——7,612 years after the start of the game.
The 350th floor of the Gods' Ordeal.
A dizzying expanse of time had passed since I first ventured into the dungeon of the Gods' Ordeal. Why had it taken so long, you ask? Because aside from each stratum being vast, every single one possessed an abnormal environment.
Floors 11 through 50 were a scorching zone where the floor was made of magma.
Floors 51 through 100 were a freezing zone that turned everything around it to ice.
Floors 101 through 150 were a desert zone where spears of sand thrust upward with every step, and the dunes themselves struck out as if alive.
Floors 151 through 200 were a submerged zone where the dungeon was flooded with water. Worse yet, this water steadily drained one's HP.
Floors 201 through 250 were a wind-blade zone where slashes of gale rained down continuously.
Floors 251 through 300 were a lightning zone where bolts struck without pause.
I will spare the specific details of how I acquired them, but I only began clearing each area after obtaining an assimilation-type skill for each status hazard. As a result, I gained Heat Assimilation, Ice Assimilation, Earth Assimilation, Wind Assimilation, Water Assimilation, and Lightning Assimilation.
From Floor 300 onward, I pushed through a zone teeming with diverse dragon species, ultimately arriving here at the 350th floor.
Resting on a magic circle at the center of the chamber was a small, exquisite Golden Dragon.
As I approached, it remained lying down, rolling a single giant eye toward me with an imposing glare. The pressure was immense. It was undeniably on a whole different level compared to the dragons surrounding it.
I drew Raikiri from its scabbard—a blade I had claimed by slaying the Thunder Tiger King in the 300th-floor trial. It was an otherworldly sword known as a Nihonto, and it felt like a natural extension of my current swordsmanship.
"Come, Golden Dragon! Let's have ourselves a soul-boiling battle to the death!"
When I shouted and aimed the tip of Raikiri at the Golden Dragon, the beast rose sluggishly, as if annoyed by the chore, and reared its head toward me.
"The Eighth Trial: 'Defeat Fafnir the Golden Dragon' will now commence."
The familiar, mechanical female voice echoed in my mind, signaling the start of our battle.
Now, I had barely managed to retreat to Floor 349 with my life.
"Haha! Hahahahaha!!"
Collapsing onto my back against the cold stone floor, I laughed from the depths of my gut.
I lost. I was thoroughly and completely defeated. It had nothing to do with physical stats. Every single strike I landed against it was utterly neutralized. Not only did my blade fail to cut, but even the shockwaves generated by my slashes were completely dispelled. It seemed sword strikes themselves simply did not work against it. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it Physical Resistance—no, Physical Nullification.
At this rate, no matter how much I hone my body and boost my stats, I will never be able to fell that beast.
Excellent! Slaying that creature is my next objective.
High in spirits, I returned to the surface.
At any rate, unless I find a way around that Physical Nullification effect, victory is impossible. If steel will not work, I must devise another method.
Come to think of it, while conquering this dungeon, I gathered a large collection of books, including grimoires. Due to my gift, The Most Incompetent in the World, no matter what I tried, I could never forge a contract with them, so I had simply dumped them into my item box.
Normally, grimoires are meant to be contracted with, not read. I couldn't recall where I learned that, but that was the rule.
However, those grimoires contained text beyond mere contractual glyphs. If I could decipher them, perhaps I could obtain magical knowledge that would prove useful even to me.
Of course, under normal circumstances, no sane person would ever try to read the original text of a grimoire. Doing so carries the very real danger of burning out one's brain.
Yet I am hardly the type to hesitate in the face of such peril. If anything, the more impossible the task, the more a feverish determination surges within me to conquer it. Backing down simply isn't an option.
Popping an Elixir into my mouth, I rolled onto my side and cracked open the grimoire.