Mark's argument with the system ended with a brutal reality check: [You were warned. From the second floor onwards, there are no fixed limits. Did you think the bosses would just sit around, washing their necks and waiting for you to cut them?]
The system's mockery confirmed the dungeon's ruthless nature, but another horrifying truth gnawed at Mark. A Hydra could grow up to A+ rank. This 30-meter titan, with six heads each mounted on a 5-meter neck, was a biological fortress. It wouldn't die unless every head was severed or its core body sustained catastrophic damage.
Its regeneration was repulsive. While a severed head didn't regrow instantly, the ability to sprout a new one within 2-3 days was an absurdly exaggerated feat. Any other wound would vanish by nightfall. Worst of all, every fluid secreted by this beast was a lethal toxin. The six heads could spit various poisons; though mostly liquid, these toxins partially dissipated into a gas. Breathing in its presence was a death sentence for human lungs.
The environment itself was a disaster—though not quite a swamp, the ground was damp and unstable, making it even harder to traverse. Attempting to manipulate this soggy earth with HEEM would be a nightmare; even if Mark succeeded, the resulting structures would be too soft and unstable to hold their shape. His 60-meter Multi-Sense radius was also a problem; for a Hydra capable of spitting venom, that distance meant nothing. While Mark's air spells were his best bet, most of them required a range of only 10–20 meters. Even his long-range Big Stone Bullet 2.0 wouldn't deal any significant damage to a creature of this colossal scale
Mark's mind raced through every possible scenario. He considered mastering a new element—fire, for instance, was the natural counter to a Hydra's regeneration. But he quickly dismissed the idea; by the time he could train a completely new element to a level capable of harming an A-rank beast, the Hydra would have already ascended to A+ rank or beyond.
He then thought of evolving his Earth Armor by integrating Air Magic to create a pressurized oxygen tank and an atmospheric shield. While this would ensure his survival and allow him to breathe, it wouldn't solve his primary objective: killing the Hydra, not just surviving it. Defensive upgrades would only help him escape.
Frustrated, Mark slapped his face with both hands and cursed himself. "Stop overthinking! Observe first, damn it!" He reminded himself of his golden rule: avoid unnecessary complexity. The closest thing to perfection is simplicity. He needed a direct, simple solution, not a convoluted masterpiece of magic.
Mark attempted to observe the Hydra more closely, but he soon realized the immense risk involved. To fully monitor the beast, he had to remain within a 60-meter radius—a dangerous gamble he had only taken twice for brief moments. Uncertain if he could sustain such proximity all day, he instead relied on his Earth Sense to track the Hydra's massive movements and the trails it left behind, occasionally closing in just enough for his Multi-Sense to trigger.
His findings were chilling: all six heads shared the same primary weapon—a highly potent, concentrated corrosive acid. While it rarely dissipated into gas, its liquid form was terrifyingly effective, melting through anything it touched. The thought of facing six separate heads, all capable of spewing this lethal substance simultaneously, was a nightmare that Mark now had to visualize and overcome.
Mark decided to take a desperate gamble. He captured a large monster and stuffed its carcass with every lethal substance he could find—Blue Rose toxins, venom glands from various snakes, and other deadly concoctions. He stored this "poisoned bait" in his inventory and placed it along the Hydra's usual path. From a safe distance, he watched as the Hydra arrived and consumed the carcass without a moment's hesitation.
Mark began to track the beast, waiting for the poison to take effect. He knew it was a foolish plan—trying to poison one of the most venomous creatures in existence—born out of pure desperation. Just as he was about to give up, the Hydra stopped. Its massive body began to shudder, and Mark felt a spark of hope. Is it actually working? Then, a thunderous, stomach-churning sound echoed throughout the entire second floor, followed by an overwhelmingly foul stench.
Mark stood frozen as the Hydra, looking visibly relieved and indifferent, simply slithered away. Stunned and burning with a deep sense of embarrassment, Mark retreated to the Safe Zone. The lingering echo of that sound and the unbearable smell—coupled with the sheer absurdity of his failed plan—kept him from descending back to the second floor for quite some time.