Descending into the Sixth Floor, Felis immediately noticed the shift in atmosphere.
The air here was damp and cold, unlike the relatively open and dry Fifth Floor. The cavern walls were darker, tinged with deep blues and purples, giving the illusion of endless shadows creeping along the rocky surface. Stalactites hung from above, while uneven terrain created pockets of darkness that seemed to swallow whatever stepped too close.
There was no sound of scurrying goblins or growling kobolds. Only silence.
'…This place is creepy as hell.'
His feline ears twitched, picking up faint echoes—not footsteps, but something moving. He flexed his fingers over the hilt of his sword, his tail giving a slow, deliberate swish, mirroring his focused gaze as his pupils shrank to slits, adjusting instinctively to the dim lighting.
He wasn't alone.
A shadow detached from the wall.
War Shadow.
Its jet-black body flickered unnaturally, moving more like an illusion than a living thing. Its bladed arms gleamed, catching the faint dungeon light.
Felis tightened his grip on his sword. His gaze flashed with predatory focus. Fast. Too fast.
And he knew it wasn't the only one.
—A warning surfaced in his mind.
"The Sixth Floor is different, Felis-san."
Eina's voice was firm, yet there was a hint of worry beneath her professionalism. He remembered how she had adjusted her glasses, her emerald eyes locked onto him with concern.
"War Shadows are unlike anything you've faced so far. They don't make a sound when they move, and they phase through attacks if you're not precise. And they always—always—attack in numbers."
The War Shadow lunged.
Felis twisted, barely evading the blade aimed at his throat. His tail curled tightly for balance, and his golden eyes—sharp, calculating—followed its movement, trying to predict its next attack.
Before he could react, another War Shadow detached from the wall.
His tail lashed behind him, instinctively counterbalancing his rapid movements as he dodged another attack. The War Shadows were relentless.
They didn't move like other monsters. No growling, no charging, just pure, eerie precision. One moment, they were in front of him, the next—they blinked out of existence and struck from behind.
His armor absorbed some of the glancing hits, but not all.
A sharp pain cut across his side—not deep, but it stung. His passive skill, Numen Aquae, immediately kicked in, the wound tingling as mana was drawn to heal the scratch.
But he was still on the defensive.
'Dammit! I can't keep up with their movements!'
He tried countering, slashing at one after another, but they either dodged with unnatural speed or took the hit without slowing down.
Then—
Something whizzed past his ear.
A green blur. A sharp impact.
Felis staggered as a searing pain exploded in his shoulder.
His vision blurred slightly as he gasped, stumbling back. Instinctively, he reached up, fingers trembling as they brushed against the slimy, arrow-like projectile lodged in his flesh.
His pupils contracted, not just in pain, but in realization.
He snapped his head upward—
Frog Shooters.
Perched on the cavern walls above, their bulging eyes locked onto him, their bulbous eyes gleamed in the darkness, mouths widening as they prepared to spit again.
'Are you kidding me?!'
The realization hit hard.
War Shadows keeping him busy.
Frog Shooters patiently waiting for an opening
This wasn't just a difficult fight—it was a goddamn trap.
His breath hitched.
"Be careful, alright?"
Eina's voice echoed in his mind once more.
But right now, being careful wasn't enough.
He had to survive.
Felis clenched his teeth, yanking the slimy projectile from his shoulder.
Blood spilled, staining his armor.
For the first time since entering the dungeon—he was seriously wounded.
His vision blurred slightly, his breath shaky.
'Damn… that hurt more than I expected…'
He had never taken a wound this deep before.
Back in his old life, the worst injury he got was from paper cuts or stubbing his toe. Now, there was actual flesh torn open, blood flowing freely.
His heart pounded. His ears rang.
This was real.
He could die.
The War Shadows didn't care. They were still moving.
The Frog Shooters didn't care. Another shot was already coming.
'…No. Get it together.'
He wasn't Bell Cranel.
No hero's luck. No divine plot armor.
Just himself.
'Use what you have.'
Magic.
He drew a sharp breath.
Mana gathered—warm, familiar, like water rushing to fill the wound.
"Aqua Benedicta."
A blue glow surrounded his shoulder, the wound rapidly closing. Not instant, but fast enough.
Pain dulled. Strength returned.
He exhaled, his gaze flashing with renewed determination, the sting of pain replaced by cold focus.
'Alright… if fighting them head-on doesn't work…'
Fighting Like a Cat is the answer.
He darted sideways, running toward an uneven part of the cavern—a rock formation leading up.
The War Shadows followed instantly.
But that was what he wanted.
Leaping, Felis grabbed a jagged edge and vaulted upward, his tail curling slightly to maintain his equilibrium as he climbed with an agility no normal human could match.
He had feline instincts. Use them.
Instead of engaging on the ground, he moved vertically.
Frog Shooters could only attack straight. War Shadows couldn't blink to where he was.
Now they were disoriented.
And that was his chance.
From his elevated position, he kicked off the wall—straight down.
His sword tore through the nearest Frog Shooter, its slimy body bursting into black ash.
Before he landed, he twisted—catching himself mid-air as his tail snapped taut, instinctively counterbalancing his motion.
He rolled, dodging a War Shadow's strike by inches.
Their movements were fast. But so was he.
Now the monsters were out of sync.
Felis moved constantly, never staying in one spot long enough to be surrounded.
But he was still just reacting—dodging, deflecting, barely staying ahead of their relentless attacks. His breathing was ragged, his muscles strained from the sheer intensity of the fight.
He needed to control the pace.
His tail curled tightly as he braced against the cavern wall, his ears twitching, tracking the unnatural flickers of the War Shadows. His golden eyes sharpened, reading their movements, searching for patterns in the chaos.
One blinked forward—too aggressive. Another hesitated for a fraction of a second.
There.
Felis sidestepped at the last possible moment, pivoting low—and for the first time, his blade struck first.
His blade met resistance for the first time. The War Shadow convulsed as black cracks spiderwebbed through its flickering body—
Then it shattered.
The remaining two pressed harder, but now he was no longer reacting—he was dictating the fight.
He twisted, barely avoiding a slicing arc, and turned his dodge into an immediate counterattack—his sword cleaving through the second War Shadow before it could adjust.
The last one remained, its empty gaze meeting his—but Felis was already moving.
It lunged—but this time, he was ready.
He sidestepped, blade flashing—
A clean cut.
The final War Shadow disintegrated into nothingness.
For a moment, there was only silence.
The once-chaotic battlefield now held nothing but the lingering scent of blood and dust. The eerie flickers of the War Shadows were gone, leaving behind only black ash and scattered magic stones.
Felis exhaled—but it came out shaky. His legs trembled, a dull ache settling deep into his muscles. His fingers refused to loosen their grip on his sword, as if his body still expected another attack.
Slowly, he slumped against the cavern wall, the jagged surface pressing into his back. He welcomed the sensation—it grounded him, reminded him that he was still here. That he was still breathing.
His shoulder still ached, the last remnants of pain ebbing away as his magic finished its work. But the phantom sting of the wound remained, not just in flesh, but in memory. He absently touched the spot where the Frog Shooter's projectile had struck, his fingertips brushing against the dried blood staining his armor.
'That was too close…'
He had taken injuries before—scratches, bruises, small cuts. But this was different. That attack could've killed him.
His ears flicked, straining against the cavern's silence, but no more monsters came. Even so, his body refused to relax completely. His heart was still hammering in his chest, his breath still uneven.
For the first time since stepping into the dungeon, a single, sobering thought settled in his mind.
I could have died.
Not in the exaggerated, joking way people talked about exhausting workdays or embarrassing situations. Not in the theoretical sense, like some distant, unlikely possibility.
A second slower. A single misstep. And I wouldn't be here anymore.
His golden eyes dimmed slightly as he stared at his own blood smeared across his glove.
This wasn't a game.
He had always known that, of course. He wasn't stupid. But knowing something in theory was different from experiencing it firsthand.
He had faced danger before, but this was the first time his body had screamed at him with raw, undeniable certainty—You were about to die.
He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady himself. His ears flicked again, but the cavern remained still. The fight was over.
It was over.
His arms ached. His mana was low. His body was drenched in sweat.
But—
He was alive.
And right now, that was enough.
---
The steady stream of warm water cascaded over Felis's body, washing away the sweat, dirt, and dried blood clinging to his skin. The scent of cheap guild-issued soap mixed with the damp heat, but his mind was elsewhere.
His fingers traced over his shoulder—smooth, unmarked. Not a single scratch remained.
But he still remembered the pain.
Aqua Benedicta had erased the wound as if it never existed, but his body remembered.
'I really could've died today.'
The thought sat heavy in his chest. He had been careless, overconfident. He had advantages—his system, his skills—but none of them made him untouchable. If anything, they made it easier to forget how fragile he still was.
It wasn't a distant possibility—it was real. He had been overwhelmed, his body sluggish, his vision blurred from pain. If not for his magic, he wouldn't have walked out of the Dungeon today.
The system was a cheat, no doubt. His skills, his accelerated growth—he had clear advantages. But that didn't make him invincible. Not yet.
Felis exhaled, pressing a hand against the tiled wall. The warm water streamed down his face, soaking his hair, but it didn't wash away the unease settling deep in his gut.
This wasn't a game. It never was.
And if he didn't take that seriously—
He wouldn't get a second chance.
The thought lingered as he turned off the water, reaching for the towel. His body felt lighter, refreshed, but his mind was sharper than before.
Next time, he'd be ready.
---
After exchanging his monster drops at the Guild's exchange counter, Felis walked away with roughly 16,000 Valis in his pouch. A decent amount , but money wasn't what was on his mind.
As he made his way toward the exit, a familiar voice called out.
"Felis-san?"
He turned to see Eina approaching, her sharp emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his appearance.
His armor and clothes were intact for the most part, but several spots were torn—particularly around his shoulder and ribs. More concerningly, faint traces of dried blood still clung to the fabric.
Eina's expression darkened.
"Come with me," she said, leaving no room for argument.
Felis didn't resist.
---
The silence in Eina's office was heavy.
Felis sat across from her, the faint creak of the wooden chair beneath him the only sound between them.
Eina sat behind her desk, fingers interlocked, her gaze fixed on him. Normally, she carried herself with strict professionalism—calm, composed. But right now… there was something else.
Concern.
Her emerald eyes flickered over his clothes again, taking in the torn fabric, the faint smudges of dried blood. Though his body was unharmed, the signs of what had happened were still there.
She adjusted her glasses slightly, exhaling through her nose. "...How bad was it?" she asked finally, her voice quieter than before.
Felis glanced at his shoulder, rolling it slightly as if testing for a wound that no longer existed.
"Bad enough."
That wasn't an answer.
Eina's fingers tapped softly against the wooden desk, a small, rhythmic motion that betrayed her unease.
"Felis-san… You're strong. But you're not unkillable," she said. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "This isn't just about skills or stats. The Dungeon doesn't care how much potential you have."
She sighed, pressing her fingertips against her temple. Something about his silence unsettled her. Normally, he'd have some teasing remark, some offhand comment to lighten the mood. But right now, he wasn't doing any of that.
And that worried her more than any injury.
She dropped her hand to her lap, gripping her skirt slightly before speaking again, her voice softer.
"…Just promise me you won't get reckless," she murmured.
Felis met her gaze, golden eyes steady.
"I won't."
Eina studied him for a moment longer, her lips pressing into a thin line before she finally leaned back in her chair.
"…Alright."
The tension eased slightly, but the weight of the day still lingered.
As Felis stepped out of the Guild, he inhaled deeply, the cool evening air filling his lungs. His wounds were gone. His body restored.
But the memory of the pain, the weight of how close he had come to the edge—
That wouldn't fade so easily.
And maybe… that was a good thing.
Because it meant he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
---
The streets of Orario were still alive with activity as Felis stepped away from the Guild. The cool evening breeze carried the scent of fresh-baked bread and grilled skewers, mingling with the hum of merchants calling out their wares.
He should head straight back. Hestia was probably waiting.
But…
His gaze dropped to his clothes. The fabric was torn in places, smudged with dirt and faint traces of dried blood. Even though he was perfectly fine now, he could already imagine the way her expression would tighten with worry the moment she saw him like this.
She had already been concerned yesterday. If he walked in looking like this tonight…
He exhaled softly.
Being in a Familia shouldn't just be about worrying when your party member is gone and consoling them when they come back.
I don't want her to feel that way every day.
Adjusting the pouch of Valis at his waist, Felis changed course, slipping into the marketplace. He didn't need anything fancy—just a few changes of clothes, something sturdy enough for daily wear.
The vendors were still lively at this hour, their stalls filled with fabrics, tunics, and simple adventurer gear. After a brief exchange, Felis handed over a few Valis and received a neatly folded set of clothes in return and change to in the room provide by the merchant.
With that done, he exhaled, feeling a little lighter.
Tonight, at least, he wouldn't be bringing back another reason for Hestia to worry.
He turned, finally making his way toward home.