Frog Shooter was reduced to a heap of black ash.
At that moment, the sharp whistle of five incoming projectiles broke the air.
Bell, always alert to his surroundings, was already ready.
He switched out the "Hestia Knife" for Kuji Kanesada. This time, he didn't activate Lightning Command.
His keen vision immediately picked out five tongues flying at him.
His trained body responded instantly, dodging them all in a flash.
Thud!
Though they missed Bell, the tongues struck the rock beneath him, piercing clean through the stone floor.
So these tongues weren't just for grabbing—they could also pierce like spears.
Ordinarily, a Frog Shooter's tongue was extremely tough to cut. While flexible, its sudden explosive force could penetrate Dungeon stone, proving it wasn't just soft.
Its extreme pliability allowed it to absorb impact force, making even Goblin daggers ineffective against it.
Sizzle!
But Kuji Kanesada, now crackling with lightning, wasn't bound by those rules.
A flash of lightning split the air.
In his free hand, Bell formed five lightning-charged needles. With precise control, he launched them in the direction of the flying tongues.
He heard five sharp cracking bursts—impact confirmed.
The Frog Shooters were wiped out.
'Just as I thought. As long as I shape the lightning and stabilize the mana, the energy loss after discharge stays minimal.'
Bell had been experimenting with mid-range attacks for a while now.
And now, he had a working theory.
As long as the mana was fixed in advance, there was no sustained drain.
Since the lightning was formed directly in his hand, the cost remained low.
It might not pack as much punch, but it was a mid-range technique that belonged solely to him.