Trent was annoyed now.
Before, it was just jealousy. But now?
And who was he annoyed at?
It had become painfully clear that Rin had contributed more than he had during this entire dungeon crawl.
Rin hadn't made a single mistake—not one. Unlike Trent, who had fumbled a few moments, nothing major… but enough to notice.
No one said it aloud, but everyone knew it.
They had only managed to defeat the boss monster because of Rin. Without him, they would've been wiped out.
And to make things worse?
He gave up that powerful spear—the [Drakevolt Spear]—and handed it to Leo without hesitation. In return, he took an old, rusty bracelet.
Even Trent could tell the difference that spear made. Leo had become noticeably stronger since then. Every strike was heavier, faster. It wasn't even subtle.
That's why Violet had offered Rin one of the magical fruits they'd found in the reward room—one that boosted your stats permanently. No one objected.
Even Trent had agreed with her.
As much as it burned him inside, he couldn't deny it—Rin had earned it.
And Trent? He'd lost the bet. The unspoken competition between them. But he wasn't ready to accept defeat just yet.
He was still hoping for a chance.
A chance to prove himself. To stand out.
That chance came when the intruders blocked the exit.
They came out of nowhere—organized, confident, too many to count at a glance. The moment their leader stepped forward and opened his mouth, Trent felt it.
"So… which one of you picked up the artifact?" the man sneered. "Be honest, and maybe we won't break your legs before you crawl out of here."
They were after the artifact.
Trent instinctively glanced at Leo. It made sense to assume he was the one holding something valuable. He'd been the one to take the spear, after all.
He saw Leo step forward, his mouth parting—probably about to say something.
It was quiet. Steady. No hesitation.
Why would he say that?
Leo was the one with the weapon.
So… why put a target on himself?
Rin had done it again.
Without blinking, without boasting, without expecting praise—he stepped forward and took the hit.
Once more, Rin Evans outshined him.
Trent clenched his teeth.
The next few moments were chaos. Magic surged through the air. Explosions tore at the stone. Screams. Dust. Heat. It was like a storm had broken loose in the corridor.
Trent snapped into action, instinct guiding him. He raised his shield, protecting Ama and Luke as best he could.
Every second felt like an hour. Every movement was a gamble.
And just as quickly as the chaos began—it stopped.
The attackers fell back, retreating toward their leader.
Silence settled over the corridor like a wet blanket.
Then Carl, their so-called leader, stepped forward.
"Last chance, kids," he said, his voice oily and cold. "I don't like killing kids. But if you don't listen, I'll make sure every one of you dies. And I'll take whatever treasure you've looted from your cold, twitching bodies."
For a long moment, the corridor was quiet—dust still floating in the air, the tension stretching so tight it hurt to breathe.
He stepped forward, not an inch of hesitation on his face.
Carl frowned. "What?"
Trent smirked, tapping his shield against the ground.
He wasn't thinking about Rin. Or Leo. Or even the artifact.
He was done with all of it.
Done with feeling second place.
Done with being overshadowed.
If he was going to go down, then he'd go down loud. Swinging. Cursing. Laughing.
And maybe, just maybe—
He'd finally shine, too.
Carl's eyes narrowed.
For a second, no one moved.
Even his lackeys paused mid-step, glancing between each other like they weren't sure if they'd heard right.
Trent stood in the center of the hallway, breathing hard, shield raised, bloodied but defiant. His coat was torn, and one of his sleeves was burned halfway up to the elbow, but he still grinned like he'd just won a bet.
"I don't know who the hell you think you are," Trent said, voice cutting through the tension, "but you're not scaring anyone here. Least of all me."
Carl's fingers twitched.
A glint of mana sparked at the edge of his coat sleeve. Dangerous.
"You've got balls, I'll give you that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, like a man trying very hard not to snap. "But that mouth of yours? It's going to cost you."
Carl's hand flicked, and a bolt of crimson energy snapped forward—fast, deadly, aimed straight for Trent's head.
Trent barely had time to react.
He slammed his shield up—
The impact rang through his bones. The shield groaned under the weight of the spell, sizzling red energy crawling across its surface like fireflies. Trent stumbled back two steps, feet dragging across the stone, arms shaking.
Dust billowed. His ears rang. The heat of the magic still clung to his skin, but he stood there, shield raised, chest heaving.
"That all you got?" Trent grinned, voice hoarse but defiant.
Ama gasped behind him. Luke whispered a curse under his breath.
He didn't even smirk.
Instead, his smile disappeared completely.
"You little—You are dead."
And before anyone could do anything, Carl vanished from his spot in blink of any eye.
Trent was ready for him, he knows that their leader was going to directly attacked but he knows he shild could held on
There was no way these thugs could break through his magic-enhanced shield and defeat him.
"Oh, you're still alive? You're not all talk."
His shield crumpled from the man's punch, and he was sent flying from the impact.