Once the final boss monster fell, everyone dropped to their knees, the adrenaline that had sustained them ebbing away.
A collective sigh of relief followed as exhaustion pressed down like a heavyweight.
For a moment, the hall was silent.
No words were spoken as they lay motionless on the blood-stained battlefield, allowing the fatigue to fade on its own.
The quiet was broken by one of the squad members. "Shyamal is..." His voice faltered, choked with emotion as the memory of the fallen girl resurfaced. Panic gripped him, and without waiting, he rushed to where she had last been seen.
The others followed, shaking off their exhaustion as they hurried to the area where the unconscious and wounded had been gathered.
Some of the fallen were still alive, though suffering from severe internal injuries that required immediate attention. Others had succumbed to internal bleeding, their bodies still and lifeless. A few lay with hearts that no longer beat, with no signs of life left in them.
The squad members fought through their grief, moving between the injured and the dead, checking pulses and calling out names. Every unresponsive body felt like a knife to the heart, but they pressed on, knowing they had to help those still clinging to life.
Furina and Elena stepped up to handle the situation, guiding the others and offering what comfort they could.
The survivors stood quietly, mourning those who had fallen. Their faces bore the weight of sorrow and weariness. Meanwhile, the healers worked tirelessly, channeling their powers to stabilize the wounded and save as many lives as possible.
They activated their skills—[Verdant Renewal], [Solar Grace], and [Frostbind]—to treat the injured with precision and care.
The soothing green aura of [Verdant Renewal] flowed over torn flesh, knitting tissues back together and supporting weakened organs. The radiant energy from [Solar Grace] surged through the wounded, restoring life and mending broken bones. Icy tendrils from [Frostbind] coiled around the most severe injuries, halting internal bleeding and preventing further damage.
The battlefield, once a place of destruction and fury, had transformed into a space of mourning and hope, where each second counted in the fight to keep death at bay.
After ensuring the wounded were treated, Connor gathered everyone and signaled the healer Carlos to use his skill [Verdant Renewal] to restore their hearing. Using quick strokes in the dirt, Connor conveyed the instructions, knowing they needed their auditory senses back quickly.
Connor had studied every squad member's skills in detail, memorizing which skills could heal specific conditions most efficiently. That knowledge guided him now. [Verdant Renewal] had the highest and fastest chance of restoring damaged organs, making it the ideal choice.
While Carlos focused on healing their ears, the other two healers continued tending to the squad's remaining injuries. The next two hours passed in relative silence, filled with the steady hum of healing magic and the gradual relief as exhaustion and pain faded.
Once everyone had regained their senses, cheers erupted around them as they hugged Carlos and expressed their gratitude.
"Thank you so much, Carlos!"
"I can hear again! This is amazing!"
But the moment of celebration was abruptly interrupted by Connor's commanding voice. "Silence, you maggots," he barked, his tone slicing through the jubilant atmosphere. He paused, scanning their faces, gauging the momentary relief that had swept over them.
"Why are you rejoicing?" he continued, his voice steady and firm. "Did you forget that eight people are dead now?" The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. "They are dead because they were weak and because we failed to kill the boss monsters quickly."
Connor took a breath, letting the silence settle among them before he pressed on. "We were unprepared for this scenario. We need to reflect on our mistakes rather than rejoice."
His words cut through the jubilation, snapping them back to the grim reality of their losses. Many felt disoriented, their earlier elation replaced by the weight of regret.
They remembered how they had faltered at the start of the fight. Their formations had crumbled under pressure, fear overtaking their reasoning and will, leaving some members fainting in the chaos.
Connor's voice held a mix of praise and disappointment as he continued, "Though I applaud your perceptive skills, you were able to grasp my intentions and signs quickly. Thanks to that, we capitalized on their weakness—their asynchronous synergy between each other. But we still could have done better. If we had acted more swiftly and decisively, perhaps we could have saved more lives that were lost today."
He let his gaze sweep over the squad, noting the mix of shame and determination in their expressions. "Every second counts in battle, and we must learn to seize those moments, to push through the pain and fear. We owe it to those we lost to become stronger and more unified."
With that, Connor stepped back, allowing his words to sink in, ready to lead them toward the path of recovery and growth. This was the new reality of their world; they had to adapt to it, and the sooner they did, the better. He knew now was the time to strike when the iron was hot.
Connor didn't just plan to build an army capable of fighting; he envisioned something much greater.
He wanted to establish an Order, an organization that would govern and protect the new civilization he intended to create. It would be centered around him and his loved ones, a bastion of strength and unity in a world that had grown increasingly perilous.
The echoes of loss would drive these people, fueling their resolve to forge a better future for themselves and their loved ones where such tragedies like this could never happen again.
The surviving squad members soon made their way back to the surface, sticking closely together—Squad Alpha at the front, Delta in the middle, and Bravo at the back.
The last battle had claimed many lives, particularly from Squad Delta, whose members had struggled significantly.
Julian had monopolized all the kills, leaving his squad appearing the weakest in comparison.
As they emerged from the depths, the sunlight felt blinding after the darkness of the battle. They squinted, the brightness a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere surrounding them.
"We are nearing the exit" Connor informed, his voice steady but laced with the weight of their losses.
After two hours of tense travel, the raid party arrived at the hospital. A member from Squad Charlie greeted them at the entrance, his expression shifting from friendly to somber as he took in the grim and sorrowful faces of his comrades.
"Hey, what happened down there?" he asked, trying to gauge their mood.
He received no immediate response, the silence stretching uncomfortably. One look at the leaders, however, reminded him of his place in the hierarchy. He swallowed hard, knowing the gravity of the situation.
"Please follow me," he finally said, his tone turning more serious. "I will escort you to Captain Sylvia"
As they walked through the hospital's halls, the tension was palpable. The usual chatter of healers and patients was muted, each footstep echoing the weight of their grief.
"How do we tell the news to the families of the deceased?" one member whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
"I don't know," another replied, shaking his head. "I just hope..."
"Keep your voices down," Connor snapped, cutting them off.
Upon reaching the main office, the soldier knocked before entering. "Lady Sylvia, they've returned," he announced.
The door swung open as another member of Charlie Squad stood aside, letting them in. Connor, Elena, and the rest stepped into the room and saw Sylvia standing with three of her squad members flanking her.
"Welcome back," Sylvia greeted them with a cheerful smile that quickly faded into seriousness as she scanned the group. Her eyes flicked across the faces, counting silently. The numbers were off.
A squad typically consisted of seven to nine members, and Sylvia immediately realized what the missing count implied... Eight people hadn't returned.
Connor's expression remained composed as he spoke. "We managed to conquer the third floor... but we suffered casualties."
Sylvia's brows knitted with concern. "How? There were more people facing the floor boss this time, weren't there?"
Elena, sensing Connor's reluctance to explain everything himself, stepped forward. "The monsters we faced this time were... trickier. The challenge was greater than we anticipated."
Before Sylvia could ask further, Furina chimed in. "If not for Connor's quick thinking, none of us would have made it back. He saw through the Sirens' strategy and turned the fight in our favor."
Furina then gave a concise summary of the battle, detailing how the Sirens had almost overwhelmed them with their deceptive tactics and deadly screams.
Everyone present wore heavy expressions, absorbing the gravity of what had transpired. This was only the third floor of the dungeon, yet one squad had nearly been wiped out. A growing sense of unease filled the room. If they struggled this much now, what awaited them deeper within?
The news of the raid party's return had already spread throughout the stronghold. Now, nearly the entire combat unit had gathered outside the office, waiting to hear the details and the fate of their comrades.
Connor, sensing the tension in the air, decided it was time to take control. He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.
"Well, it's not all bad," Connor began, his voice calm and steady. "We've grown from this fight. We've learned a lot and we've claimed many valuable treasures from the third floor. I intend to distribute them carefully and use this as an opportunity to reform our army."
His words, though measured, carried weight. They weren't just about sharing loot; they were about rebuilding morale and laying the groundwork for a stronger, more unified force.