Crunch, crack!
The sound of the pit tearing open echoed through the air. The users waiting quietly at the bottom of the gaping hole all looked up anxiously.
Then, a handful of dust fell with a soft patter, and tangled, crude ropes tumbled down, swaying in midair. Only then did the expressions of those watching the ropes brighten noticeably.
“Istantel Low Road. It’s time for you to go now.”
After a moment, a man gripping the rope tightly spoke with a slightly urgent look. But Han So-young showed no sign of moving.
“You’ve waited long enough.”
“Please, go up first.”
“Istantel Low Road.”
“I’ll wait a little longer…”
The man pleaded earnestly, but Han So-young calmly shook her head. Realizing persuasion was useless, he sighed and gave the rope a couple of strong tugs. Soon, several people outside began pulling the rope, and the man’s body swiftly rose into the air.
That left about ten users still down in the pit, excluding Han So-young. Though she had managed to get most users out safely with quick action after the collapse began, she herself had yet to escape.
Or rather, it would be more accurate to say she hadn’t tried. Even though the rope had been lowered several times, she had refused each chance—by her own choice.
Han So-young tilted her head back and gazed up at the sky for a moment, then lowered her eyes to the passageway she had come down.
A passageway shrouded in darkness.
No one was in sight, no sound stirred. That fact only made her heart more tangled. When would they arrive? The anxious feeling, unfamiliar but sharp, crept in, and she bit her lip quietly.
Tap, tap, tap, tap!
“…!”
Suddenly, a flicker of something unusual crossed her otherwise emotionless eyes. Instinctively, Han So-young raised her magic. She heightened her telekinesis and hearing, focusing intently on the passage.
Tap, tap, tap, tap! Tap, tap, tap, tap!
Footsteps echoed softly.
The sound wasn’t from just one person. At least two, and they were approaching quickly.
As the footsteps drew nearer, a flutter of excitement finally stirred in Han So-young’s eyes. When several shadows gradually came into view, the anxiety pressing on her chest lifted, replaced by a comforting sense of relief that waiting had been worth it.
“Phew.”
She let out a light sigh and slowly looked around. The pit was still collapsing, but showed no sign of giving way just yet. And judging by the ropes that had just dropped again, the rescue of the users who had grabbed the ropes earlier must have finished.
Good. The situation wasn’t bad at all. If she could grab one of these ropes as soon as they arrived, she’d have enough time to climb out.
With that thought, Han So-young turned her gaze to the passage with a faint smile.
But the smile vanished the moment she recognized the users who appeared.
“Huh…?”
No sign of him.
Or rather, he wasn’t there.
Three users were running down the passage: a man, a woman, and another woman carried on the man’s back. They were An Hyun, the martial artist; An Sol, the Radiant Priestess; and Helena, a resident—all people Han So-young knew well.
The important thing was that the mercenary lord she had been desperately waiting for—Kim Soo-hyun—was nowhere to be seen.
What on earth was going on?
Han So-young’s face darkened again as she watched the three approaching.
Clatter, clatter! Clatter, clatter!
Standing on the mine train, An Hyun turned his head back and froze.
“…Hyung?”
Shin Jae-ryong was nowhere to be seen. Go Oh-hwan was gone too.
The two men who had been pushing the train with all their might had vanished.
The meaning was clear. While An Hyun focused on stabilizing the mine train, they had suddenly fallen away.
“Ah…”
He had been lost in thought, but no cries for help, no sounds at all had come from them. They had quietly let go of the train.
An Hyun wasn’t unaware of why Shin Jae-ryong had done this.
“Ah…!”
From the moment Shin Jae-ryong said he would push the train, An Hyun had a bad feeling. But he had tried to ignore it.
Because they had made a promise.
A promise never to die, and that once the train was pushed far enough, they would all get on.
“Ahhh!”
But Shin Jae-ryong broke that promise. He didn’t keep his word to survive together.
It wasn’t sacrifice. Once his strength reached its limit, he became a burden. He did what he could, and in the process, had to lie.
Still.
Even knowing all this, An Hyun couldn’t accept it.
“Liar!”
He collapsed, feeling all his strength drain away. Tears welled up, blurring his vision.
“Liar…!”
His voice, choked with sobs, echoed down the passage. Of course, there was no reply.
“Sniff… sniffle…”
Tears streaming, An Hyun used his spear as a cane to pull himself up. He wiped his tears with trembling hands and tried to look ahead.
But it was hard. Too hard.
He had accepted the reality that Shin Jae-ryong was gone.
He didn’t want to cry… really, he didn’t want to.
He wanted to focus on escaping with Helena.
That was the right thing to do, and he knew it was what Shin Jae-ryong truly wanted.
But his heart wouldn’t listen.
He wanted to find Shin Jae-ryong right now, but it was impossible. He didn’t even know where he had disappeared, and the train, already at full speed, had traveled far along the rails. The very train he had wished to accelerate just moments ago now felt cruelly indifferent.
“Sniff, sniff…”
No matter how many times he wiped his tears, they wouldn’t stop.
Clatter, clatter! Clatter, clatter!
Meanwhile, the mine train thundered down the rails, closing in on the fissure.
Then—
Rrrrreeeeek!
Just as the train nearly caught up to the collapsing fissure, the crack suddenly widened, stretching forward as if refusing to be caught.
Through the widening gap, chunks of earth and rock trembled, some already falling. At this speed, it was clear the train would enter the falling debris’s danger zone.
A clearly perilous situation. Whether the rocks struck the train directly, grazed it, or crashed onto the tracks, all posed a deadly threat. No matter how reinforced the train was, or how fiercely An Hyun struck with his spear, it was impossible to withstand a rain of falling rocks.
There was nothing An Hyun could do. He couldn’t stop the speeding train, nor did he know how to operate it. All he could do was hope the rocks fell slowly enough for the train to break through safely.
Crunch, crack!
But with some distance left before the danger zone, the ceiling betrayed An Hyun’s hopes spectacularly.
A situation worse than the worst—one that might end everything.
But he refused to give in. If it came to the worst, he would abandon the mine train.
Clenching his teeth, An Hyun braced himself.
Suddenly—
Flash!
A point of light blazed into his vision.
For a moment, confusion flickered across An Hyun’s face.
The light across the way closed the distance in an instant. Just then, the falling rocks began to cascade chaotically, as if to block the light’s path.
But the light plunged right through the heart of the rockfall.
What followed left An Hyun dumbfounded.
Flash!
He blinked involuntarily, then opened his eyes to see the light cluster much closer.
Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash!
With each flash, the light danced brilliantly through the rocks like flowing water, untouched by even a speck of dust. Instead, the rocks split in half as the light passed, tumbling helplessly to the sides.
It was unbelievable. Not only did it dodge the torrent of falling rocks, it shattered and cleared them all away. Something An Hyun, even at his best, could never have done.
But then, a sudden realization struck him.
“If it’s the Clan Lord, he must have left a way for us to be rescued.”
Those words from Shin Jae-ryong—the reason An Hyun had kept going despite wanting to give up countless times—now echoed vividly in his mind.
Anhyun instinctively looked up, half hoping, half fearing.
And then, he saw it.
Flash!
Once again, a brilliant light flared. A massive chunk of earth and rock split cleanly in two. From the crack, a gleaming white blade of light spilled out, flooding Anhyun’s vision. That light sliced through the falling debris heading straight for Anhyun’s crown, then spun through the air with a graceful somersault.
As far as Anhyun could recall, only one user could move like that in midair.
“…Hyeoong!”
The moment he recognized the source of the light, Anhyun’s eyes widened to the size of lanterns.
That’s right.
At last, the light—no, Kim Suhyun—had appeared. Just as Shin Jaeryong had promised, he hadn’t abandoned them; he had come to save them.
“Hyung!”
Anhyun shouted again.
Though Kim Suhyun’s face seemed oddly calm amid the chaos, Anhyun felt a wave of relief wash over him. Just knowing Suhyun was here made all the torment he’d endured melt away like snow under the sun, replaced by an inexplicable joy swelling inside him. It was as if the pit of despair they’d been trapped in had suddenly transformed.
Suhyun’s gaze briefly swept past the empty air, drifting downward. Anhyun tilted his head back, straining to see him.
One stood below, the other hovered in midair.
For a fleeting moment, their eyes met.
Suhyun scanned the train briefly, then pointed down the corridor ahead and spoke.
“Shin Jaeryong is…!”
Before he could finish, Anhyun instinctively pointed to the opposite passage.
At the same time they indicated opposite directions—
Clatter, clatter! Clatter, clatter!
The train rumbled steadily over the dust-covered rails.
Flash!
The light flickered, and Kim Suhyun vanished.
He and Anhyun passed each other like fleeting shadows.
Several tens of minutes earlier.
Clatter! Clatter-clatter! Clatter! Clatter-clatter!
A mining train screamed as if about to derail at any moment, while two men gripped its rear, pushing with all their might.
Shin Jaeryong and Go Ohwan.
The two towering men strained every muscle to shove the train forward. The louder the screeching from the train, the harder Shin Jaeryong pushed. He couldn’t stop—not even for a moment.
Because if he eased up even slightly, everything would collapse.
In truth, Shin Jaeryong had sensed it faintly.
From the moment he’d fallen to the ground earlier, he knew it was over.
Even the last flicker of the blazing firebird within him was slowly fading.
In other words, he’d lied to Anhyun.
But if he hadn’t, Anhyun would never have boarded the mining train.
With that thought, Shin Jaeryong pushed harder. He glanced at Anhyun’s back ahead, who seemed to be doing something, and showed a look of apology.
The train gradually gained speed. Soon, a sharp, blade-like wind sliced past their faces.
“Hey, Master Hyung!”
Just as the speed became too much to keep up with, Go Ohwan’s shout rang in Shin Jaeryong’s ear.
“Yes!”
Still staring straight ahead, Shin Jaeryong replied.
“Before we die, there’s something I want to ask! Tell me the truth!”
“Go ahead!”
Perhaps sensing it was their last moment, the two men spoke with voices strained almost to desperation.
Yet both wore smiles.
“Back there, when you said I was a comrade, that you wouldn’t abandon me—I was really grateful! Honestly, I was touched!”
“No need to mention it! But is that what you want to ask?”
“No, not exactly! Actually, about us…”
“……?”
Go Ohwan’s voice faltered briefly.
But the silence didn’t last long.
“If we’d met a little earlier, under different circumstances, don’t you think we could’ve gotten along pretty well?”
At last, an unexpected question.
Shin Jaeryong still smiled, as if it required no thought, and answered immediately.
“Probably!”
“Really?!”
“Yes! You’re just like a warrior on the road! I don’t particularly dislike you!”
“…Kuhuhuk!”
Go Ohwan’s laugh was somewhere between crying and laughing.
Then—
“Yeah, thanks.”
Suddenly, Shin Jaeryong’s voice dropped slightly. Just as he was about to speak again, he abruptly closed his mouth.
From the left came a hollow sensation. At the same time, the burden of pushing the train intensified briefly. Though the acceleration continued, he didn’t need to turn his head to know what had happened.
It was exactly what they’d expected.
Simply put… Go Ohwan’s strength had run out first.
“It must have been really fun.”
Shin Jaeryong muttered quietly, lifting his head calmly.
His vision was now blurred beyond focus. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see clearly. His whole body felt like lead, and darkness kept creeping into his mind.
Most of all, his legs could no longer keep pace with the train.
The end wasn’t approaching—it had arrived.
Shin Jaeryong himself felt it was time.
In that moment, he summoned his last ounce of strength. Through his fading vision, he saw Anhyun touching a jewel, doing something.
That was truly his final, ultimate effort.
Suddenly, his vision flickered, and a sensation like his entire body was being severed overwhelmed him.
Before that happened, Shin Jaeryong gave a sad smile.
Quietly, he spoke.
“Sorry… Hyun-ah.”
Almost simultaneously, he let go of the train he’d been clutching so desperately.
For a moment, everything around seemed to slow.
Thud!
Clatter-clatter, clatter-clatter! Clatter-clatter, clatter-clatter!
The train passed over the rails with a steadier sound.
Shin Jaeryong, who had tried to watch the train until the end, finally dropped his head.
As the mining train disappeared into the distance and its sound faded completely—
Darkness settled heavily over the corridor.
Though the ongoing collapse shook the ground mercilessly, Shin Jaeryong felt nothing. Just lying there, the soft touch of the earth against his cheek brought endless comfort and lightness.
“……”
After some time, he felt his whole body sinking.
Within that feeling, he began to reflect on the years he had lived.
Once, Anhyun had asked him,
“When was your shining moment, hyung?”
Back then, he couldn’t answer properly.
Not because he didn’t know, but because he was too embarrassed.
Because…
“So… you joined the rescue team to save me?”
“You saved my life. If I hadn’t known, maybe I wouldn’t have cared, but to ignore someone who saved you when they’re in trouble—that’s worse than being an animal.”
That was the bond they formed.
“So, have you made up your mind?”
“Yes. Just yesterday, I finally made my decision.”
“While living with the Mercenary Clan, I realized there are many good people here, and I didn’t want to miss this chance.”
“If you accept me, I’ll do my best to help.”
That was the beginning of his time as a Mercenary Clan member.
“Welcome to the Mercenary Clan.”
That, in fact, was the start of what Shin Jaeryong considered his shining days.
Rumble-rumble-rumble!
Just as his panoramic memories came to an end, a tremendous noise tore through his ears. Along with it, a heavy shower of dust fell onto his face.
He didn’t need to look to know.
The unmistakable sign of total collapse.
Tension surged, and his breath caught.
He could see the future awaiting him.
Alone, buried alive in this dark pit.
If he wasn’t scared, if he wasn’t sad, it would be a lie.
But at least…
“No regrets…”
“Ha ha ha…”
So Shin Jaeryong laughed.
Because he had no regrets now, he could laugh.
Rumble-rumble-rumble!
From that laugh, countless chunks of earth and rock began to fall.
Even through his half-open, dimming eyes, huge masses filled his vision all at once.
Shin Jaeryong’s eyes closed peacefully as the collapsing earth plummeted vertically.
And then, at that moment—
Flash!
A beam of light cut across the corridor.
The reflected gleam of a blade pierced through the falling debris.
Blazing bright!
“User Shin Jaeryong!”
The light reversed all the darkness filling the corridor, turning it pure white.
---------------------------= Author’s Note ---------------------------=
Ughhh. ㅇ<-<
Sorry. I really wanted to finish this today… but I had to cut it short. OTL
Please, be harsh with me! ㅜ.ㅠ
No matter what happens tomorrow, I will absolutely finish the pit. (?)
Also, I want to clear up a few misunderstandings.
Sol) No. Never happened.
Sol) Dating? Hmm. Shin-something, Kang-something, Kim-something, Oh-something, Kim-something… Oh, now that I think about it, back in ninth grade, I did get dumped by a Shin.
Sol) Well… not exactly, but it’s not really because of that!
Sol) No, please. OTL
Sol) -_-
P.S. Today’s structure was twisted back and forth in reverse order.
*If you look at it from the asterisk point, the sequence went 3, 2, 1, and then after some time passed in 1, it moved on to 4. :)