Luke collapsed sideways. Not from physical exhaustion — the system had already restored his body completely. But from the sheer mental weight. Now that the adrenaline had drained from his veins, his heart was settling back into a steady rhythm.

He had really believed he would die, but the race level-up had saved him.

Slowly, he got to his feet and looked around the cavern. The mist had fully cleared. That was the confirmation. He hadn't just manipulated fog — he had bent mana itself. In the absolute brink of survival, he had crossed a threshold.

His gaze shifted to the fallen body of the Midnight Warden. What he saw now wasn't the terrifying dark knight, but a corpse. Rotting brown flesh. Simple clothes. Just another undead. The imposing armor had vanished, along with the weapon — likely soulbound items, lost with their host. It was strange, knowing that beneath all that overwhelming presence… there had only been a zombie.

"It was just a damn zombie."

But Luke was starting to understand why it had been so dangerous.

"The gear… the weapons and armor. That's what made it powerful."

He recalled the Orc General. Naturally strong. The Midnight Warden didn't have the same skillset, not even close. But what made it truly threatening was the full armor set and that enchanted spear. It was a level 40 undead. Way higher than Luke's current level. But still, just an undead. Not a lightning manticore. Not an orc general. Just another walking corpse. Like a high-tier orc, but dead.

Luke checked the system notification. A single class level-up. One race level. That was it.

"Did Charlie deal most of the damage to that thing?"

It made sense now. The majority of the XP was probably credited to her. And when she died, that potential gain vanished. Luke was left with scraps.

Luke rose, placing a hand on the storage pendant hanging from his neck. The moment his fingers touched the surface, his mind stepped into the white chamber — his personal dimensional storage. Everything he owned rested there. And in the far corner of that quiet mental room… was Angelica's body.

With a single thought, he covered her with a blanket. He wouldn't bury her in that cursed world. If he ever made it back to Earth, he would take her with him. She deserved that. He owed her more than he could ever repay. Her death — the bitterest choice — had granted him the experience needed to level up his race. Without it, he likely would've died to the Warden.

Even in death… she had saved him. Sitting down, Luke opened his system interface. Three new items waited there. He tapped the first one.

[Angelica's Bow (Common)

Description: A simple training bow, issued during Boot Camp when the individual Angelica chose the Archer class. Though basic, it marks the beginning of her journey into precision and discipline.]

Luke bowed his head. Reading those words made the guilt heavier than ever.

He took a deep breath and opened the second item.

[Simple Quiver (Common)

Description: A basic, functional quiver used to store physical arrows. It can also generate mana arrows when infused.

Enchantments: [Mana Arrows(Common): When infused with mana, the quiver can generate up to 20 standard arrows for immediate use.]

"I'm going to kill Paul."

That was all he said as he stood up and looked toward one of the tunnel mouths high up on the cavern wall. He'd need to climb to reach it. Finally, he tapped the third item.

[Midnight Warden's Chestplate (Ultra-Rare) Description: A reinforced black steel chestplate once worn by one of the feared Midnight Wardens. Incredibly heavy, yet unmatched in durability, it serves as a living wall in combat.

Enchantments: [Mana Repair (Rare)]: If damaged, the chestplate can repair itself by absorbing mana. No need to remove or return it to inventory.

Bonus: +50 Strength, +40 Endurance Requirement: Level 20 in any Fighter class.]

He finally understood. Charlie had absolutely carried part of that fight. Every time she hit the Warden while in Berserker Mode, her attacks burned from the inside out. She was melting the creature's body, and even damaging its equipment. But the armor kept regenerating.

That's what gave the illusion that nothing she did was working, like the Warden was shrugging it all off. But in truth, it was spending a massive amount of mana just to stay intact.

Luke clenched his fists, replaying it in his mind. He only managed to land the finishing blow by destroying the helmet, and only because Charlie had forced the Warden to burn almost all of its mana just repairing the chestplate.That was the real weakness.

"It is possible to kill a Midnight Warden. You just have to drain all its mana."

***

Paul was returning to the camp as the darkness of night slowly gave way to the first light of dawn. The chaos within the Safe Zone had been contained. Bartholomew's soldiers moved swiftly across rooftops, hunting down the last of the ant creatures hiding in the shadows. In the streets of the Haven, monster corpses littered the ground. Fighters reorganized barricades while civilians helped pitch makeshift tents and gather the wounded.

When Paul appeared, everyone turned to look at him. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, and in that void of leadership, all eyes were on him. Waiting for direction. For comfort.

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He smiled inwardly.

This was it. Everything he had wanted. Vulnerable, fragile people staring at him like he was their only hope. He took a slow breath, keeping his eyes downcast. He painted sorrow across his face like a mask.

"Paul, are you alright?" someone asked, visibly shaken.

He kept looking at the ground, his eyes closed. His lips trembled on the surface, like a man barely holding back tears. Inside, he savored every second.

"I... I don't have good news," he said, voice trembling, perfectly rehearsed. "I went into the mine to help the team that went down... but when I got there... all I saw were bodies."

Gasps. Whispers. A few heads turned away.

"I searched every tunnel I could reach. But every step deeper... just more death. I'll be honest... I couldn't go any further. I didn't want to see any more. The tunnels began to collapse, and I pulled back. But... I feel guilty. I should've gone back."

He paused, breathing in as if overwhelmed by the memory.

"I want to form a search party and return. Just in case... someone's still alive."

"We already know what happened," said a man stepping forward. "Or at least some of it. One of ours made it back. Thiara's treating her now."

Paul froze for a moment.

"Someone... survived?"

"Yeah. She got here about half an hour ago. Barely walking. They took her straight to the infirmary."

Damn it. Not the kind of surprise he wanted.

"Who made it back?" he asked, doing his best to maintain his composed, concerned expression.

They led him toward the infirmary. On the way, people kept stopping to report losses, ask about loved ones, or offer help rebuilding the camp. Paul nodded when necessary, but most of it passed through him like background noise.

When they arrived, he immediately recognized the figure lying between layers of cloth under dim healing lights.

"Allison..." he murmured, his tone drenched in feigned emotion. "You... you made it."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if every word cost him.

"I'm so glad you're alive. What happened down there? When I arrived... it was already in ruins."

Allison looked pale and weak.

Thiara stood beside her, hands firm on her abdomen, focusing intently on the healing spell. The wound was deep, and the bleeding had only just slowed.

"M-Midnight... Wardens..." Allison whispered through a cough. "They came. I blacked out... when I woke up, I was alone. The tunnel had collapsed. I walked for hours, looking for anyone. Only found bodies... so many... most of them unrecognizable."

She drew a shaky breath. Paul listened in silence, offering nothing but attentive eyes.

"I reached the end of a tunnel and came out near the Safe Zone. Tried the main entrance to the mine. Didn't see anyone. A squad from Bartholomew found me and said the wounded were being taken to the city square. I went... but I didn't find anyone I knew. So I came here... this was my last hope. But... no one else made it back."

The infirmary was dead silent.

Paul kept his mask perfectly intact, but inside... he was boiling. Her being alive wasn't part of the plan. But it didn't matter. All he needed was another story. One more lie — and an audience willing to believe it. Allison's testimony would help set the stage he had always wanted.

Everyone in the infirmary bowed their heads as she spoke. The silence was heavier than the smell of dried blood on the wounded.

"They might still be coming… they could still be alive," someone whispered, voice trembling. "We have to organize a team. Go back. Look for them."

Paul took a deep breath. The expression on his face radiated what appeared to be heartfelt sorrow — or close enough.

"I... I don't want to be blindly hopeful," he said, eyes lowered to the floor. "Hope can be poison at times like this. But I agree. We need to go back. There still might be someone alive… maybe trapped in the tunnels."

He paused, letting the words hang just long enough.

"I just... I just hope no one died."

Allison kept her gaze on the ground, eyes locked on some invisible point in the distance. "I... I hope my friend didn't die," she whispered.

She looked up at Thiara, who was still channeling her healing spell over her wound.

"I can walk. I need to go with the search team."

"No! Are you insane?" Thiara snapped instantly. "You were impaled. Your organs are damaged. I'm healing you slowly. But you need rest. You need to live."

"I need to know," Allison said, steady now. "I need to know if Luke survived."

"He's alive."

The voice cut through the air like a blade. Everyone turned. Paul included.

Standing at the entrance of the infirmary was Jonathan. Covered in blood. Missing an arm. And on his back... he carried the unconscious body of Cecilia.

Gasps filled the room. Several people stood instinctively. Others covered their mouths in horror.

Jonathan walked forward, slow and heavy, and gently laid Cecilia down on one of the cots.

"Luke is alive," he repeated, voice weighted. And filled with restrained fury.

Paul approached carefully, his face twisted into a flawless mask of concern. "Tell us what happened," he said. "You're in awful shape, Jonathan. Where... where's Angelica?"

The question made Jonathan lower his eyes. He didn't answer right away. But his expression said enough. Tears started falling.

"Angelica... is dead."

The words landed like a hammer.

A few people gasped. One woman dropped to her knees in shock. Thiara brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes filling instantly.

"No... no, it can't be Angelica…" someone murmured.

Paul watched. He didn't need to say a word. Silence was his stage.

And he felt joy swelling inside him.

"I saw her," Jonathan said with difficulty, his voice shaky. "I saw her body."

But then he said something else.

"Luke killed her."

The words hit the center of the infirmary like an explosion.

"What?!" Paul said, genuinely shocked. "What do you mean, Jonathan?" he asked. "Please... explain this to us."

All eyes turned at once. Shock. Confusion. Disbelief.

"He killed her!" Jonathan shouted, no longer holding back the pain. "He betrayed me and Cecilia. Left us to die in the tunnels. And then… I saw him stabbing Angelica! I saw it!"

"Luke wouldn't do that," Allison said immediately. But the doubt had already been planted. And she felt it.

"I saw him!" Jonathan yelled, eyes wet and blazing with fury. "I saw him kill the woman I loved! From the way he looked... that bastard wanted to level up by killing her!"

Paul remained silent.

Some looked at him with concern. Others, searching for guidance. A direction. A verdict.

"Paul… are you okay?" someone asked.

He hesitated — then slowly shook his head. "This news…" He looked from Jonathan to Allison. "I... I can't believe it. Angelica is dead."

But in his mind, another thought pulsed like poison:

What did Angelica tell Luke?

The question dug deep — venomous and relentless.

And then Jonathan, voice ragged and low, delivered the final blow: "That bastard probably got himself killed by a Midnight Warden." He stared at the floor, eyes burning. "But if he didn't… I'll kill him myself."

Paul didn't move. But inside... the chaos was reshaping itself.

And in that stillness, an idea formed — clear as fire through smoke.

Even if he had been hoping Luke had died.

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