I WAS Humanity's HOPE-Chapter 34: Wakey-Wakey

The silence after the mirror hall felt wrong.

Richard’s small party crept down a narrowing passage.

Trevor muttered under his breath, "Where d’you reckon Adrian’s mob got to?"

"Hopefully, nowhere fatal," Richard replied, voice low. "Eyes front, Trev."

He felt it before he heard or saw a thing: a pressure rolling down the tunnel, thick as night tide. The lights dimmed to pin‑pricks. Cold seeped straight through bone.

Nadia swayed beside him. "Richard... my head—"

She collapsed without another word.

Oren tried to catch her, failed, slumped against the wall and slid to the floor in a boneless heap. Trevor managed half a curse before he, too, toppled. Even Anne, the steadiest of them, sagged forward as though a string had been cut.

Only James fought it, teeth bared, legs trembling.

Richard’s heart thumped once, but his S‑Rank resilience kicked in.

The oppressive aura tasted of void and old graves. A‑Rank, easily. So that’s why the vermin keeps attacking us, a clearly more powerful foe.

Ahead, a ripple of mist parted, and a Hollow Lurker stepped into view—towering, skeletal, half‑formed. Reality warped around its outline, leaving gaps where limbs ought to be. Empty sockets tilted, seeing him.

James choked, dropped to his knees, and finally pitched over.

"Bloody hell," Richard sighed, drawing a single dagger. "This is not quite how I imagined this day was going to be."

In the next moment, he vanished.

Burst Step propelled him up the tunnel in a streak of argent light.

Less than a heartbeat later, he reappeared behind the Lurker, blade already passing through its fog‑ribcage. The creature had no time to scream; its form shattered like glass struck by a hammer, fragments dissolving into black dust that rained down and vanished before they touched the floor.

You have slain a Hollow Lurker (A-Rank).

Power pressure gone.

Lights flickered back to sullen life.

Richard rolled his shoulders and mumbled: "Easy experience points."

His gaze dropped to the unconscious heap of friends. He knelt by Nadia first—skin clammy, but breathing fine. No injuries, just magically induced syncope.

What are the odds that they will just wake up if I nudge them? he wondered before proceeding to do just that.

Alas, his nudging met with no response. Of course, it wouldn’t be that simple.

He flipped open his system interface with a thought; translucent blue panes blossomed before his eyes.

Inventory > Consumables

Health Potion (S-Rank) × 2

Mana Draught (A-Rank) × 13 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Wakey Wakey Tome × 10

Chocolate Bar (slightly melted) × 1

????? Real Feel (in box) x 12

...

"Thank Meredith for giving me all these random tomes," he murmured and tapped the cartoonish book icon.

Consume [Wakey Wakey]? Warning: This will replace your F‑Rank spell [Lumos]. Y / N

Lumos never lit more than a room anyway, Richard thought and jabbed Y. I wonder if the System has watched Harry Potter, what with the name...

The count dropped to 9; blue motes spiralled round his fingertip.

You have learned a new spell: [Wakey Wakey].

Abilities > Apprentice F-Rank: Wakey wakey Description: Wakes up a sleeping creature. Requirements: 20 WIS E-Rank: Blue Fireball Description: A scorching sphere of fire that can be hurled at enemies. Requirements: 30 INT D-Rank: Necrotic Aura Description: An active ability that causes minor life-draining damage to nearby enemies over time. Requirements: 30 INT, 25 WIS

...

"Right. Rise and shine, people."

He touched two fingers on Nadia’s forehead and a faint silver pulse rippled on her body, licking round each limb—arm, leg, neck—in a gentle wave before settling into her skin.

Nadia’s eyelids fluttered. She drew a shuddering breath and sat upright. "What—?"

"Nap time’s over," Richard said softly, already moving to Trevor, Oren, Anne, then James. One by one, they stirred, groggy but whole.

James blinked blearily. "I... was just resting my eyes."

"Course you were," Richard replied, pocketing his dagger.

Trevor rubbed his temples. "Did the corridor fall on me?"

"Something heavier. A Hollow Lurker. It’s dead now."

Five pairs of eyes widened.

Oren spluttered, "Dead? Isn’t that an A-Rank monster? How did you—"

Richard offered a disarming shrug. "Lucky swing."

James stared at the lingering flakes of black dust. "Luck doesn’t cut an A‑Rank in two."

He ignored the accusation and tried to turn their attention elsewhere. "We’ve bigger problems. Adrian’s party is still out there—D‑Ranks wandering an A‑Rank maze."

Richard gestured at the way they came from. "Let’s find them before they find themselves against their own Hollow Lurker."

No one protested.

The grim determination in Richard’s tone brooked no argument, and his kill of an A-Rank monster only reinforced his judgment.

However, retracing their route proved impossible.

The chalk arrows Richard had scribed earlier now pointed into solid walls; junctions had twisted, turning back on themselves like a snake devouring its tail.

After the third dead end, Trevor kicked a loose stone. "Brilliant. Escher would love this place."

Richard stifled annoyance. "Who?"

The other boy just waved him away.

The Dungeon architecture responds to boss deaths sometimes, but this is aggressive. It’s almost like the dungeon wants us to move forward...

Richard closed his eyes, extending his senses.

He could hear faint squeaks of skulkers and even the distant rumble of shifting stone, but caught no trace of Adrian’s group. They were either miles away or the maze was concealing them.

James exhaled shakily. "We’re not going back, are we?"

"No." Richard opened his eyes.

"Only route left is onwards. The way to the boss’s room doesn’t seem to shift, and if we reach the heart, we might find the others anyway."

Anne squared her shoulders. "Then we go."

Nadia placed a hand on Richard’s arm. "And if... no, when we do reach Adrian, what do we do?"

Richard managed a thin smile. "I don’t know. They’ll just have to focus on staying alive while the dungeon ends."

He started forward, obsidian daggers slipping into his palms.

The others fell in: Nadia at his right, Anne left, Trevor and Oren guarding the rear, James in the middle—still pale, but determined.

As they advanced, the lights dimmed by a few degrees, as though the dungeon was going to sleep.

Far ahead, somewhere beyond the crooked corridors, came the echo of distant voices—raised, panicked, unmistakably human.

Richard’s pace quickened.

"We found them. Hold tight," he called over his shoulder. "Looks like we’re not done playing heroes today."

The corridor disgorged them into a broad rotunda lit by a dozen guttering torches.

At first glance, it was deserted, but every wall had been panelled with tarnished mirrors.

The glass did not reflect Richard’s party so much as echo them—images slid sideways, the feed was like children playing broken telephone.

Trevor frowned. "Anyone else hear shouting?"

Richard lifted a hand for silence.

The voices were unmistakably human: a volley of panicked orders, the crack of spells, the screech of monsters.

Yet the hall remained empty.

"Look," Nadia breathed, pointing to one of the largest mirrors opposite their point of entry.

Instead of their own reflections, the glass displayed a murky corridor somewhere else in the dungeon.

In the centre, Adrian and the other seniors had formed a rough semicircle—wands raised, shoulders pressed together—whilst a tide of Craven Skulkers, fully twenty of the rat‑things, scuttled towards them on splay‑fingered paws.

Even through dusty glass, Richard could almost taste the monsters’ Scurry Pulse, their sickly aura that slowed reactions to the dim-willed.

Ava Derek loosed an ice lance that should have whistled down the corridor; instead, it crawled forward like melting candle wax, giving a skulker plenty of time to duck beneath.

Peter Nott unleashed a D-Rank cutting wind that should have sliced through five skulkers, but the spell only managed to wound two.

Adrian barked an order that Richard and the others couldn’t quite hear.

Blue fire blossomed in his palm—not the flashy E-Rank sphere from before, but a dimmer, D-Rank one.

At least, not all of them are under the effects of Scurry pulse, Richard thought somewhat mollified. That it was Adrian of all people who showed composure was perhaps the most surprising thing.

"Come on, Adrian," Anne muttered, fingers whitening on her wand. "Move, don’t bunch—"

But the seniors couldn’t hear him.

They retreated in jerks and stumbles.

Elaine Holcomb tried to drag a wounded classmate clear, but her shoes slipped in viscous skulker blood.

A hook‑barbed tail snagged her ankle.

She hacked it away with desperate wand‑slashes, then staggered upright just as Adrian loosed a second D-Rank fireball, taking out two of the rats.

Three skulkers took their place, though, and one vaulted over Adrian’s raised arm, latching onto his back with needle‑teeth.

He howled, rolling to crush it, robes smoking where saliva met fabric.

Ava skewered two more with back‑to‑back ice darts, but there were always more tails, more claws, more milky eyes jittering in torch‑glare.

Richard’s party watched, helpless.

Oren clutched his hair. "We’ve got to help them. Do something!"

"The glass is only showing a feed," Richard said quietly. "We don’t know where they are, and we probably can’t get there."