I Reincarnated to Another World as a Woman-Chapter 216: Seconds from Death

Chief Lutherford is at the end of her wits. She has been running from the spider haelion for what feels like forever, yet no matter how fast she runs, it always stays on her heels.

Her stamina is gone. Her legs no longer respond the way she wants them to. Each breath grows shorter, harsher, tearing at her lungs until even breathing feels like work.

She tries to push herself harder.

Then her foot catches on something.

She stumbles and topples forward, bracing for the impact, certain her face is about to smash into hard stone.

But it doesn’t.

Her face lands on something soft.

Chief Lutherford freezes.

Slowly, she opens her tightly shut eyes and forces herself to focus on what stopped her fall.

Her eyes widen.

She almost screams.

It is another officer.

A body lying motionless on the dungeon floor, eyes tightly shut, skin pale and cold. One of her subordinates.

Her mind blanks.

She knows him. She knows she does.

But she cannot remember his name.

Fear spikes sharper than before.

"No... no, wake up," she whispers, shaking him by the shoulders. "Please, wake up."

Nothing.

She shakes him harder, panic rising with every second that passes.

Then she hears it.

The snapping sound.

Wet. Sharp. Close.

Her entire body goes rigid.

Her hands drop from the officer as she slowly turns around, heart pounding so violently she is sure the haelion can hear it.

She comes face to face with the haelion’s mouth.

It is right there.

So close she can smell its rotten breath. So close she can see strands of saliva dripping from its snapping mandibles, splattering onto the ground between them.

Too close.

There is no escape.

Her legs refuse to move.

Her body locks up, fear crushing her from the inside out.

She knows this is the end.

Yet she refuses to close her eyes.

If she is going to die, she will see it.

She stares straight at the snapping mouth as it slowly inches closer, each movement deliberate, almost mocking.

For a fleeting moment, she thinks it is smiling.

Satisfied that its prey has finally stopped running.

Her body trembles violently. Her instincts scream at her to shut her eyes, to look away, to give up.

She doesn’t.

She fights it with everything she has left.

She will face death with her eyes open.

The haelion closes in until it is barely a foot from her face.

Then it screams.

The sound is sudden and piercing.

The spider haelion recoils violently, staggering backward as if struck by an unseen force.

Its massive head jerks left, then right, scanning wildly.

It pauses.

Then its many eyes lock onto something else.

Without another glance at her, the haelion turns and dashes away, disappearing into the green mist.

Chief Lutherfor’s strength finally gives out.

She gasps for air, disbelief crashing over her in waves.

She survived.

Twice.

And she has no idea why.

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Rhaenas continues to burn and purify the green mist, inch by inch. With every section cleared, the dungeon slowly reveals itself. Shapes form where there was once nothing. The ground becomes visible. Then trees. Then bodies.

Arthur can feel his mana thinning dangerously fast. The purified mana Theo sends his way helps, but not nearly enough. His muscles burn. His chest aches. His breathing turns shallow as his body screams under the strain.

He grits his teeth and keeps going.

Liam and Julian are no better. Both of them are already panting, sweat dripping down their faces, their control slipping despite their best efforts. Every time they think they have secured a group, they find more unconscious bodies just beyond their reach.

They count again.

Still in the fifties.

Far from seventy three.

Theo’s burden is heavier than all of theirs combined. This is his second entry into the dungeon, and the green mist does not forgive. Purifying corrupted mana while maintaining a Mind Shield for five people drains him relentlessly. His movements grow slower, his shoulders sag, and every breath feels like it costs him something precious.

Even so, he does not stop.

Maeve should be in the best condition among them, at least on paper. She did not enter the dungeon first. She did not expend herself purifying the mist.

But she chose otherwise.

She has been quietly healing the others with her Light magic whenever she senses their mana dipping too low. Small boosts. Careful ones. Just enough to keep them going.

It works.

For a while.

Then her own mana begins to run dry.

Her hands tremble.

Her breathing turns uneven.

And yet, none of them stop.

Because stopping means leaving people behind.

And none of them are willing to do that.

Theo suddenly pales.

The color drains from his face so fast it’s almost alarming. His hands begin to tremble, fingers twitching as if his body is trying to warn him before his mind can fully process it.

Maeve notices immediately.

She exhales softly. In her mind, this is it. Theo has finally reached his limit.

"Thea," she starts, stepping toward him.

But Theo cuts her off sharply, his voice snapping like a whip.

"The King is coming."

His eyes are wide now, unfocused, staring past them, sensing something they cannot.

"It must’ve sensed the green mist being purified," he continues, urgency bleeding into every word. "It’s coming!"

The rest of them go pale.

The Dungeon King.

At this moment.

At the worst possible moment.

Theo does not hesitate. Fear has no place here.

"Stop purifying and protecting," he barks. "Start taking them out of the dungeon! Now! Hurry!"

He turns toward the deeper mist, jaw clenched.

"I’ll hold it off!"

He doesn’t need to explain how dire the situation is. The tone alone tells them everything.

The four of them move instantly.

Adrenaline floods their veins, drowning exhaustion, overriding pain. Arthur and Liam abandon formation and grab the nearest unconscious officers. Julian reinforces the ground, creating paths, clearing obstacles. Maeve abandons healing and focuses solely on movement.

They begin dragging bodies. Lifting. Pulling. Carrying.

Hands burn. Muscles scream. Breath comes ragged and sharp.

They do not slow.

Behind them, the green mist churns violently.

Something massive is coming through it.

Fast.