es, a contribution benefiting future generations and ridding the Minotaurs of their menace.

Brutols' ferocity bewildered the Hellhounds, who had no strategy against such overwhelming power. Although these intelligent creatures had the mental capacity of a fourteen-year-old human, their wit was useless against Brutols' might. Despite their impressive resistance to flames, they eventually succumbed to Brutols' fire, though it required considerable time to turn them into charred masses.

The Hellhounds were unquestionably the toughest adversaries Brutols had faced. “Damn,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “These Hellhounds are truly pesky, but I won't give up.” Summoning a massive white fireball, even larger than anticipated, Brutols watched as the Hellhounds recoiled in fear. Showing no mercy, he hurled the fireball, incinerating them with intense heat and pain.

“Damn, so much time wasted,” Brutols sighed, grateful for the victory and the progress he had made in battle. Important as this growth was, he had no intention of mourning for these beasts. Searching their lair thoroughly, he found only gnawed bones, but also a letter from a corpse saying, “My dear, I’m lost and cannot reach you. If someone finds this, please take it to my wife in... ” Brutols didn’t recognize the address but knew he could bribe his way to understanding with the money he had.

Brutols eventually found the passage to the upper levels. Completing this task felt deeply satisfying; helping the Minotaurs had been the right thing to do. Whether the Minotaurs were human or not didn't matter to Brutols. He saw no difference between himself and the Minotaurs beyond superficial appearances. His judgments were never clouded by external looks, highlighting his intelligence.

Additionally, Brutols’ creativity shone as he arrived at this new level, immediately erecting a white flame shield with an intelligent system—acting as a personal bodyguard. Confident in its protection, even divine beings wouldn't pose a threat while he remained unscathed.

Upon reaching this level, Brutols found an icy wasteland, akin to the North or South Pole. Though his powerful flames could have melted the ice immediately, maintaining such a state was exhausting. Prudently, he deactivated the flame shield, knowing extended use would melt the ice beneath him.

This decision brought relief, as sustaining the white flame shield was taxing. However, combating in this cold environment worried him. It limited his ability for close combat, though he retained his long-range capabilities. Despite the cold affecting his powers, Brutols accepted the challenge, maintaining a low profile, aware that even the strongest could face unexpected setbacks.

“Damn, it’s freezing here,” Brutols grumbled, preferring the heat h

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