Herwoj's fist crashed into the cursed armor's helm.
The impact was deafening. Metal shrieked, folding inward like paper; the cavern shook with the roar of released force. A gust of dust and fragments exploded outward, clattering against stone. Then — silence.
The duel ended in ruin.
The armor staggered, its enormous frame trembling, sparks hissing from its split breastplate. Its head lolled, helm crushed, yet it tried to steady itself, to rise again. The weight of its fury was palpable. But before it could lunge, a mocking drawl cut through the stillness.
"Pathetic. You lost. Don't pout." Carmichael's voice was sharp as broken glass, dripping with contempt. "You made the rules, and still… lost."
The words hung in the choking dust. The armor froze, shaking, as if restrained not by strength, but shame.
Herwoj was no better off. He stood only because his body hadn't realized it should have collapsed. Blood ran down his arm in uneven rivulets, dripping from his mangled right hand. His skin was split open where force had torn through him, nerves screaming, bones grinding. Every breath was shallow, ragged — a reminder that each inhale might be his last.
Carmichael scoffed. "You shouldn't even be breathing right now."
Herwoj's lips curved into a faint, stubborn smirk. His teeth were red with blood.
"…That's because I cheated."
The word lingered, sharp and defiant.
A memory flickered behind his eyes — the first time he'd seen the Status Screen. Where others saw numbers locked in stone, he'd seen something else: a system of rules, editable lines of code. A script waiting for someone reckless enough to tamper with it.
He had been desperate. He had gambled.
Instead of an entry, he typed a fragment. Not a stat, but a command. Not human, not safe. A forbidden line of code that shouldn't have worked.
And the system had answered.
From the screen had bled something impossible — a Hero Card. Its name burned into his vision:
SSR: Inheritance of a Thousand Wills.
The punch that ended the armor hadn't been his alone. It was the weight of countless hands layered over his own, thousands of wills surging through his broken body, all condensed into one strike.
The cost was clear now. His hand was ruined. His nerves were fried. His whole body trembled as if about to come apart, each step forward threatening collapse.
Carmichael's voice softened into something almost dangerous. "Do that again, and you won't just break yourself." His tone dipped into a whisper, edged with warning. "Something's watching. Keep hacking the rules, and you'll attract it."
Herwoj's ruined fist clenched, every movement sending lightning bolts of agony through his arm. Still, he grinned — a defiant spark burning in the ruin of his body.
"Then I'll just have to cheat smarter next time."
Kaito POV
The battlefield was silent.
Charred stone and splintered bones stretched in every direction, the cavern reeking of iron and smoke. The fight was over, but the silence pressed heavier than the chaos had. It was the silence of something unnatural.
Kaito stood over the corpse. If it could still be called a corpse.
The body was twisted, bent in ways the human frame was never meant to bend. Arms wrenched backward until bone tore through skin, ribs spiraled like cracked glass. Flesh warped, shredded by something no blade could replicate. It was grotesque… alien.
And it was his doing.
Kaito's chest heaved, each breath ragged, harsh. Faint light pulsed beneath his skin, tracing the veins of his arms in a glow too alive to be human. Shadows flickered around his body, rippling unnaturally like liquid smoke refusing to leave.
When he inhaled, the sound wasn't right. His breath carried an echo—two voices layered over each other, his and something else's.
His hand trembled. He lifted it slowly, staring at the faint shimmer crawling across his knuckles. A moment ago, that hand had been claws, tearing through flesh and bone as if they were paper.
"Not again…" The words barely left his lips, his voice cracking against the cavern's weight.
His stomach twisted. It wasn't victory. It was survival. And every time he changed, every time he gave in to that power, it felt like something inside him slipped further away.
The corpse at his feet wasn't the enemy anymore. It was a mirror. A reminder.
Transition – The Young Man's Path
The cavern is quiet except for the drip of water, a slow echo marking time. The young man staggers, wiping blood from his lip. His blade is cracked, his clothes torn, but he's breathing — barely.
From the shadows, something stirs.
The Creature's Entrance
A ripple of darkness coils along the walls, peeling itself away from the stone. The figure that emerges looks nothing like the monsters before. Its form is shifting, half-substance, half-nightmare. Its face — if it can be called that — carries no malice, only exhaustion.
The young man tenses instantly, weapon raised.
Dialogue Beat
Creature: "…I came to you first because you're the least likely to overreact."
The words echo strangely, distorted, but clear enough to understand.
The young man doesn't lower his blade. His instincts scream danger.
Creature (calmly, almost with pity): "As for who I am… I was supposed to be the final boss of this cave."
The admission drops like a stone into still water.
His grip tightens, every muscle ready. "Final boss…?"
Creature (glancing away, almost ashamed):
"That was decades ago. But the rabbit sealed me. Again, and again, and again. Each time I clawed back, it dragged me down. I have lost… everything — my role, my purpose."
The cavern trembles faintly, reacting to its words.
Suspicion and Tension
The young man doesn't flinch. His eyes stay locked on the creature, sweat sliding down his cheek.
Creature (with a bitter chuckle, voice heavier now):
"If it was me decades back, I would have killed you on sight. No hesitation. But now? Now I only want one thing… escape."
The silence afterward is suffocating. The cave seems to lean in, listening.
The young man steadies his breath. "And why should I believe you?"
The creature tilts its head, its shadowy form warping, a flicker of something deeper lurking within — sorrow, or maybe rage.
"You shouldn't. That's why I chose you. You're the least to overreact."
The young man keeps his weapon raised, eyes sharp, but then—movement.
One of the smaller creatures lurking at the monster's feet begins to convulse, its body twisting unnaturally. Bones snap, skin stretches, shadows seep like ink across its frame.
When it steadies, the thing is no longer just another mindless mob.
It has four uneven arms, a crooked head crowned with jagged bone ridges, and a single glaring eye that rotates unnervingly. Its body is lean, smaller than its master, but there's an intelligence to its posture. Every step it takes feels deliberate. Calculated.
The young man's breath catches. This one is… different.
Creature (voice firm, almost commanding):
"This is my spawn. Weak in flesh, but its mind and instincts will serve you. Take it."
The young man lowers his blade slightly, though suspicion never leaves his face. "…Why give me this?"
Creature:
"Because what comes next… even I cannot control."
The Explosion
The cavern quakes. A thunderous crack rips through the air, followed by a shockwave of dust and stone.
From the far tunnel, a colossal hand punches through the wall, claws dragging deep trenches in the rock. The abomination that has been hunting the young man bursts forth — a grotesque amalgam of muscle, bone, and writhing tendrils. Its body twists as though it doesn't obey its own skeleton, and its maw splits unnaturally wide, dripping with molten saliva.
The air itself bends from the pressure of its presence.
Instant Danger
The young man stumbles back, instinct screaming at him to dodge as the abomination's massive arm surges forward — aimed directly at his skull.
But it never lands.
A sudden wall of shadow intercepts the blow. The creature — the supposed final boss — has stepped in front, its body braced against the crushing strike. The cavern shakes from the collision, rock fracturing around them.
Monster (voice strained but resolute):
"Run. Take my spawn and escape!"
The young man's eyes widen — not from relief, but disbelief. This thing… this "final boss"… is protecting him?
The spawn hisses, tugging at his sleeve with surprising urgency, almost dragging him toward the exit.
The abomination snarls, its other arm already pulling back for another strike, the cave rumbling with the weight of its fury.
The young man barely has time to breathe. The spawn yanks his wrist with surprising force, dragging him down a narrow passage that seems to carve itself open just for them. Its jagged eye swivels left and right, scanning the labyrinth with uncanny precision, always one step ahead of collapsing rock or lurking horrors.
Before he realizes it, they've slipped into another cavern — one far too close to the others.
(Was it Herwoj's? Or Kaito's? He couldn't tell — the air felt the same, thick with static and dread.)
But he knew one thing: their time was bleeding out fast.
Shift to the Rabbit
Far away, in the half-light where the rabbit squatted upon its broken pedestal, its ear twitched.
A vein pulsed across its temple as it slammed its paw against the ground.
Rabbit (gritting teeth):
"Tch. Exactly why I never wanted anyone inside those caves… I sealed them for a reason. I should've burned them to ash the moment they formed."
It muttered the words low, almost to itself, though the whisper carried like venom.
The gods, who had been straining to peer inside the caves, felt the sudden blackout again. Their influence was choked, their sight cut off. The caves had shut their eyes to divinity once more.
Rabbit (smirking despite the irritation):
"But don't worry, gods. I've… guided it. Right into them."
Its tone carried both contempt and mockery, like a servant mocking its master while still playing along.
The Rabbit's Request
The rabbit's crimson eye flicked upward, addressing the unseen being that had summoned it into this trial.
Rabbit:
"Tell me… can you, with your endless reach, peer through the eyes of the abomination instead? Let it be your vessel, your window. Watch the ones you've marked, watch how they squirm."
The air vibrated with a tension that wasn't sound, wasn't touch — but presence. The gods stirred, considering.
Rabbit (whispering, a cruel grin tugging its mouth):
"Yes… see through its gaze. For soon, you'll witness what happens when the caves and their chosen finally meet."
Twenty minutes left…" it mutters, ears twitching. "Ten already wasted, and they're still breathing? Hah. Lucky pests."
It sighs, then forces a grin — sharp and bitter.
"But the deeper they go, the thinner their chances. No one cheats the clock."
A hazy blur forms — the gods succeed in tethering their sight through the abomination's eyes. The image is unstable, like viewing through shattered glass, but enough.
The rabbit chuckles darkly.
"There. Now you can watch your little toys break."