Light stepped forward and held out a hand.

  “A-are…” he stammered, breathless, “are you alright?”

  Rain grabbed his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet.

  He couldn’t believe it. Light had just saved his life. Rain had already braced for impact, ready to die. The moment before, he had accepted it—accepted that this was where everything ended.

  He wanted to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come. Light had genuinely saved his life, and Rain didn’t know how to respond to that.

  His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, the air feeling as though it had been knocked clean out of him. Thankfully, the scent of blood wasn’t overwhelming, dulled by the thick smoke clogging the air. When Rain looked behind him, his heart sank. The fire had spread far faster than he’d anticipated. The fight had lasted at least five full minutes, and now the entrance of the fortress was completely consumed by flames.

  “I—” Rain stuttered, instinctively clutching his injured arm and applying pressure. He winced, then forced himself to straighten. “I’m alright. Thanks.”

  After a brief pause, he spoke again, his voice tired.

  “Let the prisoners out.”

  For a moment, it seemed like Light had completely forgotten. His eyes widened before he snapped back into motion, sprinting toward the cages holding the women. He shattered the locks one by one, pulling them open and helping the captives out. Most of the women were crying, their bodies trembling uncontrollably, while others whispered broken words of gratitude through choked sobs.

  Once he finished, Light moved toward the men, checking desperately to see if any of them were still alive.

  Rain pulled off his shirt, clenching his jaw as pain flared through his body. He tore the fabric in half, wrapping one piece tightly around his wounded arm and knotting it with shaking fingers. The other half he tied around his leg, grimacing as the cloth pressed against the cut. After taking a deep breath, he made his way over to the men as well.

  Together, they found only four survivors out of the fifteen. They pulled the living men down from the wooden planks, but none of them could stand on their own. Each clung weakly to life, barely conscious. Even the women—who hadn’t been tortured—looked utterly exhausted, their faces pale and hollow.

  Light stared down at the men lying motionless on the ground.

  “What should we do?” he asked quietly.

  Rain exhaled heavily.

  “I’ll drag two. You drag two.”

  Rain hooked an arm under each man’s shoulder and began pulling them forward. Their weight wasn’t unbearable, but every step sent sharp pain through his injured arm, making the effort miserable. Sweat mixed with ash as his body protested each movement.

  They gathered into a small huddle—Rain, Light, the women, and the injured men. One of the younger girls spoke up, her voice shaking.

  “W-what should we do? The entrance is on fire!”

  Light hesitated, clearly unsure. Slowly, the group’s attention shifted toward Rain.

  Why… why am I always the one who has to answer?

  He sighed.

  “Light… we have to go back through the wooden hole we used before.”

  From the look on Light’s face, Rain could tell he’d come to the same conclusion. Maybe Light had just wanted to hear Rain’s opinion out loud.

  They moved quickly. The women went first, squeezing through the hole one by one as the fire spread relentlessly behind them. The heat grew unbearable, flames racing along the fortress walls. Within a minute, the entire structure would be engulfed. Each woman crawled through as fast as their exhausted body’s allowed, though it still felt painfully slow.

  Once all the women were through, Light followed, dragging one of the unconscious men with him. Rain passed the other man through the opening, then pulled the two men he’d been dragging toward the hole himself.

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  Finally, Rain climbed through last.

  By the time he emerged on the other side, his entire body ached, his limbs trembling from exhaustion and pain.

  Everyone—including Rain—collapsed onto the ground. Light was the only one still standing, likely because he was the only one who had leveled up. He didn’t even look exhausted. His body and face were barely sweaty.

  Is level four really that different from level one?

  Rain regretted taking on the two stronger goblins instead of the three weaker ones. Then again, he had only truly fought one of them. Light had killed the other.

  The thought was cut short as Rain suddenly remembered the remaining time. Panic surged through him, and he forced himself to stand. Most of the women didn’t even know what was happening.

  They were part of the same group that had run away from Ashlore—the moment Ashlore had brutally killed that man.

  Ashlore hadn’t spoken much. His words had been few, but important. The status screen. The tower. The rules.

  Yet these women didn’t even know how to bring up their status screens. They didn’t know how to access their weapons. They didn’t know they had a time limit—or that failing it meant death.

  Thinking back, Rain remembered something.

  He opened his status screen and went straight to his inventory. The moment he saw it, he felt like an idiot.

  A health potion.

  It materialized into his hand, appearing out of thin air. A small green bottle rested in his palm. Surprisingly, the energy radiating from it felt calm and peaceful—the complete opposite of this floor.

  Rain glanced at the group. They were no help right now, but he needed to confirm something. He raised his voice.

  “Guys!”

  After a moment, everyone looked his way.

  “I want you to think about the screen—the game-like screen that brought you here.”

  The women looked confused and distressed. After several moments, a few of them remembered. Shock spread as those who understood explained it to the others.

  They stood there, staring at something they had never been taught how to use.

  Rain could’ve explained it further. Morally, he probably should have. But he didn’t feel like it.

  “I want all of you to open your inventory,” Rain continued. “You should see a weapon. Each of you has one designed to fit you perfectly.”

  He paused, his tone steady—confident enough that it might have impressed Ashlore.

  “If you see anything else besides a weapon, tell me.”

  After a few moments, voices rose.

  “I have a knife.”

  “Why do I have a sword?”

  No one mentioned anything else.

  Especially not a potion.

  So it’s just me.

  Rain stepped closer to Light and whispered,

  “Roxy’s probably mana-exhausted.”

  He cleared his throat quietly.

  “Take the prisoners to her. Keep them safe.”

  Light frowned.

  “But… what about you?”

  “Don’t worry,” Rain said. “Just make sure Roxy’s safe. I’ll find the others who split up from us. And I’ll kill the remaining goblins that escaped the fortress.”

  Light thought it over, then nodded. He spoke quietly with the women, likely giving them only what little information he could.

  They began moving around the burning fortress. Light carried two of the men while the women dragged the other two.

  Rain walked in the opposite direction—toward the goblins.

  There had to be around thirty left. At least, that’s what Rain hoped.

  There was a reason he had lied about going to find the others. With only thirty eight minutes left on the timer, it was impossible to comb through the vast forest and locate everyone who had scattered. Even if he ran without stopping, he wouldn’t make it in time.

  He also didn’t want the prisoners slowing him down. And frankly, Light’s overwhelming sympathy would have slowed him as well. If Light stayed, he would hesitate. He would try to protect everyone at once. Rain didn’t have the time—or the patience—for that.

  That was why Rain had sent Light away with the prisoners instead of fighting alongside him. Fighting with Light meant fighting with exhausted women who couldn’t lift a weapon—women who would only cry and scream in the background, turning every moment into chaos.

  It sounded cruel when he thought about it.

  But it was true.

  The best-case scenario was simple. Light might be able to nurse Roxy back into fighting condition. And if that miracle happened, she could possibly unleash another fire spell on the remaining goblins.

  That was the hope.

  Though… Rain knew it was unlikely.

  As he walked, he uncorked the health potion and drank it, immediately coughing.

  The scent was minty—surprisingly pleasant. The aura around it felt gentle and calming. The taste, however, was horrid.

  It tasted like trash. Literal trash.

  Rain swallowed it anyway. Midway through, he stopped walking. He breathed in deeply. The air was filled with smoke, corpses, and fire—but somehow, the potion made him notice the good parts beneath it.

  His body felt refreshed, as though he’d just woken up after a perfect night’s sleep. He felt twice as good as he had when he first entered the tower.

  His muscles tightened—not stronger, but fuller. Alive.

  When Rain lifted the cloth tied around his arm, the wound was gone. He checked his leg. Healed. Even the cut from hours ago—the one from the first goblin on the first floor—had vanished.

  For a brief moment, guilt surfaced.

  That potion could’ve healed one of the tortured men. Maybe even two if he’d shared it.

  But as Rain kept walking, he dismissed the thought.

  Even if he saved them, they would probably die later anyway. They were the ones who ran from Ashlore. The ones who put themselves in that situation.

  If they hadn’t been cowards, maybe it would’ve been worth it.

  Saving them felt useless.

  A waste.