Dropout vs. Orc(?)
Dropout vs. Orc(?)
Gray traced her trembling hands over her own body.
Neck. Thin. Thin enough that one hand could wrap around it.
When her fingertips traveled down her collarbone and touched her chest, her breath stopped. A clearly present soft mound.
She pulled her hand away, placed it again, and pulled away again. It didn't change.
Her waist was slender enough to hold with both hands, and her hips traced an unfamiliar curve.
She swept her hand down her thigh. The shape of the muscles was different. It wasn't the body she knew.
Undeniably, a young woman's body.
"......It's real."
Even her voice was different. Instead of the low, rough voice of a middle-aged man, a clear, thin girl's voice echoed off the cave walls. Goosebumps rose.
Her sword was gone. The sword she had been holding in her hand before being struck by the Balrog had disappeared somewhere. All that remained was the leather armor she had painstakingly fitted.
Even that armor had been tailored to the physique of a twenty-eight-year-old adult male, so on her current body, it was far too loose.
The shoulder straps slipped down, revealing one shoulder, and she had to wrap the belt around twice just to keep it from falling off.
Gray sat down on the damp floor and closed her eyes.
Let's organize this.
One. My side was torn open by the Balrog. I should have died. But I'm alive.
Two. The wound disappeared without a trace.
Three. My body changed. I, a twenty-eight-year-old man, became an about eighteen-year-old girl.
None of it made sense. A dungeon curse? Or an unknown magic activated just before death? I couldn't know anything now.
"......I'll think about it later."
This is still the middle floor of the dungeon. I had no leisure to be flustered.
The Balrog might return, or other monsters might be drawn by the scent of the Rock-boring bug's carcass.
Gray clenched her right fist. Opened it. Clenched it again.
The sensation transmitted when her slender fingers curled. The tension in her muscles. The flow of mana. The faint but definite strength settling at her fingertips.
Her eyes narrowed.
Once more. She clenched her fist and put strength into her arm. Veins rose faintly on her pale forearm.
"......It hasn't weakened."
The trivial strength I've built up over twenty-eight years of life.
That power, forged by a talentless man through blood and sweat, insignificant but my everything—it remained intact within this young body.
I tried casting Fi-re. As I spread my left hand, a flame the size of a fist bloomed above my palm.
The size, the heat, the mana consumption—all the same. Only the vessel had changed; what was inside remained the same.
Gray extinguished the flame and stood up slowly. She tightened the belt of her loose armor one more time.
The lower eye level, the different center of gravity, the trouser hems dragging on the floor—all of it bothered her. But she was alive. And her power remained.
For now, that was enough.
"......For now, let's get out."
She touched the wall with her slender fingers and took her first step. Beyond the damp passage, darkness awaited.
She lowered her body. She pressed her back against the wall and moved, choosing shadows where the mana stone's light didn't reach.
Instinct carved from twenty-eight years of experience—paths that scattered sight, flooring that muffled footsteps, wind directions that avoided monster scent.
Her body had changed, but the map in her head was still intact.
The problem was her equipment. The loose leather armor flopped with every step, and the trouser hems caught under her feet, making her stumble twice.
No weapons. In this middle floor, being seen empty-handed meant death.
"......But."
Gray stopped and read the surrounding air. Her brow furrowed.
The mana is thin.
The dense mana concentration characteristic of the middle floor—that oppressive weight that pressed down on the skin—had noticeably diminished.
As if someone had removed the mana from this floor itself.
Even monster signs were scarce. Not only the ogre horde that had been swarming earlier, but even the shadow of low-level monsters was nowhere to be seen.
Did other adventurers clear it out? Or did the heroes come back again?
Hypotheses piled up. The Balrog's appearance. The dungeon's tremors. The thinning mana. The vanished monsters. The puzzle pieces were there, but the picture wasn't forming.
That was when.
"―――Kyaaaaaa!!"
A scream that seemed to tear the dungeon apart echoed through the passage. A clear but terrified young woman's voice. The direction was beyond the right fork.
Her feet moved first.
Before she could think. Before her head could shout 'danger,' her legs kicked off the ground.
She grabbed the hem of her trousers with one hand, lifted them, and ran.
It was surprising. This small body was more agile than expected. As light as it was, acceleration was faster, and slipping through narrow gaps was easier.
Was it thanks to the smaller build?
Turning one passage and slipping between collapsed stone pillars, the view opened up.
And she saw.
There was one woman. She was sitting with her back against the wall—and her outfit was strange.
Clothes never seen in any dungeon. A thin black fabric top clung to her body, and the bottom was a dark blue tough fabric wrapping her legs.
On her feet were soft white shoes, neither leather nor iron.
No armor, and the only weapon was a dagger that clearly didn't look reliable.
She was dressed as if she had come to this hellish dungeon for a picnic.
And in front of her.
Goblins. Two of them. With green skin and yellow teeth exposed, they were sniffing and approaching the woman.
Standing behind them was something a weight class above—a Hobgoblin.
A head or two taller than the goblins, with a crude iron club in its hand, it pointed at the woman and squeaked something to its subordinate goblins.
Gray doubted her eyes.
"In the middle floor...... goblins?"
It didn't make sense. Goblins were at most upper floor monsters, the lowest grade that only appeared near the entrance.
Their rank as monsters was so low that they even appeared outside dungeons, which was a problem, but the point was that they were that weak.
Even hobgoblins were limited to the deep upper floors. In this mana-dense middle floor, they were a species that couldn't even exist.
These things that couldn't even be prey for ogres—why were they in the middle floor?
But the sight before her was real.
The woman's eyes were welling with tears, and one goblin was reaching out its dirty hand to grab her ankle.
Gray's jaw tightened.
No weapons. Bad armor. Mana remaining: two or three Fi-re shots.
But still, her opponent was a goblin.
She stepped forward.
.
.
.
Recently, gates have become too numerous.
Han Soo-yeon lived with that thought as a habit.
Even in Seoul, gates that used to open three or four a month had far exceeded ten this year alone.
The Hunter Association was suffering from a manpower shortage, and dispatch orders poured in even to herself, a C-class.
This gate was the same. A small-scale gate that appeared in the basement of an abandoned factory in Mapo-gu three days ago.
Mana reaction weak. Estimated grade D. When she entered with four colleagues, she thought nothing big would happen.
But.
It was off.
The internal structure was different from the report. There were floors. The deeper they went, the thicker the mana became, and the number of monsters increased rapidly.
On the second floor, which they entered while dealing with a goblin group, the situation went wrong. The formation collapsed under a sudden swarm of monsters—
Her colleagues abandoned her.
To be precise, the tanker Park Jin-ho yelled 'Retreat!!' and the two dealers started running toward the entrance.
When Han Soo-yeon looked back, the three were already disappearing into the upper floor passage.
Leaving her, the dead weight, behind.
"Wait—hey, wait......!!"
The shout only echoed off the stone walls.
And now.
Han Soo-yeon was sitting with her back against the cold wall. A black functional T-shirt, blue cargo pants, white sneakers.
Her hunter equipment was only a mana meter and a self-defense dagger at her waist. Combat ability was practically zero.
In front of her, two green-skinned goblins were sniffing and approaching.
Saliva dripped between yellow teeth, and murky eyes swept over her legs. It was disgusting. Scary.
But the real terror was behind them.
A build two heads taller than the goblins.
Bulging muscles rose from greenish-brown skin, and a crude iron club in one hand dragged on the floor, striking sparks.
Short tusks pierced through its lower jaw, and bloodshot eyes looked down at her.
An Orc.
"No way...... an Orc......!!"
An Orc in a D-grade gate. A proper monster, on a different level from mere goblins.
An opponent that required four C-class hunters to form a formation and attack just to barely defeat, and it was commanding goblins like subordinates.
Tears welled up. They streamed down. She couldn't stop them.
"......I'm going to die."
Her legs had no strength. She couldn't even run. One goblin reached out its dirty hand and grabbed her ankle.
At the cold, slimy touch, a scream burst out.
"No!!"
She squeezed her eyes shut. She waited for the coming pain.
Then.
"Fi-re."
A low but clear voice rang out. It was a woman's voice.
Beyond her closed eyelids, the world was tinged with orange.
Han Soo-yeon reflexively opened her eyes.
A fist-sized fireball flying from the left passage burst precisely on the face of the goblin holding her ankle.
The green skin sizzled and burned away, and the goblin squeaked, releasing its hand.
That wasn't the end.
The flame didn't go out. As if it had a will of its own, it spread over the goblin's body and then jumped to the second goblin beside it.
Both monsters screamed simultaneously and rolled on the floor. The stench of burning flesh and fat stabbed their noses.
"......What is this."
A single mere fist-sized fireball was expanding as if to burn everything.
Among C-class hunters, there were those with skills that fired fireballs, but this was on a different level. Despite being small, it was hot. Abnormally so.
The Orc growled and raised its iron club. Its bloodshot eyes turned toward the direction the flame came from.
Han Soo-yeon also turned her head.
At the entrance of the passage, under the faint light of a mana stone, someone was standing.
It was a woman.
Silver-tinged white hair reached her shoulders, and a leather armor far too large for her frame hung loosely.
The belt seemed to be wrapped twice just to hold it in place, and the trouser hems were rolled up.
She was bare-handed. No weapons. Around eighteen, maybe? A young face.
But her eyes. Those eyes alone were different from the countless hunters her age.
Above a face stained with dust and dried bloodstains, deep golden eyes were looking up at the Orc. There was no fear. No trembling.
It was the cold, calm gaze of someone who had experienced this situation hundreds of times.
The woman opened her mouth. A low, rough, crude tone that didn't match her appearance.
"......Miss over there. Can you get up?"
Han Soo-yeon nodded blankly.
The white-haired woman kept her eyes fixed on the Orc as she slowly raised her left hand. A faint heat shimmered at her slender fingertips.
"Then get up and fall back. Right now."