"We’re still alive... right?"
Zara struggled to lift her head, her body passing through the shimmering golden threads and faint, flickering numbers.
The mansion around them had changed entirely. It now looked ancient—dusty and covered in cobwebs, as if abandoned for countless years. Scattered across the stairs and walls were several human skeletons.
This... was the mansion’s proper form, stripped of all its former grandeur.
Outside, the snowstorm grew more violent by the second, accompanied by deep, earth-shaking roars and the sound of something collapsing repeatedly. This dungeon couldn’t hold out much longer!
But at that moment, all Zara could focus on was the horrified expression on Susan’s face. She heard Susan mutter under her breath:
"No... it’s not over. Next... it’s us."
The moment she spoke, everyone felt the pulling force grow even stronger.
Prophet’s body was still trembling as he sat on the ground, unmoving, too afraid even to lift a finger.
Drake glanced around. He could see it now—everyone was engulfed by those delicate golden threads, which had woven into a bright golden sea. Their expressions were frozen in pain and fear.
He could see Susan’s already-wrinkled face grow even more withered like she had aged twenty years in a single breath.
No—Prophet’s power is spiraling out of control. He’s killing the others!
Drake didn’t know why he was still standing, seemingly unaffected, but he didn’t stop to question it. Without hesitation, he rushed forward and grabbed Prophet, shaking his shoulders.
"Open your eyes, Prophet! Open your eyes! You’re killing innocent people—they’re just humans! They’re not a threat to you!"
Prophet’s eyes suddenly snapped open—and immediately, he was face-to-face with Drake’s anxious expression, just inches away.
His pupils contracted. On instinct, he raised a hand to push Drake away. His hand hadn’t touched Drake yet, but his body was already flung backward—drawn into the vortex of time.
Drake’s eyes widened. He gasped for air, instantly feeling the flow of life drained.
[No way—Drake too? He can’t escape either?!]
[Wait, is this really how it ends? Not killed by the monster, but by Prophet? Does that still count as clearing the dungeon?]
[Drake could’ve drawn his blade!]
[Seriously, do you think Drake could’ve harmed Prophet? Their power levels are leagues apart.]
[But clearly, Prophet didn’t mean to hurt him! Drake didn’t even have his lifespan accelerated like the others!]
Drake practically growled through gritted teeth:
"I’m your number one Believer! You’re the one who made me believe in you—and now you’re killing me? Damn it! If you have to kill someone, kill me alone! Humanity needs them to make it out!"
"You’re a god—a god! Don’t you remember? A god would never harm humankind! The first god who ever reached out to humans..."
Suddenly, Drake stopped. He was facing Prophet—facing the man who was now sobbing uncontrollably.
A thought struck him. Gods were always shackled, always imprisoned. Maybe Prophet had once been bound too, curled up in some dark corner, small and afraid of everything around him. He was the weakest of the gods—surely, he was the last one who should’ve broken free of his chains. And yet... he was the first to be summoned.
Even though he feared humanity, he still tried to save them. Even though he, Drake, was challenging to deal with—a walking powder keg—Prophet had acknowledged him in the calmest voice, even accepted the strength that Drake had always despised.
It was as if Drake could now see Prophet imprisoned in the darkness, tangled in countless chains—fragile, powerless, with no one to save him.
Had he always resented being the number one Believer?
His god would never be alone.
Drake didn’t know where the strength came from, but he surged forward with everything he had. The closer he got to Prophet, the faster he aged—but he didn’t care. He roared:
"Look! Just me! Let it be just me! You don’t need to take the others with you! Don’t make me jealous—only I get to be your number one Believer!"
He lunged forward, arms wide.
"Saphen!" Prophet flinched in shock as Drake threw himself into his arms and held him tight.
"Prophet—Saphen—my god, the strongest god... Let it be only me if you must take someone with you."
At that moment, Drake felt a strange connection—stronger than ever before.
And not just Drake. Prophet—no, Silvanus—felt it too.
He could hear Drake’s voice echoing in his very soul, shaking the core of his being.
So this... this is what it means to have a number one Believer?
A blinding light suddenly erupted, flooding the entire dungeon.
Before their vision was swallowed by it, they saw only one thing:
Drake’s aged, frail face—and Prophet’s arms wrapped tightly around him!
The power... it couldn’t be controlled.
Silvanus’s eyes flew open, his pupils trembling.
This power... does it belong to me?
They couldn’t even hear the dungeon’s completion announcement—
The dungeon... closed entirely.
[Can’t believe Drake’s loud mouth could say something that is touching.]
[But wait... I only saw the others escape. Was Prophet the one Drake believed in all along?]
[I bet Drake’s dead!]
[I refuse to accept it—how could this happen?!]
[+1, no way Drake’s dead!]
Whether Drake was alive or not, the viewers couldn’t tell.
But the dark clouds over the sky had cleared entirely on the human side. The survivors were quickly provided aid.
And then... they realized a truth too cruel to accept:
Their number one hero—Captain Drake—had not emerged from the dungeon.
That day, the entire continent was draped in the solemn air of mourning.
"Silvanus once said: Drake must appear in this dungeon if humanity were to be saved. I thought only he could protect Prophet. But I was wrong—he wasn’t protecting Prophet... he was protecting all of us. All of humanity."
Frank bowed his head, his old eyes dull and hollow.
"Send people to the Temple of Silvanus. Wait for his return."
Layla gave the order.
"Captain Drake really... sacrificed himself? No way..."
"He was the strongest on the continent. There’s no way someone like him would fall."
"I never got to thank him."
"I used to think he was terrifying... and annoying..."
The people’s hearts were crushed with grief.
It was as if they had just awoken from a dream, suddenly forced to face the truth—that their continent’s hero had fallen.
Had they ever truly given this hero the recognition he deserved?
No. They had never acknowledged him.
Suddenly, someone burst into sobs.
Someone else began cursing the gods—but was quickly slapped back to their senses by the person beside them.
That day... was destined to be a rainy one across the continent.