Meanwhile, near the outer routes of the dungeon, groups of explorers steadily gathered together.
Rescued newcomers, Bronze Squad members, and reinforcements formed a growing procession moving toward the exit.
The atmosphere was tense but hopeful.
People supported the injured. Formations were carefully maintained. Commands passed quietly through the ranks.
Captain Ryn walked at the front, his gaze constantly scanning the crowd.
Counting.
Recounting.
Checking faces.
Something was missing.
Arthur.
He had not seen the boy among any of the rescued groups.
Ryn's brows tightened slightly.
"That kid…"
Arthur's reckless nature was difficult to forget. The way he moved alone, the way he chased danger without hesitation, the strange confidence he carried.
Ryn could easily imagine him wandering deeper instead of retreating.
Or worse.
His mind briefly considered the possibility that Arthur had already died somewhere in the chaos.
The thought lingered.
Then he pushed it away.
