The stench of iron and damp stone clung to Hannah's skin like a second cloak as she stumbled through the twisting corridors of the Southbrook Dungeon.
Her dagger was slick with wolf blood, her muscles screamed in protest, and her lungs burned with every ragged breath.
Ren's taunting voice echoed in her head, sharp and unrelenting, as she ducked a swipe from a snarling gray wolf and drove her blade into its throat.
In a novel or a manhwa, this is where the main character finds something amazing, she thought, her vision blurring with exhaustion as she kicked the dying wolf away.
A hidden treasure chest, a legendary weapon, a secret scroll that unlocks untold power.
They'd face a death-or-life situation, cheat death with a stroke of luck, and emerge stronger than ever—clear the dungeon in one piece, hailed as a hero.
But here? Here she was, running for her life from a pack of minotaurs that Ren had deliberately lured her way, her only "cheat" a dragon who thought training meant throwing her into a never-ending stream of monsters.
"REN!" she gasped, slamming her back against a cold stone wall and slicing at the leg of a charging wolf.
"STOP IT! I can't fight anymore! I'm begging you!"
Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, but Ren only cackled in her head, the sound high and mischievous.
Oh yes you can, he purred. Look—another wolf beast, right your way! This time, faster. No slacking.
Hannah wanted to scream.
She wanted to drop her dagger and curl up in a ball and let the monsters take her.
Where was the magic? Where was the golden light that had blazed to life when she'd touched that magic sphere back at the guild in Bennington City?
The guild master had stared at it like he'd seen a ghost, muttering something about irregular and unheard of, but he'd never explained what it meant.
She'd been reincarnated into this world, for gods' sake—shouldn't she have some kind of power? Some kind of cheat?
Instead, she was stuck fighting tooth and nail with every scrabbling, snarling monster Ren threw at her, no magic to speak of, no grand destiny shining down on her.
I don't even know the title of this book, she thought bitterly, stabbing another wolf through the eye, but I'm definitely not the main character.
She was so lost in her bitter daydream that she almost didn't hear the screams.
They echoed down the corridor, high and panicked, cutting through the snarls of monsters and the thud of her own heartbeat.
Hannah's head snapped up just in time to see a group of three adventurers barreling around the corner, their armor dented, their weapons bloodied, a horde of orcs, wolves, and slavering goblins with fire-tipped spears hot on their heels.
"HELP!" one of them—a burly man with a broken axe—yelled, skidding to a halt when he saw her.
"PLEASE—we're D-rank, we got ambushed deeper in—they took two of our friends!"
Hannah stared at them, then at the oncoming horde, then at her own trembling hands. Ren's laughter died down in her head, replaced by a lazy, amused hum.
Give me a break, she screamed out loud, throwing herself into a run, dagger raised.
Ren's camouflage snapped into place around him—only Hannah could see the flash of his red eyes as he darted ahead, raking invisible claws across an orc's face.
The orc howled, stumbling, and Hannah took the opportunity to slash its throat.
About time you stopped moping, Ren said, and for once, Hannah didn't argue.
She could feel a faint, warm tingle in her fingertips—something she'd never felt before—and when she drove her dagger into a goblin's chest, the blade glowed with a faint golden light for half a second.
The goblin dissolved into ash.
Hannah blinked. What was that?
Later, Ren snapped.
Fight.
The battle was chaotic, brutal, and far too short for Hannah's liking.
She and the three adventurers fought back-to-back, Suzy's hammer strikes echoing in her memory as she dodged and stabbed and sliced.
Ren helped, of course—his invisible attacks took down more monsters than Hannah cared to count, but he only stepped in with magic twice: once,
he breathed a tiny burst of fire that incinerated a pack of wolves, and once, he wrapped an invisible shield around Hannah when a goblin's fire spear came too close.
The other adventurers gaped at the sudden bursts of flame and the way the spear seemed to bounce off thin air, but Hannah just shrugged and said,
"Lucky timing."
When the last monster fell, the dungeon fell silent except for their ragged breathing.
Hannah leaned against the wall, her dagger slipping from her hand, and closed her eyes for a second.
"Thank you," the burly man said, walking over to her.
He held out a hand—his knuckles were scraped raw, his armor was split at the shoulder.
"Name's Bart. This is Mike and Donna." He gestured to a thin man with a bow and a woman with a staff, both of whom nodded in greeting.
"The girl who passed out—she's Mimi. Our mage. Used up all her mana trying to hold the monsters back."
Hannah nodded, taking Bart's hand and pulling herself up. "Hannah. I'm just… training."
"Training?" Donna said, her eyes widening as she looked at the pile of monster corpses around them. "You call this training?"
Before Hannah could answer, Mike let out a low whistle.
"Look at the orc heads—those are alpha orcs. And the fire goblins? They're only found in the third level. How the hell did you take them down alone?"
Hannah shrugged again.
"I'm fast." She didn't mention Ren. She never did.
Bart frowned, glancing down the corridor where the monsters had come from.
"It's not just the dungeon, either. The monsters outside have been acting strange too—more aggressive, more organized. We lost two friends back there. They were… dragged off. By something bigger than an orc."
Hannah's stomach twisted.
She thought of the orcs that had taken Toby, of the way the goblins had charged the bridge like they were following orders.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
"Come on," she said, grabbing Mimi's limp form from Mike's arms.
The girl was small, smaller than Hannah, her face pale as a sheet.
"We need to get her out of here. Tend to the wounded first."
The walk back to the dungeon entrance was slow, silent, and heavy.
Hannah carried Mimi the whole way, her muscles screaming, but she didn't complain.
She thought of Toby, of the way he'd looked when she'd carried him back to camp, and she held on tighter.
When they finally stepped into the sunlight, the other adventurers collapsed onto the grass, their faces buried in their hands.
Hannah laid Mimi down gently and pulled a vial of healing potion from her bag—something she'd bought with her mission gold—and poured it down the girl's throat.
By the time they reached the guild, Mimi was stirring, and the other adventurers had stopped shaking.
Hannah reported the strange monster behavior to the guild master, who frowned and wrote it down in his ledger, then sold her the monster parts she'd collected—alpha orc fangs, fire goblin spears, wolf pelts—and walked away with fifty gold pieces clinking in her pocket. It was more money than she'd ever had in her life.
The next morning, Hannah was sitting in the guild's tavern, eating a bowl of oatmeal, when the door burst open.
Bart, Mike, and Donna walked in, followed by Mimi—who was now awake, her face flushed with color, a staff slung over her shoulder.
She spotted Hannah immediately and walked over, her eyes bright.
"You," she said, holding out a hand.
"You're the one who saved us. Thank you. I owe you my life. Name's Mimi. I'm a mage—level 3. D-rank, like the others."
Hannah nodded, shaking her hand. "Hannah. No rank. Just training."
Mimi's eyes widened.
"No rank? But you took down alpha orcs and fire goblins alone. That's B-rank work, at least." She paused, then leaned in, her voice lowering.
"And the fire. The shield. You didn't use a staff. You didn't chant any spells. How did you do that?"
Hannah's heart skipped a beat.
She thought of the golden light in her dagger, of Ren's invisible magic, of the magic sphere back in Bennington. She hesitated for a second, then said,
"I… touched a magic sphere once. At the guild in Bennington. It glowed gold. The guild master said it was irregular. I don't know what it means."
Mimi's eyes went wide. Gold light? Irregular magic? She gasped, sitting down across from Hannah.
"That's not just irregular—that's noble clan magic. Every noble family has a special type of magic, you know? Something that's passed down through blood. The Gorthmordes have saintess magic, the Valtors have lightning magic… irregular magic usually means you're descended from a noble line. But most irregulars can only use their family's magic. Gold light… that's unheard of."
She paused, then grinned, leaning forward.
"You said you don't know any magic? I can teach you. General stuff, at least—cleaning spells, fire-starting, minor healing. Nothing fancy, but it'll help. And maybe we can figure out that gold light of yours."
Hannah stared at her. "Really? You'd do that?"
"Of course," Mimi said. "You saved my life. It's the least I can do."
The next few days were a blur of magic lessons.
Mimi taught her the basics first—how to channel mana through her fingertips, how to shape it into a small flame, how to cast a cleaning spell that made her dirt-streaked clothes sparkle.
Hannah was a fast learner, but she noticed something strange: whenever she cast a spell, the mana didn't just do what she told it to—it lingered, like it was waiting for something.
And when she touched Mimi's hand one day while the girl was casting a healing spell, the mana surged, and the healing spell became twice as strong.
"Whoa," Mimi said, pulling her hand away and staring at Hannah in shock.
"You can boost magic. That's… that's a support skill. But it's not just any support skill—it's amplifying my mana like it's nothing. And the way your mana lingers… there's more to this than just boosting, Hannah. I'm sure of it."
She leaned back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful.
"You know, dragons are the ones who invented magic. Or so the legends say. Human mages only learned it after they made a pact with the ancient dragons—something about passing through the ten rings of magic. Each ring is a level. Most humans can't get past ring 5. I'm at ring 3—that's why I'm D-rank. The highest any human has ever gotten is ring 8. Archmages. They're the peak of humanity. Not even kings or emperors dare to mess with them. But they're hermits, mostly. Locked away in their towers, researching magic, not caring about politics or honor or anything else."
Hannah thought of Ren—of his ancient, sharp magic, of the way he laughed at human mages, of the way he'd said his magic was different.
She thought of the golden light, of the way her mana lingered, of the guild master's shocked face.
Noble clan magic, Mimi had said. Irregular.
She thought of her mother's pendant, of the name Beatrice Gorthmorde, of the family famous for saintesses and archmages.
A piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
That night, when she was back in her inn room, Ren curled in her lap, she told him about Mimi's lessons.
About the ten rings, about the archmages, about the noble clan magic.
Ren listened, his red eyes glowing in the dark, and when she finished, he huffed.
Human magic is weak, he said. Child's play.
Ancient dragon magic is different. It doesn't need rings. It doesn't need chants. It just is. He nuzzled her hand, his voice softening. But your magic… it's not human.
It's not dragon, either. It's something else.
Hannah stared at him, her heart racing. "What is it?"
Ren grinned, a sharp, dragonish grin. You'll have to figure that out yourself. Now—tomorrow, we're going back to the dungeon. More training. And this time, no slacking.
Hannah groaned, falling back onto the bed. Ren cackled, and Hannah couldn't help but smile. She didn't have a cheat. She didn't have a legendary weapon. She didn't even know if she was the main character. But she is..
.
.
.
To be continue..