The first thing I felt was the sudden loss of my vision.
Everything went black. My balance faltered, and I staggered, disoriented.
…But it was only temporary.
When my sight returned, I stood in an unfamiliar place.
Towering stone pillars, jagged and weathered, stretched into a cavernous ceiling. The walls were uneven, dark moss clinging to the cracks. The air hung damp and cool, carrying an earthy scent. Soft glimmers of light danced off the moss-covered rocks, casting an eerie shimmer.
It was exactly as the novel described.
I had done it.
I had triggered the fortuitous encounter.
The being that guarded this blessing was eccentric—its conditions absurdly specific: genuine gratitude for the smallest things or a willingness to sacrifice yourself for others. The easiest way? Bowing three times. In the story, an idiotic extra villain had stumbled here by dumb luck, bowed in relief after escaping a chase, and claimed the reward.
Absurd, yes.
But now it was mine.
Or it should've been.
"…Where is this?"
A voice—soft, clear, and far too familiar—sliced through my thoughts.
My head whipped around.
Lena.
Her raven-black hair clung to her face, damp from the mist. Her sharp eyes scanned the cavern with calm precision.
Why the hell was she here?
Had she been dragged in with me?
Before I could think, her gaze landed on me. She walked over, boots silent against the stone, no trace of suspicion in her expression.
"It looks like an undiscovered dungeon," she said evenly, still surveying the area. Then, with quiet concern, "This place could be dangerous. Stay close."
I stared, dumbfounded.
She wasn't surprised. Not a flicker of shock or doubt.
Any normal person—especially a Velcrest Academy professor—would've questioned the sudden teleportation. But not Lena. Her first instinct wasn't suspicion.
It was to protect me.
Her trust was almost unnerving.
"Y-Yeah…" I nodded, forcing my voice to tremble. "I think you're right."
I glanced around, feigning unease while inwardly cursing myself. I'd been so focused on the ritual that I hadn't considered someone else getting caught up in it. And of all people, Lena—the one person who'd ever shown me real kindness—was here.
This could still work, though.
I just had to be careful.
Lena moved ahead, scanning for threats. Her hand hovered near the wand at her side, a subtle sign she wasn't as relaxed as she seemed.
"Nothing's happened yet, but we can't let our guard down," she murmured.
A moment later, she glanced back with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I may not look it, but I'm an academy professor. I've cleared worse than this."
I knew she could. She was an A-rank hero—stronger than most, even the protagonist at this point. But that was the problem. I stole a glance at her, a chill creeping up my spine.
In this dungeon, weakness meant safety. The third-rate villain had slipped through because he was insignificant—no threat, no monsters. But someone like Lena? Her strength would wake the slumbering beasts.
They could appear any second.
Her smile returned, softer this time. "You look nervous. Since nothing's attacked yet, maybe the dungeon master's feeling generous."
"Y-Yeah… thanks," I muttered, forcing a weak grin.
A low, guttural sound cut through the cavern.
-Kreek.
Like a frog choking on gravel, it echoed from the shadows ahead.
I froze.
Lena's arm shot out, blocking my path. Her eyes narrowed, wand slipping into her hand.
"Stay behind me," she ordered, voice steady.
I stepped back, heart pounding as shapes emerged from the dark.
Low-class goblins. Weak, pathetic things—alone, they were nothing. But this wasn't just a horde.
Among them, something larger stirred. Smarter. Crueler.
A Goblin Lord.
Of all things.
That explained the sudden surge in strength among the goblins.
With its buff, even the scrawniest of the creatures could fight on par with a mid-class Hobgoblin.
In other words, the weak, disorganized rabble had become a genuine threat.
A problem.
Through the dim torchlight, the crimson gleam of goblin eyes flickered in the darkness.
Their guttural growls and the clatter of crude weapons echoed off the cave walls, closing in on us.
As they shuffled into view, I counted—roughly twenty of them, maybe more.
Twenty Hobgoblins.
Even seasoned heroes would struggle against that number if they weren't careful.
And the situation was worse because the A-rank hero beside me, Lena, was at a disadvantage here.
She was a close-combat specialist.
An absolute monster in one-on-one fights—a living weapon.
It would take her less than a second, literally, to crush a buffed-up goblin's head with her bare hands.
One goblin? No problem.
Two? A joke.
Ten? She could still cut through them with brutal efficiency.
But twenty? Thirty? More?
That was a different story.
Her overwhelming strength meant nothing in the face of sheer numbers.
Because Lena's weakness was crowd control.
No matter how skilled she was, she could only defend against so many attacks at once.
Her fists couldn't be everywhere.
And goblins, emboldened by their lord, were fast learners.
They'd swarm her—use their numbers, harass her from every angle, and slowly chip away at her stamina.
Her overwhelming strength would be dragged into the mud by their persistence.
I grimaced.
Not good.
A sudden, piercing shriek tore through the cave as one of the goblins lunged at me, its jagged teeth bared, aiming for my throat.
Its breath reeked of rotting meat and filth.
I barely had time to react.
Slash!
The sharp, wet sound came first.
Then the goblin's head separated from its body in a clean, precise cut.
Its wide eyes flickered with confusion before rolling back, lifeless.
Thud!
The body crumpled to the ground with a heavy, wet thump.
Dark purple blood sprayed into the air, splattering against the stone floor in thick, syrupy droplets.
For a brief moment, it looked almost like a fountain.
All of this—done in a fraction of two seconds.
Because Lena had moved.
Her hand, now coated in blood, had cleaved through the goblin's neck with a single fluid motion—using nothing but the sharp edge of her palm.
Her movements were swift and merciless.
The goblin hadn't even had the chance to scream.
I glanced at her, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple.
She stood with a casual ease, her expression unreadable, as though beheading a monster with her bare hands was the most natural thing in the world.
I exhaled sharply, but I didn't let my guard down.
That was just the first one.
And the remaining goblins were already closing in.
After all, death of one goblin doesn't matter to them.