The axe came down.
For a moment, the air around Ana seemed to freeze. She stared at the stone blade rushing toward her neck—
Then everything began to fade.
The screams of goblins, the heat of fire, the crushing pressure in the camp—all of it cracked apart like glass. The colors blurred. The large goblin's form trembled and lost its outline. The axe stopped, not because it had been blocked, but because it was no longer real.
The world collapsed without a sound.
When it was over, all that remained was the dungeon: dark, still, empty. No camp. No throne. No goblins. Only a plain stone corridor.
And in front of her—
Mikoto.
He stood there casually beside a strange goblin with a pickaxe buried in its chest. It was smaller than the large one, but it looked different from regular goblins. Its skin was pale green. The body was thin and tight over the bones. Its large, hollow eyes glowed with a murky purple light. Next to it was a crooked staff. It was made from a human spine and had skull fragments. These were tied together with dried sinew. Strange symbols had been carved into its skin.
A Goblin Shaman.
The creature opened its mouth to speak. But Mikoto was quicker. He pulled out the pickaxe and drove it straight into the creature's head.
KRAK.
The goblin convulsed once, then went still. The purple light in its eyes died out, and its body collapsed.
Everything went quiet again.
Mikoto yawned. "...Ah."
He pulled out the pickaxe and wiped the blood from its tip against his pants.
Ana stood behind him, frozen in a defensive stance. One hand was raised, and her neck was tense, as if the axe were still there. But in front of her, there was nothing. No boss goblin. No throne. No Mikoto's severed head rolling at her feet.
Zouma was kneeling several steps behind her, breathing hard. His eyes were wild, and the last trace of fire still burned weakly in his hand. He stared ahead in confusion.
"...What..." His voice was hoarse. "...what happened...?"
No one answered.
Ana slowly lowered her hand and looked around. Goblins sprawled on the stone, marked by deep pickaxe wounds. Nearby, the Goblin Shaman lay dead at Mikoto's hands.
Mikoto walked to the large bag near the bodies. She dropped the pickaxe beside it and sat down. Then, she lay back on top of it, just like before.
Ana stared at him.
For the first time, her gaze truly changed.
"Sir..."
She stepped closer. "...What was that just now?"
Mikoto opened one eye. "...Hm?"
He glanced at the corpse on the ground. "That?"
Ana frowned. "Not that. I mean, what happened?"
Mikoto closed his eye again. "...Ah. I don't know. You were all running around for no reason and fighting the air."
He lazily rotated his right hand once and looked ready to drift back to sleep.
Zouma froze. "W-What do you mean...?"
He turned toward his men. They were all lying on the ground. He called their names, shook them, checked their pulses.
Nothing.
No heartbeat.
His hand began to tremble.
"So... everyone..."
No one answered.
Ana moved closer to Mikoto. "...Sir."
"...Hm?"
"...All this time..." She paused. "...You didn't see anything?"
Before Mikoto could reply, Zouma walked over, grabbed his collar, and pulled him up.
"Tell me! What really happened?"
Ana moved instantly.
Her kick slammed into Zouma's stomach and sent him tumbling across the floor. Mikoto slipped from his grip, stood up, and brushed off his clothes. He said, still in a lazy tone, "You should thank Ana for not having a pickaxe hole in your head."
Then he sat down on the bag again.
"I'll say it again. All I saw was you people running around without direction. You even looked like you were fighting something that wasn't there."
Still clutching his stomach, Zouma forced himself up. "Then... how did they die?"
"I don't know. Maybe you should be the ones telling me what kind of illusion you saw."
"I-Illusion?"
No one spoke for a moment.
Then even Ana sounded confused. "Wait... so everything I felt just now was only an illusion? Then how did all of them die?"
Mikoto let himself fall back onto the bags. "If a human brain stops functioning, that's no different from death. In their minds, they had already died while inside the illusion."
"Then why didn't you save us?!" Zouma shouted as he staggered toward him again.
Mikoto looked at him with tired eyes. "Are you blind? Look around you. If not for me, who do you think killed all those goblins? And if I hadn't killed that Goblin Shaman, maybe none of you would have survived."
Zouma stopped.
And said nothing.
He scanned the corridor. Goblin corpses lay scattered. His men were there too, along with one person who had done nothing from the start.
yet had ended everything.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Ana glanced at Mikoto. He had already sprawled out on the bags again, as if this was just a small pause in his sleep.
"...Sir."
"...Hm?"
"Are we leaving?"
Mikoto yawned softly. "...If we're not leaving, do you want to sleep here?"
Ana gave no answer. She simply turned and started walking toward the Gate. Zouma slowly got to his feet, still holding his stomach, and followed behind her.
Their footsteps echoed along the stone corridor, which now felt narrower than before. There were no more illusions, no more pressure—only the real dungeon.
At the end of the corridor, the Gate was still there.
Blue.
Calm.
As if nothing had happened.
Ana stepped forward first and touched its surface without hesitation.
Then she disappeared.
Zouma swallowed and followed her in.
Mikoto came last. He lazily hoisted up his bag, took a few easy steps forward, and vanished into the blue light.
The air changed immediately.
No longer damp.
No longer cold.
Bright lights hit their eyes. A wave of noise crashed over them.
Ana emerged first and stopped.
Zouma came out right behind her—
then froze.
"...What..."
Dozens of people in black uniforms stood in front of them. They wore tactical vests and aimed their weapons directly at them. Some carried shields. Others had firearms ready. Spotlights shone from every direction. The area around the Gate had already been sealed off with barriers.
And in the middle of it all, a man stepped forward.
His gaze was sharp.
He raised a hand.
"Wait."
His voice was calm, but impossible to ignore.
Ana did not move.
Zouma tensed.
Mikoto stepped out last, set his bag down, and let out a long yawn.
"...It's crowded."
No one laughed.
All eyes were fixed on them.
The man in front looked at them one by one.
Ana.
Zouma.
Then Mikoto.
Something in his expression shifted.
"...You three," he said quietly. "Put everything down. And do not move."
No one moved.
The air turned heavy.
Zouma swallowed.
Ana remained calm.
And Mikoto merely scratched his cheek.
"...Can I sit down?"
No one answered.
The floodlights were still glaring. The weapons were still aimed at them. For the first time since leaving the dungeon, things felt worse than before.