Lucas crouched low in the thick underbrush, his sharp gaze fixed on the three adventurers emerging from the dungeon's entrance. Their ragged breaths and dirt-covered faces told the story of a hard-fought battle, but instead of relief, tension crackled between them like a frayed wire.
The first boy, his expression twisted with frustration, spat, "This is all your fault! Your job is to warn us when something's coming! We took you in for this!"
The girl, clearly drained, threw up her hands. "I told you, I'm terrible at tracking magic! I did what I could!"
The third member, a taller, older boy with a steady voice, sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Enough. Fighting among ourselves won't help. We'll just be more careful next time."
The first boy scoffed, his voice sharp as a blade. "Next time? If I hadn't spotted that last monster in time, there wouldn't be a next time!"
Lucas, hidden in the shadows, watched with a mixture of irritation and amusement. "What a pathetic team," he murmured under his breath. "They'll never survive at this rate."
But then—something shifted.
A massive shadow loomed behind them.
Lucas's breath hitched as his sharp eyes locked onto the creature emerging from the dungeon's maw—an Ironhide Behemoth.
A B-rank monster. Towering, armored, and nearly impervious to conventional weapons.
The three adventurers were too consumed in their argument to notice death creeping up behind them.
Lucas ground his teeth, wrestling with the storm of possibilities that surged within. Walk away. Let them meet their fate. It would shield his secret, ensure his mother's safety—at least for now. Or intervene. Step in and save them. A reckless gamble that might shatter his carefully constructed anonymity and place his mother in harm's way. The weight of the decision bore down like a tightening vise, with no path free of consequences.
"If I help them, people might start asking questions… They might find out about Mom. About me."
But then, a memory from his past life flashed through his mind—the blood, the screams, the countless lives he had taken. A life where he had always chosen death.
"This time… I will be different."
Decision made, Lucas moved.
He stepped out of the shadows, his fingers drawing an arrow in one fluid motion.
THWACK!
The arrow flew, slicing through the air with deadly precision and striking the Behemoth's thick hide. It barely left a scratch, but it did what it needed to—it got the monster's attention.
Lucas's voice rang through the clearing.
"LOOK OUT! IRONHIDE BEHEMOTH!"
The adventurers froze. Their eyes widened in pure, unfiltered terror as they turned—just in time to see death staring back at them.
For a moment, they were paralyzed.
Lucas grit his teeth. "MOVE, YOU IDIOTS!"
He fired another arrow, this time aiming near its eye. The Behemoth roared, momentarily thrown off as the projectile glanced off its hardened skin. Its massive claw swung down—but the attack missed.
Lucas didn't stop. His hands moved on instinct, drawing and releasing arrows in rapid succession, forcing the monster to stay focused on him instead of them.
The older boy snapped out of his daze. "Formation! Now!"
Lucas kept firing, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. This wasn't just about them anymore.
This was about him.
About proving that he could be more than just a killer.
The Ironhide Behemoth let out a deep, guttural growl as arrows struck its thick, rusted armor. It staggered back slightly, not in pain, but in irritation. Lucas took the chance and sprinted toward the bickering adventurers, his frustration boiling over.
"What the hell are you all doing?!" he snapped, his voice cutting through their panic. "I can't handle this thing alone—help me, now!"
The leader, a tall boy with short black hair, hesitated. His eyes darted between Lucas and the approaching monster. "S-Sorry! Tell us what to do!"
Before Lucas could respond, the second boy—shorter, bulkier, and clearly filled with unchecked rage—gritted his teeth and unsheathed his sword. His voice was sharp with anger.
"Are you serious? You're asking a kid for orders? What kind of leader are you?"
Without waiting for an answer, he charged forward, sword raised high.
"Watch me handle this myself!"
Lucas's eyes widened. "No, wait—!"
Too late.
The boy swung his sword with everything he had, aiming straight for the Behemoth's chest. But the blade clanged uselessly against the monster's iron-plated hide, barely making a scratch.
The Behemoth's red eyes gleamed.
With a thunderous roar, it swung its massive arm. The blow connected squarely with the reckless boy's side, sending him flying through the air like a ragdoll.
"Damn it!" Lucas hissed.
Without thinking, he jumped—catching the airborne boy mid-air and twisting his body to absorb some of the impact. But the sheer force of the blow was too much.
Both of them crashed back into the remaining teammates.
The entire team slammed into a thick tree, bark shattering on impact. The force left them gasping for air, pain searing through their bodies.
A tense silence followed, the sound of the Behemoth's heavy footsteps growing closer.
Lucas groaned, pushing himself up despite the ache spreading through his ribs. The others lay sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
"Pathetic," he muttered.
He stepped toward them slowly, each step measured, his cold eyes scanning their bruised forms. Then he crouched down, meeting their dazed gazes.
"Listen up," he said, voice low and sharp. "If you want to stay alive, fight as a team. Attack together, or you'll die. Simple as that."
The leader, still winded, looked up at him, then past him—his eyes widening as he saw the Behemoth stalking toward them.
"O-Okay! We'll listen!" he stammered. Then, swallowing his pride, he added, "My name is Karis. I lead this team."
Lucas didn't even glance at him.
"We don't have time for introductions," he said flatly, turning his head slightly toward the advancing monster. "If we survive this, then we can talk."
The Behemoth let out another monstrous roar, its armored body gleaming in the dim light of the forest.
Lucas narrowed his eyes.
"Now… get up and fight."