Three days.
That's how long Nate had been fighting them—those cursed rats.
They weren't just pests. Not anymore. Down here, in the endless dark, they were something else. Quieter. Smarter. More vicious.
And every time he fought, he learned. Slowly. Painfully.
He had stopped trying to kill with brute strength. That only got him bitten—again and again. No, now he used timing. He watched for the twitch before the leap. For the flicker in their glowing eyes. For the moment they paused.
That meant they were about to strike.
"Always the silence before the pounce," he muttered, crouching near the edge of a cavern ledge, his blade resting loosely in his hand. "Same as before. You're not fooling me anymore."
His voice sounded strange. Low. Gravelly. Like someone else.
He hadn't spoken much lately. Just grunts, curses, and quiet breathing in the dark.
The tunnel ahead yawned open into a wider chamber. The scent changed here—less mold, more rot. Thick and metallic. The air pressed against his skin, heavier than it should be.
He stepped forward, slow, measured, until he saw it.
A massive stone gate, wedged into the earth like it had been dragged here and forgotten. Its surface was cracked with age, sealed with rusted iron bars woven in a strange spiral pattern. Dried claw marks raked across its face.
Nate's heart skipped.
He knew this was it. Something primal in him whispered the truth.
A mini boss chamber.
The dungeon's first test.
He stared at the gate for a long moment, then let out a breath. "Alright then," he whispered. "Let's see if I've learned anything."
He placed a hand on the gate.
It groaned as it opened, stone grinding against stone, sending a wave of dust and stale air billowing out.
Inside, the chamber was enormous—like a broken cathedral carved by claws and time. The floor was slick with old blood and matted fur. Mounds of bones lay scattered, like discarded offerings. And in the center…
It waited.
The rat was grotesque. Twice the size of the others, maybe more. Its back hunched, its skin covered in thick, bone-like plates fused into armor. Its claws were warped and yellowed, scraping the stone with every movement. One eye was missing. The other glowed with a sickly yellow hunger.
It didn't move. Not yet.
It watched.
Nate tightened his grip on the sword. His breath was shallow. Every instinct told him to run.
But he didn't.
Instead, he spoke—quietly, steadily. "You've been waiting for me, haven't you?"
The rat snarled, a gurgling sound that echoed off the walls.
"Yeah, well…" Nate stepped forward. "I've been waiting too."
He shifted his stance, letting the weight settle in his legs. No more wasted energy. No more swinging blind. He needed one clean opening. Just one.
He pointed his blade at the beast. "Come on. Let's end this."
The mutant shrieked, then lunged.
Nate threw himself aside, rolling behind a twisted stone outcropping as claws tore into the ground where he'd stood. Dust exploded around him. The rat was fast. Too fast for its size.
"Too eager," Nate muttered through clenched teeth, backing away. "You overcommit."
He darted around another pile of bones, kicking a ribcage behind him to make noise. The rat turned toward the sound. He moved the other way.
He couldn't fight it head-on.
But he'd seen its weakness—right beneath the rib-like armor. The underbelly. Soft, pulsing. Unprotected.
He just had to make it charge again.
So he shouted. "Hey! Ugly!"
The rat hissed, locking on.
"Come on! You want me? Come and get me!"
It charged—snarling, maddened.
Nate waited until the last second, then dove to the side.
The beast slammed into a boulder, stunned.
Now!
Nate lunged, driving the blade upward into its exposed belly. He screamed as he pushed, the blade biting deep. The rat shrieked, flailing. A claw raked across Nate's shoulder, ripping through cloth and skin.
Pain exploded in his side, but he didn't stop.
He drove the sword deeper—until he saw it.
The core.
Glowing faintly in the thing's chest, pulsing like a heart.
Nate screamed and shoved the blade through it.
There was a flash of light. The beast convulsed, limbs twitching wildly, then collapsed with a final, shuddering breath.
Silence fell.
The sound of dripping blood. Nate's own gasping breaths.
He stood there, swaying, then fell to his knees.
He stared at the corpse for a long moment—bloated, still, and no longer monstrous.
He laughed weakly, then grimaced at the pain in his ribs. "That... that was for day one," he rasped. "For every time I thought I wouldn't make it. For every cut. Every sleepless night."
A soft glow caught his eye.
The core had rolled free. Larger than the others. Vibrant. Warm.
He reached out with trembling fingers and picked it up.
It pulsed in his hand—almost comfortingly. Like recognition.
Like acknowledgment.
He smiled faintly. "I earned this."
He looked at the space beside the monster, then down at himself—bruised, bloodied, barely holding on.
But alive.
Nate dragged himself toward the corpse, using its bulk to shield from the chamber's cold. He leaned back against the stone, the core still in his hand, and let his eyes close.
For the first time since he fell into this cursed dungeon…
He wasn't afraid to sleep.
He had faced death. And won.
After resting some time Nate awoke to the cold.
His body ached from the stone beneath him, his wounded shoulder throbbed in dull pulses, and his throat was dry like sandpaper. But what dragged him fully into consciousness wasn't pain.
It was hunger.
A deep, gnawing emptiness that had been growing for days—kept at bay by adrenaline and instinct. Now that the fight was over, it struck like a hammer.
"Damn," he muttered, clutching his stomach. "Right… I haven't eaten anything real since I got here."
He pushed himself upright with a groan, looking around the chamber. The giant rat lay where it had fallen, stiff and lifeless, its core long removed. Flies would have gathered by now if this were the surface—but down here, the air was too thick, too wrong.
Still, it was meat.
Mutated, armored, alien-looking… but meat.
Nate stared at it for a long moment, stomach growling.
"...I can't believe I'm considering this."
But he was.
Because the hunger was stronger than his revulsion.
He stood slowly, grabbing a shard of stone and approaching the rat's corpse. The armor-plating made things difficult, but with effort and some well-placed strikes, he pried one side open—revealing pale, veined muscle beneath.
It stank.
Not rot exactly, but something chemical, like burnt copper and blood mixed with bile. Still, there were parts that looked... edible. Or close enough.
"Let's not think about it too hard," Nate muttered. "Just... do it."
He carved what he could—thick chunks of meat, still warm near the center—and laid them aside on a flat piece of bone. His hands were trembling. Whether from disgust, pain, or fatigue, he couldn't tell anymore.
Fire.
He glanced around the chamber, thinking. There had been mossy growths near the dungeon walls—dried, brown ones that crackled underfoot. And those broken bone piles… maybe they'd burn? It wasn't much, but it was a start.
He gathered what he could: dry moss, broken ribs, and twisted, brittle fur from older corpses.
He piled it up carefully, then used the flint to make the fire after many difficulties.
Slowly, painfully, the flame grew.
It wasn't pretty. It stank. It smoked far too much. But it burned.
He grinned like a madman.
"Yes!"
He held one of the meat chunks above the flame with a stick, rotating it slowly. The scent was strange—almost metallic—but it cooked. Grease dripped into the fire, making it crackle.
When he took the first bite, his body flinched.
It was chewy. Bland. Slightly sour. But edible.
He ate in silence, eyes closed, each bite a victory.
Each swallow a reminder that he was still alive.
When he finished, he leaned back, staring at the flickering fire. The core still pulsed faintly in his bag—waiting to be used. But for now, Nate didn't touch it.
This was his first big loot after coming to the dungeon.