I WAS Humanity's HOPE-Chapter 36: S and SS Rank

Trevor hitched James higher across his shoulders, grunting at the dead weight. Oren steadied James’s legs, the pair of them stumbling in loose synchrony while Anne guided their path with a wavering globe of pale light, her F-Rank spell.

Richard led, eyes darting between the dark.

Nadia pressed close behind him, a hand on the small of his back as though the contact alone might anchor her to the world. Every so often, she couldn’t help but glance back, as if expecting the Sovereign to knit himself together and come looking.

Richard’s voice sounded oddly small in the echoing dark. "Stay sharp—if anything else moves, shout."

Trevor managed a weak laugh. "Mate, shouting’s about all I’ve got left."

The joke drew a ripple of brittle relief; even Oren’s knuckles eased on James’s boots.

The corridor narrowed; the stale air thinned. In the hush, James’s shallow breathing sounded like a saw through soft pine.

They passed Richard’s chalk arrows—now showing the way again, the maze no longer shifting.

At last, the familiar vault of the antechamber opened before them, runes lights glowing a steady amber. The portal’s face had shed its obsidian glaze, and violet had taken its place.

A sudden noise echoed from behind them.

Nadia’s shoulders tensed as she stepped behind Richard, who had turned to look back.

A cluster of figures lurched into view from the far passage—the seniors, battle‑worn and blood‑spattered.

Adrian himself carried Elaine, her body cradled against his chest, the scorch across her robe stark and cruel. Peter limped at his side, arm freshly bandaged; Ava and two others ringed them, wands readied for dangers that never came.

Both parties stopped, mirror images of exhaustion.

Adrian’s gaze found Richard over the heads of the others. Whatever rivalry had once filled him was burned away.

He inclined his head in a silent salute. "Did you kill the boss?"

Richard returned the gesture. "Yes, we did."

"Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, we would have all probably been dead," Adrian said with a much too sincere tone for anyone to believe he was lying.

Richard looked at him, befuddled.

"Yes. You probably don’t know this, but after... our encounter with two dozen rats, we came across something else. It—I don’t know what it was. But it was going to kill us, I’m sure. And then, it suddenly fell down and disappeared. That’s what made us think that the Dungeon boss was killed and we might find our way back," Adrian patiently explained, gesturing to his group.

Richard nodded compassionately and gestured at the portal, "After you, then."

And one by one, all the seniors made their way back to the real world.

The doorway hummed with violet energy with each passing.

Behind them, the walls seemed to shudder.

"All right, it’s our turn now," Richard said.

Trevor and Oren tipped James forward; Anne caught his head so it wouldn’t loll. Nadia stepped through first, swallow‑hard nerves giving way to a wash of cool dusk air.

One by one they followed, and by the time Richard stood alone, the entire room quaked as though wracked by an earthquake.

Twilight greeted him.

Slate clouds, tents bristling with healer symbols, and a line of steel‑grey constables holding back a wider crowd.

Spell lamps flickered with light across damp grass.

The sudden chatter of the outside world crashed over the students—orders barked, stretchers wheeled.

At the centre of the organised chaos stood the Mage Guild’s Master, Aurelius Vance.

Tall and crooked in a frock coat the colour of storm glass, he radiated a quiet, terrible gravity. Power coiled round him like a high wire—silent, lethal.

Richard felt it at once; a pressure behind the eyes, a pinprick down the spine. SS‑Rank, without question.

And Vance felt him back. Their gazes locked, and in that instant, a silent ledger flipped open between the two.

An entire unspoken conversation crackled between them. Vance’s left eyebrow rose a millimetre—both warning and invitati.on

If he attacks me, I can probably still take him down from this range before he musters anything truly horrifying.

Like Meredith, the Guild Master was merely a mage, with all the inherent weaknesses of his class—weaknesses that Richard did not share.

Vance stepped forward, voice carrying with practised calm. "Medical teams, here. We have wounded and one deceased."

Healers converged.

Trevor and Oren relinquished James to a pair in white cloaks; Anne slipped beside Peter while a green‑robed cleric examined his stitches. Nadia accepted a draught for her trembling hands. Adrian laid Elaine gently upon a waiting stretcher, brushing soot‑stained hair from her brow before turning away.

Only when the urgent flurry eased did Vance address Richard.

"For the official record," he said, tone mild as drizzle, "state the dungeon’s rating."

Richard felt Meredith’s presence at his elbow—she had appeared, breathless, eyes shining with worry—but he kept his gaze on the Guild Master. "C‑Rank, sir. No entity above that tier engaged us."

A pause.

That was a believable rank, because while D-Ranks clearing a C-Rank Dungeon wasn’t a standard procedure, it had happened quite a few times before. The fact that no casualties occurred beyond James and Elaine made it plausible enough to avoid scrutiny from those who weren’t there.

Besides, admitting to anything higher would raise uncomfortable questions about what truly lurked in those depths and how the students managed to return back...

Vance’s expression betrayed nothing. "C‑Rank," he echoed, as though tasting the word. "Very well. I shall file it as such." Then, almost idly, he added, "You and I, Richard, will probably need to discuss the finer points later."

The briefest flick of his pale irises spoke volumes. Richard inclined his head, the gesture both an acknowledgement and a promise.

Thankfully, no one was paying the exchange any attention, otherwise they might have been confused as to why the SS-Rank was talking to an E-Rank. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Meredith exhaled at his side, relief softening the lines of fear carved there since morning.

She opened her mouth—perhaps to scold, perhaps to thank—but Richard touched her elbow before she could speak. Later, the gesture was meant to say.

Apparently, his sister got the message, not being that dense. She didn’t catch Vance’s threat, though.

The Guild Master turned, directing aides to catalogue survivors, and the camp resumed its clamour.

Richard looked down at his hands—they were grimy. Nadia slipped hers into one, squeezing.

Trevor and Oren drifted close, weary but alive; Anne nodded once, resolute despite the redness rim‑ming her eyes.

Even Adrian, shoulders bowed, lingered a pace away, as though unsure whether to stand with them or apart.

For one fragile heartbeat, Richard wondered whether any of them might speak out, because to them, it was obvious he had just lied about the dungeon’s rank.

Rain began to fall, fine and silver, hushing the camp into softer tones.

Water drops pearled on Nadia’s lashes, and for a moment Richard thought she might actually weep. Instead, she pressed the heel of her hand to her brow, shivering hard enough that her damp braid trembled.

"Hey," he murmured, drawing her a half‑step under his shoulder.

The borrowed healer’s blanket about her shoulders failed to hide the way her fingers still shook. "It’s done. No more mirror tricks, no more monsters. From now on, it’s just hot tea and the world’s blandest medical porridge from here. If you ask me, I’d say that I prefer the former but..."

She huffed a brittle laugh. "You promise?"

"On my sizeable fortune."

Trevor, hovering nearby with Oren, managed a grin. "He owns a mansion now, remember?"

Oren didn’t let the statement go by and said, "A mansion to which we’ve not been invited yet."

"Of course," Richard said, clapping Trevor’s mud‑splattered shoulder. "Don’t worry. I’ll invite you all over as soon as I’m settled down."

"And Nadia comes over..." Anne muttered from a few paces away.

They all laughed at that, although Richard couldn’t help but say: "Hear, hear! Haven’t you been going to Trev’s lately? Don’t act all innocent on us."

Anne turned beet red at that, causing another round of laughter. Even through her embarrassment, she couldn’t help but crack a smile, muttering something about "just studying" that nobody quite believed.

Eventually, Richard excused himself and went for a walk.

He circled the perimeter of the camp, watching all kinds of people scurry between tents.

The damp air helped clear his head, washing away the acrid tang of battle that still clung to his clothes. Thankfully, the boss was low S-Rank, otherwise who knows what might have happened... I need to get stronger.

As he completed his loop, he noticed something that made him pause.

Ava lingered at the stretcher where Peter was being examined, worry carving deep crescents under her eyes.

Richard walked beside her. "He’ll keep the arm. Those white‑coats are miracle‑workers."

"Tell him that when he wakes," she said, voice raw but steady. She turned, unexpectedly wrapped Richard in a swift hug, then followed the healers.

Only Adrian remained, head bowed, rain glossing the soot on his cheeks. Richard crossed to him. A silent moment stretched; then Adrian spoke, words threadbare.

"I’ll write to her parents. Explain... explain everything that happened."

Richard considered. "Tell them she saved lives."

Another nod.

Then Adrian moved away, and so did Richard.