Lena couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.
But it wasn't because she had sacrificed herself to save that boy.
No, it was the complete opposite.
She regretted her own weakness.
Despite being an A-rank hero, she was barely clinging to life. Her once-mighty strength, the power that had made her a beacon of hope, was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.
Her limbs trembled with exhaustion, her vision blurred, and her breathing grew shallow. The poison coursing through her veins was merciless, eating away at her from the inside.
And yet, she still managed a weak smile.
"At least… I did my job," she muttered through ragged breaths.
She had saved him. That was enough.
But even as she clung to that sliver of comfort, her teeth clenched in frustration.
No matter how much she tried to convince herself, the truth was far less noble.
She wasn't smiling because she was proud of her sacrifice.
She was smiling because she was angry.
Angry at herself.
Angry at her own limits.
Despite all her strength, despite her rank, she had been pushed to this pathetic end.
Dying at the hands of goblins. Of all things.
Her fingers twitched as she weakly flexed them. She could feel her body resisting the goblin's crude poison with sheer willpower alone, but she knew her resistance was nearing its limit. Her movements were slow, her reactions sluggish, and her strength was fading.
She was alone now, surrounded by the endless swarm of goblins.
And there was no one coming to save her.
–Kreek…!
The goblins crept closer, their grotesque faces twisted into cruel grins. They took their time, relishing the sight of their prey on its last legs.
Her sword felt so heavy now. Her grip was loosening. She knew it was only a matter of time.
But strangely, there was no resentment in her heart.
Just frustration.
After all, he hadn't meant for this to happen. The boy hadn't intentionally opened the dungeon. He hadn't used her as a shield. She had made the choice herself.
She exhaled sharply.
"...Damn it."
The brief thought of him crossing her mind left a bitter taste. She had been so foolishly self-assured. Convinced she could handle this dungeon, no matter how dangerous it was.
And now look at her.
She tried to breathe deeply, but the tightness in her chest made it difficult. Her vision was beginning to blur, black spots forming at the edges.
Her legs were still working. She could still move one arm. She wasn't done yet.
Not yet.
Grinding her teeth, she forced herself to stay upright. Her hand tightened around her sword, even though she could barely feel it anymore.
If she was going to die here, she'd at least take one more goblin down with her.
But just as she was preparing for her final strike—something unexpected happened.
A sudden burst of light.
Her hazy eyes widened slightly.
The portal that had vanished when the boy had fled suddenly reappeared.
"...What?"
She blinked, wondering if her failing vision was playing tricks on her.
But no.
The portal was real.
And from it… he stepped out.
The boy she had saved.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Huh…?"
Her breath caught in her throat.
He was supposed to be gone. Safe. Far away from this cursed dungeon.
Yet here he was, standing before her.
Looking at her.
Her vision was too blurry to see his expression clearly, but she could feel his gaze on her.
"Why…" she croaked weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you come back…?"
Her throat tightened. She forced out the words she knew were a lie.
"I told you… I was fine…"
But he could see right through it.
The blood pooling at her feet, the pallor of her skin, the trembling in her limbs—it was painfully obvious.
She was anything but fine.
"I'm sorry… It's all my fault."
The boy's voice came out faint—rough, brittle—like it might shatter if he pushed any harder. Guilt soaked every word, heavy and unshakeable.
Lena's eyes flared wide, a sharp breath snagging in her throat.
"N-No—" she faltered, shaking her head feebly, her voice splintering with exhaustion.
She wanted to argue, to shove his ridiculous blame back at him, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Every muscle ached, every bone screamed.
He didn't let her finish.
A tired smile flickered across his face—small, fragile, but so damn soft it hurt to look at.
"But it's okay now," he murmured, his gaze locking onto hers, steady despite the shadows under his eyes.
Her sight wavered, smeared by pain and fatigue, but she could still see it—that same quiet smile she'd given him minutes ago, back when she thought she could still protect him.
A hero's smile.
"We're both getting out of here… alive."
His words weren't a question or a hope—they were a vow, calm and sure.
She opened her mouth to protest, to yell at him to stop being so stupid—
Then light erupted.
A brilliant, golden glow poured from his hands, warm as a summer dawn. It washed over her, wrapping her bruised arms and cracked ribs in a gentle hold, sinking deep into her core like a balm she didn't deserve.
And just like that—
The pain melted away.
The fire in her limbs snuffed out. Her ragged gasps smoothed into full, easy breaths. Her hands, jittery and useless a second ago, steadied. Her legs—barely able to prop her up—rooted firm, alive with power.
Real power.
S-rank power.
She blinked, dazed, the rush of strength buzzing through her like a live wire.
Then—
Thud.
Her head whipped toward the sound, heart lurching.
He'd collapsed, hitting the stone floor like a discarded puppet, limp and heavy.
"No—wait!" she choked, voice cracking as panic clawed up her throat.
She stumbled to his side, dropping to her knees. Her hands hovered over him, afraid to touch, afraid he'd break. He didn't stir—just lay there, too still, too quiet.
Please, no—
She pressed a palm to his chest. A faint heartbeat thumped under her fingers, weak but there. His breaths were shallow, barely lifting his ribs.
She stared, mind racing, pieces clicking into place.
She knew his talent. That file she'd skimmed a few days ago—his gift to amplify others, to pour his own life force into someone else. She knew the cost, too.
And he'd known it all along.
He'd dumped every ounce of himself into her—pushed her to S-rank, past her limits, for her sake.
Her throat closed up. Her fingers dug into his worn tunic, gripping tight as if she could pull him back.
"You… idiot…" she rasped, voice breaking on the word, rough and raw.
She brushed his cheek—still warm, still alive, but fading.
It broke her.
Her hands shook again—not from weakness now, but from a storm of rage and grief boiling inside. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as a shaky breath hissed out.
His power thrummed in her veins—his life, his strength, handed over like it was nothing.
And now it was hers, for temporary of course.
But that's all the amount of time she needs.
By the time she's done they would be out of this damn dungeon.
Her fists tightened, nails biting into her palms until they stung. The energy surged, wild and fierce, flooding her like a river breaking its banks.
Her legs didn't wobble anymore.
Her fear was ash.
Her hands were iron.
She wasn't weak—not now, not ever again.
She stood, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowing with a cold, unshakable resolve.
He wasn't dying here.
She wasn't leaving him.
They were both getting out—just like he'd said.