Solomon stood in the center of the fourth-floor boss chamber. The shattered remains of a ape slowly dissolved into dust around his boots.

He opened his stream interface, navigated to the integrated system shop, and purchased a basic stamina-recovery drink for fifty points.

[ 50 Points Deducted ]

A small, glowing vial materialized in his hand. He popped the cork and downed the bitter blue liquid in a single gulp, tossing the empty vial aside.

"Four floors cleared in exactly five hours," Solomon said, glancing toward the hovering owl. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "If I keep up this current momentum, I might actually clear all ten floors in less than ten hours. That would crush the current recorded speedrun time."

The chat immediately flooded the screen with their usual concerns.

[LazyCat: solo man, please. you are literally sleep-deprived. take a twenty-minute break.]

[NewbHunter: You have been fighting non-stop for hours. Your reaction time is going to drop.]

[GoonLord: DRINKING SYSTEM POTIONS DOES NOT REPLACE ACTUAL SLEEP! SIT DOWN!]

[BloodKnight: I have to agree with the others. Also, a tactical question: why are you insisting on fighting bare-handed? Wouldn’t using that S-Rank greatsword end these fights significantly faster and save you the extra physical exertion?]

Solomon read the messages and shook his head. "The greatsword is incredibly heavy. If I swing it around against these low-level mobs, the sheer mass and magical resistance will slow my reaction time and burn through my stamina way faster than just throwing a punch. It is entirely inefficient for this tier of monsters."

Suddenly, the screen flashed with a bright, illuminated banner, cutting through the rapid scroll of the standard chat.

[System: Skeptic101 has gifted 10 Copper Coins! (10 Points)]

Message: "Stop faking it. You are clearly pretending to be weak and struggling just to farm clout and donations from these gullible viewers. There is absolutely no way a supposedly ’talentless’ first-year student can physically overpower dungeon bosses bare-handed. You are definitely hiding a high-tier combat talent and lying about your entire identity just to go viral. Fraud."

Solomon stared at the highlighted message lingering on his screen. The cavern suddenly felt very quiet.

Solomon stared at the highlighted message on his floating screen. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked directly into the owl’s eyes.

"I never once claimed to be weak," Solomon stated, his voice echoing clearly through the quiet boss chamber. "I never said I was helpless at any point during this broadcast. I simply told you that I do not know how to activate or use my innate talent."

He pointed a finger at the crisscrossed, faded white lines covering his exposed abdomen and chest. "How exactly do you think I got all these scars? Do you think I sat in a parlor and paid someone to tattoo these on my body for decoration?"

He let his hand drop to his side. "The legal system governing hunters is entirely flawed. Because I cannot manifest or control my specific talent, the government refuses to issue me an official adventurer license. I am legally classified as an unawakened, unregistered civilian. That classification completely bars me from joining official guild raids or doing any standard mercenary work. I was practically unemployed."

Solomon leaned closer to the mechanical owl. "I had to become self-employed to keep myself fed. I survived by doing freelance combat work. I accepted anonymous, undocumented monster subjugation quests from the underworld hunter forums just to make enough money to survive."

He offered a completely unapologetic smirk. "Yes, taking unregistered combat commissions is a direct violation of the law. I am openly admitting to my crimes right now. The Dungeon Regulatory Bureau is entirely welcome to come down here and suck my ballsac if they want to try and arrest me for trying to survive."

[ 100 Points deducted for swearing! ]

Solomon tapped the glowing ten-point donation icon on his screen to dismiss the banner. He turned his back to the camera and began walking toward the gate to the fifth floor.

"Thanks for the ten points, by the way," he added over his shoulder. "You must have really wanted me to read your hate comment to actually open your wallet for it."

Solomon stepped through the transit gate and instantly entered the fifth floor. The environment shifted from damp stone corridors to a sprawling, rocky cavern system. Glowing moss illuminated dozens of glowing yellow eyes staring back at him from the shadows.

It was a sprawling den completely infested with dungeon wolves.

A pack of the beasts immediately lunged at him. Solomon engaged them with a relaxed grin, seamlessly weaving conversation into his brutal martial arts.

He caught the first leaping wolf by the throat, slammed it into the dirt, and delivered a punishing kick to the ribs of a second one.

[User12: Bro, is it really okay for you to just confess to illegal mercenary work on a live broadcast and provoke the Bureau?]

Solomon ducked under snapping jaws and drove an uppercut into a wolf’s snout. "I am an enrolled student under the direct jurisdiction of the Live Streaming Academy. The Bureau holds zero authority over me here. They cannot touch me unless the academy administration actively sells me out to the authorities."

"Which... honestly, can happen..." He vaulted over a boulder, landing squarely on a wolf’s back and snapping its neck with a quick twist. "The academy might consider handing me over. If I perform exceptionally well and climb the official student rankings, the administration will prioritize protecting their profitable investments over cooperating with the police."

[LazyCat: Hey Solo Man, just a question. Don’t get angry. if you are this strong, why were you avoiding all the monster fights earlier in the labyrinth?]

"I genuinely enjoy fighting," Solomon replied, side-stepping a coordinated pincer attack from three wolves. He grabbed two of them by their fur and smashed their skulls together. "However, fights ending in under a minute bore me. I categorize actions into three distinct sets. Things I can do, things I have to do, and things I need to do."

A massive dire wolf lunged directly at his face.

Solomon raised his fist and drove it downward, completely crushing the monster’s skull against the cavern floor. He wiped his hand on his trousers and kept running forward through the winding tunnels.

"I can fight these random mobs," Solomon continued, gesturing to the scattered pack of retreating wolves. "I lack the obligation to fight them. I also lack the necessity. To clear this floor, I only have to defeat the boss."

[LoreMaster: Technically speaking, shouldn’t it be you ’need’ to defeat the boss instead of you ’have’ to?]

"Hehe." Solomon wagged his index finger at the hovering owl. "Another hunter could theoretically walk in here, defeat the boss, and clear the floor for everyone else in the vicinity. It is not a strict necessity for me to deal the final blow. Although, in my current solo circumstances, yes, I definitely need to get this done."

He pushed through a set of stalagmites and finally entered the boss chamber.

The cavern expanded into a massive, circular arena. Sitting atop a pile of bone and rubble was a colossal, twin-headed wolf. The monster possessed midnight-black fur and glowing red eyes, and it immediately stood up to bare its razor-sharp fangs at the intruder.

Solomon stared at the beast. He reached over his shoulder and gripped the thick hilt of the S-Rank greatsword strapped to his back.

The divine steel immediately sent an electrical shock through his arm. He forcefully overpowered the weapon’s resistance and pulled the giant blade free.

"Maybe it is finally time to officially inaugurate the sword," Solomon said, resting the pristine metal against his shoulder.

Back in the administration building, the massive projection on the wall displayed Solomon raising the pristine executioner’s sword.

Balzac immediately sat up on the wooden utility cart. His usual lazy posture vanished as he stared at the screen with intense fascination. The Grandmaster leaned forward over his oak desk, his eyes wide with anticipation at the sight of the legendary weapon.

"Finally," Balzac muttered, tossing his silk sleeping mask onto the cart. "I was getting completely bored watching him punch low-tier fodder. Let us see what he can actually do with an S-Rank relic."

The Grandmaster gave the professor a long side-eye glance. He opened his mouth to speak. But he closed it immediately, deciding to keep the thought to himself.

A second later, he reconsidered his choice and parted his lips again.

"You might have missed it during your earlier complaints, Professor," the Grandmaster stated casually, keeping his eyes on the live feed. "When Solomon was ranting about the Dungeon Regulatory Bureau and his illegal mercenary work, he explicitly called out your name."

Balzac frowned.

"He invited the authorities to come down to the dungeon and suck his ballsac," the Grandmaster clarified, his expression remaining entirely deadpan.

Balzac’s left eye twitched violently. He grabbed his sleeping mask from the cart and glared directly at the elderly man.

"You should remember that I am only here as a theoretical proxy," Balzac warned, his voice completely devoid of amusement. "Do not test my patience today."