The tunnel twisted downward into dark silence, its walls damp with condensation and the faint scent of moss. Nate's breath puffed in front of him, his footsteps slow but steady. His limbs ached, his muscles sore and bruised from every fight, every roll, every misstep. The leather wraps on his sword were newly reinforced, the blade cleaned with moss ash and the edge sharpened against a jagged stone. It wasn't perfect—but it was enough. For now.
He had survived the slime ambush and claimed the hidden reward. The chest had been a mimic which could have been numbing for him,and definitely not good for his heart.As it would have given him a heart attack.Now, heavier with materials but no less cautious, he pressed deeper into the cavern's winding roots.
His mind wandered for a moment—to his mother's pale face and trembling hands. He tightened his grip. "Not yet," he whispered. "Not until I make this worth it."
The cave shifted. The stone changed. It became smoother, more recently carved, almost like something had been burrowing through it.
He slowed, ears pricked.
A sound.
Scratch.
No... skitter.
Then silence.
His eyes scanned the edges of the tunnel. The walls shimmered with moisture. Roots dangled in places like twitching fingers.
Crunch.
Something lunged from the wall.
"Shit!" Nate cried out, barely raising his blade in time as a hulking insect burst free from a crack in the stone. Mandibles snapped inches from his face. The creature was larger than a hound, with dull brown carapace and bulging compound eyes.
A Burrow Beetle.
It slammed into him, knocking him sideways. Pain exploded through his arm as he crashed into the wall. The torch tumbled, rolling and flickering.
Nate hissed. Blood seeped from a tear in his sleeve. He rolled just as the beetle lunged again, claws chipping stone.
"Nope, nope—too close!"
He scrambled away, half-running, half-limping. The beetle clicked and chased. Its legs moved with surprising speed, scraping across stone.
Nate ducked into a narrow passage he'd scouted earlier. One with a crack in the ceiling.
He skidded to a stop, turned, and waited.
"Come on, you bastard..."
The beetle charged.
Nate snatched a rock and threw it at the cracked ceiling.
Crack.
The beetle screeched and lunged.
Another stone.
Crack.
The ceiling groaned.
"Come on!" He grabbed a larger shard and hurled it with all his strength.
CRASH.
The tunnel ceiling gave way in a burst of dust and rubble. Stone fell like thunder.
The beetle screamed—choked and gurgling—then silence.
Nate coughed through the dust. He leaned over, chest heaving.
He approached the rubble slowly. Underneath the rocks, the beetle twitched once. Its shell was cracked open. A soft inner glow pulsed from its chest.
He pried it loose. The core was warm—like a dimly burning coal.
He took it.
He turned—
—and barely dodged as another beetle exploded from the wall.
This one was different. Its shell gleamed darker, almost metallic. Its mandibles dripped green fluid that hissed where it fell.
"Acid..." Nate whispered. "Seriously?"
He rolled backward, grabbed his sword, and raised it as the Acid-Spitter Beetle scuttled forward. It didn't charge like the last. It aimed.
"Think!" Nate muttered. "You're not a knight in shining armor and all the shit—you're a damn prey!"
The beetle spat.
"Damnation!!"
A glob of acid sizzled past, hitting stone. Steam rose.
Nate hurled his makeshift torch.
The beetle flinched, distracted by the burst of flame.
Nate charged low. He ducked beneath a second spit and drove his blade into the joint of one leg.
The beetle shrieked.
He yanked the blade free, rolled, and struck again—this time cleaving beneath the jaw.
It twitched. Screeched. Flared.
Then stilled.
He backed away, panting. "Okay. That... sucked."
He approached and carved loose fragments of shell—thicker than the first. The acid beetle had denser plating. He pocketed it.
The third one came minutes later.
It dropped from above.
A shadow flickered. He looked up.
Too late.
The beetle slammed down on his back.
His breath left him in a gasp. The world spun.
This one was smaller—but its movements were sharper. Faster.
"Tracker..." Nate guessed. "You bastards... really don't quit."
It hissed and stabbed its front legs at his neck.
He rolled. The blade flew from his fingers.
"Not good, not good—!"
He reached for a rock.
Too slow.
The beetle lunged.
He lifted the rock and slammed it into the beetle's face.
It screeched.
He slammed it again.
And again.
And again—until green ichor burst and legs spasmed.
He rolled it off, gasping, covered in filth and trembling.
Then he laughed.
Like a man who hadn't earned it, but somehow survived.
"That's awesome...I thought I might die..."
He lay there for a while.
Then sat up, retrieved his sword, and gathered the remains. Another core. Lighter this time. The shell—etched with thin stripes. Useful, maybe.
Minutes later, he found it.
A stone arch, tall as a barn door, set into the cavern's far wall.
Glyphs, faint and blue, traced its edges.
The exit.
And the entrance to the next floor.
He stepped forward and touched the stone.
It hummed.
The glyphs brightened. A low sound—like wind through bone—echoed.
Nate stepped back and looked down at his pack.
Inside it lay Thirteen small cores from tunnel rats,cave slime and these beetles ,One medium core of the mini boss - The big boss of rats and some Burnt moss ,Patch of herbs of Lifebloom, some Beetle shell fragments.
A black cloak still usable.
And his trusted sword which now feels as an extension of him.Like there is brewing a certain connection between them.
And a shirt fully-burned from acid,if it still counted as one.
He grinned faintly.
"Enough... maybe," he muttered. "To buy her something. Medicine. A healer's favor. Or just hope."
He looked at his hands. Bruised. Bloodied.
But steady.
He passed through the arch.
Cold wind hit him immediately. The air shifted. The stone beneath his feet turned pale, reflecting crystal veins embedded in the walls.
A new floor.
A new nightmare.
But Nate didn't flinch.
He walked forward.
Not because he was ready.
But because he couldn't afford to stop.