NOVEL NEXT Chapter 93: Is he really Rank 1?
A whistle drew his attention to the scout.
Sylphie—leather-clad, dual daggers at her hips—circled him like a hawk eyeing fresh meat.
"Hmm… cute face, nice arms. Maybe you'll make a good distraction while we handle the goblins."
Ethan didn't flinch.
The priestess, Elira Dawnshield, stood a little apart from the group. Her robes bore the light of sanctified runes, and a silver staff rested at her side. She hadn't spoken, but her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than the others. No malice—just an assessing calm.
The last one, Velmorrin Quen, leaned on his staff like it was just another limb. Tall, sharp-eyed, and quiet. A mage, clearly. His fingers were twitching slightly, laced with mana. Watching. Thinking.
Ethan could tell. That one was cautious.
He ignored the remarks. "What are the loot rules?"
The group paused.
Rynel blinked, then scoffed. "Really? You think it'll matter to you?"
"I'm just making sure," Ethan said, voice flat. "Don't want disputes later."
Rynel pulled out a scroll, flicking it open with unnecessary flair. Arcane lettering glowed across the surface.
"Standard contract. You kill it, it's yours. Highest kill count gets claim on the dungeon core. Everything else gets pooled and divided evenly."
"Sign and shut up," Garron growled.
Ethan took the scroll and scrawled Leon Grimveil.
As he handed it back, Velmorrin stepped forward, almost unnoticed.
He leaned in, voice quiet.
"Just so you know… the rest of us are party-bound. All our kills count as one. If you're alone, you'll have to outkill five people combined."
He met Ethan's eyes. "Still want the core?"
Ethan's answer was calm. Certain.
"Yes."
Velmorrin stared for a breath longer… then stepped back.
Rynel chuckled. "Let the little stray dream."
No more words were exchanged.
The team turned, and one by one, they stepped through the dungeon portal.
Ethan followed last.
The air around him shimmered as he passed the gate, his coat fluttering slightly from the shift in pressure.
He was heading into the dungeon.
And he wasn't planning on coming out second.
*****
A portal shimmered into existence, suspended like a mirror cut from space itself.
From it stepped six figures into the unknown.
Elira Dawnshield, her silver-trimmed robes glowing faintly, adjusted the clasp of her prayer shawl as her eyes scanned the dim surroundings. Velmorrin Quen emerged next, his cloak trailing behind him like smoke, hands already laced with flickering runes of detection. Rynel Vaen followed with arrogant precision, his golden hair immaculate even in the dungeon's musty air, his mana beast—a sleek black panther—padding silently by his side. Garron Flintblade, broad as a boulder, cracked his neck and hefted his axe with a grunt. Sylphie spun a dagger between her fingers, whistling low as her eyes darted across the terrain.
And at the rear, dressed in unassuming clothes that bore no crest or color, walked Ethan. His expression unlike the solemn expression of the others was extremely casual, as if he was taking a walk in the pack, he was silent, watchful and unbothered at thesame time. like the others could help but scoff at his newbie nature, they were once like him, maybe after experiencing the horrors of a dungeon he'll learn.
The dungeon around them was dimly lit by bioluminescent moss clinging to damp stone walls. Jagged rock formations jutted from the ground like the broken ribs of some ancient beast. The air was thick—muggy and tinged with the scent of decay and iron. The passage ahead branched into winding tunnels, and in the distance, faint goblin snarls echoed like mocking laughter.
While looking around, his eyes narrowed slightly.
'Mana sense. Activate.'
Like a ripple spreading across still water, his mana surged outward. It was calm, refined—dead silent—but vast. It pushed out like invisible fingers, threading through every crevice and shadow, mapping the world in an instant.
Velmorrin shuddered visibly. His gaze snapped toward Ethan, eyes wide. "Leon... what was that?" he asked, voice tight.
The others turned to him, frowning.
"What's wrong?" Sylphie asked, curiosity spiking.
Velmorrin's eyes never left Ethan. His Talent—Spellweaver's Insight—made him highly attuned to mana fluctuations. And what he'd felt wasn't the mana of a Rank 1. It wasn't even the mana of someone struggling to control power they didn't understand. No—it was composed. Masterful. Dangerous.
Velmorrin's mouth opened, then closed. He shook his head. "...I'm not sure."
But inside, his evaluation of "Leon Grimveil" was rising rapidly.
The others didn't notice. Not truly. But a strange tension coiled in their chests. Instinct maybe. Or unease.
Meanwhile Ethan ignored the question, not bothering to give any of them even the slightest glance, his mind was on his mission. He moved forward, calm, scanning the surroundings.
But then, he felt something. A flicker—movement in the far edge of his mana sense. His brow twitched.
'Found them.' He was a bit excited, while he knew what Goblin looked like it was a different experience to see them first hand. There was not even the slightest feeling of fear within him, with his strength, it should be no problem handing a group of goblins.
'Mana boots activate'
He willed it. Manipulating the mana within him to his foot, pressuring it out of his mana pores. A faint glow pulsed at his feet. Then—he was gone.
One second, standing still. The next, a blur. A gust of wind.
Sylphie's eyes widened. "Wha—?"
"Did he just—?" Garron stepped forward, dumbfounded.
"That speed…" Elira murmured. "Is he really Rank 1?"
Rynel's face twisted. His jaw clenched.
"It's not possible," he growled. "He was appraised. He had to be Rank 1. The license was issued today."
Of course, they can't just team up with someone they know nothing about, they've already investigated him before he met up with them. With their methods, they were able to find out that he got appraised just minutes before he accepted their mission.
Meanwhile, Velmorrin didn't speak. He was already casting his investigative methods.
Blue runes danced across his vision. His mana pulsed and refined into fine threads that swept through the air like antennae. His detection magic picked up the movement—there, deeper ahead in the tunnel, shifting shadows. And then he saw it.
A cluster of goblins—fifteen of them, minimum. Battle-ready. Well-positioned.
And right in their center… Ethan. No—Leon.
Velmorrin's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "There's a pack of goblins ahead… and Leon Grimveil sensed them before me."
His voice was tight. Not quite panic, but close.
Rynel's hands curled into fists. "Damn it. He's making a move on the core."
The black panther beside him tensed. Rynel's authority cracked through the air like a whip. "Everyone, formation! We can't lose the core to some stray nobody. How will we be able to face our Desperado guild if we return without a core."
The group sprang into action.
Like seasoned veterans, they fell into formation—no wasted motion. Elira moved to the center, already chanting protective hymns under her breath. Garron took point, axe raised. Sylphie darted to the flanks, eyes gleaming. Velmorrin adjusted his pace, tracking Ethan's trail. And Rynel's beast vanished into shadow as they charged forward.
Minutes passed.
They rounded the bend. And stopped.
A heavy silence fell over the group.
It was Sylphie who gasped first. The clearing ahead was littered with goblin corpses.
Not just dead—but dissected. Their heads had been removed with surgical precision. No scorch marks. No shattered limbs. No mess. Just clean, perfect cuts.
Goblins lay in sprawled heaps, expressions frozen in terror. Even their weapons had been shattered mid-swing.
There were no signs of struggle. No injuries. No traps. Just death—swift and absolute.
"Impossible…" Rynel's voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "There were fifteen."
Elira's hands trembled, just slightly. Her lips moved in silent prayer.
Garron's axe lowered, his face tight with disbelief. "Even with our full buffs and coordination… we'd need five, maybe six minutes."
Sylphie swallowed. "This looks like it took seconds."
Velmorrin stood still. His mind raced. His mana-tracing still lingered faintly in the air. He could see the path Ethan had taken, the sequence of movements… it was too fast. Too fluid.
No hesitation. No wasted strikes. It wasn't the work of a Rank 1 Awakened. It wasn't the work of a nobody.
It was the work of someone who'd killed like this before. Someone who understood battle on an instinctual level.
Velmorrin didn't speak.
But in his mind, the name Leon Grimveil no longer meant "extra."
It meant threat. And he wasn't the only one thinking it.
Rynel's pride was burning in his chest like a brand. Gritting his teeth, he snarled, "If he's playing games with his real rank, he'll regret it. Guild laws are clear. Falsified strength is a crime."
Still, even as he said it… Even as he tried to rally his ego…
The image of those cleanly decapitated goblins wouldn't leave him. And deep down, despite the anger clawing at his throat…
He was scared. 'How did he cheat the appraisal method. But am I just wrong, is he so strong as a Rank one that he's nearing the level of rank 2 maybe he's someone who've already entered the Great Labyrinth...'