Dungeon ni Deai o Motomeru no wa Machigatte Iru Darou ka Gaiden – Sword Oratoria - Volume 8 - Chapter Pr

PROLOGUE SCORN OF THE STRONG 

Myriad stone blocks formed the walls of the underground chamber, far beyond the reach of the sun above. A scream cut through the dank chill. 
“I need a healer, now! Gimme something—an item, anything! Just do it quick!” 
Over Loki Familia’s panicked shouts came the cries of the catgirl Anakity, body wounded and voice ragged after ceaselessly shrieking orders. 
They were in the man-made labyrinth Knossos. 
After being drawn into a trap, they quickly fell into chaos and confusion as they struggled to find a way out of the maze. Though the adventurers of Loki Familia’s main party had nearly been annihilated, once Riveria’s group infiltrated Knossos, they had rallied around a solid core consisting of Aiz, Bete, and several others, regrouping before heading back into the labyrinth to rescue the companions they had been forced to leave behind earlier. 
Until the sound of that piercing scream, when the world in front of them turned red with blood. 
“Ahhh…Ahhhhhhhhh?!” 
“This…this can’t be true! T-tell me it’s not true…!” 
“Oh, shit, Lloyd! Shit, shit!” 
The companions they’d broken bread with, their friends, were splayed out on the ground before them, drenched in blood. 
It was a massacre. 
The gore covered the walls and floor so completely that calling it a red room would have been appropriate—a nauseating indicator of the slaughter that had transpired. Some of the bodies had been cut while others had been stabbed, but a blade had inflicted every wound. This was no monster attack. 
On the wall was a message scrawled in blood: THIS IS YOUR DOING, BRAVER! 
Beneath it, the Trickster emblem had fallen to the floor, blood spatters forming red tears flowing from its eyes. 
“Over here! Someone’s still alive!” 
The shout alerted the newly arrived healer, who darted over in a flash. Soon, the telltale glow of healing magic flickered, but— 
“It’s…It’s not working!” 
“Aaggghhhhhhh…!!” 
The gaping wound simply wouldn’t close. Potions were equally ineffective. No matter what they tried, blood kept flowing from within the armor. They could do nothing but watch, despair welling up inside them, as yet another one of their companions breathed their last. 
“It must have been a cursed weapon…Just like what they used to attack the captain…!” Raul clenched his fist, tiny red rivulets squeezing out between his fingers. 
An Unhealable Curse. Those cut by the blade of a weapon imbued with this curse couldn’t be treated. Anyone who fell victim to it was as good as dead. Realizing that all their fallen companions’ wounds had been affected by it was enough to dash what little hope the adventurers had left. 
“We don’t have anything that can lift it?” 
“C-can’t someone go get something?!” 
But even as Anakity and Raul shouted their desperate pleas, they knew it was too late. Aiz was dashing around in search of survivors, but she understood as well. 
Aiz, Raul, Aki—they’d been part of Loki Familia long enough to have experienced this countless times before. What they hated the most was the smell of death it left on their skin, impossible to wipe off. This stone room deep within the labyrinth’s halls had become nothing more than the tomb of adventurers. 
“…” 
Amid the chaos of the group, only Bete stood in silence, his gaze glued to the scene in front of him. 
His amber eyes were ice-cold, almost like he didn’t even care as he completely suppressed his emotions. 
“—! Leene!!” 

“…M-Miss…Aiz…” 
Aiz flew toward the far corner of the room to where a girl lay sprawled on the ground. It was none other than Leene Arshe, the young healer, her body bearing the same bloody scores as the rest of her group. Aiz gripped the girl’s shoulders in her fingers in an attempt to lift her, but strength had already drained from Leene’s body. 
Jutting from her ribs was the same cursed dagger that had spilled her companions’ blood. It had been left there in what seemed to be a final insult to Loki Familia, like a gravestone marking the resting place of their comrades. 
Rage seethed across Aiz’s face, and she wrenched free the blade still disgracing the body of her friend and threw it away. 
—It’s no good. We’re too late. 
The Sword Princess had seen enough of her friends die to know that this girl was past saving. When Leene saw Aiz’s face twisting in agony, she merely gave a tiny, mirthless smile at how unusual it was for her to make such an expression. 
Finally. 
“Mister…Bete…” 
The werewolf’s shadow was looming over them. 
His amber eyes were lowered toward them—toward Aiz, who was glancing up over her shoulder, and toward Leene, whose feeble gaze was rising to meet his. 
And then the young werewolf laughed. 
“Damn, look at yourself. Just like I’ve always said: Weaklings only get in the way.” 
The completely inappropriate comment, coupled with an icy laugh, stunned Aiz. 
But Bete didn’t stop there. 
His lips pulled back in a derisive grin, leaving his fangs bare. 
“And what a pointless death for you and everyone else! Curse how stupid and weak you are until you never forget it. Taste the shame. Make sure you remember this long after you die so pathetically.” 
All their fellow familia members, who were weeping or groaning as they clung tightly to the motionless corpses of their friends, now had their eyes on Bete. 
Under the tear-stricken gazes of the weak, the strong one continued his speech. 
“So long, then. I never wanna see your sorry ass again. Don’t ever come out of this damn hole.” 
His mocking laugh echoed off the walls of the stone room. 
Both Raul and Anakity glared at him, like he was the very enemy responsible for this atrocity. Many of their companions whose cheeks were still stained with tears scowled in rising anger as well. 
Aiz furrowed her own brows as she made to stand—then she froze. She looked at those amber eyes, distorted with contempt, heard the final words he muttered beneath his breath, and let her hand drop, no longer able to strike his cheek. 
“…Ngh.” 
And then Leene opened her eyes. 
The faintest traces of a smile formed on her face before her hand went limp. 
A single tear beaded in the corner of her softly closed eye, marbling with blood as it traced a red line down her cheek. Her final expression was peaceful, almost like a young maiden whose love had finally been requited. 
The far-off howls of monsters echoed throughout the maze’s chambers. 
And from within their stone room, the blood painting the walls seemed disdainful of both the living and dead alike. 
Raul, Aki, and the other adventurers trembled as they angrily watched the wolf sneer at those weaker than him. Only Aiz saw something else, the contemptuous smile fall from the young man’s face as he stared at the girl on the ground. 
That was four days prior.