The crimson portal spit Solomon out onto solid ground, leaving the labyrinth behind.

Unlike the chaotic, shifting architecture of the labyrinth above, the first floor of the dungeon was straightforward and grounded. Carved stone corridors stretched out in front of him, lit only by the occasional flickering torch bracketed to the walls.

It felt like a traditional, old-school dungeon.

The best part, however, was the immediate sense of stability. A quick scan of the floor tiles and ceiling revealed a complete lack of hidden pressure plates, tripwires, or spatial traps.

After dealing with the unpredictable hazards of the upper levels, having solid ground that wasn’t actively trying to kill him was a welcome change.

Solomon adjusted the heavy greatsword on his shoulder and kept a steady pace down the dimly lit corridor. The sound of his boots echoed softly against the stone.

He glanced at the floating interface keeping pace with him. "What do you guys think?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Will this floor be stocked with normal dungeon monsters, or do you think the dimensional malfunction bled down here too?"

The chat, which had been slowly stabilizing, picked up the pace again.

[LazyCat: guess we are about to find out lol]

[LoreMaster: Typically, standard dungeons have strict ecological tiers. But given the spatial anomaly above, it is honestly a toss-up.]

[GamerGuy: hoping for something crazy tbh. maybe a mutated slime?]

[NewbHunter: probably just the usual low-level fodder if it’s Floor 1.]

A guttural, screeching noise interrupted the quiet corridor.

Solomon stopped walking. Emerging from the shadows ahead was a small horde of green-skinned creatures. Goblins.

They were hunched over, wearing crude leather loincloths and brandishing rusted cleavers and splintered wooden clubs. They bared their crooked, yellow teeth and hissed in his direction.

Solomon wrinkled his nose in genuine disgust. They were incredibly ugly, and the stench of rotting meat and wet fur radiating off them was almost suffocating.

The goblins let out a collective shriek and charged down the hall, waving their crude weapons wildly.

Solomon sighed. He looked at the pristine, divine steel of Eden’s Penance resting on his shoulder. The weapon had belonged to a legendary knight who guarded a royal lineage.

The idea of inaugurating the holy relic by washing it in dirty goblin blood felt insulting to the Paladin’s legacy. He refused to let his first strike with the greatsword be wasted on such pathetic monsters.

Instead of swinging the blade, he kept it resting casually on his shoulder with his left hand. He raised his right hand and calmly cracked his bruised knuckles.

"Bare hands it is, then," Solomon muttered, stepping forward to meet the charge.

The lead goblin leaped from the shadows, swinging its rusted cleaver in a wild arc toward Solomon’s chest.

Solomon barely shifted his stance. He kept his left hand clamped onto the hilt of the greatsword resting on his shoulder and simply pivoted on his heel. The rusty blade sliced through empty air.

As the goblin sailed past him, Solomon’s right hand darted out, gripping the creature tightly by its throat mid-jump. Utilizing the monster’s own forward momentum, he rotated his hips and slammed it face-first into the dungeon wall.

A sharp crunch echoed through the corridor, and the goblin dropped limply to the floor.

Two more immediately rushed him from the side, screeching in anger. Solomon stepped directly into their range, entirely ignoring the crude wooden club swinging toward his ribs.

He casually ducked under the weapon and drove a brutal palm strike up into the first goblin’s jaw. The impact snapped the creature’s head backward with a sickening pop.

Without missing a beat, Solomon chambered his right leg and delivered a punishing side kick into the chest of the second goblin. The concentrated force caved in its ribcage and launched it ten feet down the hall, where it tumbled across the stone tiles like a broken ragdoll.

The remaining three goblins abruptly stopped their charge. Their initial bloodlust instantly evaporated, replaced by wide-eyed panic. One dropped its weapon and scrambled to run away.

Solomon didn’t let it.

He dashed forward, covering the distance in two long strides. He grabbed a different, terrified goblin by its leather harness, hoisted it off the ground with one arm, and swung it like a makeshift bat directly into the fleeing one.

Their skulls collided with a hollow, brutal thud, sending both of them crashing into a tangled heap.

The very last goblin stood frozen, its knees visibly shaking. Solomon walked up to it, grabbed it by the ears, and drove his knee squarely into its face. The creature folded backward and hit the ground, completely unconscious before it even landed.

Solomon casually wiped a smear of green blood off his knuckles and dusted his hand against his trousers. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

The floating stream interface paused for a brief second before a massive wave of concerned text flooded the screen.

[LazyCat: bro... they were just level 1 goblins...]

[GamerGuy: THIS IS A VIOLATION! CALL THE Dungeon Police!]

[User12: I never thought I would say this, but I actually feel incredibly sorry for the monsters.]

[NewbHunter: he didn’t even draw his sword. he just folded them like laundry.]

[BloodKnight: Flawless hand-to-hand technique, but definitely excessive for low-tier fodder. Are you taking your anger out on them?]

[GoonLord: STOP BULLYING THE LOCALS! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A HERO, NOT A MENACE!]

Solomon stepped over the ’unconscious’ goblin and continued his trek down the damp corridor. He glanced at the floating interface, noting the stream’s sudden shift to calling him a bully.

"Listen," Solomon said, his voice echoing flatly against the stone walls. "Even if these monsters have families waiting for them somewhere, and even if they have their own reasons to survive and do whatever they want... they are still just monsters."

"This is a dog-eat-dog world. You either kill, or you are killed. If a situation ever arises where my life is on the line, I will gladly become the greatest predator to ensure my survival."

He stopped walking and looked directly into the owl’s camera lens. A heavy silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

"And that rule," he added quietly, "doesn’t only apply to monsters. It applies to every living being."

The chat quieted down significantly after that chilling declaration, the viewers suddenly reminded that the boy on their screen had just slaughtered a paladin without blinking.

Solomon turned his attention back to the dungeon, plunging deeper into the dimly lit tunnels.

Over the next hour, he encountered several more patrols. He dispatched a few dozen more goblins using nothing but his bare hands and brutal efficiency.

He snapped necks, crushed ribs with sweeping kicks, and used the cavern walls to paint the dungeon floor green. He moved casually, treating the encounters like a mundane chore rather than actual combat, all while keeping Eden’s Penance resting cleanly on his shoulder.

Eventually, the narrow stone corridors began to widen. The damp earth gave way to a large, circular chamber illuminated by towering, glowing braziers.

Just ahead, a set of heavy iron gates stood wide open, marking the unmistakable entrance to the floor’s boss area.