Forty civilians.

For anyone else, that number alone would've meant despair. Protecting even half of them from a dungeon outbreak was close to impossible.

But not a single one of them was trembling.

Their eyes were fixed on the dark-haired woman standing at the front. Her presence alone was enough to steady their hearts.

Rachel moved like flowing water. Every vine, every whip of thorns that lashed toward her—she slipped past them with effortless grace, her steps so light it seemed as if she barely touched the ground.

And when the plants overextended, losing their balance and tangling among themselves—

"Get lost."

The words were flat, almost lazy.

Then came the surge.

It wasn't even a spell, just pure mana bursting outward in a violent wave. Yet the mana itself was different—alive, brimming with form.

It roared, reshaping into something primal.

A tiger made of flame leapt from her aura, its body surging forward with terrifying heat. It crashed into the armored Rose Knights, burning them from within. Their once-impenetrable shells split apart like brittle wood, and scorched petals scattered across the floor.

The civilians gasped. Some covered their mouths in awe, others whispered prayers—but none could look away.

Flame Tiger.

One of Rachel's signatures.

Her constitution was rare—her mana didn't just carry energy, it mimicked form. It could take on the nature of whatever she willed. A flame could become a beast, lightning could strike in the shape of a spear, water could twist like living serpents.

The drawback was clear: compared to a carefully constructed spell, the same amount of mana produced less refined power. But what she lost in efficiency, she gained tenfold in instinct. No incantations, no calculations—only will.

And Rachel's will was overwhelming.

With her vast mana pool, brute force was never a problem. Her raw reserves were enough to drown the flaw entirely, turning what should've been a weakness into a devastating advantage.

The Flame Tiger dissolved into fading embers, but the civilians still stared as though the beast was there, prowling among them.

Rachel rolled her shoulders once, her expression unreadable.

"To think they'd throw this kind of trash at us," she muttered under her breath. "How boring."

The civilians exchanged glances, some even smiling nervously. With her here, fear was unnecessary.

"That's quite the powerful attack you've got there, Inspector."

At the sound of that familiar voice, Rachel turned—and sure enough, Professor Lena was standing there.

"Professor, don't tease me," Rachel said, shaking her head quickly. "We need to hurry and find Rin. This place isn't safe."

She didn't mean to sound snappy, but Lena's presence always had that effect. Compared to her, Rachel felt like she was still a kid fumbling with training wheels.

Lena wasn't just an A-rank hero in name—she carried herself with precision, guiding monsters away from civilians while making sure her attacks never strayed too close. Even in the chaos, she seemed untouchable, untiring, sharp as a blade and soft as a shield at the same time.

Rachel knew her own abilities weren't weak, but standing next to Lena only made the gap painfully clear.

"Well, they weren't aggressive at first," Lena remarked, her tone calm as her eyes swept the battlefield. A dozen monsters thrashed and tangled with each other where she had subtly herded them. "But notice how their behavior changes. Once they're struck, they send a signal—like a ripple through the hive. That agitation spreads, and more of them turn hostile."

Rachel's lips pressed thin. She had noticed, but only after the damage was done. When one terrified civilian had panicked and thrown something at a passing monster, it had triggered the entire chain reaction.

Lena, though, had already put the pieces together. She always did.

Straightening, the professor raised her voice, clear and steady over the din.

"Everyone, please stay calm! This dungeon appeared suddenly, but I am Professor Lena, an A-rank hero. And with me is Inspector Rachel Evans, a B-rank hero you all know. If you follow our instructions, we will clear the dungeon and you'll all return home safely. So please—hold your ground and be patient."

Her words settled over the crowd like a warm blanket. Where moments ago there had been frantic whispers and nervous shuffling, now there was quiet. Uneasy, yes—but steadier.

Rachel caught sight of a boy perched on his father's shoulders, eyes sparkling with open excitement. A girl clutched a plush toy to her chest, grinning wide as though this was nothing more than a live-action hero show.

Rachel let out a breath. Children always had that way of seeing things differently—innocence that turned danger into spectacle. She hoped they'd never have to learn how ugly the real thing could get.

Still, seeing their trust, their excitement, it stoked something fierce in her chest. She tightened her grip on her weapon, standing taller at Lena's side.

The civilians had calmed, at least on the surface. But Rachel could still see the tension in their shoulders, the way some clutched their belongings like lifelines. They were trusting Lena's words, yes—but trust was fragile in a place like this. One scream, one slip, and panic could flood back instantly.

Rachel's gaze flicked toward the edges of the chamber. The plants writhed unnaturally, roots creeping through cracks in the stone, as though the dungeon itself was listening. Watching.

"This is still the outer layer," Lena said, stepping lightly across the broken ground. Her voice was even, but her eyes gleamed sharp. "The core hasn't revealed itself yet. Which means the distortion hasn't fully stabilized."

"…So more things can spawn." Rachel's grip on her weapon tightened.

Lena hummed faintly in agreement. "Exactly. The worst thing we can do is scatter or lose formation. The monsters here… they don't need to kill us outright. If they buy enough time for the dungeon to stabilize, we'll be fighting a completely different beast."

Rachel hated that calm certainty. Not because Lena was wrong—but because she herself would've never worded it that way. Her instincts screamed to rush ahead, burn everything until no roots were left standing.

But watching Lena—how her presence alone seemed to knit people together, how her reasoning guided them like a hand on their backs—Rachel forced herself to stay in rhythm.

"Then we need to move fast," Rachel said, her voice cutting sharper than she intended. "Before more civilians get dragged into this."

At that moment, Lena's expression shifted ever so slightly, and she murmured under her breath, almost to herself.

"I just hope Rin is all right."

Rachel's head turned immediately, eyes narrowing.

"He is," she said firmly. "I'd know if he wasn't. He's my brother."

Lena blinked, then let out a quiet laugh, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "…Yeah. He'll be fine. Besides, he made me a promise."

Rachel raised a brow. "A promise? What kind?"

"That he wouldn't push himself," Lena answered, her tone soft but steady. "And Rin's not the type to break his word with me. He's probably tucked away somewhere safe right now, waiting it out."

Rachel's lips pressed together. For just a second, something like a chill slipped down her spine, an instinct warning her not to take those words at face value.

But the dungeon shifted again, roots trembling through the floor, and the moment passed as quickly as it came.

She exhaled, brushing the unease aside, and moved back to the rear to watch the civilians.