The third sector didn’t look like the modern subway system anymore. The cracked concrete tracks had completely vanished, swallowed up by thick, calcified roots that pulsed with a faint, greasy purple light.

Sang-woo’s two hired vanguards weren’t laughing anymore. Their shields were covered in deep, jagged gouges from the last skirmish with a pack of stone-scaled hounds, and their breathing came in loud, ragged gasps through their visors.

"We camp here for twenty minutes," Sang-woo announced, his voice tight. He was leaning heavily against a jagged rock wall, his silk cloak stained with black fluid. He looked at his mana ring, which was flashing a dull amber color. "The boss chamber is right around the next bend. Everyone top off your meters."

Min-ah immediately went to work. She unbuckled her leather pouch, pulling out a rare, glowing Tier 2 mana crystal that she had hidden away. She didn’t offer it to the tired hires, and she definitely didn’t look at Jun-ho. She pressed it into Sang-woo’s hands, her voice dropping into that familiar, sweet whisper that Jun-ho used to find so comforting.

"Take it, Sang-woo," she said, her fingers lingering over his gold-trimmed gloves. "You need to be at full power for the final spell. The Sun God Guild scouts are going to review the combat log from this sector. If your damage metrics are the highest, the contract is yours."

Sang-woo gripped the crystal, a smug, greedy smile returning to his face. "Don’t worry. Once the vanguard locks the target down, I’ll drop the whole ceiling on it. What about the trash?" He nodded casually toward the corner where Jun-ho sat.

Min-ah glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes were completely cold, checking to see if Jun-ho was paying attention. "I’ll handle him. He’s always been easy to manage."

She stood up, smoothing down her leather vest, and walked over to the dark corner where Jun-ho was resting on his cracked iron shield. She dropped to her knees right in front of him, her face instantly shifting into a mask of deep, trembling worry. She reached out, her soft hands catching his dirt-stained fingers.

"Jun-ho," she whispered, her eyes turning shiny, as if she were on the verge of tears. "Are you okay? I saw how hard you hit the track earlier. My heart almost stopped."

Jun-ho looked down at her hands wrapping around his. In his past life, this exact moment had filled him with a surge of desperate adrenaline. He had told her he would gladly die for her. Now, he just felt a profound, exhausting detachment. He could see the tiny, nervous twitch in her jaw—the sign that she was lying through her teeth.

"My armor is holding up," Jun-ho said, keeping his voice slightly raspy, playing the part of the tired, loyal idiot.

"Good," she said, squeezing his hand tighter. "Listen to me... the boss inside is a Tier 3 Flame Hound. Its initial charge is incredibly violent. The two hired vanguards are going to take the flanks, but I need someone I can truly trust to hold the center. I need you to use your Provoke skill the second the doors open."

"The center?" Jun-ho asked, looking her right in the eyes. "If I take the full charge of a Tier 3 boss with this shield, the recoil will break my ribs, Min-ah. I don’t have enough health potions for that."

Min-ah’s grip stiffened for a fraction of a second, her sweet smile wavering before she forced it back. "I know it’s dangerous, Jun-ho. But think about our future. Once Sang-woo gets his guild contract, he promised to bring both of us into the subsidiary team. This is the last hard day we’ll ever have to face. Just take the hit for me. Please?"

"For our future," Jun-ho repeated. The words tasted like ash.

"Yes," she whispered, leaning in closer, her voice thick with fake emotion. "I’ll be right behind you the entire time. The second the hound strikes your shield, I’ll use my wind magic to pull you back to the safe zone. I swear."

It was the exact same promise she had made back then. The promise that ended with her using that exact same wind magic to slam the iron doors shut on his face while he bled on the stone floor.

"Okay," Jun-ho said, letting his shoulders slump as if he had given in to her charm. "I’ll hold the center."

Min-ah’s eyes flared with a sudden, vicious spark of relief. She let go of his hands and stood up quickly, not even bothering to look back at him as she hurried to Sang-woo’s side.

"He’ll do it," Jun-ho heard her whisper, her voice entirely devoid of the tenderness she had just used on him. "He’ll take the first three bursts. Prepare your casting circle."

From across the dark camp, near the medical supply cart, a sharp snip echoed through the cavern.

Eun-bi was standing there, using her heavy trauma shears to cut a strip of clean white gauze. She didn’t look at Min-ah, but her eyes locked onto Jun-ho through the shadows. She let out a short, quiet snort of disgust, shaking her head. She knew exactly what Jun-ho was doing. He wasn’t walking into a trap; he was letting them build their own gallows.

She walked over to his corner under the pretense of checking his gear, dropping a heavy roll of medical tape next to his boot.

"You’re a really good actor, you know that?" Eun-bi muttered, her back to the rest of the group as she pretended to inspect his shoulder guards. "If the hunter thing doesn’t work out, you could make a living doing television dramas. The look of pathetic devotion on your face was almost disgusting."

"Thanks," Jun-ho said, a dry chuckle escaping his throat. "I’ve had years of practice being her fool. It’s hard to break old habits."

"Just make sure you don’t overplay it," Eun-bi said, her voice dropping into a serious, blunt whisper. "That hound inside isn’t a joke. Even with your stats, if you let it hit you without your shield up, the heat alone will singe your eyebrows off. And I don’t feel like treating facial burns today."

"I have a new skill," Jun-ho said, his fingers tracing the edge of his cracked iron plate. "The one I bought from the black market yesterday. It mutated."

Eun-bi paused, her shears freezing over the gauze. "Mutated? What does it do?"

"It stores kinetic force," Jun-ho said, looking up at her with a calm, dark clarity that made the air around them feel suddenly heavy. "Every time they try to push me, every time the monster hits me... the system multiplies that force by five hundred percent and holds it in my frame. On Sunday—today—when she tries to use her wind magic to shove me into the room..."

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Eun-bi didn’t need him to. She looked at his hands, then down at the floor beneath his milk crate, which was already showing tiny, hair-line fractures from his unconscious weight.

A sharp, dangerous smile cut across Eun-bi’s tired face. She jammed her shears back into her belt. "Well then. I guess I’ll make sure I’m standing right by the door mechanism. You know, just in case the manual lever ’accidentally’ jams when they try to run out."

"I’d appreciate that," Jun-ho said.

"Alright, circus act is moving!" Sang-woo’s loud, arrogant voice boomed through the cavern, cutting their conversation short. He stood up, his mana ring glowing a bright, active blue. His two hired vanguards raised their walls, their faces grim. "The boss room is forty meters ahead. Jun-ho, get your ass to the front line. Don’t make us wait for the meat."

Jun-ho stood up from his plastic crate. He picked up his cracked iron vanguard shield, slinging the old leather strap over his arm. He didn’t look like a hero. He looked like the same broken, tired guy who had died in the dark three years ago.

But as he walked past Eun-bi, she caught the faint, deep hum of mana vibrating through his clothes—a sound so low and powerful it made the water puddles on the track ripple in perfect, rhythmic circles.

The doors of the boss chamber were visible now, covered in ancient soot and glowing with a dull, volcanic red heat from the monster inside. Min ah stayed five paces behind him, her hands already glowing with the pale green light of her wind magic, her eyes fixed entirely on his back.

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