CHAPTER 25: BETRAYAL

Samuel finally moved.

"Enough."

The single word cut through the chaos like a blade.

"Everyone," he roared, "RETREAT. Come behind me!"

Relief hit the students like water to the dying.

"Yes!"

"We’re saved!"

"Sir Samuel—"

They staggered back, dragging the wounded, as Samuel stepped forward at last.

A golem lunged, its arms glowing. Samuel’s sword carved through it in one stroke. Another swung a hammer—he sidestepped and severed its runic core with surgical precision. He fought like a god among mortals, his calm footwork and devastating strikes reducing the monsters to rubble with minimal effort.

The students realized, with gut-wrenching shame, that he could have ended this long ago.

When the last wave faltered, Samuel pulled a crimson stone from his belt. It pulsed like a living heart, glowing in his palm.

"Everyone," he barked, "link hands. One of you hold me. Now."

They scrambled, bloodied and terrified, grabbing whoever was closest.

"If anyone fails to comply," Samuel said coldly, "they will be left behind."

No one dared argue.

The red stone’s glow intensified.

Oliver was at the back, forced in with Jason, Liam, and Marcus. His chest still ached from the blows he’d endured, his hands trembling. Finally... finally, they were going to leave this nightmare—

Jason smirked. Liam and Marcus exchanged a knowing look.

Oliver felt his stomach drop.

The red stone’s light surged, wrapping the group in its glow. Samuel’s voice thundered: "Hold tight!"

Liam’s boot slammed into Oliver’s chest.

He staggered back, eyes wide in disbelief.

The light consumed the group—

And Oliver was thrown out of it.

"No!" His scream echoed across the chamber. His outstretched hand grasped only empty air.

The trio’s faces twisted in cruel satisfaction as they vanished with the others.

The glow faded. Silence fell.

Oliver stood alone.

Abandoned.

The silence crushed him more than the battle ever could.

Around him, shattered golems lay still, their glowing cores flickering faintly. The runes on the walls pulsed, humming with ominous life, feeding deeper into the dungeon.

Oliver’s breath came sharp, his body trembling.

"They... they left me..."

The words echoed back to him in the hollow ruin.

The red stone had taken everyone away. Even Samuel. Even Amy. Even Daniel.

He was alone.

On the twentieth floor.

~~~~~

[10th Floor – After the Return]

A crimson flash blinded their eyes, and the next moment, solid stone formed beneath their feet.

Someone gasped.

"We... returned?"

Another voice cried out, trembling, "We made it back!"

Relief broke like a dam. Dozens of voices, some sobbing, some laughing shakily, filled the air. Students collapsed to their knees, clutching each other as though afraid the dungeon would drag them back at any second.

"We did it... we actually got back..." one boy whispered, tears running down his dust-streaked face.

There were others who couldn’t speak at all—only crying, their swords clattering uselessly to the floor. A few girls sat down heavily, clutching their bloodied clothes as if holding themselves together. Even Daniel and his elite party, who had done most of the fighting, leaned heavily against the cracked dungeon wall, their chests heaving. Their eyes were sharp but hollow—exhaustion gnawing at their pride.

But none of them forgot where they were.

This was still the dungeon. Even if it was "only" the 10th floor, danger lurked in every shadow. A moment’s rest could mean death.

Samuel knew it.

He scanned the group, eyes taking in their pale, sweaty, disheveled faces. Torn uniforms. Blood—not all of it theirs—splattered across their bodies. Their hands shook even as they tried to grip their weapons. His stern face revealed nothing, but inside... a small, satisfied look flickered in his mind.

Good. From now on, they won’t take any fight lightly.

"On your feet!" Samuel’s voice cracked like a whip. "Don’t sit! If you collapse here, you won’t stand again! We are not out yet. Monsters roam these floors, and if you’re half-dead when they find you, you won’t even have time to scream."

The words stung like salt in a wound.

Some students wanted to argue, their faces twisted in silent protest. They wanted to scream, Give us a moment! Let us breathe! But no one had the courage to oppose him.

Samuel’s expression remained iron. "If you want to live, endure it a little longer."

Reluctantly, students staggered back onto their feet. Some leaned on their weapons like crutches. Others nearly toppled again before a classmate caught their shoulder. The atmosphere was heavy—not the arrogance they had carried before, but something closer to dread.

Daniel, despite his trembling legs, straightened his back. He wiped sweat from his brow and forced a calm voice. "Everyone... let’s go. Keep formation. We can still make it back."

With him at the front, they moved.

The descent was nothing like before.

There was no laughter, no boasting. Not a single student cracked a joke. They moved in silence, boots crunching on stone, the only sounds the faint moans of the injured and the occasional distant rumble from the dungeon’s walls.

The knights took point, Samuel ordering them to avoid unnecessary combat. They didn’t fight unless forced to. Every battle now was avoided like poison, because everyone knew—even a single slip could cost them their life.

When a beast did appear, Samuel cut it down in a single motion, giving no chance for the students to get involved. None complained. Not one dared. They were grateful not to fight.

Step by step, floor by floor, they descended. The tension never left.

Finally—

They saw it.

The faint glow of the dungeon’s first floor. The familiar, massive stone gates, engraved with runes, looming in front of them like salvation itself.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, like a dam breaking, the group surged forward.

"The entrance—!"

"It’s there! We’re out!"

"Thank the gods..."

They stumbled, ran, and collapsed.

Some students sprawled on the ground just past the gate square, lying face-up in the open air, unable to move another step. Others clutched each other and sobbed in relief. A few vomited, the adrenaline finally crashing out of their bodies.

The sight of the dungeon’s exit was more beautiful to them than any palace or treasure. They were alive. That was all that mattered.

Samuel stood apart, watching silently. He did not scold them this time. Let them cry. Let them vomit. Let them collapse.

They had earned it.

He turned, cloak swaying, and made his way to the Adventurer’s Guild reception at the edge of the square. His boots clicked against the stone, unhurried, as he reported the expedition’s "completion."

The receptionist bowed deeply, her expression stiff as she glanced at the exhausted group of students sprawled outside. Samuel’s report was crisp and without flourish. When he finished, he returned.

"Stand up," he said flatly. "We’re leaving."

The students groaned, but they obeyed. Broken or not, they followed him. None dared to defy him anymore.

And in that chaotic exhaustion...

No one noticed.

No one realized Oliver wasn’t there.

He had been forgotten entirely, erased as though he’d never existed among them. He had no friends. No one worried where he was.

Only three people noticed—the ones responsible. Jason, Liam, and Marcus, trailing at the back, shared a glance. A cruel satisfaction glimmered in their eyes.

Heh. Finally rid of that bug.

And just like that, the group marched away from the dungeon.

Leaving Oliver behind.

Alone.