CHAPTER 434: UNKNOWN CHAMPION

The next day, Logan was up early. He was ready to enter the labyrinth once again—this time, in earnest. He would be going in with only Scorch and Zephyr.

Of the two, his giant dinosaur seemed determined to reclaim his title as the strongest. That position was currently held by Myriad, which had started at level 108. Scorch, meanwhile, was nearing level 91. After the war, he had gained several levels by slaying the massive flaming hog and countless demons.

Still, it wasn’t nearly enough experience to reach the top spot again.

"Relax, buddy. With just us two, you’ll get there in no time."

Logan, riding on Scorch’s back, enjoyed the breeze drifting by. Overhead, Zephyr soared, wanting to return to Logan’s side after completing his duties in the war.

Narok had taken his place watching over the Pearl Isles. The other dragons were scattered across the continent, stationed in regions where demon attacks could still occur.

"So, Zephyr," Logan asked, taking advantage of the peaceful moment before reaching the labyrinth, "how are my aquatic friends doing?"

The large eagle flew a few meters above him, enhancing Scorch’s speed as they traveled down a road built specifically for monster use.

[Doing well. Fast levels in sea. They are busy searching for water spirit. Will tell you when found.]

Zephyr suddenly rose higher into the sky, circling above them. He wasn’t trying to overtake Scorch—only stretching his wings, keeping his form at its best for what was to come.

[That is nice. I do want to find that one—we didn’t meet properly last time.]

Logan switched to speaking through his Empathic Link. He glanced up and saw that the day was perfect, but even that didn’t ease his mind.

"Damn demons. If only we could just tame them all and be done with this..." Logan sighed and relaxed for the rest of the trip.

Soon, the large mountain range came into view, and with it, the small town built at its base. Leonard had told him the name of the place, but he couldn’t remember it well.

It was growing fast, though. The last time he had come was only a few weeks ago, but in that short time, it had doubled in size.

From where he sat atop Scorch, he saw the first set of walls that marked the town’s outer boundary. Beyond them stretched golden fields, nearly ready for the fall harvest. He watched as the wind rippled through them, catching the light in waves.

Even if they were only grass, he felt something from them. Their origin came from modified seeds Logan had once discovered— each stalk of wheat, when combined with the others, formed a kind of being. Not a true monster, but a living entity that grew endlessly, not bound to a single season.

They required many land crystals, though, so the fields couldn’t be expanded beyond the space allotted.

As he entered the second wall—larger and more imposing—he waved toward the knights stationed at the gate. They let him through instantly. At this point, everyone in the kingdom probably recognized Scorch. It wasn’t hard to guess who had sent him... or who was riding on his back.

"We heard you would be dropping by, Your Majesty. We’ve prepared a place for you to rest when you return. As for the dungeon, it’s ready whenever you wish to enter. Just remember, if you want to continue from where you left off, present the stone Lady Silvia crafted. It should send you back in no time."

The man who spoke was an old veteran of a past war. While no longer suited for front-line combat, he remained a capable and respected guard, especially with support from those around him.

"All right, you two—let’s get serious. We’re heading straight to floor 90," Logan said, his tone firm. "It’s the last floor the other heroes reached. It might be a bit tougher than where we left off, but I’m sure we can handle it."

With the help of the labyrinth staff, Logan stepped into the teleportation gate. The familiar sensation washed over him, similar to when he had first been summoned into this world. Only this time, it was a controlled transfer.

As the light faded, they arrived in a wide tunnel with a towering ceiling. Both of his creatures had enough space to fight comfortably, though Zephyr was forced to walk for now instead of flying normally.

Torches flickered to life along the walls, lighting the vast hall they now stood in. At the end of the passage was a massive gate, at least twenty meters tall. Logan approached it and, with a single pull, the heavy doors creaked open.

Beyond them stood what looked like a colossal arena.

Unlike the outer hall, the interior was cloaked in darkness—until torches along the perimeter began to ignite one by one, forming a glowing ring of flame around the vast stadium floor.

That was when Logan noticed it.

Corpses. Dozens of them.

Blood pooled across the stone floor, staining every tile. Some of the bodies were armored, others half-charred or frozen in mid-motion. It looked like a battlefield had happened here, but with high-tier creatures that even Logan would have trouble with. And above it all—seated casually atop a mound of the fallen—was a lone figure.

At first, Logan thought he was just another adventurer.

But then he felt it.

That aura—oppressive and cold. It didn’t belong to a normal person. It was strong... stronger than what he remembered from most of the heroes.

Scorch was the first to react. He stepped forward with a loud roar, heat rising from his nostrils in thick clouds as if provoking the one before him to reduce his unrest.

Zephyr remained still, wings tucked in tight. There was space to fly—but the wind beast didn’t dare take to the skies, not with that kind of pressure hanging in the air.

He did not want to be the weakest link in the group.

Logan narrowed his eyes, watching the figure through the torchlight. "Who are you?"

The man didn’t rise. He simply smiled and let his fingers rest on the hilt of a blood-soaked sword beside him.

"Finally, one of you decided to enter," the man said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "I’ve been waiting... but I suppose the other heroes had more pressing matters."

He lifted his gaze, eyes locking with Logan’s. His silver-white armor bore the marks of countless battles—dented, scratched. A long, dark blue cape flowed behind him, frayed at the edges but regal all at the same time. His face was sharp and composed, with a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing steel-blue eyes that held no warmth.

Medium silver hair with black roots fell to his shoulders, a single streak of red running through it, this meant he was blessed by more than one spirit.

There was something unshakable in his stance, though, as if fighting all those creatures was nothing to him. Even without speaking, he carried the weight of a leader, calm, cold, and unyielding. His presence alone was enough to still the air, and though he made no move to attack, the sheer pressure rolling off him was enough to set Logan on edge.

"Now tell me, hero of taming—why are you alone? I expected more. Instead, they send the weakest one."

Logan’s expression darkened. He didn’t flinch, but his glare sharpened.

As for the insult, it didn’t sting—it did, however, confirm something.

Whoever this man was... he knew more than enough to be able to call him out.

"What a rude way to introduce yourself," Logan said coldly. "But I’ll bite. As you said, I’m the hero of taming. Now tell me—who are you, and what are you doing here?"

He readied himself, still feeling deeply uneasy inside.

"I’m simply here to test you before you proceed," the man replied. "You see, the next floors are meant for you, heroes, to finish. Whether it was in this dungeon or the one in Dracone Ridge, you would have faced the same floor and trials. You are not being personally guided by the spirits just to grow stronger—they want to ensure your training doesn’t disrupt the world’s balance, so you should really take these seriously. With each floor, you’re entering a part of their domain... until you reach the end."

He paused, his voice steady.

"Beware, though. These floors aren’t meant to be cleared by a single person. You’ll need to get serious with your creatures... and allies. As for who I am—well, I think one of your fellow heroes might recognize me. So next time, bring them along."

The man radiated confidence. He wasn’t afraid. If anything, he seemed certain of victory.

And that gave Logan an idea.

Maybe losing here wouldn’t mean death.

But then... what would he lose?

"So you won’t answer that question... fine," Logan said, his tone tightening. "But at least tell me how you know I’m the hero of taming."

His eyes drifted lower, toward the beasts gathered in the shadows beneath the man.

Dragons, Juggernauts, Ogres, even a Sphinx, the boss from the prior floor.

There was no end to the powerful creatures that stood silently below him, each one strong enough to be one of Logan’s own tamed beasts.

The figure before him seemed finished with words, offering no answers to his questions. Instead, he shifted his stance to show he was ready to fight.

"Well then, Scorch," Logan muttered, stepping forward, "let’s get started. Zephyr—stay in the air and support. We don’t know what we’re up against, but I can feel it... power not just from him, but from that sword."

His gaze locked onto the weapon in the man’s grip.

It was sinister—far worse than anything the Demon King had wielded. A blade dyed in pitch black, without a sheath.