As Alvin followed Lesley, she came to a sudden halt in an open corridor—wide, circular, with cracked stone paths branching out in multiple directions.
Above them, the ruined ceiling revealed jagged pillars and hollowed walls. Perfect hiding spots.
"This will do," she muttered. Then turned to him. Her voice was calm, but her brows were furrowed.
"They're coming fast. I can't sense their exact stages... but one thing's clear—they're stronger than us."
She hesitated before continuing, frustration creeping into her tone.
"Why would the organization send just us for a mission this big? Alvida might only be a late-stage Expert, but she's still a princess."
"They had to know she'd be heavily guarded. So why?"
Alvin watched her ramble, her focus briefly drifting from the incoming threat. He spoke up, tone steady.
"Does that matter now?"
Lesley blinked, then sighed and nodded.
"Right."
She glanced toward the upper levels. "Use your black mist at the right moment, I will take out the strong one and help you. So, hold them off till then."
With that, she leapt up, landing silently behind a broken pillar above.
Alvin gave a short nod, his eyes narrowing.
This was it. Their first real battle against mid-tier opponents.
He'd only ever taken down a Tier 4 beast—and that cost him his hand.
Now he was facing trained fighters, people who can use techniques and Spells.
'Oh boy, this is getting really annoying.'
It didn't take long for Alvin to sense them.
He stood calmly in the center of the open chamber, eyes fixed on the path ahead as footsteps echoed from the corridor.
"We're here," a voice called out—it was the scout.
Four figures emerged from the shadows.
They stopped a few feet away, their eyes landing on the lone white-haired boy standing in their path.
The scout took a step forward, gaze locked on Alvin.
"You part of the green-haired guy's team?"
Alvin's mind raced.
'Green-haired guy? What the hell are they talking about?'
'Crandell?'
The scout's eyes scanned the ruins above, cautious.
"Too bad. Lady Alvida already took care of him," he added casually.
Alvin kept his expression flat, but his thoughts spiraled.
'He's dead...? Alvida killed him?'
He examined the four.
Three early-stage Specialists. The one talking was clearly mid-stage.
"Hey, listen," Alvin said, raising both hands slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just here for the ruin exploration. Here's my ID—"
He didn't finish.
The scout laughed. "Then why's someone hiding up there?"
His eyes flicked to the upper floor—right where Lesley was concealed.
'They came prepared.'
The scout stepped forward, cold malice in his voice.
"You messed with the wrong family, kiddo."
And with that, the three Specialists sprang into motion, lunging at him in perfect sync.
"Fuck this," Alvin muttered, gripping his dagger and tied sword.
A burst of shadow exploded from his body—black mist flooding the corridor in a second.
Visibility vanished.
In the chaos, Alvin dashed forward, blade slicing for a neck.
The target barely evaded, stepping back just enough to let the dagger pass.
Suddenly, Alvin felt a flicker of movement behind him.
He twisted, narrowly dodging a stab aimed at his spine.
An arrow hissed through the mist, forcing him into a roll.
It skimmed past his cheek, grazing the air where his head had been.
He came up crouched, breathing hard.
'I underestimated them.'
"We can't see, but we can still sense you," the archer mocked. "Nice trick though—almost worked."
Alvin didn't respond. He didn't have time.
Steel rang out in the distance—Lesley had engaged the scout.
'So, the ambush didn't work… she's fighting the mid-stage.'
He gritted his teeth.
"Blessing of the Fire Spirit!"
The chant echoed.
Alvin's eyes widened. 'A spell?'
Before he could move, an arrow shot through the mist—too fast.
He barely managed to block it with his sword.
BOOM!
The arrow exploded on impact, a blast of heat and force slamming into him. His clothes singed, and the skin on his arm burned raw.
The pain in his already injured right hand flared violently.
But Alvin gritted his teeth.
'Now's not the time to give in to pain.'
He shoved the dagger back into his storage and gripped his sword with both hands, charging straight toward the archer.
But a mocking voice echoed behind him.
"Forgot about me already?"
Two daggers flashed toward his back.
Alvin shifted his weight forward and twisted, swinging his sword in a full arc behind him,
Whoosh.
It sliced through nothing.
Damn it!
A sharp sting erupted in his lower back—an arrow struck clean.
"ARGH! Damn it!" he hissed, stumbling.
'They're toying with me.'
Then came a blur—one of the specialists, sword raised.
Alvin barely raised his blade in time to block it, but the impact was too much.
CRASH!
He was sent flying, slamming into the stone wall with brutal force.
His vision blurred. The world spun.
'Don't blackout… don't blackout…'
He gasped for breath, his body screaming in pain.
'A sword user. A dagger user. And the archer.'
They're using teamwork to make up for their lack of vision in the mist.
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, forcing his brain to think.
'What if… they couldn't sense me either?'
'Yes. That might work.'
He dropped low, slowing his breath, pushing every trace of his presence into stillness.
'Let's see if they can sense a ghost.'