Even though silence had reclaimed what remained, the thunderous echoes of crumbling walls still reverberated through David’s mind.

His body ached, his mangled arm throbbed with relentless pain, but he forced himself to remain conscious.

He lifted his head, a single command pressing in his thoughts.

STATUS

HP : ▰▱▱▱▱ ³¹

DEFENSE : ▱▱▱▱▱ ⁰ + ▱⁰

MANA : ▱▱▱▱▱ ⁰

A translucent status window flickered into existence. David exhaled, barely able to comprehend the sight.

The shapeshifter was gone-buried beneath the weight of the fallen pyramid-yet he couldn't shake the lingering dread. Had he truly won? Or was this just another cruel trick?

“Hah... I barely survived.” His voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. “And this was just a low-level rift… Imagine something stronger.” He scoffed at himself, but a sharp pang in his arm dragged his thoughts back to the present. His mangled limb was a pressing concern now.

He wanted to stand, but his legs begged for rest. This, however, was no place to collapse. The dust had begun to settle, revealing the aftermath of his desperate gamble. He cast a glance forward—the shapeshifter’s body lay ahead, half-buried in the wreckage. The sight alone forced him to move.

With careful steps, he turned to leave.

A sound.

Agonizing. Weak. Helpless.

David’s body tensed as something latched onto his leg. His breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs. The cold grip sent a deep, primal shudder through his spine—he braced himself for the worst.

But… nothing happened.

Slowly, he turned his head. The shapeshifter was still alive. Barely. Its claws clutched his leg, but the grip was weak—powerless. Yet even in its dying moments, the malice in its touch remained.

David couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

All he knew was that his assumption had been correct—the shapeshifter was far from an easy kill.

With careful precision, he wrenched his leg free and stepped back. The creature’s face—a monstrous, ever-changing blend—warped and twisted as it struggled to maintain a form.

Features melted, reshaped, and flickered between countless visages. It was a chaotic parody of the many lives it had consumed.

David studied the pitiful wretch before him, torn between empathy and hatred. His lips parted, but the words he wished to say faltered. There was no need for them.

Until he glimpsed fragments of Elena’s face and traces of Henry’s features, distorted within its failing mimicry.

He lifted his hand, summoning his Light Blade.

Nothing.

His mana was spent. The fight had drained him to the last drop, leaving only empty exhaustion. As much as he wanted to claim this as his victory, he knew better. He had survived by luck, nothing more.

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David exhaled, his breath steady despite the trembling in his body. He took a few slow steps to the side, spotting a large chunk of the collapsed wall. It was just the right size for his working arm to lift. His fingers curled around the jagged stone, gripping it tightly.

He turned back to the shapeshifter.

He wanted to be merciful.

But he couldn’t.

Not after everything.

With a rough motion, he raised the rock and brought it down. The sound of impact was sickening. Flesh split, bone cracked, dark ichor splattered onto the debris-strewn ground. The shapeshifter let out a guttural groan—low, broken, unbearable.

David clenched his jaw. He didn’t let himself look.

He just kept going.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The grotesque symphony of breaking flesh and dying agony played until the creature no longer made a sound.

His grip loosened, the blood-stained rock slipping from his fingers with a dull thud. He staggered back, breath heavy, heart pounding.

And then, as if waiting for this moment, two objects shimmered into existence before him.

David blinked, his dazed mind barely processing the sight. A light brown, dull orb and a radiant blue core lay in the dust.

A system reward.

He knew what the core was—but the other…? He frowned. It was unfamiliar, yet he had no strength left to care.

Without hesitation, he picked up the orb first, sliding it into his inventory. His good arm reached for the core, fingers curling around its warmth. Whatever it was, he would deal with it later. Right now, he just needed to leave.

If one were to gaze upon the scene, they would see the fallen walls stacked upon one another, collapsing outward from the heart of the pyramid toward the entrance.

Yet, the sides remained untouched, a haunting reminder of the once-formidable maze that had stood resolute only moments before.

David turned, his body sluggish, his breath uneven. His shattered arm hung limply at his side, still bleeding. His legs were weak, dragging with each slow step. But he kept going.

One step.

Another.

Until finally, he reached the entrance—the place where this ordeal began.

Just as he placed a foot over the threshold, a voice cut through the stillness.

"Everyone, attack!"

David’s eyes widened.

He had no energy left to dodge. No power to fight.

The realization barely had time to sink in before a wall of thorn-covered earth exploded toward him.

Pain.

A thousand jagged needles dug into his flesh as the force of the attack hurled him backward. He barely had time to let out a gasp before his body crashed against the ground, agony spreading through him like wildfire.

His breath stolen from his lungs. His vision swam, dark spots clouding his sight as his body refused to move. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, his consciousness slipping.

Through the haze, footsteps approached.

David fought to stay awake, but the weight of exhaustion was relentless.

His mind screamed at him to move, to survive-

But everything faded to black.

The footsteps drew closer to the spot where David had fallen unconscious.

Lizzie and Captain Zack appeared, their eyes scanning the scene before them. Zack's gaze immediately locked onto David, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of the unconscious man.

"Is he..." Lizzie’s voice trailed off, her words hanging in the air like a question neither of them wanted to answer.

Captain Zack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We didn’t have a choice. We couldn't risk him being the shapeshifter."

"But... what if it really is him?" Lizzie's voice wavered, concern filling her eyes as she watched David. "Did we just tried—"

Zack interrupted her with a sharp gesture. "We couldn't have afforded hesitation. If we had waited, and this was the shapeshifter, it could have turned the tables. Better to be cautious now than regret it later."

Lizzie's gaze softened, but she remained uneasy. "I don't know, Zack. It just doesn't feel right."

Zack's tone grew firmer; he pretended as though he cared, with a hint of sympathy in it. "I get it. But we did what we had to do. If he’s David, he’ll pull through. If not… we’ll handle it when the time comes," still acting arrogantly.

She crouched beside David, her movements careful, mindful of the damage done to him. Lizzie reached for his pulse, her fingers trembling slightly as she checked for any sign of life beyond the shallow breaths.

"He's alive," Lizzie muttered, though the relief in her voice was tempered by the uncertainty. "But barely."

The fear in her voice was palpable. "But this... this wasn’t just us or the shapeshifter. What happened to him?" His whole body was covered in injuries, each more grievous than the last.

Zack stared at the unconscious man, lost in thought for a moment. "Whatever it was, it’s clear he's not the same man anymore."

Lizzie looked back at the exhausted figure of David, still gripping his arm, and nodded reluctantly. "I just hope we didn’t make a mistake."