The day Oliver was teleported to the bottommost floor of the dungeon, the others were not at ease.
Daniel and the rest of the heroes once again gathered before the gaping maw of the [Erevalis Dungeon]. Only the elites had come this time, escorted by a small company of mercenaries. These mercenaries weren't there to clear monsters or carry the team—they were strictly bodyguards, tasked with stepping in only if the heroes faced certain death. The church had made that much clear: no unnecessary protection.
The reason was obvious.
Though unspoken, Oliver's death weighed on them. It wasn't merely the loss of a comrade—it was the cold reminder that they weren't untouchable. They were supposed to be chosen by the Goddess, blessed with skills and classes beyond imagination. But Oliver's end proved one thing: even "Heroes" could die. That shadow clung to them, making blades hesitate and spells falter. A single mistake, and they could meet the same fate.
