The Useless Prince Is A Gangster
Chapter 106. Floor 7

Chapter 106: 106. Floor 7

Leo slumped onto the smoking remains of the abomination, catching his breath. The sharp smell of burned flesh filled the air. He ran a hand through his crimson hair, frowning as it came away sticky with the monster’s blood.

The zombies still locked in their cells rattling the bars, their deep growls buzzing as they reached for him. Nimbus, in panther form, licking his bloody paw nearby, his purple eyes calm yet alert.

Leo glanced at Elynn’s glowing interface in his vision.

[EXP Points: 6550/7500]

"Only 950 to go," he muttered, voice rough.

[Mana Shards Available: 1500]

"Not a bad haul."

He exhaled, opening his item space. A neat grid of items popped up in his sight: 16 health potions and 12 mana potions, took from the Caulem warehouse, each gives only 10% refill; one strong system-grade health potion, mana potion, and endurance core; and a pile of weapons—swords, daggers, even a spear.

"Getting low on potions," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Elynn, buy two mana potions, three health potions."

[That’s 270 Mana Shards!]

[Confirm Purchase?]

"Yeah," Leo grunted.

[Items Added to Item Space!]

[Balance: 1230 Mana Shards]

Leo’s smirk came back. "One mana amplifier, two strength amplifiers, one speed amplifier."

[Items Added to Item Space!]

[Balance: 610 Mana Shards]

He stood, stretching, the cut on his stomach now a tight, stinging scar under his ripped, blood-stained dark blue coat. "Let’s go, Nimbus," he said, and the panther got up, moving quietly beside him.

As they walked, Leo’s face grew serious. The air was heavy, sticky with moisture and heat, but Draven had called this the eighth floor. He looked around—no windows, no sunlight, just wet stone and dim torches. "We’re underground," he muttered. "This whole prison’s deep down."

After a few minutes, they reached the hallway’s end, the zombies’ growls growing faint. A rough stone staircase stood ahead, its steps dark with old blood, like bodies had been dragged over them. A scratched "8" marked the wall.

With no other way, he climbed, each step careful, the distant monster noises fading. At the top, a heavy metal door loomed, its surface scratched and worn.

Leo wanted to kick it open, but he held back. He pushed it slightly, peeking into the seventh floor. It looked like the eighth—wet stone walls, flickering torches and cells—but it was quieter, no loud growls from caged beasts.

He walks through the seventh floor, his boots making soft echoes in the heavy quiet. The floor was a maze—four square blocks, each with thirty small cells in neat rows, linked by tight hallways and wide corridors.

Unlike the eighth floor, every cell was empty, making the air feel dark and creepy. The flickering torches threw long, shaky shadows. Leo’s crimson eyes checked every corner. He reached a staircase at the hall’s end, a bloody "7" written into the wall.

He smirked, voice low. "Guess that freak didn’t plan anything here." But as he stepped up, a loud crash broke the silence. The metal door at the top of the stairs burst open, kicked in hard.

A group of tough mercenaries stormed in, their slave collars glienting, holding sharp weapons like swords, axes, maces. They paused, staring at Leo, who froze, staring at them in silence.

The lead mercenary, a rough-looking guy with a crumpled sketch in his hand, glanced at it, then at Leo. A nasty grin spread across his face as he pointed. "That’s him! The guy we kill to get free!"

The group roared, shouting "Freedom!" and "Get him!" Leo’s eyes narrowed, a curse slipping out. "Damn bastards." Nimbus growled, ready to fight, but Leo snapped, "Hide!" The panther vanished into his shadow.

Leo turn and ran back into the maze, the mercenaries’ yells and heavy steps right behind him.

He darted into a block, the narrow halls making it hard for the mercenaries to chase all at once. Their shouts were close, their weapons scraping the walls. Leo turned into a side hallway, the mercenaries were on his trail.

As they rushed around the corner, they stopped, looking at the empty hall. "Where’d he go?" one barked. A shadow moved at the hall’s end, and they charged, yelling, "There!"

The last mercenary, falling behind, ran past an archway, missing a faint whistle above. Leo, clinging to a metal beam in the dark ceiling, legs tucked, body flat, waited like a hunter. He dropped, knees slamming into the man’s chest. The mercenary crashed down, breath knocked out.

Leo summoned a hand axe from his item box and drove it into the man’s neck, just above the collar. Blood sprayed, soaking Leo’s torn coat.

"Here!" a mercenary yelled. Three more appeared, weapons ready—sword, axe, mace. Leo jumped up, summoning another hand axe in his left hand.

The swordsman swung, his blade sparking against the wall as Leo ducked. He slashed his axe across the man’s leg, blood pouring out, but the mercenary didn’t even flinch, swinging again. Leo rolled, dodging, eyes sharp. "No pain?" he muttered. "What’s with these guys?"

The axe-wielder charged, aiming for Leo’s head. Leo stepped aside, slamming his second axe into the man’s side, cracking bone. The mercenary grunted but kept coming, his axe grazing Leo’s shoulder, ripping skin and cloth.

Leo cursed, kicking the man’s knee to drop him, then yanked the axe free and buried it in his neck. Blood gushed as he fell.

The mace-wielder roared, swinging hard enough to break bones. Leo dove, rolling across the stone, and threw his first axe. It spun, hitting the man’s chest. Blood spilled, but he pulled it out, tossing it away, still charging.

"What the hell?" Leo growled, dodging another swing. He grabbed the fallen axe and smashed it into the man’s face, splitting his head. The mercenary dropped, blood pooling.

The last swordsman attacked, his blade fast. Leo blocked with one axe, sparks flying, but the man’s strength was crazy, pushing Leo back. A shallow cut opened on Leo’s arm, blood dripping. Gritting his teeth, Leo used wind mana in his legs, spun behind the mercenary. He drove one axe into the man’s back, then the other into his skull. The swordsman twitched, then fell.

Leo panted, blood and sweat mixed on his face, his coat a bloody mess. The other mercenaries’ shouts got louder, their steps shaking the maze. These guys were too strong, not feeling pain.

Leo’s smirk came back, hard and fearless. "Fine," he muttered. "Let’s see how many I can bury down."

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