Mara's footsteps echoed quietly along the far edge of the fifth floor, bucket swinging at her side. The faint sounds of elders and children murmuring from the refuge behind her were distant enough to feel like another world.

  Then, a sudden, thunderous crash shattered the stillness. Dust and debris rained down from above.

  She skidded to a halt, eyes widening. "Well, that's one way to make an entrance. Handsome men do fall from the sky, huh?"

  Dropping her bucket, Mara sprinted toward the rubble. Beneath the shattered stone and broken beams, a battered figure lay half-buried.

  Her breath caught as she recognized him. "Dane? What the hell?"

  He groaned softly, eyes fluttering open but unable to focus. Mara's gaze fell to the massive boulder crushing his legs.

  "You're lucky you don't have wings or I'd swear you were some kind of fallen angel," she muttered, gritting her teeth as she pressed against the stone. "After that other night, I thought you were just a drunken asshole who vanished on me. Now this?"

  Her hands dug at the edges, trying to pry the rock free. "Come on, you stubborn bastard, don't give me a reason to drag you out of here kicking and screaming."

  She saw a nearby branch and used that as leverage to roll the rock off of his legs.

  Dane's breath hitched, a faint smirk playing on his lips even through the pain.

  "Yeah," Mara said, voice softening just a bit. "You owe me big time."

  Mara's muscles trembled as she pushed against the crushing boulder, sweat beading on her forehead. The boulder finally moved, toppling off of Dane's legs.

  Suddenly, a soft glow blossomed in the air around her hands. Warm, pulsing light, unlike anything she'd felt before. Her system interface flickered, flashing a new notification:

  [System Override]

  Class granted: Lifekeeper

  Minor Healing is unlocked

  Mara blinked, surprise twisting into a small smile. "Well, I didn't sign up for this, but I'll take it."

  The healing light faded from Mara's hands, but its warmth lingered in her bones. Dane's chest rose more steadily now. His color was returning. Whatever this Lifekeeper class was, it had done its job.

  "Damn," she muttered, sitting back on her heels. "You are hard to kill."

  She wiped sweat from her brow, then glanced down at him. He was still out cold, but at least the boulder was off his legs now, and his breath wasn't ragged.

  "Of course, you'd be the one to drag me into this mess."

  Dane stirred with a groan, blinking against the haze of pain and dust. His ears rang, his body screamed, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he was alive until a soft voice cut through the silence.

  "Oh, he lives," the voice said dryly. "Lucky me."

  He turned his head slightly and saw a woman crouched beside him, her sleeves rolled up, and her rosy cheeks smudged with soot. She had long, flowing, raven-black hair, and it curled like ink poured into water. Dane saw a face that was too pretty for a battlefield: delicate jawline, soft lips, dark lashes framing sharp, sea-glass eyes. For a heartbeat, she didn't look like someone who belonged in a dungeon at all.

  And yet… the way she stared at him said she'd broken bones before breakfast.

  "…Ada?" he croaked.

  The delicate woman didn't blink. But her mouth twitched in a way that suggested violence.

  She leaned closer. "Try again, lover boy."

  He squinted, tried to sit up. "Wait. Do I… know you?"

  She rose slowly, brushing dust from her skirts. Her movements were graceful and refined, like someone raised to pour wine, not drag men out from under rocks. But when she spoke, it was all gravel and fury.

  "Oh, for the love of...yes, you know me. You know my bed, you know my tavern, and apparently, you don't know how to follow through on a promise to make breakfast."

  He blinked. "We…?"

  She whirled, arms crossed tight. "You don't remember the night with the good mead, the bad jokes, and the dress you tore off me with your teeth?"

  Dane looked genuinely alarmed. "We… did that?"

  "Yes," she snapped. "And now I find you half-dead under rubble, bleeding all over my shoes, and muttering some other girl's name like I'm just a footnote."

  He stared. "Wait. Mara?"

  She turned her gaze on him, equal parts fire and frost.

  "Finally. Give the man a prize."

  "… You're prettier than I remembered."

  Mara blinked, then laughed once, dry and dangerous. "Flattery won't save you. But points for trying."

  She crouched beside him again, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. Her fingers hovered over his chest, still faintly glowing from the system's magic.

  "You're lucky the system gave me a healing class. Otherwise, I'd've just taken your boots and left you here."

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  "I have boots on, I can barely feel my feet." He crooked out.

  "You do," she said flatly. "They look like the same ones you left at my place. Right after you broke my bedpost and disappeared."

  He smiled weakly. "You still mad?"

  Mara smirked. "I'm still deciding."

  Mara wrapped one of Dane's arms over her shoulders, grunting under his weight. He wasn't heavy due to her occupation as a tavern keeper; she received a boost to her carrying capacity, probably because of the kegs and drunks she had to move. Dane was more like a dead weight with muscles. His steps were clumsy, but at least he was moving.

  "You could've picked a better place to die," she muttered, half-dragging him down the broken path along the outer rim of the fifth floor. "Something scenic. Less dust. Fewer boulders."

  "I didn't exactly get to choose," he groaned.

  He leaned against her, breathing hard. "You're stronger than you look."

  She snorted. "And you're dumber than you act. But here we are."

  [After a long hobbly walk – Mara's Tavern Tent]

  She pushed the door open with her hip and guided him inside. The tavern was quieter than usual; most of the civilians were hunkered down after the explosion, but the hearth was still warm, and the place smelled faintly of woodsmoke and old whiskey.

  Mara helped Dane lower himself onto the cot in the back room, the one she sometimes used to sleep off late shifts. He groaned as he collapsed into it.

  She turned away to fetch clean water and a towel. "You bleed on my pillow, and I swear I'll make you eat it."

  "You've got such a gentle touch," Dane mumbled.

  She returned with the cloth, dabbing at his forehead. "Don't mistake mercy for affection, hero."

  "I'm starting to remember now," he said, eyes half-lidded. "The tavern. Your laugh. That green bedsheet you turned into a dress."

  "You're just saying that to get laid again."

  He smiled faintly. "I have someone else that I love, Mara."

  Mara gave him a long, unreadable look. Her fingers stilled on his temple.

  "... I'm not afraid of sharing," she said.

  He looked at her for a little bit, not knowing if she was serious. He lay down and began to drift off.

  She sat beside him, folding her arms across her chest. "Sleep. I'll keep watch. And don't die in your dreams, I wouldn't be able to put Healing on the menu if my first patient died."

  "…You care."

  "I care about not scrubbing blood out of my sheets," she muttered, looking away.

  [Sometime Later, Mara's Tent]

  The fire had burned low. Dane stirred under a coarse wool blanket, still groggy, pain pulsing through every breath. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He wasn't sure he'd meant to wake up either.

  His ears were met by loud footsteps that thudded on the dirt floor. Dane reached for a weapon, anything. But nothing was close by. He tried to cast Blink to get out of there. But his system screen flashed.

  [Time and Space Affinity sealed for 54 hours]

  Dane was prepared for the worst, prepared for elves to try to strike when they were weakened, but he heard a voice break out that he couldn't take seriously.

  "I told you," Jason said to someone that Dane couldn't quite see. "It'll take more than a cave-in to kill our leader."

  A second voice followed. "Quiet. What if he's still unconscious?"

  Dane's eyes snapped open. "…Amelia?"

  She stepped into the firelight, gaunt but standing. Her stealth suit was scorched and tattered, revealing the leather armor underneath. Her silver-blonde hair was matted with sweat, ash, and blood. But her eyes-those same wide, storm-colored eyes filled with tears.

  "You're alive," she whispered.

  Dane tried to sit up, failed with a grunt of pain, and fell back into the cot.

  "You were gone," he breathed. "He had your bow."

  "I know," she said, falling to her knees beside him. "I nearly didn't make it. We've been looking for you for hours."

  Amelia's eyes darkened briefly with weariness. "We barely held the floor after you went down. The troops were scattered, and morale hit rock bottom. Jason stepped up and kept us from falling apart when I couldn't."

  Jason leaned in the doorway, arms folded, a crooked grin on his face.

  "Well, ain't this a Hallmark moment?" he said. "You want me to go grab a camera, if not, you could just keep making goggly eyes. I suppose I should go see the barkeep who is ruining my liver."

  Mara snorted from behind the bar. "You ruined your own liver, sweetheart. Don't drag me into it."

  Jason tipped an imaginary hat, and in his best impression of a western. "Mara, bless your whiskey-soaked heart. Didn't know you had it in you, draggin' a guy like him outta a deathtrap."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well. He still owes me a bedpost."

  Amelia's eyes flicked sharply to Dane, then to Mara. "Wait...what does she mean by that?"

  Dane shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "Long story… Me and Jason had a drunken night, and I woke up here, just not in this room."

  Mara smirked from across the room. "Gentle's overrated. Especially with men like him. Don't worry, I have no plans to steal your man."

  Amelia's jaw tightened, her gaze lingering on Mara's confident smirk before she forced a polite smile. "Sounds like you two have history."

  Jason grinned and threw an arm around Dane's shoulders. "Looks like Dane's got a thing for healers, huh? Always chasing bandages and bedside manners."

  Dane's face flushed deep red. He rubbed the back of his neck harder and muttered, "Shut up, Jason."

  Amelia's eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line. The playful jibe had soured fast. Dane's awkward silence only deepened the sting.

  Jason chuckled, completely unfazed. "Relax, Amelia. Don't take it so personally. If you care that much, maybe treat the guy like a human being next time he stumbles in half-dead for a resupply."

  He turned to Dane with a lopsided grin. "And you...maybe don't burn through your entire life expectancy in one stunt. Just a thought."

  Dane groaned. "Thanks for the support."... "Where are Ada and Anthony?"

  Dane asked the question quietly, already knowing the answer. It hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire, impossible to ignore.

  Jason didn't speak. For once, the mischief was gone from his eyes. No crooked grin. No deflecting sarcasm. Just silence and that, more than anything, confirmed the truth. Amelia stepped in. Her voice was calm, but too measured, like she'd practiced this.

  "They didn't make it," she said, her eyes shining but dry. "We're holding a memorial at dusk. For them… and for the thirty-six others we lost."

  Dane's breath caught. Thirty-eight. He'd brought forty and the stealth team. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the names of the fallen. He saw a roster while they were planning the strike, but he chose to ignore it. He promised himself that he would sear every sacrifice into his head.

  That left… four. Four survivors from his strike team.

  His hands clenched the blanket around him. "So it's just the nine militia, including the guards we left back?"

  Jason gave a slow, grim nod.

  Dane swallowed hard. His grief screamed for release, but something colder and more familiar took its place: duty.

  "We need to get every able-bodied fighter up to the first floor," he said, voice suddenly sharp. "We need to secure what's left. Consolidate resources, start training rotations, prep fallback points, and..."

  Amelia stepped forward, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

  "Dane. Breathe."

  He blinked at her; his heart was racing, and he could feel tightness forming in his chest.

  She softened her voice. "The elves can't re-enter the dungeon yet. Their system only allows them access once per season. We've got two months. We have time to recover."

  Dane's posture finally slumped. The weight of all the loss, exhaustion, and guilt pressed down harder, and he folded back into the cot like a collapsing structure.

  "For once…" he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "We're ahead."

  Jason crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Not used to having the advantage, huh?"

  Dane exhaled a single, shaky laugh. "Not even sure I know what to do with it."

  Mara chimed in from behind the bar, not looking up. "Try sleeping. Maybe start there."