The air in the dungeon felt heavy, thick with the weight of expectation and despair. Myuk stood there, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across his face, his heart still racing from Lady Seraphine’s earlier words. He could feel the tension in the room, a palpable energy that seemed to coil around him like a serpent, ready to strike. Lady Seraphine, her expression a mixture of frustration and disbelief, was struggling to rein in her emotions.


    “Calm yourself, Lady Seraphine,” one of the knights said, his voice steady and authoritative. “We must not act rashly. He may yet prove useful.”


    Myuk felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He had never been good at anything, and now, standing in front of these powerful figures, he felt even smaller. The weight of their expectations pressed down on him, and he could feel the sting of tears threatening to form. But he wouldn’t let them fall. Not now.


    “Perhaps we should assess his potential further,” suggested another knight, a burly man with a thick beard and a calm demeanor. “Let him show us what he can do.”


    Myuk, feeling the need to prove himself, took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “I can show you my abilities if that will help.”


    “Very well,” Seraphine relented, her tone still laced with skepticism. “Open your skill window, Myuk.”


    “Skill window?” he echoed, confusion washing over him. “What do you mean?”


    “Just say ‘Status,’” one of the knights instructed, his expression softening. “It will reveal your abilities.”


    Myuk nodded, steeling himself. He took a deep breath and said the word that felt foreign yet necessary. “Status.”


    Instantly, a translucent screen appeared before him, shimmering with a faint blue light. Surprised, He blinked as he took in the information that floated in the air.


    Name: Myuk


    Level: 1


    HP: 50/50


    Mana: 30/30


    Attack: 5


    Defense: 4


    Agility: 6


    Mimicry (Lvl 1): Ability to imitate or replicate a trait, behavior, or characteristic of another being.


    (Skills Acquired: 0/3)If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The room fell silent as the knights and Seraphine leaned in to read the display. Myuk felt his heart drop as he watched their expressions shift from curiosity to disbelief and outright laughter.


    Seraphine threw her head back, her laughter ringing like a cruel bell through the dungeon. “You have to be joking!” she exclaimed, clutching her face in disbelief. “We waited years to summon a hero, and we got this pathetic excuse of a hero!”


    Myuk’s stomach twisted into knots, the laughter echoing around him like a taunt. The warmth of hope that had ignited within him moments before was extinguished, leaving only a cold void. He felt he was shrinking, becoming invisible beneath the weight of their ridicule.


    “Perhaps he can mimic the sound of our laughter as we throw him into the abyss,” Seraphine continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What a grand talent!”


    “Lady Seraphine, please,” the burly knight interjected, his voice firm yet gentle. “We should not dismiss him so quickly. Every hero has to start somewhere; perhaps there is more to Myuk than meets the eye.”


    But Seraphine waved her hand dismissively, her patience wearing thin. “Enough of this,” she said, her tone final. “We have wasted enough time. Guards!” she called, her voice echoing against the stone walls. “Take him to the abyss. He is of no use to us.”


    Myuk’s heart sank further, a heavy stone lodged in his chest. “Wait!” he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. “I can learn! I can train! Just give me a chance!”


    Seraphine turned to him, her expression hardening. “A chance? Do you think that you can become a hero just because you wish it? It takes more than wishful thinking, boy. It takes strength, skill, and destiny. You have none of those.”


    The guards, two towering figures clad in shining armor, stepped forward, their expressions impassive. Myuk’s legs felt like lead as they approached, but before he could even think to resist, they grabbed him roughly by the arms.


    “No, please!” Myuk cried out, but his voice was weak, swallowed by the echoing stone walls. The guards’ grips were like iron, their hands clamping down on him with a force that made his bones ache. Without a word, they began dragging him across the cold, rough floor, his feet scraping uselessly against the stone as he struggled to keep up.


    The humiliation of being dragged like a piece of discarded trash tore at Myuk’s already fragile spirit. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the panic rising within him. The dungeon’s darkness stretched endlessly before him, a pit of despair threatening to consume him entirely.


    “Please, don’t do this!” he pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. “I may not look like much now, but I can change! I can grow stronger! Just give me a chance to prove myself!”


    But his words fell on deaf ears. The guards remained silent, their expressions hard as they dragged him through the dungeon’s winding corridors—each step they took felt like another nail in the coffin of Myuk’s hope.


    As they pulled him deeper into the darkness, the cold stone floor scraping against his legs, Myuk’s thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of despair. The voices of his past, those who had taunted and belittled him, mingled with Seraphine’s harsh words. ‘Useless, worthless, a waste of space…’ The words pounded in his mind like a relentless drum, drowning out any hope he had left.


    Finally, they reached the mouth of a dark, foreboding abyss. The guards roughly tossed Myuk inside, his body hitting the cold, hard ground with a thud. They slid a massive stone over the entrance without hesitation, sealing him inside. The grinding sound of the stone reverberated through the chamber, trapping him in a suffocating darkness with no escape.


    Myuk lay on the cold, unforgiving floor, his body aching from the rough handling, his spirit shattered. The abyss''s darkness closed in around him, suffocating in its intensity. As he curled into himself, trembling and alone, he felt the last remnants of hope drain from his body, leaving him hollow.


    At that moment, Myuk felt like he had been cast into a pit from which he would never escape—a place where the word ‘useless’ would be his only companion.