An hour passed.
All five of them were still in the grand hall.
William sat quietly next to Gazel in a corner.
Sylphie and Daggerol were checking supplies.
Vantias stood, staring at the massive angel statues.
The towering stone angels looked mesmerizing in Vantias's eyes—their details and design so refined, it felt as if they had been sculpted with magic, not human hands.
He thought to himself:
"These are incredible… They must have spent ages crafting them."
But his mind wasn't really on the statues.
It was on the dream—the thing he had just faced.
That part of himself.
"I hope… one day he forgives me—
for the person I've become."
Suddenly, he noticed William and Sylphie were preparing gear, getting ready to enter the next floor.
Vantias stepped closer.
The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hall.
He looked at William and asked:
"Are you getting ready for the next floor?"
William gave a slow nod and replied in a quiet, hesitant voice:
"I'm sorry, Vantias… but we can't take you and Gazel to the next floor."
Vantias frowned. His voice rose slightly:
"I have a duty to protect my sister!
How can you say I shouldn't come?"
Sylphie narrowed her eyes, speaking with sharp seriousness:
"Idiot! Did you not see how dangerous this dungeon is?
You could die in there—especially in your current state!"
Daggerol, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, added calmly:
"She's right, Vantias.
You're in rough shape… and Gazel isn't mentally stable right now.
Someone needs to stay and watch over him."
They all looked at Gazel.
Vantias lowered his head and clenched his fists.
Suddenly, Gazel stood up.
His voice was steady—calm but firm:
"You don't have to hold back because of me.
I'm coming.
If I sit around, I'll just sink deeper."
Vantias looked at him with concern.
His voice was gentle, almost pleading:
"You don't have to do this, Gazel…
You need to rest."
But Gazel shook his head with quiet determination:
"I've been through this kind of thing before.
I can adapt.
Our top priority is saving your sister."
Vantias gave a small smile and said softly:
"Thank you… for everything, Gazel."
Gazel's face was weary, but he smiled back warmly:
"No problem.
We'll get through this—together."
The team began gathering their things.
Gazel sat quietly in a corner, staring at what looked like a family photo.
Sylphie counted her arrows.
Daggerol cleaned his axe.
William appeared to be checking the number of potions they had.
Vantias approached William and asked with curiosity:
"Hey, William—
Could you enchant my sword with a speed or strength buff?"
William looked surprised, then lowered his head slightly, looking a bit embarrassed:
"I'm sorry, Vantias…
I'm only a Tier-3 Mage.
The only magic I know is Light Magic.
I can't use support-type spells."
Vantias blinked, momentarily shocked. He moved his hands a little as if to apologize:
"Oh… sorry. I didn't know you didn't learn support magic."
He thought to himself:
"In games, mages always knew multiple magic types…
Guess it's different in this world."
William gave a small, awkward laugh:
"Honestly, I wanted to learn more…
But things happened.
I just never got the chance."
Vantias smiled gently:
"There's always time to learn.
What matters is being proud of where you are."
Gazel and Sylphie were now standing near a massive stone door in the distance.
From afar, Sylphie called out:
"Alright, everyone! Time to move on to the next stage! Come here!"
Vantias and William jogged toward the door.
Daggerol, because of his short legs, lagged slightly—but caught up soon enough.
The five of them now stood in front of a towering stone gate, surrounded by carved granite, with demonic symbols and twisted expressions of fear, rage, and dread etched into the stone.
The door gave off a powerful aura—
a fear that struck each of them before they had even crossed the threshold.
Sylphie stepped forward and took command. Her voice rang through the hall:
"Listen carefully to what I'm about to say."
Her words silenced everyone.
Meanwhile, Vantias was casually comparing his height with Daggerol, half-distracted but still listening.
Sylphie continued:
"Whatever's behind that door—
we'll need teamwork to defeat it.
We have to be fast…
And no matter what happens, we think clearly. Understood?"
William asked with curiosity:
"What's the plan?
Do you have a specific strategy in mind?"
Sylphie pointed at herself confidently and smiled:
"Of course.
Do exactly what I say—
like your life depends on it. Because it does."
Vantias interjected:
"And who decided you should lead?"
Sylphie replied sharply, without hesitation:
"Because I'm smarter than all of you,
and I've got more combat experience."
Vantias nodded slightly:
"Are you giving orders only during combat,
or do you want to go over something before we face the enemy?"
Sylphie's voice softened slightly:
"I'm an archer, so I'll stay at range.
But I can protect myself if needed—don't worry about me.
Gazel's a powerful warrior—still recovering, but strong.
Same goes for Daggerol."
William gestured toward himself and Vantias:
"What about us?"
Sylphie turned to William:
"You're our mage and healer.
Light magic can both attack and defend.
Your priorities: First, heal. Second, barriers. Third, attack."
Vantias asked:
"And what should I do?"
Sylphie sighed and said:
"Try to stay out of combat.
But help the others however you can."
Vantias lowered his head, nodding slowly.
He felt useless… like a burden.
But he still wanted to help—so he decided to follow her orders.
Logically, her response made sense.
He had no battle experience.
Being on the frontlines would be dangerous.
Sylphie stepped closer to the gate, then turned to face them all:
"Are you ready?"
Everyone nodded.
They lifted their weapons, bracing themselves for what lay ahead.
William summoned glowing orbs—magical bubbles that floated around them.
They shimmered, ready to create defensive shields the moment danger struck.
Fear surged in Vantias's chest.
For Cyrus, death was just a game.
But for the body of Vantias,
death was terrifying.
The disconnect between Cyrus's soul and Vantias's physical body created something he had never truly felt before:
The fear of getting hurt.
Sylphie slowly touched the door.
A chill ran through her palm.
With a low rumble, the ancient gate began to open…
Cold wind rushed out—
lifeless, bitter—
filling the team with an eerie sense of dread.