"Go, go, go!! We're close!" fiercely encouraged Ascalon as their trusty figures emerged at the distant rear.

Henry's death threw a wrench in the Egress Army's morale.

This was why he was doing all of the tricks he had learned in his past few months of leading the Damnedlings to use.

But this alone wouldn't magically make his comrades run faster, and the SS-ranker knew this.

It would only provide them a small boost in energy and determination that would probably vanish before they even reached the fences.

Still, Ascalon would take even such small boons.

The problem was that some of the Damnedlings had already been around for way too long, and such tactics had minimal effect on them.

Thrad, for one, was breathing a bit too heavy.

Dwarves prided themselves on strength, dexterity, vitality, and perhaps even a bit in perception.

But speed, stamina…and luck, weren't among their strong points.

Thrad was still running in front of Daru and the others. However, he had been left behind by Hark, Borz, and Aesyn.

The three were now close to catching up to the main group, while the damned dwarf would probably be overtaken by the top-ranker trio in just a dozen more seconds.

It seemed that all the running, digging, and fighting took a lot of toll on his body.

The operation started great, but they were forced to fight fiercer than preferred due to Hark's slightly forced overachievement.

His body was starting to pay for the accumulated stress and fatigue.

In all honesty, even Thrad didn't expect that he would be this tired, forced to admit that he had overestimated himself a bit.

He was a seasoned veteran in Limbo.

Ironically, this turned into unexplored arrogance that resulted in such a lethal oversight.

He could've left the formation much earlier...

Gritting his teeth, Thrad's gaze sharpened, obtaining a burst of energy from a mix of shame and unwillingness that fueled his legs for a short stretch.

He did not want to be a burden.

Unfortunately, while mental strength was powerful, it was not infinite, and soon, the damned dwarf started to slow down again.

The occasional clashes from behind him were growing louder and louder, which meant that the top-ranker trio…and the wraiths were gaining on him.

'Damn it, damn it, legs, move faster!'

Thrad knew that Ascalon must be drowning in anxiousness right now, but as fierce as he desired not to be a burden, bodies have limits, and he…he was reaching his.

The indestructible black metal fence was not too far away now, and he would probably be able to make it given a few extra seconds.

However, this was also the problem.

One was manageable, two were difficult, three were deadly…and he needed four or more.

It would be a miracle if the top rankers could buy him such time. Soon, a grim realization struck the dwarf: he would die.

He didn't want to, and there was a chance he wouldn't, but the chances of him perishing were much higher.

Something must change for him to survive.

Either he miraculously gained enough speed and stamina to bridge those few seconds himself, or the top-rankers would have to risk their lives for him…which was not in the protocol.

The higher-rankers would fight the tougher monsters, but never, in any circumstance, should they sacrifice themselves for the lower-rankers.

Thrad was among those who understood this the most.

He, too, believed that such a rule made sense, though the dwarf couldn't deny that it was quite chilling to be on the other end — the one left to die because he was being a burden.

Thrad never thought he would be in this situation.

He smiled bitterly, shaking his head, before a determined gaze flashed in his eyes.

The damned dwarf quickly turned, ready to sacrifice himself, knowing too well that Ascalon might hesitate, especially since the higher one's rank, the more tempting breaking the protocol became.

Thrad was a B-ranker, which was considered a high-ranker.

This was why he had to be decisive and embrace death himself so as not to cause trouble for Egress.

He was scared, of course, and this was exactly why he should utilize the brief moment of mad courage to throw his life away.

"You three go, I'll ho–"

But then, before Thrad could even finish his words, he felt danger from below.

A rising blade.

The dwarf instinctively angled his metallic jian to block. Then, after a shrieking clang, he was sent flying back a few eye-popping meters in a single second.

It felt like he was struck by a hammer instead of a sword.

Had it not been for the need to stand up before he could continue running at the immediate, sobering order from Ascalon, Thrad would've covered the time he needed just from that.

Unfortunately, he lost two seconds from whatever he gained.

One was manageable, and two… were difficult.

The question now was how he would cover the said time lost, or rather, who would cover the lost time.

Thrad's courage had been snuffed out by the blow due to the chance presented in front of him.

The damned dwarf wanted to live now.

'But how?!' he gritted his teeth, dragging his tired body through the ashes.

The top-rankers and the wraiths behind them would soon catch up again. If there was something that fueled his resolve to live, it was the sight of the black metal fences just a few dozen meters away from him.

It seemed so close yet also so far.

His life and death, that's what crossing the indestructible border meant.

Half the Damnedlings have already made it to the other side, while those who remained, including Hark, Borz, and Aesyn, were already about to jump down.

Only Daru, Lesha, Ascalon, and Thrad remained.

"Thrad, don't give up-sah!"

"Don't you die on me-gar!"

The two beastkins cheered while jumping down, a seed of guilt budding at the heart of the former, Hark.

Had it not been for his pushing things too far, perhaps the half-man wouldn't have been in such a concerning situation.

Fortunately for him, dwarves were a determined bunch, and when they had decided on something, they would see it through, regardless of whether they would end up dead or alive afterwards.

Thrad continued his desperate escape, huffing and puffing.

He looked pathetic, but ironically, no one thought so, even thinking of how admirable he was.

The dwarf dragged himself, even if the sounds of the battle were getting closer again…even if death was waving.

He still hadn't thought of a solution to those two seconds, but Thrad never gave up.

Unfortunately, doing one's best didn't equate to one succeeding. Relentless effort only increased one's chances.

And luck…could very well ruin everything one worked hard for, and that's what happened.

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