Inside the passageway, three adventurers fled for their lives.
Failed.
Failed.
The Level 1 trio repeated the word endlessly in their minds.
All of them were new adventurers, following the Guild's advice to form a party of three to support one another. Day by day, they advanced carefully through the Dungeon—until the nightmare struck.
"Was that really a Goblin?" The warrior's arm had been gouged open, his bandaged sleeve soaked in blood.
"The Guild mentioned giant mutant species Goblins on the fifth floor… that must be what it is." The healer, drained of magic, slumped weakly across his companion's back.
"We're only on the third floor! How could—" The archer, his body covered in wounds, was cut off by a chilling, guttural roar.
It's coming!
Panting heavily, the three of them sprinted toward the stairway to the third floor.
Cold blood splattered across their vision. The tangled maze of passages seemed to close in on them, tightening around their hearts. They didn't speak. They just ran.
The identical walls shifted endlessly around them. They had no idea how far they'd gone until their throats burned dry and their limbs gave out, forcing them to stop.
In the faint glow of phosphorescent light, the silence pounded against their nerves. Then came the monster's roar again.
A sharp, screeching, merciless sound—like ice scraping against glass—made them tremble uncontrollably. Despair followed.
On the second floor of the Dungeon, even if another adventurer passed by, they'd be just as inexperienced. No one could stand against that thing.
At the end of the corridor, a pair of crimson eyes flickered like ghostly flames.
As the axe came down, a white-haired boy burst from the shadows.
Clang!
Bell caught the blow with his dagger. The impact was so powerful it nearly crushed him in place. He gritted his teeth, twisting his body to redirect the massive axe's path. Even one strike had left his arm numb.
Without hesitation, Bell retreated, drawing the monster toward a wider clearing ahead.
Heith understood immediately, concealing her presence as she cast Healing on the three injured adventurers.
The square chamber was empty except for pale blue walls glowing faintly in the dark. Under the dim light, Bell saw the monster clearly.
It stood around three meters tall, with sunken eyes and dark green skin smeared with blood. It was a Goblin—but the massive axe it wielded made clear that it was nothing like the weaklings they'd fought before.
The warrior of the novice trio recognized Bell.
"That's the white-haired kid who collapsed on the first floor! We need to get him out of here!"
"Yeah! That monster's way beyond what a newbie can handle!" the archer shouted.
Heith glanced briefly at the trembling trio. Their physical wounds were healed, but the terror rooted in their hearts was beyond her reach.
Ignoring their pleas, she turned silently toward Bell.
If she acted, one swing of her staff could kill that Goblin. But Heith had no intention of intervening.
Part of her wanted to see for herself the worth of this boy—the one favored by divine will—and understand what kind of existence he was. The other part was moved by his courage. She wanted to support him, to stand watch over Bell, staking her title as the Golden Witch on it.
"No matter how heavy your wounds, I can heal you!" Heith called out, unconcerned, declaring her power.
Crack.
The Goblin charged first, swinging its massive axe. With each step, the ground trembled.
The difference in strength was overwhelming. Bell knew that if he took even one direct hit, he'd never stand again.
The axe fell from above, cleaving straight toward him.
With a thunderous crash, fragments of stone scattered across the ground. Bell's figure vanished, leaving only a fractured crater behind.
He had evaded the blow, slipping quickly into the Goblin's blind spot and stabbing at its back.
A flash of cold light—but his dagger only cut a shallow wound.
Too shallow.
Heith made her judgment. Bell's stats were far too low; defeating the monster was impossible.
She tightened her grip on her staff, hesitating whether to step in.
"Hey, is he really that rookie everyone's been mocking?" The healer in the trio stared blankly at the scene unfolding before them.
"He's only been here a few days. He collapsed on the first floor—he's a newbie weaker than us. Why..." The archer voiced his confusion.
"His stats are low. His speed and strength are way below ours," the warrior analyzed calmly.
Legends tell of heroes who, even without a god's Falna, could defeat monsters single-handedly. They possessed absurd strength or innate magic.
But Bell was different. His abilities were completely ordinary.
What unfolded before them wasn't some grand, high-level battle, but a simple, raw fight—one even rookie adventurers could understand.
Heith stared at Bell in silence. Every time the Goblin swung its weapon, her heart trembled. Without realizing it, her right hand, gripping her staff, was slick with sweat.
Bell fought relying only on skill and reflexes. He used his smaller frame to dodge the heavy swings of the massive axe. Each time he evaded, he struck back with precise timing.
Yet even when he targeted the same spot again and again, his dagger couldn't pierce through the Goblin's defenses.
It was a battle on a razor's edge—one mistake would mean death.
Time passed slowly between fear and hope. Bell's breathing grew ragged. The trio wanted to help, but this battle was far beyond their level. If they rushed in recklessly, they'd only get in his way.
Was this the end?
Heith's eyes stayed fixed on Bell. His body was clearly reaching its limit, fatigue consuming him. The longer the fight dragged on, the more deadly his lack of strength and endurance became.
Courage to face a powerful enemy. Skill honed through countless trials. Knowing these things alone was enough. It was time to end the fight.
Heith raised her staff and stepped forward. Even if the boy resented or questioned her afterward, she was ready to reveal her power if it meant ensuring his safety.
But just as she took a step, Bell threw himself forward without hesitation, charging straight into danger.
"Bell!"
Heith rushed forward in alarm.
The Goblin's sharp axe sliced along Bell's shoulder, tearing away flesh. Bell roared as he pressed on, as if his scream could drown out the pain.
Grabbing the axe handle, he vaulted upward, using the Goblin's arm as a foothold, and drove his dagger toward its blood-red eyes.
Blood sprayed as the Goblin released its grip on the axe and crashed hard into the wall. The tremendous impact carried Bell forward with it.
He tightened his grip on the dagger and stabbed again and again into the Goblin's skull. Amid the roars and shrieks, the wall loomed closer, cold and merciless.
"Bell!"
Heith unleashed a wide-area Healing spell without hesitation.
By some stroke of luck, just before colliding with the wall, Bell's dagger struck the Magic Stone.
The black mist dissipated. Bell fell to the ground, his body battered and bloodied. His shoulder was a mangled mess of flesh, bone faintly visible beneath it.
A faint blue-green light flared, and in an instant, Bell's body was fully restored.
"Thanks. You're a truly dependable healer."
The boy's smile was bright and carefree, as if the brutal battle had been nothing more than a fleeting dream.
"Do you know how worried I was? That last strike was far too dangerous."
Heith exhaled in relief. She had witnessed countless deadly fights before, yet her heart still pounded wildly.
"I trusted you—that's why I chose that approach."
Bell had been studying the Goblin's attack patterns and habits, deliberately leaving an opening to trade his left arm for a chance to counter.
Heith smiled softly. She had hidden her identity and deceived him, yet the boy still trusted her completely.
"I'm sorry, I—"
Heith's apology never left her lips.
A figure radiating murderous intent stepped into the room.
The Vana Freya.
Allen Fromel.
A fellow member of Freya's Familia—and the last person Heith wanted to see.
"Is this the one chosen by the Goddess?"
Allen's gaze locked on Bell, his tone cold and detached, like the herald of a nightmare.