Yellow and Black sat on the dungeon floor. They collapsed earlier due to Mana Exhaustion. Kian had tasked them to continuously cast healing and floating spells the entire time, but they ran out of Mana before the dungeon exploration ended for the day.
Their problem could actually be solved by Mana Potions. If they took a Mana Potion before their reserves ran dry, they could extend the casting time. Celia could take at least one vial of Mana Potion to cover the eight to ten hours of continuous casting. Lumina could take about three vials of Mana Potions to maintain a continuous spell for the same duration.
If they possessed Mana Potions, the problem was solved. They could easily comply with Kian's unreasonable demands.
But the Feeble Soul did not have Mana Potions for any of their dungeon quests. A Mana Potion is a lifeline, and it is common sense for a party to bring them. But Kian neglected it as the party leader. He just forgot to buy them before entering a dungeon. Even when he remembered, his laziness simply took over.
As a party leader, not securing Mana Potions is irresponsible. Kian belonged to this category. Since the very first day the Feeble Soul started Adventuring, they did not buy a single Mana Potion. It was the direct result of Kian's omission. But the color-coded kids thought that not bringing Mana Potions into a dungeon was just another part of the rigorous training.
Kian finally looked at Yellow and Black. The two girls braced themselves. They expected Kian to say they were fired because they failed to complete the task he gave them.
Kian looked down at both of them. He slowly shook his head without saying a single word. He walked past between them.
His expensive, shiny leather shoes stepped directly onto the filthy dungeon floor. The loud TAP-CLACK of his pristine soles grinding against the loose stones and crushed rock echoed sharply down the dark tunnel. Ignoring the heavy debris ruining his perfect footwear, he headed straight toward the dungeon exit.
Celia and young Lumina stared at his retreating back. The heavy silence pressed down on their chests. To them, his quiet disappointment was far worse than hearing any hurtful words. They bit their lips, completely shattered by the unspoken rejection.
---
Day 9 of the Present Day
The damp wool blanket smelled like dried sweat and rusted iron.
Inside the command tent, the air hung heavy and freezing cold. The six-hour rest period for Team A had completely drained away, leaving nothing but the bitter reality of the swamp waiting outside.
Kaelen strapped the thick leather braces over his forearms. He picked up his heavy broadsword and slid it into the scabbard on his back.
"Time is up," Kaelen ordered, his rough voice breaking the quiet morning. "On your feet. Team B is waiting for the shift."
Around the tent, heavily scarred men and women grabbed their weapons. They groaned as their aching joints popped, forcing their exhausted bodies to stand. But near the back corner of the canvas, Korinn remained entirely seated on a flat, gray stone.
The Thief stared at the dry ground. His hands rested on his knees, but his fingers twitched wildly. His legs were shaking so violently that his boots rattled against the soil.
Kaelen noticed the missing man in the formation, so he turned his head. "Korinn. Stand up."
Korinn did not move. He swallowed hard, trying to force moisture down a throat that had completely seized.
The entire tent went dead silent. The other Adventurers stopped checking their gear and looked at the pale Thief.
Korinn stared at the canvas wall. He swallowed hard, trying to force moisture down a throat that had completely seized.
"I can't," he whispered, his voice sounding thin and hollow. "We have thrown ourselves at this place for eight days, so I've brushed past death half a dozen times already. But yesterday broke me. When the Titan swept our flank, a heavy root pinned me deep under the toxic sludge. I couldn't breathe, and I felt the acid melting my armor before Vance finally dragged me out. My luck is now empty. I can feel it rotting in my gut. If I step into that fog today, I am going to die, Boss. I want to stand up, but my legs just won't stop shaking."
He grabbed his own thighs, desperately trying to physically force his muscles to calm down, but the violent tremors only worsened.
Kaelen stared at him. The big commander did not offer a warm smile or a single word of comfort. Instead, he unhooked the heavy broadsword from his back.
With slow, deliberate steps, Kaelen walked across the tent and stopped right in front of the sitting Thief. He raised the heavy blade high above his head.
Korinn blinked in confusion, his tear-filled eyes looking up at the blade.
Before his brain could even form a question, Kaelen brought the heavy sword crashing down.
He did not ignite a glowing yellow Aura. He relied purely on the raw, crushing weight of the steel and the terrifying density of his own muscular force.
The heavy blade slammed directly into the center of the gray stone Korinn was sitting on. Iron met rock with a deafening, bone-jarring crack that rattled the teeth of everyone in the tent. Shards of rock exploded outward like shrapnel, slicing through the floor as the stone sat shattered into a dozen jagged pieces.
Korinn was not crushed.
Even though his mind was broken and his heart was consumed by panic, he was still a high-level Thief. The exact millisecond the shadow of the blade fell over him, his biological survival instincts completely hijacked his nervous system. His body moved entirely on its own. He threw his weight backward, launching himself off the stone a fraction of a second before the steel hit.
He tumbled through the air and landed hard. His boots slammed into the dry soil.
The dust slowly settled. The Adventurers stared in absolute shock. They saw Korinn standing a few feet away from the shattered rock, his face pale and entirely horrified by the sudden attack.
He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, but he was standing. His legs were still shaking from the adrenaline, yet the sheer, paralyzing fear of getting split in half had forcefully commanded his muscles to hold his weight. Because Kaelen had intentionally held back his full swing, the agile Thief possessed just enough time to dodge the blow.
Kaelen rested the tip of his broadsword on the ground and looked directly into Korinn's terrified eyes.
"Look at your boots," Kaelen said coldly. "Your legs still work perfectly fine when death comes swinging for your neck."
Korinn stared down at his own feet, his jaw hanging open.
"You think your mind is unstable?" Kaelen projected his voice, letting it echo against the canvas walls so every single person in Team A could hear him. "You think you are special because you are terrified of that swamp? Look around you. Every single person in this tent is shaking. We all hear the jaws snapping in our sleep. We all feel the acid burning our lungs when we close our eyes."
With a heavy sigh, Kaelen unbuckled his right gauntlet and pulled the metal off. He held up his bare, scarred hand. His thick fingers were trembling violently in the cold air.
"My hands shake every single morning," Kaelen admitted, his rough voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "I have fought for forty years, and I am scared to death of that fog."
He strapped the iron gauntlet back onto his forearm and gripped his sword. The exhaustion vanished from his posture, replaced by a terrifying, unshakeable iron will.
"But we do not get the luxury of hiding from the nightmare, because we are the wall that keeps the nightmare away from the world," Kaelen continued, his voice dropping into a heavy, unbreakable vow. "The exact day you pinned that silver badge to your chest, you exchange a comfortable life to fight in the front line. You promised to walk into the danger so the weak can sleep in warm beds without fear."
Kaelen gripped his broadsword tight, the raw emotion in his voice stripping away his usual strict demeanor.
"We do not fight because we want to die. We fight because we want to live!" Kaelen roared. "If your legs refuse to walk, you drag yourself forward because the people behind you cannot run! If your sword shatters, you fight with your bare hands! If your body breaks, you burn your very soul to keep the line standing! We give absolutely everything we have, because the moment we take a single step backward, the people we swore to protect perish."
Kaelen stepped closer. He lowered his heavy blade until the flat of the steel rested gently against Korinn's trembling shoulder.
"Do you remember the day you looked up at the massive doors of the Association branch? The day you dreamed of becoming a hero, Vanishing Embrace?" Kaelen whispered fiercely, his eyes locking directly onto the Thief's gaze.
The old alias cut right through Korinn's panic.
An image of a small village torn apart by monsters flashed in his mind.
An image of a desperate young boy who ran down the road to beg for help.
An image of a boy who threw himself in front of a heavy wooden carriage, the brutal crash nearly crushed him to death out of pure desperation.
An image of strong travelers stepping out of that cart to slaughter the beasts and save the entire village.
An image of a boy mesmerized by those powerful strangers. A stubborn dream took root in his heart, and he made a silent vow.
I want to become an Adventurer.
An image of the huge doors of a local Association branch. A boy stared up at the polished wood and promised himself.
I will become a hero who saves lives just like the Adventurers who saved my village.
Before Korinn even realized it, hot tears slipped past his eyelashes and fell quietly onto the dry soil.
Kaelen slid his heavy broadsword back into its leather scabbard with a loud metallic scrape. The big commander stepped forward, and he gently punched his fist against Korinn's chestplate.
"Pick up your daggers," Kaelen said.
He paused for a second to let the silence hang, then he offered a single, hardened truth. "Heroes are just terrified men who refuse to take a step backward."
He turned his head and looked at the exhausted faces of his raid team.
"We march," Kaelen ordered.