Nightmare of the Past (4)

My legs gave out, and my entire body trembled like a candle flickering in the wind. Facing the boss alone was only natural. Even veteran hunters avoided one-on-one boss fights whenever possible. They always tackled dungeons suited to their level, but that assumption rested on the premise of party play. No matter how strong a hunter was, boss raids—where unexpected variables could arise—were handled as team efforts. Yet here I was, a civilian, confronting the boss solo. The fact that I hadn’t fainted on the spot was already a miracle. Of course, there was still considerable distance between us, but there was no guarantee the boss would stay put forever. In fact, the creature had already drawn the massive sword—taller than an adult—from beside its throne and was slowly advancing while studying me. It watched, probing for an opening, like a lion in the wild waiting for the perfect moment to strike rather than charging immediately. If this standoff had lasted even a second longer, I would have lost my mind and bolted for the exit. No matter how catastrophic a dungeon break might be, nothing outweighed my own survival. But that desperate thought vanished the instant my companions, who had been waiting outside the door, rushed in to stand beside me.

The realization that I hadn’t been abandoned sent a surge of emotion through me. At the same time, a practical question surfaced. “…Why did you come? With our current party strength, even attempting the boss is—”

“What kind of stupid question is that…? We’d never leave you behind. You matter more to us than that trash. Even if the odds are low, that doesn’t mean we won’t try.”

“I figured it would come to this. Still, if we’re going to do something, we’d better do it fast. Unless someone deliberately opens and closes the door, it’ll seal completely in about thirty minutes. If we don’t finish this before then, the game’s over.”

The leader spoke first. The woman who followed him inside smiled helplessly. Everyone still able to move filed in after them, though their numbers were less than half the original party. Most critically, we had no tank—the role second only to mages in importance during a boss fight. The tanks had taken the heaviest casualties and injuries in the earlier battle against the masked intruders. In contrast, the mages, who had stayed in the safe zone once combat began, had preserved most of their strength. The rest were mostly warriors, but even they were exhausted and far from peak condition.

The leader surveyed the party’s overall state and composition, pondered briefly, then spoke. “…Here’s the plan. Mages, attack the boss from the rear as usual. Everyone else, stay close to the mages and guard the rear. I’ll mark the boss alone.”

Everyone listening in tense silence widened their eyes. Immediate objections followed, as expected. The role of directly marking the boss carried the highest mortality rate; it meant constant exposure to the boss’s attacks. Tanks usually handled it because of their superior defense. Even they had to brace for death. Now the leader—essentially a makeshift tank—was volunteering to do it solo. Of course there was backlash, especially from the hot-blooded young warriors who insisted they could still fight and offered to mark the boss together. The leader gave them a faint smile and shook his head.

“I’d take your help if I could, but this isn’t my first boss raid. Once the fight starts, adds will spawn everywhere. Normally we’d have enough people to assign escorts to each mage, but the situation’s too bad for that. Besides, you all know my ability. I’m the only one here who can go toe-to-toe with the boss and survive.”

Faced with his calm, rational persuasion, they fell silent. The woman who had been quietly watching finally spoke, her eyes filled with worry. “You… you know what that means, right? Even with your ability, the danger doesn’t completely disappear. Can you really endure all that strain and risk in your current condition?”

“I know my own body best. And this is the only strategy we have left. At least the boss is a close-range warrior like me, not a ranged type. That’s our only hope.”

His steady voice carried unwavering resolve. She knew she couldn’t change his mind and said nothing more. Instead, she began directing the mages and preparing their assault. After a brief glance at her, he turned and strode toward the Corrupted Knight approaching from the far side of the chamber. Meeting its crimson eyes without a trace of hesitation, he swung his greatsword. The two blades collided with a deafening crash.

Boss Ranslot roars! Remaining HP (2700/3000)

“That much damage from the last attack…? If he can just hold the line, we actually have a chance…!”

The woman commanding the mages checked the notification and shouted. Morale rose among the party members at her words. But the boss, having taken the hit, did not stay idle. Numerous monsters poured out from the side passages on either side of the chamber. They were the same creatures we had fought on the way up to the sixth floor. As if following orders, they charged straight for the mages in the rear—the source of the massive damage. The remaining warriors stepped forward to intercept them. Though exhausted, they could focus purely on defense and thus held a slight advantage.

With everyone’s efforts, the boss raid—built on a sliver of hope—began in earnest. The strategy was simple: the leader would pin the boss down with his ability while the mages unleashed concentrated fire from behind. There was nothing wrong with the plan itself. Yet the burden of marking the boss, which should have been shared, fell entirely on the leader. Meanwhile, the mages pushed their magic to the limit under the pressure of the closing door. If they failed to finish before the door sealed completely, the injured comrades left outside would be left defenseless. Survival would no longer be an option.

“……”

I could only watch from behind as they fought with everything they had. Even though I was the reason this had all happened, even though they were risking their lives to save me, I could do nothing. Because I was an unawakened civilian. Fighting would only mean a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pointless death. Even to my own ears, the excuse sounded cowardly and shameless. I couldn’t bring myself to look them in the eye. Guilt and helplessness wrapped around me, while a shameful sense of relief lurked in some corner of my heart. I hated myself for it.

Time flowed like water. Whether by sheer desperation or luck, the situation unfolded exactly as we had hoped. We had whittled the boss’s health down to almost nothing. A faint light of hope appeared in everyone’s eyes. With the end in sight, they poured out their final reserves of strength. If the situation had lasted just a little longer, the plan might have succeeded. But cruel reality mocked their efforts and revealed its true face.

Three women in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠black robes emerged from the boss’s shadow. As one, they retreated to the rear and extended an arm toward the knight. The boss’s entire body was enveloped in green light. Everyone understood what that meant. The health we had painstakingly drained was rapidly recovering. We had to stop it at any cost, but the party had already committed every resource. Normally we would have diverted some of the force marking the boss, but only the leader remained in that position. Even trying to snipe the sisters from range was impossible—they were far beyond our mages’ reach. We were trapped with no options left. From the very beginning, this tactic had never been capable of defeating the dungeon’s boss.

The shock of watching a victory that had been within reach vanish in an instant was indescribable. The boss continued its swift recovery amid our despair. The cracks we had carved into its black armor sealed themselves. Its momentum, which had been visibly waning, returned to full strength—as if denying every drop of blood and sweat the party had shed.

What broke the frozen silence was her coughing. “…Cough! Cough!! Kugh…!”

“Vice-captain!!”

“…Unni!”

“This is…!”

The violent coughing drew the nearby mages to her side. I, who had been standing frozen like a statue, turned my head without thinking. She was slumped on the floor, blood streaming from her mouth and nose, her hands soaked red as she tried to stem the flow. Mages who wielded powerful magic paid a physical price others did not. Even if mana could be replenished with potions, the body’s limits could not be changed. Her body had already reached its breaking point after the fight with the masked intruders. Pushing herself this hard without rest in such a state was bound to end this way. The same was true for the other mages—most were deathly pale, and several could barely stand. Continuing the fight was clearly impossible.

For a brief moment, her eyes met mine. They were clouded with a tangled mix of emotions, but the clearest one was sorrow. She had already sensed the truth: my survival chance was less than one percent. After taking a deep breath with her eyes closed, she spoke in a weak voice. “…Everyone, retreat outside. This operation… has failed.”

Her voice was quiet, yet everyone heard it. No one objected. With heavy, grief-stricken steps, they began to move. The wide-open door was slowly closing. The end was truly approaching. The exhausted mages went first, followed by the warriors who had been holding back the monsters. I felt no resentment. They had done everything they could. If anything, I was grateful they had risked their lives to try to save someone as worthless as me. The only regret was that it had to end like this. If I sacrificed myself alone, the rest of the party could survive. Given the nature of dungeon work, I had always known death could come without warning. Dying meaninglessly to monsters would be far worse than this honorable end. Yet even with that resolve, my body still trembled with the fear of death.

Then, through the monsters blocking the front, I saw the leader sprinting toward me. He must have used the brief window while the boss recovered. With the door closing, this was his only chance to escape. His body was covered in wounds, but his charge was unstoppable. In an instant he closed the distance and swept away the monsters rushing at me with a single swing. With the path clear, our eyes met. His face was hard to make out, smeared with monster blood. Breathing heavily, he glanced between me and the closing door. Then, without a word, he walked slowly toward me. I closed my eyes as I faced him. My emotions were too chaotic to even guess what expression I wore. He placed a rough hand on my shoulder. At that moment, a familiar blue window appeared in the darkness of my vision.

I opened my eyes in disbelief. Before I could speak, my body was flung into the air. He had hurled me with all his strength through the narrowing gap of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠closing door. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. My body passed cleanly through the tiny opening. Flying backward, I kept my eyes fixed ahead and caught a glimpse of his profile through the almost impassable crack. He had turned his head slightly, as if to confirm I had made it out safely. But his blood-covered face remained hidden. That was the last sight I saw beyond the door. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Thanks to the sacrifice of the brother I had admired… I miraculously survived that dungeon. Outwardly unscathed, yet carrying a deep, lasting trauma in my heart.