[Lena's POV]
Fighting a single ogre would've been easier.
At least then, she could have focused all her strength on one target.
But this—this was different.
Every time her fist struck, two goblins died. Their skulls caved in under the force of her blows, and their frail bodies crumpled like rag dolls.
But for every two she felled, four more took their place.
Like a never-ending tide.
'There are too many…!'
Of all the dungeons she could've ended up in, it had to be one that exposed her biggest weakness—crowd battles.
The goblins weren't supposed to be this strong. But judging by their slightly enhanced abilities, she knew there had to be a Lord somewhere in this dungeon.
A Goblin Lord.
It was the only explanation.
If she had been alone, she could have dealt with them—slowly, methodically, and without distraction.
But she wasn't alone.
There was a sick boy behind her.
And every time she had to abandon her offensive to rush back and defend him, she left herself open.
A crude dagger scraped across her side. Another goblin's jagged blade nicked her thigh.
The wounds were shallow, barely more than scratches—but they were adding up.
She could feel her movements slowing.
It wasn't a problem yet.
But at this rate, it would be.
Lena was an A-rank hero.
A professional. One of the elite.
Many admired her strength—her speed, her precision.
But no matter how much she pushed herself, she wasn't an S-rank.
There was a gap—a wall so wide that no amount of sheer willpower could bridge it.
If she were an S-ranker, this would be nothing.
Like a casual stroll.
The goblins would have been reduced to mincemeat in seconds.
But she wasn't.
And she never would be.
'There's no time for self-pity right now.'
Her teeth clenched, she slammed her elbow into a goblin's temple, caving it in.
Blood splattered her face, warm and sticky. She didn't flinch.
So what if she wasn't an S-ranker?
That didn't mean she was going to fail here.
No.
She was an A-rank hero.
And right now, that was enough.
Because it had to be.
She wouldn't let this boy die.
Not while she still had breath in her lungs.
With a sharp exhale, she pivoted and slammed her palm into the next goblin's chest.
Crack!
Its ribcage buckled inward.
It let out a gurgled scream before she grabbed its face and slammed it into the cave wall.
The rock split its skull open with a wet, dull crunch.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw the boy huddled behind her, trembling.
His frail hands clutched the hem of her cloak.
Her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile, despite the blood dripping down her chin.
"Sorry," she said, her voice steady but gentle. "It's going to take a little longer to get out of here than I thought. But don't worry. I told you, everything's fine."
She knew her words probably didn't offer much reassurance.
Not when her arms were slashed and her legs were streaked with blood.
But she still smiled.
Because that was what heroes did.
They smiled, no matter how dire the situation.
It was one of the first things she had learned when she started down this path.
A hero's smile could be more powerful than their fists.
It could give people hope.
Even if she was barely holding on, even if her lungs were burning with every breath, she couldn't let that boy see her falter.
Always keep smiling.
That was fundamental.
Even if she was slowly losing her breath.
Her chest felt tight.
Her movements were sluggish.
Her vision flickered slightly at the edges.
Poison?
Maybe.
Some of the goblins' blades were coated with filth. It wouldn't be surprising if they were laced with a slow-acting toxin.
She had already killed so many.
And yet, their numbers hadn't dwindled.
Her fists were still moving, still smashing bone and splattering blood.
But she was slowing down.
They were closing in.
And she knew—she wouldn't last much longer.
Suddenly, a voice rang out, echoing sharply through the cave.
"Who will be sacrificed?"
Her eyes snapped toward the source.
A portal had appeared, swirling faintly with otherworldly light.
She recognized it immediately.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
(Rin's POV)
It was exactly as described in the dungeon manual.
When two people entered this place, if one of them was cornered, a portal would open.
Through it, they could choose.
To either escape to the exit.
Or to head toward the reward room.
She wasn't cornered.
Not exactly.
She was still fighting, still killing goblins.
But being cornered didn't always mean physical danger.
She was strong.
But she was also human.
And humans had limits.
Her mind was a battlefield of its own—haunted by doubts and self-criticism.
She knew she wasn't weak, but she wasn't strong enough either.
Not like the Chairman of Velcrest Academy.
Not like the S-rankers.
'You'll never be like them.'
That whisper of inadequacy had always been there.
But she pushed it aside.
Because in that moment, none of it mattered.
Her eyes softened as she glanced at the boy.
And she smiled again.
"Go," she said softly, her voice steady despite the pain burning in her chest.
She gestured toward the portal.
"Hurry. Get out of here. I'll hold them off."
The words left her mouth without hesitation.
No bitterness.
No regret.
Just pure resolve.
Even when she could have resented the boy for holding her back.
Even when she could have saved herself.
She didn't.
Instead, she offered herself as the sacrifice.
Because that was who she was.
A hero.
And no matter how much her body ached, no matter how much blood she lost—she wouldn't let this boy die.
Not while she was still standing.
I had to admit it.
She was naïve.
In the original story, I never liked her much.
Her idealism seemed foolish—her kindness a fatal flaw.
Nothing but empty words and misplaced compassion.
But here…
It was different.
Because now, she wasn't just a name on a page or a supporting character meant to meet a tragic end.
She was a real, living person.
One who could make rational decisions, who understood the risks she was facing.
She knew what kind of situation she was in.
Yet, despite that, she was still letting me go.
Letting me escape this death trap.
Her eyes remained steady—calm and unwavering—as if she had already accepted the danger ahead.
Even knowing the odds were against her, she was determined to hold the line.
To protect me.
I clenched my fists at the thought.
Now that I had seen her in reality—seen the warmth in her eyes, the quiet strength in her actions—I had to admit…
She was kind.
Too kind.
And that was exactly why she died in the original novel.
Tricked by the villain.
Betrayed.
Her compassion had been exploited, turned against her, and she was struck down before she could even see it coming.
It was unfair.
The world didn't deserve her.
But it still needed her.
At that moment, something inside me hardened.
A decision.
No.
I wouldn't let her die.
Not here.
Not in the future.
No matter how the original plot unfolded—no matter how the story was meant to go—this time, I would save her from her fate.
Because people like her…
They were far too rare.
And this world needed every last one of them.