Fractures in the Line
The corridor leading to the middle boss room felt different from everything we had passed so far. The cave walls were rougher, and the floor was pitted with dents and deep gouges. Even though this was only a practice dungeon, the word “practice” did nothing to lighten the atmosphere. From this point onward, the air grew noticeably colder. The scent of stone was thick, laced with a faint metallic tang beneath the dampness. Traces of prolonged fighting lingered on the walls and floor—someone had fought here, and the marks remained.
Kang Hyun-woo stopped at the front. The hand gripping his sword twitched, a tiny, habitual motion of readiness rather than tension.
“From here on, it’s the middle boss area,” he said quietly.
What lay ahead wasn’t a door so much as a wide natural fissure. Beyond it, the space opened up. That openness felt ominous. The wider the room, the more room the enemy had to maneuver.
“Middle boss, huh,” Oh Se-rin muttered, already wearing an expression of confidence.
Park Jun-ho tightened the straps on his shield. His hands trembled visibly, and his breathing had gone shallow. I watched in silence. Observation had become second nature. Whether it was the enemy or my own teammates, every fight came down to reading the flow and the mood.
“Once we go in, stick to the plan,” Kang Hyun-woo said. “Se-rin, provide fire support from the rear. Jun-ho, follow me and cover the back.”
Oh Se-rin nodded. “Got it. But—” She glanced at me and added, “Just… try not to screw up, all right?”
Kang Hyun-woo spoke again, firmer this time. “Mistakes from here on will be hard to recover from. If you think you can’t handle it, stay back and don’t get in the way.”
I kept my mouth shut. I already knew what would come back if I spoke—something along the lines of “What would a late awakener know?” Experience had taught me that much.
We adjusted our stances and moved in at his signal. The floor sloped downward, and a rush of colder air swept over us. The chamber was silent—no murmurs, no footsteps, only stillness. Then—
“Krrrk.”
A short, guttural cry echoed through the dark. Goblins emerged from the shadows. There were more of them this time. Among them stood two noticeably larger figures: Goblin Warriors. One carried a crude axe, the other a heavy iron club, both wearing scraps of makeshift armor.
“Only two,” Kang Hyun-woo assessed immediately. “Jun-ho, mark the warrior on the right.”
Park Jun-ho flinched, but he raised his shield and stepped forward. “Got it!”
“Se-rin, clear the regular goblins and link up with Jun-ho. If everyone understands, let’s move.”
The fight erupted. Goblins rushed in from all sides, the clash of metal and short screams filling the chamber. Kang Hyun-woo drove straight into the left warrior. His movements weren’t the fastest, but his decisions were. Once he committed, he never hesitated.
Burst Charge—a skill that compressed mana into the lower body for an explosive dash, allowing an immediate follow-up strike. His body shot forward. The stone floor rang under his feet. In an instant, half the distance vanished, and his sword flashed toward the warrior’s upper body.
Clang! The Goblin Warrior blocked with its axe. The impact tore through the room.
“It’s holding?” Kang Hyun-woo gritted his teeth. The warrior had been pushed back but hadn’t fallen. Its arm strength was greater than expected. Even in a practice dungeon, these were monsters hovering between C- and D-rank.
Kang Hyun-woo pressed in again. The warrior swung its axe in a wide arc. He twisted aside, dodging while landing a clean cut in the same motion. There was no break in his flow—his attacks connected as naturally as breathing.
On the right side, Park Jun-ho was holding the second warrior at bay. This one wielded a club. Its swings were simpler than the axe, but each carried far more weight. A direct hit would hurt badly.
Park Jun-ho planted his shield. “Ugh—Guard Up!”
The warrior raised its club. “Kieeeek!” It brought the weapon down with a thunderous crash. The impact drove Park Jun-ho’s shield toward the floor, and his legs buckled.
I moved quickly to the flank, cutting off goblins trying to slip past his guard. My sword flicked out in short, precise arcs—enough to wound and disrupt, never enough to waste time. The goal was to keep the small fry off Jun-ho, not to finish them myself.
Another goblin tried to circle around. I shifted my footing half a beat faster. The tip of my blade grazed its neck, and it crumpled. At the same time, Oh Se-rin’s mana flared.
Flame Arrow—compressed fire arrows launched in rapid succession. A line of blazing projectiles ripped through the center of the goblin pack. Two goblins dropped at once.
“Hah… there are more than I thought,” she clicked her tongue, but her casting remained swift and accurate. As expected of a Class B student.
The warrior facing Park Jun-ho lifted its club again, this time swinging sideways. Jun-ho tried to raise his shield, but the warrior’s timing was faster. His gaze wavered. In that split second of hesitation, his footing slipped. The club slipped past the shield’s edge.
“Urgh—!”
The impact slammed into his shoulder. His shield was knocked aside, and the warrior’s eyes immediately snapped toward Oh Se-rin.
She had been clearing the smaller goblins and her line of sight had opened for a moment. The warrior charged, club raised.
“Shit! Warrior!” Kang Hyun-woo shouted.
I reacted at the same time, but the distance was too great. Oh Se-rin stepped back, yet the club’s reach was longer than expected. One solid hit would send her flying.
Her eyes hardened. “Crazy bastard—”
She thrust her hand forward.
Burst Flare—a compressed flame detonated outward, blasting the approaching enemy back and dealing heavy damage. The explosion shoved the warrior off balance, buying her just enough space to retreat.
“You piece of—!” The curse tore from her lips. “Hey! Park Jun-ho, what the hell are you doing?!”
Park Jun-ho’s face had gone white. “S-sorry! I—I was supposed to—”
Before he could finish, the warrior recovered and charged again, faster this time. Oh Se-rin had created distance, but a stray goblin grabbed her leg, slowing her escape.
“Get off!” She kicked it away, but the delay was fatal. The warrior closed in, club already descending.
Then Kang Hyun-woo arrived.
The left warrior was already half-destroyed, its body scorched by his mana-infused blade. He finished it with a final strike, then pivoted and sprinted right.
Burst Charge—just before the club could crush Oh Se-rin, he slammed into the warrior, parrying the blow with his sword. The impact rang out like a gunshot. Without pause, he followed up.
Steel Break—a mana-infused strike specialized in shattering armor and weapons. His blade crashed down on the club. Something tore. The weapon splintered and flew from the warrior’s hands.
“Now!” Kang Hyun-woo yelled.
Oh Se-rin fell back and raised her hand. Flame Arrow rained down in a continuous stream. Fire engulfed the warrior, and its scream echoed through the chamber.
While they finished the second warrior, I cleared the remaining goblins around it. The last few tried to rush Park Jun-ho; I cut them down before they could reach him. They were already wounded from Oh Se-rin’s earlier attacks, so they fell easily.
The final Goblin Warrior was finished off by Kang Hyun-woo’s second Steel Break.
The chamber fell silent. The fight was over. Only breathing remained.
“Hey.” Oh Se-rin spoke first, her voice sharp. She stared straight at Park Jun-ho. “What the hell was that?”
His lips trembled. “I-I’m sorry… I should’ve blocked it…”
“Should’ve doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “You missed.”
Park Jun-ho lowered his head. “Sorry…”
Kang Hyun-woo walked over, his expression rigid. “I told you—one mistake and the exam’s over.” He looked between Park Jun-ho and Oh Se-rin. “Se-rin, you okay?”
She exhaled shortly. “Yeah. I managed to react in time.” There was no smile in her voice.
Kang Hyun-woo’s gaze returned to Park Jun-ho. “You really… Did I ask for something difficult? I didn’t tell you to attack or ambush. I just told you to hold your shield up. Is that so hard? Are you an idiot?”
Park Jun-ho shrank further. “I’m sorry…”
Then the next arrow came my way.
Oh Se-rin turned to me. “And you—stop just watching from the back. You should’ve covered us. Aren’t you embarrassed riding the bus for free?”
I met her eyes for a moment. “I was clearing the goblins on the flank to move in.”
“That shouldn’t have taken long. You should’ve finished faster.”
Kang Hyun-woo joined in. “Did you even use a skill the entire exam? You need to think about using skills to finish things quicker. What are you even doing?”
I answered briefly. “If I use my skill now, I won’t have it when I need it later.”
“Wow. Impressive,” Kang Hyun-woo sneered. “A late awakener acting like he knows better.”
The words twisted something small inside me, but my expression didn’t change. I already understood—this wasn’t just about skill. It was about perception. Even if I was right, they wouldn’t listen. Even if I proved myself, they wouldn’t acknowledge it.
Oh Se-rin nodded. “Exactly. We’re doing everything. Just follow what we say. Don’t try to make your own calls.”
Park Jun-ho’s voice was barely audible. “Do-yoon… sorry…”
That made it worse.
I let out a short breath. “Sorry. I’ll do better next time.”
Kang Hyun-woo relaxed his shoulders. “Just do it properly. Follow common sense.”
“This is why I hate teaming with Class C and D,” Oh Se-rin muttered, leaning toward Kang Hyun-woo. She shot me one last glance. “If we’re carrying you, at least ride the bus right.”
With that, the conversation ended. We had won the fight, but what remained in the room wasn’t triumph—it was a thin layer of distrust and irritation.
We began moving toward the next section. Footsteps overlapped in the cave, quieter than before. No one spoke first. I walked at the rear, flexing my fingers slightly around my sword hilt—a habit to confirm the grip. I opened and closed my left palm once. I still hadn’t used a single skill. Because of my limited mana, the number of times I could activate skills was far more restricted than everyone else’s. This was the final exam dungeon. There would come a moment when my skill was necessary, and I had to save it for then.
I couldn’t explain that. I couldn’t persuade them. I couldn’t even say it out loud—because in this team, I was already seen as the weakest, the most lacking, the burden.
So I had to think alone. Judge alone. Prepare for the team’s risks alone.
Kang Hyun-woo spoke from the front. “Next should be the orc section.”
“We’ll handle it anyway,” Oh Se-rin replied.
Park Jun-ho said nothing.
Neither did I.
Instead, I replayed the trajectory of the club that had nearly struck Oh Se-rin. The angle of Park Jun-ho’s delayed step. The timing of the warrior shifting its weight. The single beat Oh Se-rin had created with her flare. The exact distance Kang Hyun-woo had closed. All of it remained in my mind.
And that memory was useful for reading the team’s overall flow.
I thought quietly.
The team is…
No conclusion. It was still too early to draw one. But one thing was certain: in this dungeon, the greatest variable would be people. And that variable had already begun to waver.
I looked at the backs of the three ahead of me.
Kang Hyun-woo—pushing forward, convinced his answer was the only one.
Oh Se-rin—certain that his answer was correct.
Park Jun-ho—crumbling because he couldn’t keep up with that answer.
Between them, I finally felt where I stood.
…For now, staying silent was the right choice. Speaking would only make things worse.
So what remained was one thing.
Watching.
I lowered my gaze to the footprints pressed into the cave floor, the depth of the soil, the broken traces. And the darkness stretching ahead—where the next variable waited.