They were currently inside the room. The ‘entrance’ was the West Wall, the heavy stone slab that had sealed shut behind them when they walked in.

If the hidden room was behind the entrance… then they were currently standing in front of the prize.

To go forward, they had to go backward.

Ray grabbed the last remaining Runic Chisel from the pedestal. Its weight felt heavy and cold in his hand.

“Ray!”

Eliza screamed, dodging a spray of liquid fire.

“Whatever you’re doing, do it now!”

Ray didn’t answer. He turned his back on the fight. He turned his back on the monster and his struggling team.

He sprinted, not toward the enemy, but away from it. He ran straight at the sealed West Wall.

Darian, straining under the weight of the Centurion’s shield, saw him out of the corner of his eye.

“Croft!”

Darian bellowed, his voice filled with sudden, terrified betrayal.

“Wrong way! Where are you going?! Don’t leave us!”

To Team SIS, it looked like their leader had finally broken. It looked like he was running back to the start, trying to escape the room and leave them to die.

Ray ignored the shout. He ignored the instinct to turn back and help. He reached the blank, seamless obsidian wall of the entrance.

Scholar: “Structural integrity is absolute. Standard force will not suffice. You need penetration.”

Ray reversed his grip on the heavy iron chisel. He didn’t just swing it; he pushed a pulse of Aether into the metal, subtle, invisible, but potent.

He drove the point into the dead center of the blank wall.

CLINK.

The sound was tiny in the chaos of the battle. But the effect was instantaneous.

The obsidian wall didn’t crack. It rippled like a disturbed pond. A web of white light shot out from the impact point, dissolving the stone into hard light.

The wall vanished.

Revealed behind it wasn’t the hallway they had come from. It was a small, silent alcove, bathed in soft, golden light. It had been there the whole time, hidden by the very door they had entered through.

And floating in the center, resting on a simple velvet cushion, was a platinum crest shaped like an open eye.

The Sigil of the First Sage.

Ray stepped into the alcove. The sounds of battle seemed to dampen instantly.

He reached out and grabbed the cold metal of the Sigil.

HUMMM.

A pulse of pure, authoritative mana swept through the room.

Instantly, the Magma-Core Centurion froze mid-swing. Its fiery core went dark, cooling to grey stone in a heartbeat. With a sound like falling gravel, the massive construct crumbled into a pile of harmless, smoking dust.

Darian collapsed forward, his shield clattering to the floor. Kogar and Kima slumped against the wall, gasping for air, their armor dented and scorched.

The silence returned.

Darian lifted his head, sweat dripping from his nose. He looked at the pile of dust, then turned to look at Ray, who was standing in the alcove holding the Sigil.

Darian looked at the dissolved wall. Then he looked at the entrance they had just walked through moments ago.

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“Backwards,”

Darian wheezed, a laugh of sheer exhaustion escaping his lips.

“The answer was backwards.”

He shook his head, wiping soot from his face. There was no anger left in him. Just relief, and the deep, grudging respect of a soldier who realizes his general just won the war.

“Good call, Leader,”

Darian muttered.

“Good call.”

Ray pocketed the Sigil. He walked back to them, offering a hand to pull Darian up.

“Good job in holding the line, Darian,”

Ray said quietly.

“You bought the time I needed.”

Darian took the hand. He gripped it firmly.

“Anytime.”

Eliza walked over, leaning on her staff, looking at the two of them.

“We did it?”

“We did it,”

Ray confirmed.

The room began to dissolve into white light. The teleportation magic gripped them, pulling them away from the heat and the dust.

[SKILLED APPLICATION DETECTED]

[EVENT: SCENARIO COMPLETION (LEADERSHIP)]

[PERFORMANCE EVALUATION: INSPIRED]

[ANALYSIS: Host successfully united a fractured, hostile unit into a cohesive combat force. By utilizing the ‘Engineer’ persona to provide tactical support and solving the final puzzle through lateral thinking, you validated your authority over the squad. Largest Mastery Gain.]

[MASTERY GAIN: Command Aura +20%, Deductive Reasoning +15% (CAPSTONE already reached, adding half of mastery gain to the next archetype skill ‘Pattern Recognition’), Tactical Assessment +10% (CAPSTONE already reached, adding half of mastery gain to the next archetype skill ‘Basic Weapon Proficiency’).]

[MASTERY CAPSTONE REACHED: ‘Basic Weapon Proficiency’ at 100%.]

[You have transcended mimicry and achieved true artistry in this skill.]

As the world faded to white, Ray felt a deep, resonant satisfaction. They hadn’t just survived. They had conquered the dungeon.

The sensation of teleportation was always jarring, a sensation like being pulled through a straw from the inside out, but this time, it felt like a liberation.

One moment, Team Chimera and Team SIS was standing in the suffocating heat of the Obsidian Chamber, surrounded by the smell of sulfur and the dust of a disintegrated golem. The next, the world twisted into a streak of white light, and they slammed back into reality.

Ray stumbled slightly as his boots hit the polished marble floor of the Staging Hall, but as the adrenaline of the dungeon faded, a massive, throbbing headache slammed into the front of his skull.

His physical body was fine, but his mind was on fire. He had been running the Eccentric Scholar’s calculations, Grizzled Veteran’s combat command, Gritty Detective’s puzzle logic, and the Charismatic Conman’s acting simultaneously for nearly an hour. The mental strain was staggering.

Beside him, Darian Varrus dropped to one knee, wheezing, his scorched armor clanking as he breathed. Eliza Vance leaned heavily on her staff, wiping a smudge of soot from her cheek. The Ramsey brothers stood swaying, their eyes wide and blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the sudden brightness.

“We’re out,”

Eliza breathed, her voice trembling.

“We’re actually out.”

Ray ignored her. His hand blurred to his belt pouch. He wasn’t reaching for a weapon; he was reaching for a wax-paper-wrapped package prepared by Rina that morning.

He tore it open with desperate precision. A dense, sticky bar made of oats, honey, and crushed nuts, optimized for the Crimson Weaver’s ‘Neural Gastronomy’ skill.

He took a massive bite, chewing aggressively. The sugar hit his bloodstream like a potion. The headache receded instantly.

He took another bite, the food smearing slightly on his lip, just as he looked up to scan the room.

The Staging Hall was a massive chamber lined with medical cots and mana-recovery stations. A dozen medics in white robes stood ready, their hands glowing with healing spells, their faces tense with anticipation of the carnage to come.

But the room was empty.

Ray chewed thoughtfully. He looked left. He looked right. There were fifteen teleportation circles. Fourteen were dark. Only theirs was glowing.

The silence in the hall was heavy. The medics stared at them, confused. They were prepped for burns, crush injuries, and magical exhaustion. Instead, they saw four students looking shell-shocked… and one small, golden-haired boy calmly eating a snack.

A senior healer hurried over, a roll of bandages in hand.

“Team Chimera and Team SIS?”

The healer asked, looking frantically at Darian’s scorched chest plate, then at Ray, who was licking honey off his thumb.

“Sit down. Where are the injuries? Did you forfeit? Did you trigger the emergency exit?”

Darian looked up. The word forfeit seemed to slap the exhaustion right out of him. He stood up, towering over the medic. Despite the soot on his face and the dents in his shield, he radiated a sudden, fierce pride.

“Forfeit?”

Darian barked, a grin splitting his face.

“We didn’t forfeit. We walked out.”

He waved the medic away with a blackened gauntlet.

“We don’t need stretchers,”

Darian declared, his voice booming in the quiet hall.

“We’re just dusty. Save the bandages for the others.”

The medic stopped, stunned. He looked at Darian, the battered warrior. Then he looked at Ray, who was unwrapping a second nut bar.

“You… you completed the Scenario? In forty minutes?”

The medic stammered.

“And he’s… eating?”

“Fuel,”

Ray mumbled around a mouthful of oats, swallowing hard.

“Brain needs fuel.”

“We’re efficient,”

Darian interjected, clapping a hand on Ray’s shoulder.

“And the leader gets hungry when he wins.”

Darian looked around the empty, silent hall. The realization hit him like a physical blow.

“We’re first?”

Darian whispered.

He started to laugh. It was a jagged, incredulous sound.

“By the Founders,”

Darian wheezed.

“We’re actually first. Look at this place! It’s empty!”

Kogar and Kima looked around, their chests puffing out. They weren’t the failures who got frozen by a logic puzzle. They weren’t the brutes who smashed a mirror. They were the vanguard.

Ray finished the bar and wiped his hands on his tunic. He felt the mental fog clear completely.

“Sit tight,”

Ray said, moving toward a row of benches near the wall, fishing for a third bar.

“The show is just starting. And I want a front-row seat.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep