Danmachi: The Focalors Familia Starting from the Dungeon

Too weak.

Too weak!

Why am I this weak?!

At this moment, Ais’s desire to grow stronger became unprecedentedly intense.

It felt as if she had returned to that childhood where monsters had taken everything from her. To eliminate the monsters, to slay that black dragon, for revenge... she needed power. Stronger power.

It wasn’t just Ais.

In the current battle, Bete, Tione, and these other top-tier First-Class adventurers of Orario were completely unable to intervene.

Rushing in blindly would only hold them back, or even result in them getting killed by a casual swing of a sword.

”That bastard... when did he get so strong? What the hell is going on with him?”

Bete fiercely spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his lightning tattoo distorting with the twitching of his muscles.

He couldn’t comprehend how Aiden had gotten so strong. How could he become this powerful in such a short amount of time?! Strong enough that they couldn’t even join the battlefield.

”It’s no use... charging in would just make us dead weight... So frustrating.”

Tiona dejectedly tossed aside her massive double-bladed Urga and sat heavily on the ground. She stared at the world ahead that had completely dissolved into light and fire, her face full of gloom and unwillingness.

At this moment, the center of the battlefield had evolved into an absurd siege.

Aiden himself, as the primary attacker, confronted the demon-god-like clone head-on.

Finn, Hedin, Hogni (who had rejoined the fight after taking an Elixir to heal some of his wounds), the god-speed Allen, and Gareth as the absolute defensive bulwark—five genuine Level 6s—were providing restraint and support from five different directions.

And further away, the glow of Riveria’s magic never ceased, providing defense and healing for everyone.

Seven people. Seven of Orario’s absolute pinnacle combatants, besieging one person.

However, against the Ultra Instinct state, only Aiden, who had also entered this realm, could fully keep up with the clone’s reactions and speed.

The others could only serve as support.

Because... they couldn’t hit him at all.

No matter what kind of attack it was—Finn’s sure-kill thrusts that calculated every angle, Hedin’s descending lightning judgments, Hogni’s cursed sword slashes laden with malice, Allen’s supersonic suicidal lunges, Gareth’s full-powered cleaves capable of splitting mountains...

None could truly strike the clone.

His body would always evade in the final moments before the attack arrived, using ways and reaction speeds that left people dumbfounded and completely defied common sense.

Even when Finn and Hedin, the two great tacticians, joined forces to orchestrate a perfect coordinated attack that forced the clone into a theoretically inescapable blind spot...

He was still able to utilize every available force—weapons, magic, terrain—to dodge the attacks in mind-boggling ways.

The clone’s performance completely exceeded Finn and Hedin’s calculations. It shattered their understanding and, in an unreasonable manner, rendered their wisdom and tactics useless.

All eyes, whether those of battle-hardened commanders like Finn and Hedin, or top-tier combatants in the thick of the fight like Allen and Hogni, could only stare blankly at the heat-distorted center of the battlefield.

There, two identical, humanoid suns burning with white-gold flames were engaged in a battle... that they couldn’t comprehend at all.

Although the forms, auras, and even the terrifying heat radiating from the two figures were identical, Finn and the others could still easily tell them apart.

Because the one wielding the ferocious-looking Godslayer: Surtr, seemingly forged from magma and starlight, was the real Aiden.

While the other held only a flame sword forcefully molded into a blade from pure fire.

The battle was unfolding in a way that surpassed their comprehension.

The real Aiden moved.

His body sank slightly, and the muscles in his wrist tensed at a subtle angle—a standard starting posture for a high-speed slash from upper-left to lower-right.

However, before the sword was even swung, he violently twisted his waist. The trajectory of the Godslayer sword changed abruptly from a downward hack to an upward rising strike at a completely illogical angle.

Because he had ”predicted” that the moment he swung his sword, the clone would perfectly dodge his original slash with a sidestep and use the momentum to thrust his flame sword into Aiden’s opening.

And the landing point of this bizarre upward strike was exactly where the clone would have to pass after his sidestep.

But something even more bizarre happened.

The clone didn’t move at all.

He just floated quietly in place, letting Aiden’s mountain-splitting upward strike graze past his nose, hitting empty air.

Because he had also ”predicted” this ”prediction” of Aiden’s.

In the split second when Aiden’s momentum had spent itself and new strength had yet to be born, the clone moved.

The flame sword in his hand thrust straight for Aiden’s heart with the simplest and swiftest trajectory.

This sword was incredibly fast and ruthless, leaving only a straight, crimson afterimage on the retinas of Finn and the others.

Facing this sure-kill strike, Aiden’s body executed an unthinkable maneuver.

He didn’t block or dodge. Instead, in a near-suicidal manner, he actively stepped forward into the sword light.

Screech—!

The tip of the flame sword scraped dangerously close under his ribs, bringing up a trail of brilliant sparks, but failed to deal any substantial damage.

At the same time, the Godslayer sword in Aiden’s hand, using the momentum of this forward step, thrust toward the clone’s completely exposed chest.

I predicted your prediction.

Clang—!

A crisp ring, almost musical in its clarity.

Aiden’s determined strike was perfectly parried by the blade the clone had unknowingly brought up to his chest.

He had once again predicted Aiden’s prediction.

Just like that, within this confined space less than ten meters across, the two suns launched into a hair-raising confrontation.

Aiden turned sideways half a second early, dodging a slash that didn’t exist yet.

The clone stepped backward, evading a sweep that had yet to be swung.

Aiden pressed his blade down, blocking an impending thrust.

Their battle had completely broken away from the conventional logic of ”attack-defend-counter.”

It felt more like a chess match taking place in another dimension, on another timeline.

Every move they made landed exactly on the necessary path of their opponent’s next move, resulting in—neither of them being able to truly strike the other.

───

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