Memoirs (8): Dismissal!
"Alright, let's go now."
Just as he'd said, Paster returned in an instant amid a burst of white sparks and reached out his hand, motioning for us to head outside.
The way he treated this S-rank dungeon—one where we'd lost all trace of an exit—as if it were his own backyard completely demolished my sense of reality. No way. Was this even possible?
Spatial teleportation abilities were among the rarest powers, possessed by only a tiny fraction of all awakeners. At first glance, the ability to slip free of spatial constraints and go anywhere might seem like the ultimate gift. But in reality, it wasn't.
The farther the distance, the exponentially greater the mana required. The complex three-dimensional calculations. If the mana density in the air differed between departure and arrival points, teleportation was impossible. Even if densities matched, mismatched mana wavelengths between the spaces or the user would multiply the calculations several times over.
In short, spatial teleportation was riddled with so many constraints that it was barely practical. That's why it was only useful in very niche scenarios—otherwise, just a shiny paperweight gathering dust.
And yet, this guy was casually hopping between the dungeon's raging mana storm and the outside world with one of those ridiculously limited powers? In an S-rank dungeon, no less, where even low-tier awakeners would drop dead just from stepping inside due to the mana density? Utterly absurd.
"What're you doing? Come on. Legs gone weak? Want me to carry you?"
But the man before me was pulling off this impossible feat with total nonchalance. Wait—did that mean every time he'd appeared out of nowhere until now, or brought that mana-chilled water, he'd been using spatial teleportation? And without any preparation, cooldown, or aftereffects. At most, a faint spark sound. Those sparks carried zero mana, making them undetectable. Which meant Paster wielded a transcendent teleportation that bypassed all precursors or traces—instant activation.
Impossible. It defied the laws of physics. Normal spatial jumps sent mana ripples spreading kilometers wide in their wake, but Paster's operated on an entirely different level. And not only that—he'd whisked the team leader and every raid member out to Liar's Trap headquarters, thousands of kilometers away, without batting an eye. The mana drain must have been minimal too, judging by his calm expression.
No way such a power could exist in this world.
I'd seen him freely coming and going between dungeon and outside multiple times with my own eyes, but I still couldn't accept it. Everything he was doing flew in the face of common sense.
In the end, despite witnessing it all firsthand, I had to ask him outright.
"You... what are you?"
The F-rank awakener who'd seemed like a total weakling moments ago had, in this instant, become the first being in my life to surpass my wildest imagination.
It was a question loaded with layers: Who was he? How could someone with that power be stuck at F-rank? Paster scratched his cheek and replied.
"What do you mean, what? Your senior, obviously. Why ask something so basic?"
"My... senior?"
True enough, Paster was my senior. He'd greeted me when I first joined Liar's Trap, shown me around headquarters with patient kindness, told me to ask him anything anytime since he was "always free," cracking jokes to ease my nerves with his thoughtful words.
That he was my direct senior hadn't changed from the day I joined until now. And yet... it felt strangely off.
"Senior?"
The reason it felt awkward was simple: I'd never truly seen him as one. An F-rank lamer than even me? When S-ranks outclassed me? How could I call some tail-chasing nobody—who'd abandoned all human dignity to follow Ska Rate—my senior?
Paster was beneath me. I had zero intention of accepting some worthless nobody as my superior.
That's how I'd always viewed him—a helpless weakling. My narrow-minded gaze had led me to deny the simple fact that he was my senior.
Shame burned through me, and I bowed my head. A worried voice tickled my ear.
"..."
"What's up, Lapis Julie? You okay?"
Paster had always been this incredible. And yet, this man—who'd so effortlessly saved the team leader's life (my lifesaver), shouldered responsibility for my team, and now extended a hand to me as if it were nothing despite how I'd dismissed him—was leagues beyond someone arrogant like me.
I had no choice but to acknowledge it. No—I had to.
"...Senior."
Paster was my senior.
He'd solved an unsolvable crisis in one stroke, his face unchanging as if it were routine. Unlike me, puffed up from slaying a mere dungeon boss, he was on a whole different scale. He'd pulled me from despair over the team leader's peril with ridiculous ease. And now, he was saving me a second time from the burdens I bore.
Two salvations in a row, from someone far weaker than me. Add the team leader saving my life just before, and today alone marked three.
I was so pathetic, needing rescue three times just to stand. Arrogant to my core, scorning even S-ranks if they seemed weak—this day had shattered me. For the first time, I felt self-loathing. For the first time, respect for a "weakling."
No—calling him a weakling was wrong from the start. The team leader and Senior Paster were both far superior to me. How dare I belittle them?
The thought hit like a thunderbolt: I can't do this.
No. If I took Senior's hand and let him save me now, I'd never move forward again. The team leader lived, my guilt eased—but self-loathing still gnawed at me. The fact remained: I'd ignored her orders, botching the dungeon destruction.
If I fled holding Senior's hand, headlines would scream: "Liar's Trap Raid Team Fails—Lapis Julie Included." The world, seeing the armless team leader, would point fingers at me.
Could I remain proud in that world? Answer: No.
I was Lapis Julie, the Julie family's haughty flower, only because everyone saw me that way. Shift that view to "incompetent Lapis Julie," and I'd become exactly that—an honorless, mediocre awakener.
No. Better to die than that.
My honest truth. Born and raised as the Julie heir, I had to become the greatest family head in history. That was my life's purpose.
So I couldn't take Senior's hand.
Even surviving via his rescue meant a fate worse than death: a loser's life. Better to die here.
Rejecting his hand, I stood on my own power, brushed dirt from my knees, and said calmly,
"...Hoo. Thank you, Senior. But I can't leave."
"What? Why?"
"For me, dying here is better than giving up and walking out."
As I turned away, a question from behind snagged my ankle.
"What does that... Wait, you planning to fight the Dungeon Lord in there? Can you win?"
"That's..."
He'd nailed it.
Even from afar, its attack had nearly slipped past me in a blink—blindingly fast. And despite unleashing cold and mana from ten Snow Flowers just to flee, I'd barely scratched it.
Right now, it was trapped in my iceberg, but only barely. It could shatter free anytime.
Protecting the Dungeon Core was its core drive—no reason to chase us in this exitless hell, unable to escape itself. Of course, Senior's absurd teleportation had saved us all, but the beast couldn't know that.
Anyway, with it unaware of Senior, this was my sole window to figure out how to beat it.
Its white flame whip had matched my grand Snow Flower fusion from ten petals. To fell its main body—which conjured those whips freely—I'd need at least thirty.
But manifesting thirty would take ages, leaving me immobile. And gathering that mana? The trapped beast would burst out and target me immediately.
Mobile, I could only muster ten—insufficient cold and power to end it.
Tough opponent all around. Even staking my life, win rate under 10%.
Fighting the Dungeon Lord was unwise for any smart person—a battle where I was outmatched everywhere.
But this was my mess. Karma from ignoring the team leader repeatedly.
The world damns the irresponsible, and as Julie heir, it'd hit me hardest.
So challenging a near-certain loss beat a life harsher than death.
To Senior's question, I had one answer.
"Even if I can't win, I have no choice. I'm the rightful heir of the Julie family, Lapis Julie. If I flee holding your hand, who'd respect the Julies? They'd call me an irresponsible coward dodging responsibility. So I have to fight..."
My words cut off there.
Senior's primed finger-flick nailed my forehead perfectly.
Snap.
"Ow!"
"...Senior?"
Senior had flicked my forehead, but now he clutched his finger, wincing. As I called out in confusion, he cleared his throat awkwardly, schooled his expression, and fixed me with sharp eyes.
"Why fight a battle you can't win, you idiot? If that's your plan, just come with me. I'll help."
"Huh? You, Senior?"
"Yeah. Your senior."
His unshakable confidence and poise left me blurting,
"How?"