The Weight of the Line
The passage leading into the orc section was wider. The walls had opened up, and the floor felt firmer than before. The moisture had lessened, but the smell had changed. It was the raw, musky stench of beasts. A thick, sweat-like odor clung to the cave walls. Oh Se-rin wrinkled her nose.
“The smell is different from here on.”
Kang Hyun-woo gave a short nod. That single gesture tightened the atmosphere again. Park Jun-ho switched his grip on the shield. His fingers, still dry, trembled faintly. No matter how tightly he pulled the straps, the slump in his shoulders remained impossible to hide.
I watched in silence. There had been no explosion yet, but discontent hung in the air like static. It wasn’t enough to erupt with a single word, yet it hadn’t eased enough for anyone to turn back. Movements grew shorter, gazes sharper, and footsteps unnecessarily quickened.
Kang Hyun-woo suddenly stopped. The rest of us halted a beat later, forming a line. He turned to look back, his eyes sweeping over both Jun-ho and me.
“Do it properly this time.” His voice was low, which only made it heavier. “If you mess up like before, it’s really over.”
Oh Se-rin crossed her arms. “Exactly. If our scores tank because of you two, you’re dead to me.”
Park Jun-ho nodded frantically. “Got it. I really… got it.”
I spoke a beat later. “Got it.”
Kang Hyun-woo turned forward. “Good. We’re going in.”
The end of the passage opened into a wider space. It wasn’t a natural cave; someone had clearly widened it. The ceiling was slightly higher, and the floor bore multiple deep gouges, as if heavy weights had passed through repeatedly. I spotted footprints—round impressions with thick toes and varying depths. Orcs.
From deeper inside came the sound of breathing. Short, heavy exhales through the nose that echoed through the chamber. Then the shadows moved first.
Three orcs. Or rather, three massive shapes burst from the darkness. Broad shoulders, thick arms. They carried crude weapons—a wooden club, a rusted axe, a mace wrapped in chains—but the sheer mass behind them was undeniable. Goblins poured out behind them in greater numbers, their footsteps scraping across the stone.
Kang Hyun-woo exhaled. “Same formation.” He raised the tip of his sword. “I’ll take two orcs. Handle the rest yourselves.”
He launched forward. Burst Charge. The moment mana surged into his lower body, the stone floor trembled. Kang Hyun-woo drove straight in, slashing across the right orc’s chest. At the same time, he twisted to break the left orc’s line of sight, locking both in place and anchoring the frontline.
Oh Se-rin gathered mana from behind. “I’ll clean up the small fry.” Light burst from her fingertips, slicing through the goblin pack. The explosions weren’t large, but they were precise—severing legs and finishing off the fallen ones in quick succession.
Without turning his head, Kang Hyun-woo spoke. “Park Jun-ho, mark the remaining orc.”
Jun-ho stepped forward with his shield raised. “Yeah…” He lowered his stance toward the last orc. Guard Up. A thin layer of mana spread across the shield’s surface.
The problem was that pure defense would only end with him being pushed back. Orcs possessed raw pushing power as a baseline trait, not a skill. I positioned myself a step behind and to Jun-ho’s right rear, ready to catch him if he collapsed.
The orc’s first strike came down. Thud! The club slammed into the shield. Jun-ho’s arms dipped for an instant. The shield held thanks to the skill, but the impact still traveled through his body. Jun-ho gritted his teeth. “Hah…!” He shifted his feet, trying to regain his center, and lifted the shield a little higher.
The orc struck again. Thud! This time it pressed forward, not striking but steadily pushing. Jun-ho was forced downward along with the shield. His heels scraped against the stone.
I watched Jun-ho’s eyes. He was only looking at the orc’s weapon—its torso, shoulders, feet. He wasn’t tracking the orc’s center of gravity. Fear and pressure had narrowed his vision.
The orc tilted its head slightly. That motion was dangerous. It wasn’t trying to break the shield. It was pinning the shield down so it could circle around and join the other fight.
The orc took a step sideways. Jun-ho’s feet were too slow to react.
“Jun-ho—”
Before I could finish, the orc changed direction. It left the shield’s front and charged straight toward Kang Hyun-woo. If a third orc joined the two he was already holding, the line would collapse.
Jun-ho belatedly turned to follow. “Wait, I—!”
Before he could finish, I moved first. I didn’t block the orc head-on; I cut off its angle. I thrust my sword into the path it needed to take to reach Kang Hyun-woo. The orc hesitated. In that moment, I closed the distance.
Orcs were large with long reach, so fighting them head-on was disadvantageous. I approached diagonally instead, avoiding the arc of its weapon while targeting its legs and waist. The orc swung its club again. I stepped back to dodge, then grazed it with my sword—short, shallow cuts that tore skin and drew blood, disrupting its rhythm without getting caught.
The orc growled and spun. I didn’t follow the rotation; I moved into the space where it would end. Its size made turning slow, and that slowness became an opening. My blade grazed its thigh again.
The orc grew furious. Its movements turned wild. An enraged orc relied on brute force, and while its attacks were simple, that simplicity made them more dangerous—one clean hit could be fatal. I shortened my breathing. The orc’s shoulder rose, meaning its arm was cocking back for another downward strike. When it swung, its weight would shift forward and its feet would briefly plant.
I waited for that instant. The moment the club came down, I slipped inside. The weapon passed beside my head, wind slapping my face. At the same time, my sword carved into the orc’s side. Not deep, but enough. Its breathing faltered.
I created distance and reset my stance. A red line appeared in my mind. Crimson Trace. A crimson trajectory only I could see. The more precisely I struck along it, the greater the effect—but the line didn’t stay still. It shifted with every movement of the enemy, myself, and the space around us. Seeing it meant nothing if my body couldn’t follow.
I drew a breath. The red line crossed beneath the orc’s neck, over its collarbone. It wavered as the orc twisted. My fingertips trembled slightly. Hit it and it’s over. Miss, and it’s the orc’s turn.
I gave myself an order. Only half. I couldn’t aim for a perfect 100% in real combat yet. Forcing higher accuracy would only stiffen my hand, and stiffness invited a counterattack. So I targeted only the core of the trajectory—not the entire line, but the key points it passed through. I swung as if connecting those points into a single cut.
And then—the sensation of the red line snapping registered in my hand. 50%. Not a perfect hit, but enough to finish the orc. I felt its body split open. A deep gash opened beneath its neck.
“Krr…!” Air hissed out—not a roar, just the sound of breath escaping. The massive body collapsed, shaking the floor. Thud.
I stepped back. Blood dripped from my sword tip. The destructive power was far stronger than I’d expected.
Even at 50%, it’s this effective? The realization sent a chill down my spine. I exhaled and calculated inwardly. Mana… it drained more than I thought.Two more uses left. Three at most.
Awakening hadn’t suddenly increased my mana reserves. I had been born with a small amount, so every skill activation had to be counted carefully. I tightened my grip on the hilt. This wasn’t the time to dwell on it. The fight wasn’t over.
Two goblins rushed toward the fallen orc’s spot. Oh Se-rin flicked her fingers from afar; light pierced one goblin’s head. I finished the second with a short slash.
From Kang Hyun-woo’s direction came the continuous clash of metal. He was still holding two orcs. Their combined brute strength was overwhelming. Steel Break. He struck at their arms and weapons, twisting limbs and forcing weapons to the ground. He followed up with a slash to the neck. One orc fell. The remaining one charged in rage, but Oh Se-rin, having finished the goblins, immediately supported with fire from the flank. Her skills struck the orc’s eyes and knees, and Kang Hyun-woo finished it in the opening.
The battle ended. Only breathing and the thicker scent of blood remained. Goblin corpses littered the floor. Two of the three orcs lay near Kang Hyun-woo; one lay before me. Park Jun-ho hadn’t moved. He stood with his shield lowered, eyes fixed on the ground.
Oh Se-rin exploded first. “Hey, you! What the hell were you doing?”
Jun-ho flinched. “Sorry… I—”
Kang Hyun-woo cut in. “I told you to do it properly.” His voice wasn’t loud, which made it sharper. “What do you think would’ve happened if that third orc joined the two I was holding?”
Jun-ho’s lips trembled. “I know… I know that, but…”
“But what,” Oh Se-rin sneered. “But you were scared? Your hands froze? Then get out. This is an evaluation.”
Jun-ho couldn’t answer. His shoulders sank further. His fingers tightened around the shield straps as if letting go would make him collapse completely.
I spoke a beat later. “Jun-ho did make a mistake.” Both of them turned to me. I kept my voice steady, stating only facts. “But we’re a team. I covered the gap, and the fight ended cleanly. Pushing him harder now won’t help the next battle.”
Oh Se-rin frowned. “Are you defending him just because he’s Class C or D?”
“I’m not defending him. I’m keeping things in order.” My voice stayed low. Raising emotion would only make the words shake, and shaken words were just shouting. “We’re fighting monsters, not Jun-ho.”
Kang Hyun-woo was silent for a moment. He had seen me take down an orc alone. It hadn’t been luck. Ignoring that level of skill was no longer possible. My words weren’t wrong either. He exhaled shortly. “…You’re right about that.”
Oh Se-rin pressed her lips together in displeasure. Kang Hyun-woo looked at Jun-ho again. “But that doesn’t excuse it. Get your head straight next time. Do-yoon covered you this time, but there’s no guarantee he’ll do it again.”
Jun-ho nodded weakly. “Yeah… got it.”
That was the end of it. No apologies were accepted, and the atmosphere didn’t lighten. Only an unspoken agreement remained: don’t let it explode here.
Kang Hyun-woo glanced over the corpses. “Let’s move.”
Oh Se-rin turned. “Yeah, let’s finish this quickly.”
As Jun-ho tried to follow, he stumbled for a moment. I said nothing and simply matched his pace from beside him. I didn’t reach out to steady him—doing so might only make him crumble further. The passage narrowed again. The air ahead felt heavier, the moisture and smell pressing down once more.
Kang Hyun-woo raised a hand without a word. We all stopped. From far ahead came a sound. Thud. It wasn’t the footsteps of goblins or orcs. Slower. Heavier. More regular. Each impact sent a faint tremor through the floor.
Oh Se-rin swallowed. “What is that…”
Kang Hyun-woo spoke quietly. “The final boss room. We’re close.”
Jun-ho bit his lip. His breathing grew shallower. I listened to it and thought, If Jun-ho makes another mistake… It was the realistic assumption. I would have to cover that mistake again. But my skill wasn’t unlimited. Two uses left. Three at most. The choice was clear. I had to turn his mistakes into openings I could control.
I fixed my gaze on the darkness ahead. The final boss was moving somewhere in that dark. And in the boss fight, the biggest variable would once again be a person—that much was already obvious.