The dungeon's silence was a heavy shroud, broken only by Henry Gray's ragged breaths. The air was thick with the stench of blood, ichor, and damp stone, the bioluminescent moss casting an eerie greenish-blue glow across the jagged cavern. Corpses of Lesser Crawlers littered the floor, their exoskeletons cracked, black ichor pooling beneath them. Henry stood, swaying, his basic F1 Ground Blade dripping with gore. His body was a map of pain—gashes on his arms, legs, and side wept blood, his clothes torn and clinging to his sweat-soaked skin. His shoulder throbbed where a claw had torn deep, his ribs ached from a magical blast, and his vision flickered at the edges. Yet he was alive, standing, a survivor in a place that offered no mercy.
The Usystem's quest pulsed in his mind: Defeat a Dungeon Boss, Solo. The Lesser Crawlers and the Dungeon Priest were mere obstacles, stepping stones to the true challenge. The system's rewards—EXP, a new rank, a skill—vibrated through him, a lifeline in the darkness. But the cost was etched into his flesh, each wound a reminder of his inexperience, his fragility as an F-rank Hunter.
Henry's chest heaved, his throat raw from exertion. The battle had been a blur of instinct and desperation. The Crawlers had swarmed, their claws relentless, each hit chipping away at his health: HP -5, HP -5, HP -5. He'd fought back, sloppy but determined, his sword finding weak points through sheer will. The Dungeon Priest, with its tattered robes and blood-smeared mask, had nearly ended him, its magical pulse slamming him against the stone, its sickly green spell promising death. But Henry had moved faster, driven by survival, cleaving through the priest's torso with a desperate swing. EXP +30.
More beasts had come, a relentless tide of claws and chittering. He'd fought through pain, through exhaustion, until the final creature fell. All enemies defeated. The system's golden light had washed over him, a surge of warmth healing his wounds just enough to keep him standing. Congratulations! You have reached F2 Rank. All stats increased by +10. HP increased from 10 to 150. New Skill Obtained: Recovery, Lv.1. Skill Points Obtained: +50. The new skill, Recovery, Lv.1, promised instant restoration of HP and stamina, a tool he desperately needed.
Henry knelt, his legs trembling, and wiped the ichor from his sword. The moss's glow illuminated a faint shimmer among the Crawlers' remains—small, pulsing crystals embedded in their corpses. Beast Crystals. He pulled one free, its surface warm and faintly alive in his palm. The system stirred.
Would you like to absorb the Beast Crystal for EXP?
Henry stared at the crystal, its light dancing in his eyes. He'd absorbed others moments ago, each one granting EXP +25, pushing him closer to the next threshold. The system's rewards were tangible, a path to power, but the dungeon's dangers were a constant reminder of the cost. He nodded, whispering, "Yes."
The crystal disintegrated, a warm energy surging through him. EXP +25. He grabbed another, then another, each one dissolving into light, fueling the system's growth. EXP +25, EXP +25. By the time he'd collected the last, his body buzzed, his EXP teetering on the edge of another leap. The dungeon's silence felt expectant, as if waiting for his next move.
Henry stood, his wounds still aching but his resolve unshaken. The system's hum was a quiet encouragement, its new skill a lifeline. He tested it, murmuring, "Recovery." A faint warmth spread through him, the pain in his shoulder and ribs dulling, his stamina surging. His HP climbed, not fully restored but enough to keep fighting. The skill's boost to healing speed was subtle but real, his gashes clotting faster than natural.
The cavern stretched before him, its shadows deeper, the moss's glow fading into darkness. The Dungeon Priest's defeat had cleared the first level, but the system's quest demanded more—a boss, hidden deeper within. Henry's grip tightened on his sword, the blade's weight more familiar now, its edge nicked but sharp. He wasn't ready, not truly, but the system's "severe consequences" loomed, a specter driving him forward.
A faint rumble echoed, the ground trembling beneath his boots. The air grew heavier, the metallic tang sharpening. Something was coming. Henry's senses, heightened by the system's optimization, picked up a distant shuffle, a low growl that wasn't the Crawlers' chittering. His heart pounded, but he forced his breathing to steady. Hesitation was death, and he'd already survived too much to falter now.
He stepped forward, the moss's light guiding him through a narrow passage. The walls closed in, jagged rocks scraping his torn jacket. The growl grew louder, joined by a scraping, like claws on stone. Henry's eyes darted, scanning the shadows. The system remained silent, offering no prompts, no warnings—only the quest's unyielding demand.
The passage opened into a wider chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness. A massive stone altar dominated the center, etched with runes that pulsed faintly, their light a sickly red. Piles of bones—human and beast—littered the floor, their surfaces gnawed and cracked. The air was thick with the stench of decay, the growl now a deep, guttural rumble that vibrated in Henry's chest.
A shape moved at the chamber's edge, massive and hulking. It stepped into the red light, revealing a beast twice Henry's height, its body a grotesque fusion of muscle and bone. Spiked ridges lined its spine, its limbs ending in claws the size of daggers. Its eyes glowed a baleful yellow, locking onto Henry with predatory intent. This wasn't a Crawler or a Priest—this was the dungeon boss, the system's true test.
Henry's stomach twisted, doubt clawing at him. His HP was barely above half, his stamina recovering but not full. The boss's aura was overwhelming, its presence a physical weight. But the system's quest was clear: solo. No allies, no retreat. He tightened his grip, the sword his only anchor.
The beast roared, the sound shaking the chamber, and charged. Henry dove to the side, the ground shuddering as claws gouged the stone where he'd stood. He rolled, springing to his feet, and swung his sword, aiming for the beast's flank. The blade grazed its hide, sparking but drawing no blood. The boss was armored, its skin like iron.
It swung a massive claw, and Henry ducked, the air whistling above him. He darted forward, slashing at a joint in the beast's leg, hoping for a weak point. The blade bit shallowly, a trickle of dark blood oozing out. EXP +5. The system's prompt was a small victory, but the boss barely flinched, its roar deafening.
Pain exploded in Henry's side as the beast's tail whipped out, catching him off-guard. HP -10. He staggered, gasping, and barely blocked a follow-up claw with his sword. The impact jarred his arms, nearly knocking the blade free. His vision blurred, blood dripping from a new gash, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move.
"Recovery," he rasped, the skill's warmth surging again. His HP stabilized, the pain dulling enough to keep him fighting. He circled the beast, his movements sharper thanks to his F2 stats, searching for an opening. The boss's eyes tracked him, its intelligence unnerving. It wasn't just a brute—it was calculating.
Henry feinted left, then lunged right, aiming for the beast's underbelly. His sword sank deeper this time, blood spraying. EXP +10. The boss roared, rearing back, and Henry rolled away, avoiding a crushing stomp. He was learning its patterns, but each attack drained him, his stamina waning.
The battle became a brutal dance—dodge, strike, retreat. Henry's wounds multiplied, his HP dropping with each hit: HP -5, HP -6. He used Recovery sparingly, conserving its power for critical moments. The boss's hide was weakening, gashes opening along its flanks, but it showed no signs of slowing.
Henry's lungs burned, his arms trembling. He ducked another claw, slashing at the beast's leg, and finally saw it stumble. Seizing the chance, he climbed onto its back, gripping a spiked ridge for balance. The boss thrashed, but Henry held on, driving his sword into the base of its neck. Blood gushed, the beast's roar turning to a gurgle. EXP +50.
It collapsed, the ground shaking, and Henry slid off, panting. The chamber was silent, the runes' red glow fading. Dungeon Boss Defeated. Quest Completed: Defeat a Dungeon Boss, CGAF Solo. Reward: +500 EXP, +20 Skill Points, F2 Enhanced Blade.
A surge of energy flooded him, his wounds knitting slightly, his stamina surging. The system's voice echoed: Congratulations! You have reached F3 Rank. All stats increased by +15. HP increased to 200. New Skill Obtained: Precision Strike, Lv.1. The new skill promised increased accuracy and damage, a tool for future battles.
Henry knelt, exhaustion crashing over him. The boss's corpse shimmered, revealing a larger Beast Crystal. He absorbed it, EXP +50, pushing him closer to the next threshold. The dungeon's air was still, but the victory felt fragile. He'd survived, but at what cost?
He stood, the new blade materializing in his hand, its edge sharper, its weight balanced.