The monster's piercing shriek echoed through the passageway.
In the next moment, a bloodshot Goblin face lunged out from one side of the wall.
"Gah?!"
Before it could react, a dagger was already buried in its throat.
Bell had carefully avoided the chest, where the Magic Stone was located.
This was going to be a long fight. Even the Goblin's corpse could serve to slow the others down.
Under the phosphorescent glow, the first monster's tragic end was illuminated. Beyond its claws, a dark, surging horde came flooding in.
Too many.
Even mentally prepared, Airmid's face still turned pale at the hellish sight.
Was what she saw earlier just the tip of the iceberg?
Goblins weren't supposed to be pack creatures. What the hell was going on?
Wave after wave of monsters poured in like an emerald tide, washing away the Dea Saint's resolve with ease.
She couldn't protect the boy with her abilities alone. She had neither the weapons to push them back nor the magic to sweep them all away.
All she could do was chant Dia Fratel.
Now, the front line had to be entrusted to the boy.
Airmid didn't act reckless. She stayed back, in a safe position, watching the white-haired youth clash head-on with the oncoming tide.
Malice surged over him like a flood.
Bell kicked the monster's body aside and, taking advantage of the confusion, gripped his blood-streaked dagger tight, driving it clean into a Goblin's throat.
The first one.
Whether enraged by their fallen comrade or driven by cruelty, four Goblins ahead roared and charged, baring teeth and claws.
Bell grabbed the fresh corpse as a shield and pushed forward instead of retreating.
Dark green blood splattered as the youth swung his dagger flat, carving a crescent arc of azure through the air.
The fifth.
"Grah!"
Before the Goblin's body hit the ground, a fresh assault was already underway. Clubs, rusted blades, and claws closed in at once.
Bell dodged the club's crushing blow, parried a rusted longsword with his dagger, and spun downward, kicking a Goblin square in the face.
The heavy club smashed into the floor. Bell didn't waste the opening—he reversed his grip and plunged the dagger into the enemy's chest.
As black mist rose, more claws lunged toward his body.
Danger!
Airmid's pupils widened as she watched the battle unfold.
In mere seconds, the brutal fight had begun.
And then, within the dark mist that marked death, Bell caught a long sword mid-flight, turned, and hurled it—every charging Goblin fell dead on the spot.
His grasp of the battlefield was terrifyingly sharp.
Just how much intense training had he endured?
Airmid finally understood how the two of them had moved so effortlessly during the chase.
Even in the thick of battle, the boy remained calm, reading every movement on the field.
The wave kept coming.
The azure dagger's glow was drowned in Goblin blood—like the battlefield itself, drowned in chaos.
Bell had planned to use the corpses as a natural barrier, but it was pointless. The Goblins ignored the dead, scavenging their own like vultures, treating them as food.
Bell didn't have the luxury to count how many he'd killed or how many were left. He just kept swinging.
Again and again.
His breath grew more ragged, fatigue ripping open gaps in his defense.
A sharp claw tore through his arm.
Blood and flesh burst out.
No time to catch his breath.
A haunting song swept across the battlefield.
"Healing droplets, tears of light, eternal sanctuary. Compose a medicinal hymn-three hundred, sixty, and five. The melody of the healer's almanac saves all things—"
Piercing agony seemed to dissipate under this beautiful chant. Blinding magical light made her silver-white hair dance.
"Dia Fratell!"
The Dea Saint unleashed her Magic. Pure white radiance enveloped the youth. In an instant, his wounds vanished without a trace.
This was more than mere healing. Bell could distinctly feel his depleted stamina fully replenished.
"Truly worthy of the title Dea Saint," the youth murmured in awe before thrusting his blade forward.
"Without my staff or mana-restoring potions, my Magic is limited. Please be extremely careful."
Airmid watched the youth with concern.
This battlefield was no place for her. As the Dea Saint, Airmid's strength lay in support magic, not chaos. With time to prepare and top-tier adventurers at her side, she alone could stand firm even before a Floor Boss.
While the youth possessed formidable combat technique and insight, his stamina was finite. Facing wave after wave of monsters would only compound his injuries.
This was essentially a contest between Airmid's mental energy and the sheer numbers of the monsters.
Goblins poured in relentlessly. At this rate, all hope lay in praying for reinforcements to arrive swiftly.
A diamond-shaped magic circle materialized beneath Airmid's feet. She could distinctly sense the youth's burden intensifying.
Bell's movements remained agile, yet the Goblins he faced grew increasingly formidable. He twisted and turned, dodging deadly strikes, yet opportunities to counter grew scarce.
Wounds tore into the boy's body, only to be instantly healed by radiant light.
This situation was dire.
Was there any way to change the current state of affairs...
"Watch out!"
Airmid pondered, but the youth's voice rang out from ahead.
The ceaseless Dia Fratell seemed to be pierced through by the Goblin, striking directly at Airmid.
Prioritizing the healer?
Monster instinct, or something more sinister?
Bell had no time to ponder this. Using his own body as bait, he barely held the line thanks to Airmid's healing.
From the moment the Goblins ignored him, this battle was doomed to defeat.
Bell roared, swinging the stolen longsword in a fierce horizontal strike. The advancing Goblins fell dead to the blow, yet several still breached the front line.
Without hesitation, the youth stomped the ground and lunged toward Airmid.
Under the Dea Saint's startled and anxious violet gaze—
A dagger pierced the youth's arm, while a broadsword carved a deep gash across his back.
Bell shielded the attack with his own body.
Airmid supported him, tears glistening on her doll-like face.
"Bell!"
It all happened too suddenly. So much so that the Dea Saint only saw the youth's agony, unable to discern anything else.
The sky-blue short blade had already launched its counterattack. The attacking Goblins fell simultaneously.
The youth's wounds healed in the light. Paying no heed to the excruciating pain he'd just endured, he spoke,
"I'm fine."
Airmid couldn't hold back her tears.
The wise youth must have already sensed it.
The battle line collapsed.
What awaited the two of them would be suffering far beyond the torments of hell.
The Dea Saint could no longer hold back her emotions, tears spilling from her eyes.
If the Goblin's target was her, the boy wouldn't be able to rely on his exceptional evasion technique. He'd have no choice but to shield her with his body, just like he had moments ago.
Airmid couldn't help but question herself—could she really let that happen?
A boy who had risked his life to save her.
A youth she admired, who embodied justice and courage.
And now, she was supposed to turn him into a shield?
A human shield, one constantly healed only to be wounded again.
Such a pitiful, disgraceful act was not the future the Dea Saint had ever wished for.
Airmid couldn't do anything.
She, the Dea Saint who had saved so many, now couldn't help the one youth she longed for.
Tears, glimmering with the glow of magic, betrayed her true feelings—falling like delicate gems onto the boy's face.
Faced with the sight, Bell smiled gently.
"I'm sorry."
The youth stood up and wiped the tears from her beautiful face.
Airmid knew full well that he'd ended up in this desperate state because he had chosen to save her.
He had no reason to apologize.
Yet, confronted with this cruel reality, Airmid had neither the standing nor the courage to respond to his words.
But what surprised her was that the reason for his apology revealed itself in an unexpected way.
"...?"
The tide of monsters surged forward.
The youth didn't turn around.
Instead, without the Dea Saint's permission, he lifted her into his arms.