I WAS Humanity's HOPE-Chapter 33: Mirrors are Scary

The corridor rang with uneasy silence after the last Craven Skulker fell. Smoke curled from its still‑warm carcass, the smell of singed fur clawing at their nostrils.

Adrian Greyford’s grin of triumph dissolved as he stared at his wand.

"I... I can’t conjure another," he panted, shoulders slumping. "That was it."

A ripple of alarm ran through the senior line. The ridiculous peacock is spent.

Behind him, freckled Elaine Holcomb bit her lip; Peter Nott’s knuckles whitened on the haft of his wand; Ava Derek exchanged a terrified glance with the others.

And then all eyes flicked to Richard, whose obsidian daggers rested on his hands...

If it wasn’t for me, that poor guy would have died, Richard noted with a sigh.

He stepped forward, breathing steadily. "Right," he said quietly, voice cutting through the tension. "Clearly, we need another plan."

A hush fell.

Richard’s classmates—Trevor, Oren, Nadia, and Anne—pressed in behind him, trusting his judgement. Even James, arms folded, grudgingly edged closer.

Adrian’s lip quivered. "You... you can’t command the seniors, Blackwood."

"Actually," Richard replied, "someone’s got to." He brushed soot from his sleeve. "We’re in a Black Dungeon of unknown rank—yes, unknown Adrian, don’t look at me like that. Just because all the monsters we encountered so far are E-Rank doesn’t mean shit."

Adrian gasped, trying to maintain his authority despite his exhaustion. "I’ve done the most leading this term. You’ll follow my orders or you’ll find yourselves dead."

Richard stood calmly, his blades spinning idly between his fingers.

His voice was level but firm. "Orders? You can’t even muster a candle-spark, Adrian. Let the people with magic left call the shots."

Trevor leaned close to Anne, whispering but not quite quietly enough. "He’s right; Adrian’s wand is a bent twig now."

Adrian’s head snapped around, his face flushing. "Mind your place, newbies!"

Oren, in a surprising show of boldness, stepped forward, his voice ringing with conviction. "Our place is alive, thanks to Richard."

The tension in the room crystallised as the group physically divided, with murmurs of agreement from the juniors—James not included—while the seniors bristled at this challenge to their authority.

Although some of them could be persuaded.

A few moments later, a literal line appeared in the soot on the floor, marking where each class stood.

Jee. Well, I give up. Let them do what they want.

Richard shook his head in exasperation. "Alright, Adrian, have it your way—we’ll split up. Whoever wants to join us you can do so now."

A tense moment passed. Elaine Holcomb was the first to move, stepping once towards Richard’s group before being stopped by one of her classmates who murmured: "El, don’t."

It must have had the desired effect as the girl sighed and moved back.

After that, no one else dared move.

Richard held his ground, eyes sweeping the silent faces around him.

After a minute, he finally exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Right," he said, turning around to look at his classmates, his voice measured. "We’ll move down the left passage. Keep close, watch each other’s backs. If anything comes at us, we hit together—no lone heroics."

He dropped into a half‑crouch and took the first cautious step.

Trevor mirrored him without hesitating; Nadia and Anne pressed in beside him, their faces determined. Behind them, James wrestled with an inner conflict. Eventually, he allowed resolve to harden his features as he joined the column.

Adrian’s nostrils flared. "Fine," he snapped, fingers twitching around the remnant of his wand.

But instead of charging off to the other path, he fell in beside Peter, who shot him a look of reluctant camaraderie. Ava took the rear guard, her eyes bright despite her fear, and Elaine hovered between the lines, caught in her classmates’ disapproving stares.

Those were Richard’s last observations before the shadows swallowed them whole.

They advanced into the gloom, every footstep measured.

Some time later, a flicker of movement darted at the edge of their vision—another Craven Skulker, its mottled hide blending almost perfectly with the stone.

It paused, sniffing.

Richard didn’t wait. He lunged forward, daggers glinting with an otherworldly sheen.

In a flash, the creature crumpled, gutted and lifeless.

"Woah," Trevor breathed, watching Richard’s form blur with supernatural speed. The rest of the group nodded silently at the exclamation.

Nadia walked to Richard and pressed a hand to his arm. "What do we do?"

Richard drew in a breath, scanning the walls.

The dull lights overhead kept flickering in uneven staccato, throwing jagged shadows that seemed to writhe.

"Just keep close," he ordered. "Mark every turn. We’ll find the Boss chamber—and fast."

"Right," Nadia replied forcibly.

Richard didn’t seem to notice the question in her tone, nor her horrified expression.

They moved on, walls bleeding shadows where stray light died.

At each junction, Richard scraped a rune of chalk on the floor: a tiny arrow pointing deeper in.

Erin whispered to Trevor, "Feels like the walls themselves want to trap us."

Oren muttered: "It’s a Black Dungeon... Who knows how twisted it is?"

As they pressed forward, passages shifted behind them. A corridor they’d taken to the left moments ago now looped back on itself; a side alcove they’d passed gleamed open like fresh marble.

Nadia frowned. "They’re rearranging. We need a way to keep track."

Richard shook his head tiredly. "Meredith’s breadcrumb spell would have done wonders—if any of us bothered to learn it... We’ll have to rely on luck."

After another bend, they stumbled into a vast circular chamber ringed with black, obsidian mirrors—each at least eight feet tall, their surfaces rippling like oil slicks.

In the centre crouched a towering figure clad in shadow‑forged armour.

An Umbral Warden.

Its helm, shaped like a hollow skull, turned as they entered.

"Ah," Richard murmured.

He caught Anne’s white‑knuckled grip on her wand. "Stay sharp."

From the mirrors stepped six phantoms—perfect copies of Richard’s party.

James’ twin blinked into being, Anne’s doppelgänger gripped its own wand, Nadia’s double flinched with equal terror.

Oren swallowed. "That’s... that’s ridiculous."

Richard couldn’t help but agree.

The first phantom—the copy of Anne—lunged at her, wand flickering. Anne straightened, ripping open the duel.

A jet of fiery sparks halted the phantom mid‑air, shattering it back into its mirror. The glass cracked, spiderwebbing from top to bottom.

Elsewhere, Trevor squared off with his stocky twin. The duel was awkward, each sword slash sloppy—but when Trevor landed a solid hit, the twin dissolved in a puff of inky smoke and its mirror burst into jagged shards. Trevor’s grin was shaky but triumphant.

James hesitated before his own phantom, which mocked him in that familiar drawl: "Thought you were a hero, Kallow? Thought you could succeed and save someone this time? Pathetic." His reflection summoned a Fireball identical to his own.

James’ palms sweated. He could not muster the will.

The phantom advanced, and James stumbled back—until Richard appeared beside him, dagger drawn.

"Get out of your head," Richard hissed. With a sudden burst of speed—so fast it looked like teleportation—he sliced through the phantom’s throat.

The reflection vanished, and its mirror exploded into countless pieces.

James’ jaw dropped. "How...?"

Richard shook his head. "Keep moving." He darted to where Nadia faced her phantom. In an instant, he jumped between them, blocking the spectre’s small ice spike with the flat of his dagger. He didn’t slash—he merely pushed, and the phantom stumbled into its mirror, cracking it open.

In moments, every mirror lay broken, and the Umbral Warden roared in frustration, its armour cracking.

Richard ducked beneath a downward swing, driving both daggers into the knight’s breastplate. Dark obsidian grated on steel, and when he twisted, the enchanted blades cut through shadow‑steel as though soft wax.

The Warden collapsed in a mass of splintering armour, its form dissolving into dust that drifted to the floor.

The chamber stilled.

You have slain an Umbral Warden (D-Rank). You are granted...

"Thanks," James said, voice low. "I... I’d have died without you."

Richard merely nodded. "Just stay alive."

Nadia stepped forward, eyes fierce. She grabbed his sleeve. "Richard, what was that? You moved like... well, definitely not like an E-Rank. We know something’s going on, you can’t keep lying to us."

He met her gaze, bruised sincerity flickering in his eyes. Just when did it come to this?

"I will explain. After we’re out."

Oren exhaled, the corners of his mouth turning up. "I thought I’d soil myself back there, but... thanks."

Trevor clapped him on the shoulder. "A bit of courage rubs off, mate."

James rolled his eyes but offered a curt nod.

Richard straightened. "Right. Let’s keep going."

Outside the portal...

Meredith stood before the pitch‑black mirror of the sealed dungeon, wrist pressed to her communicator.

At her side loomed the Guild Master: a tall, lanky man with hawk‑like features and a steel‑grey frock coat that brushed his polished boots.

His name was Aurelius Vance, a living legend and an SS-Rank hunter.

Vance’s long fingers tapped a slender wand against his palm. "A Black Dungeon and... A‑Rank?" he murmured, voice calm yet grave. "That’s unprecedented. Countless times more dangerous than an E‑Rank Dungeon. Everyone inside should be dead already."

Meredith swallowed. "Sir, my brother is inside. I think that most, if not all, of the students will survive."

He cut her off with a gentle wave. "Impossible. Only the Boss’s defeat will reopen the portal, and he’s an S-Rank. The most powerful mage in there is low D-Rank, unless someone level up more than they’ve been telling us."

Meredith shook her head. "You’ll see."

Vance’s pale eyes softened. "Your brother may be special, Miss Blackwood, but in the end he’s still an E-Rank. The odds are simply not in his favour."

She nodded, exhaling, her jaw set. What mess did you land on this time, oh brother of mine?