Rise of the F-Rank Hero-Chapter 154: Displaced

The heavy iron doors of the Boss Room remained sealed as the party regrouped. The silence was broken only by Jason’s ragged breathing.

He sat against the wall, his face gray. He stared at the cauterized stump where his right forearm used to be. For a swordsman, this was a death sentence.

"It’s over," Jason whispered, tears leaking from his eyes. "I’m done. I can’t hold a sword. I’m... I’m useless."

"Stop whining," Oliver said, wiping his blade. "You’re alive."

"Easy for you to say!" Jason snapped, though his voice lacked heat. "I’m a cripple!"

"Move."

Amy stepped forward, her white robes stained with soot and blood. She knelt beside Jason. She didn’t look like the shy girl from the academy anymore. She looked like a high priestess.

"Amy?" Jason blinked. "It’s gone. Even high-tier healing can’t—"

"I am not a high-tier healer," Amy said softly, her eyes glowing with a pure, blinding gold light. "I am a Saintess."

She placed both hands over the stump.

"[Sacred Art: Divine Reconstruction]."

HUMMM.

The air in the room vibrated with power so dense it made the hair on the knights’ arms stand up. A pillar of golden light erupted from Amy’s hands, enveloping Jason’s arm.

"AAAAHHH!" Jason screamed.

It wasn’t the pain of injury; it was the agony of rapid growth.

Everyone watched in stunned silence. Inside the light, bone knitted itself together from nothing. Muscles wove like threads of red silk. Nerves sparked and reconnected. Skin sealed over the raw flesh.

In thirty seconds, the light faded.

Jason sat there, panting, sweat pouring off him. He looked down.

His right hand was back. It was pink and new, like a baby’s skin, but it was there. He flexed his fingers. Clench. Release.

"My... my hand..." Jason choked out. He looked at Amy with pure awe. "How...?"

"Don’t get used to it," Amy whispered, swaying slightly. She looked pale, her mana drained significantly. "That took half my reserves."

Oliver caught her before she tipped over, steadying her by the waist.

"Good job," he murmured.

Amy leaned into him for a second, drawing strength from his presence, before standing up straight. "I’m okay. We can move."

Daniel looked at the miracle, then at the door where William had fled. The contrast between the friend who maimed them and the girl who saved them was stark. He gripped his sword, his jaw setting.

"Let’s go," Daniel said, his voice finally sounding like a leader again. "We owe it to her to finish this."

****

The descent continued, but the pace shifted from cautious to brutal.

Without William’s sabotage and with the Knights fully integrated under Oliver’s command, the party became a grinder.

Floor 33: A jungle of carnivorous plants. Oliver and Isolde cut a path while Lisa and Sophia burned the spores. Floor 36: The Hall of Mirrors. Daniel and Jason, humbled and focused, acted as perfect meat shields, blocking illusions while Oliver assassinated the casters. Floor 38: The Magma Tunnels. The heat was unbearable.

"Keep moving!" Oliver shouted, wiping sweat from his eyes. "Heat exhaustion is the enemy here. Drink potions on my mark!"

They were efficient. They were deadly. But the dungeon responded in kind. The monsters were becoming smarter, faster, and more vicious. The traps were no longer simple pits; they were magical triggers hidden in the weave of the air itself.

By the time they reached the stairs to Floor 40, everyone was running on fumes.

The Separation

"Floor 40 entrance ahead," Isolde scouted, dropping from a shadow on the ceiling. "It’s a narrow corridor. High mana density. Likely a trap gauntlet."

"We go single file," Oliver ordered. "Ren, check for triggers. I’m right behind you. Amy, stay in the middle with the mages. Knights, rear guard."

They entered the corridor. The walls were made of gray smooth stone, etched with ominous red runes.

Ren moved slowly, disarming a pressure plate here, a tripwire there.

"Clear," Ren signaled, sweating.

They were halfway across.

Click.

It wasn’t Ren who stepped on it. It was a shifting tectonic plate deep below the dungeon. A natural tremor.

The floor beneath the entire vanguard shuddered.

"RUN!" Oliver roared.

The floor didn’t just open; it dissolved. It was a Displacement Trap—a magical chute designed to separate intruders.

The ground vanished beneath Ren, Oliver, and Isolde.

"Grab my hand!" Oliver lunged, grabbing Ren by the collar and throwing him backward toward safe ground.

Jason caught Ren, pulling him to safety.

But the recoil pushed Oliver further into the void.

"OLIVER!" Amy screamed, rushing forward, her hand outstretched.

"Stay back!" Oliver shouted, seeing the edge crumbling.

Isolde, who was falling with him, reacted instantly. She stabbed her rapier into the wall, halting her fall. She reached down with her other hand, her fingers brushing Oliver’s coat.

"Master! Grab on!"

Oliver reached up. Their fingertips touched.

CRACK.

The wall Isolde was anchored to crumbled. She slipped.

"Don’t be stupid," Oliver muttered.

He saw that her anchor wouldn’t hold both of them. If he grabbed her, they would both fall.

He pulled his hand back.

"Climb up, Isolde! Protect Amy!"

"NO!" Isolde shrieked, her eyes widening in horror.

Oliver kicked off the wall, pushing himself away from her reach and deeper into the center of the chute.

He fell.

The darkness swallowed him instantly. The last thing he saw was the terrified face of the Saintess and the furious, screaming visage of the Vampire Princess before the trap door slammed shut above him, sealing the corridor.

****

Oliver fell.

The wind roared in his ears. He wasn’t falling one floor. He was falling past Floor 41... 42...

The air grew colder. The mana pressure became suffocating, heavy enough to crush a normal human’s lungs.

’This isn’t a normal trap,’ Oliver thought calmly, forcing his body into a dive position. ’This is a disposal chute. It leads to the trash heap.’

He saw a faint blue light below.

’Water.’

He braced himself.

SPLASH.

He hit the water like a cannonball. The impact knocked the wind out of him, plunging him into freezing, pitch-black depths.

He swam to the surface, gasping for air, coughing up brackish water.

He dragged himself onto a rocky shore, shivering violently. He checked his surroundings.

It was a massive underground cavern. Bioluminescent moss covered the ceiling miles above, looking like jagged stars. The air smelled of ozone and ancient death.

A system window—one he hadn’t seen in a long time—flickered in his vision.

[Location Detected: Floor 45 - The Abyssal Garden]

Oliver cursed.

He was five floors down. Separated from the party. And his detection skill was screaming.

Growl.

From the darkness of the cavern, dozens of red eyes opened.

Oliver stood up, water dripping from his coat. He drew his dagger—his spear was lost in the fall.

"Well," Oliver whispered, a savage grin touching his lips as the adrenaline kicked in. "Looks like I’m taking the scenic route."

****

"OLIVER!"

Amy’s scream tore through the corridor, raw and agonizing.

She dropped to her knees at the edge of the sealed trapdoor, her hands clawing at the smooth gray stone. There was no seam. No handle. The floor had sealed perfectly, as if it had never opened.

"Open! Open it!" Amy shrieked, panic flooding her system. She raised her staff, the crystal tip glowing with unstable, blinding mana. "[Holy Breaker]!"

BOOM.

A blast of light slammed into the floor. The stone scorched, but didn’t crack.

"Amy, stop!" Daniel rushed forward, grabbing her shoulders. "You’ll bring the ceiling down on us!"

"Let me go! He’s down there!" Amy struggled, tears streaming down her face, her eyes wild with terror. "He fell! I have to—I have to get him!"

"Stop it, you stupid girl."

A hand, cold as ice and strong as steel, grabbed Amy’s wrist.

Isolde stood there. She wasn’t crying. Her face was pale, mask-like in its stillness, but her crimson eyes were burning with a terrifying intensity.

"Isolde..." Amy choked out, looking at the woman Oliver loved. "He... he let go. To save you. He..."

"I know," Isolde cut her off, her voice flat. She released Amy’s wrist and stood up, holstering her rapier with a sharp click. "He pushed himself away so I wouldn’t fall with him. Which means if we stand here crying like children, his sacrifice is wasted."

She turned to the group. The Knights looked demoralized. Lisa and Sophia were hugging each other in fear. Jason was staring at the floor, guilt written all over his face.

"Listen to me," Isolde commanded, her voice echoing with the authority of royalty. "That was a Displacement Trap. It doesn’t kill. It transports."

"Transports?" Daniel asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

"He’s been moved to a lower floor," Isolde stated confidently, though her fists were clenched so tight her nails were drawing blood. "He is Oliver Shaw. He survived the Abyss alone for months without gear or magic. Do you really think a fall is going to kill him?"

She glared at them, daring them to disagree.

"He is alive. So, we just need to climb down."

She pointed her rapier down the dark corridor ahead.

"We continue. We clear Floor 40. We descend. And we pick him up on the way down."

Amy wiped her tears furiously with her sleeve. She stood up, taking a deep, shuddering breath. The panic in her eyes was replaced by a hard, diamond-like resolve.

"You’re right," Amy whispered. "He’s alive. I know he is."

She gripped her staff.

"Let’s go," Amy said, her voice shaking but loud. "We’re speed-running this."