Rethan didn't answer the questions or meet anyone's eyes right away. Instead, he drifted a few steps off to the side,like he needed something solid to lean against first,then dropped heavily onto a barrel at the edge of camp. It was the same one where men had been throwing dice earlier, now abandoned, its lid chipped and the sour scent of cheap alcohol still hanging in the air.
He tugged off the glove from his less-burned hand, reached inside, and pulled out a bottle without even checking what it was. It didn't matter. For a moment he just held it, staring ahead,then took a long drink, feeling the burn in his throat. Different from the dungeon's heat. Familiar. Human.
Only then did he look up.
The mages were already a dozen paces away, walking straight ahead,dirty, exhausted, but upright. None of them even glanced toward the camp, the adventurers, or the portal, as if everything behind them had stopped existing the moment they stepped out. A moment later, a woman in House Halven's colors joined them,one of the types who handled logistics and appearances, not combat,and silently pointed them toward the road back to the city.
A few adventurers watched in silence. Some with clenched jaws, others with blank, hollow stares. Finally, someone let out a short snort.
"And good riddance," said a short, broad man by the fire. "Let them go. I've had enough of their blind sprinting."
"Without them, we can do it like we always do," someone else added, leaning on a spear. "Slow. Section by section. No insane stunts."
"Exactly," a third chimed in. "No 'we're rushing the boss because we're in a hurry.' A normal raid,like people, not idiots."
Rethan listened for a few beats, drinking again. Then he smiled crookedly,an expression with no humor in it at all.
"The boss won't be getting in your way anymore," he said calmly, without raising his voice.
Several heads snapped toward him.
"What?" someone blurted.
"What do you mean it won't?" another demanded.
Rethan set the bottle down on the ground, rested his elbows on his knees, and finally looked at all of them.
"It's dead," he said. "The dungeon's head is gone."
For a moment nobody spoke, as if the words needed time to reach the right place.
"Wait…" someone started uncertainly. "That means…"
"You actually took it down?" another asked, disbelieving.
"Yes," Rethan replied.
And before anyone could celebrate or fire off more questions, he added in the same even tone:
"The six adventurers who went in with us aren't coming back."
The silence that followed was different from before,heavier, more personal. Now everyone knew exactly who it was about. A few people reflexively looked toward the portal, still hoping someone else might step through.
"Six…" someone whispered.
"Captains…" another added, stunned.
Someone slammed a fist into a crate.
"Damn it," they growled. "I knew it would end like this."
"Boss dead," the older man by the fire said slowly. "That's good. Truly good."
Then he exhaled hard.
"But six people…" he finished, eyes dropping.
Some couldn't hide their relief,the image of fighting a boss of that rank vanishing in an instant, along with the fear that they'd be the ones facing it. Others were furious, openly, without trying to rein it in.
"It's their fault," someone snapped. "Those fucking mages and their 'faster, faster.'"
"If we'd gone in normally…" another began, then cut himself off.
"Don't pretend they'd all live," a third snarled. "But maybe they wouldn't have all died at once."
A few people looked at Rethan then,really looked,taking in the burns, the melted armor, the stiffness in his movements, the arm he barely used.
"You can barely stand yourself," someone said quietly.
Rethan shrugged with his good shoulder.
"I got lucky," he said. "And I've got experience."
Another brief silence fell. Then Rethan straightened with visible effort, hissed softly through the pain, and looked at the three captains who had stayed behind in camp instead of going in.
"We didn't clear the whole dungeon," he said. "The boss is down, but the beasts are still in there."
He nodded toward the entrance.
"You three take command. Split the people into rotations, go in by sections, and clear anything that's still moving before the extraction crew shows up. No charges, no showing off,do it the way you always do."
His gaze sharpened.
"I don't want anyone else dying to that dungeon."
The captains nodded one after another, no argument. Every one of them knew it was the only sane option.
Rethan sank back onto the barrel, shut his eyes for a moment, and took a shallow, painful breath. The fight was over. The work wasn't.
He didn't linger by the fire any longer than he had to. He knew that if he sat for even a few more minutes, he might not be able to get up under his own power. So he stood slowly from the barrel, leaving the bottle where it was, and started toward the road to the city. When he passed the first wagons, someone from camp caught up at a quick pace and asked bluntly if he was going to report to the Guild Leader.
Rethan only nodded. He didn't have the strength,or the desire,for more.
A moment later two others fell in beside him: an older adventurer experienced with reports, and a younger logistics runner. Neither said anything. They just positioned themselves at his sides, ready to catch him if he faltered, though none of them spoke that aloud.
The road into the city was almost empty. The night was deep, and the houses lining the street were dark and shut, with only a few windows still lit,more insomnia than normal life. Their footsteps echoed softly off the cobblestones, carrying farther than they should have in the quiet.
"What time is it?" Rethan asked after a while, more to orient himself than out of curiosity.
"After three," the older man answered. "A little past."
Rethan nodded like it confirmed something and kept walking, feeling each step slow, the pain in his shoulder and leg rising,not in waves anymore, but steadily, without breaks, like his body had finally remembered everything at once.
The Adventurers' Guild building rose in front of them,massive and dark, with a few lamps burning by the entrance. Inside, to their surprise, the receptionist was still there, seated behind the counter with a cup of cold tea and the entry ledger. She looked up the moment the doors opened.
When she saw Rethan, she froze.
"By the gods…" she began, eyes fixed on his burns, his melted gear, his exhausted face. "Did… did something terrible happen?"
Rethan made a small motion with his hand, cutting off her spiraling guesswork,though the gesture clearly hurt.
"The boss is dead," he said quietly. "Tell Otto I'm filing a report. Now."
She didn't ask more. What she could see was enough. She only nodded, then hurried up the stairs, her steps louder than they should've been as she reached one of the doors on the upper floor and started pounding without ceremony.
"Otto!" she shouted. "Wake up,urgent!"
A muffled, irritated voice came from inside.
"Yeah, yeah!" someone barked. "What the hell happened at this hour?!"
The door cracked open, and Otto,still in night clothes,squinted at the receptionist.
"What's so important you're trying to break my door down?" he demanded roughly.
"Rethan's downstairs," she said fast. "He's back with a report from the dungeon."
That was enough.
Otto didn't ask questions. He let out a short breath, said he'd be down in a minute, and shut the door. A moment later came quick movements, shuffling, and curses under someone's breath,the sound of a man dressing in a hurry.
The minute passed quickly.
Otto came down already dressed, still fastening his belt. He stopped mid-step when he saw Rethan leaning lightly against a pillar, face drawn past exhaustion, body clearly having paid a brutal price for whatever had happened inside.
Otto moved faster than his age and the stiffness of night should've allowed, because seeing the raid leader in that state was enough to wipe away whatever sleep remained. When he spoke, there was more tension than anger in his voice.
"It went bad?" he asked sharply, eyes flicking over burns, melted gear, and the arm held too stiffly. "Damn it, Rethan,what happened in there?"
Rethan slowly shook his head. The motion was minimal, but clear.
"The boss is dead," he said calmly, like he was reporting a dry fact and not something that had cost lives.
Otto froze for a moment, like his mind needed a beat to process it, then reflexively reached toward him.
"You need a medic," he said. "Or at least…"
"Not now," Rethan cut him off, shaking his head again,harder this time, and it clearly hurt. He met Otto's eyes directly.
"First the report."
His gaze shifted to the office door.
"Get two glasses of something strong," he added. "And sit down. I'm going to tell you exactly how that raid went,start to finish."
Otto frowned, because Rethan's tone left no room for dismissal or easy reassurances. After a brief pause, he exhaled through his nose,like a man realizing his night was over.
"Come on," he said at last, stepping aside and gesturing him in. "I can tell this won't be a short conversation."