Misery and Zarek moved slowly together as one, their footsteps echoing faintly in the vast, dimly lit cavern.
The deeper they went, the more Zarek's expression twisted—from cautious determination to utter disgust.
Bodies upon bodies piled atop one another, forming grotesque mounds that sometimes reached as high as his shoulders. Some were freshly slain, their warm blood pooling beneath them, while others were little more than bones gnawed clean. The stench was overwhelming, a noxious blend of decay and metallic bite that clawed its way into his lungs.
Zarek gagged, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth and nose. He forced himself to take shallow breaths. Throwing up now would make noise, and noise meant death.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry as a well. "What… what the hell happened here?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Misery, the goblin he'd summoned, tilted its head as if confused by his words. Its slit-pupil eyes glimmered in the faint, eerie light filtering down from cracks in the cavern ceiling.
Zarek's gaze swept over the massacre again, and then, like a puzzle piece sliding into place, realization struck him.
The reason he wasn't being swarmed by monsters…
The reason he hadn't been torn limb from limb the moment he stepped into this floor…
A strong expert was clearing it.
This was the only possibility.
Someone powerful—far beyond anything Zarek could even imagine—was systematically wiping out every creature ahead of him, leaving only corpses in their wake.
A sharp glint flickered in Zarek's eyes.
This was good news… but also deeply, deeply suspicious.
The situation was too perfect.
Unprecedented, even.
Normally, just stepping into a floor like this as a solo player would mean instant death. He'd be drowned beneath a tide of monsters before he could even scream.
Yet here he was, walking through a corridor of corpses, practically unopposed.
It was too good to be true.
Zarek's mind raced as he carefully placed one foot in front of the other, his entire body tense like a drawn bowstring.
Why would someone so strong be here alone? he wondered. And why clear the path so thoroughly, then just… leave?
Usually, dungeon raiding required a team—six, seven, even ten people working together seamlessly just to survive. Zarek knew this not because he'd spent countless hours researching before he'd been thrown into this nightmare but because he was very familiar with the system. He wasn't a genius or a veteran hunter, but he understood the basics.
And if not for that mysterious expert, Zarek was certain he would have been dead several times over by now.
The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it made his skin crawl.
His steps grew even more cautious. His every movement became precise and silent, as though he were treading across a field of glass shards.
Behind him, Misery mirrored his behavior. The goblin's normally mischievous face shifted into a strange, almost thoughtful expression.
Could it be… was his master afraid?
Or… hungry?
"M-Master… hungry?" Misery croaked.
The words came out warped and broken, more guttural growl than speech, like a child learning to talk for the first time.
Zarek froze, startled. His heart skipped a beat, but he forced a shaky smile. "...No, I'm fine," he almost spoke out loud.
Inside, however, he was anything but calm.
Too fast.
This was wrong.
When he had first summoned Misery, the creature had been dumb as a rock, barely able to follow simple commands. It had been nothing more than a tool, a blade he wielded through his skill.
But now…
Every battle, every kill, Misery wasn't just fighting.
It was learning.
Evolving.
Its eyes gleamed with a cunning light that hadn't been there before. Its vocabulary was still broken, but the meaning behind its words was clear.
This wasn't normal.
Zarek clenched his fists, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. I need to keep an eye on this thing.
Next moment however he shook his head, feeling absolute control over the monster existence.
if he wanted he could make misery disappear with nothing more than thought.
He didn't have time to dwell on it now, though. Survival came first.
The hall they were traveling through continued to widen, the ceiling stretching higher and higher until it felt like they were walking inside a cathedral carved from stone. The air grew colder, heavier, and the oppressive silence pressed down on Zarek's ears.
I've been walking for over an hour, he thought grimly. If the clues are correct, the entrance to the next floor should be near.
His experience wasn't vast, but he knew one key rule about dungeons:
When you neared the end of a floor, the environment itself would seem to turn against you.
A last-ditch effort to kill intruders before they could progress.
He would need to be more careful than ever.
Zarek glanced at Misery. "…Return."
The goblin gave a low hiss of protest, but obeyed, dissolving into a swirl of black mist before vanishing entirely.
Traveling alone would reduce his chances of detection.
Now utterly alone, Zarek's senses sharpened to a razor's edge. His breaths came slow and controlled.
Time trickled by like water through a cracked vase.
Then—finally—he saw it.
In the distance loomed a massive structure: a gate easily a hundred feet tall, resembling a colossal pillar holding up the cavern's ceiling.
Zarek's heart leapt. There it is!
Instinct screamed that this was his ticket out of here. His escape route to the second floor.
But he didn't rush forward. That would have been suicide.
He crouched low behind a cluster of jagged rocks and scanned the area below.
His expression darkened.
…So many goblins.
A swarm of them. Easily over a hundred, maybe more, milling about in front of the gate like a living carpet of green skin and jagged teeth. Their guttural snarls echoed off the walls, blending into a chorus of nightmare fuel.
Zarek's eyes narrowed further. Deep within the horde, he sensed something stronger.
Something… dangerous.
Floor boss.
The term leapt to his mind immediately, sending a shiver down his spine.
But then he hesitated. No…
If his earlier guess was right, that mysterious expert had already killed the floor boss.
Bosses didn't just respawn. Not unless the entire dungeon reset, and that clearly hadn't happened.
Which meant this thing wasn't the boss at all—just a particularly powerful goblin.
Even so, it was enough to make his pulse race.
As Zarek watched, motion stirred within the horde.
Suddenly, dozens of goblins jerked their heads toward one direction, their glowing eyes flaring crimson. They moved as one, baring their fangs and charging like a tidal wave of claws and fury.
Zarek's breath caught. For a split second, he thought they'd seen him.
Cold sweat prickled his neck.
Shit—my cover's blown!
Instinct took over. He spun on his heel, ready to retreat.
He knew his limits. He had only survived thus far thanks to his unique skill and Misery's assistance.
Before awakening his ability, Zarek had been an ordinary person. A twenty-first-century civilian who'd never held a weapon in his life, much less fought for survival.
His skill was powerful, yes—but he was no warrior.
Against a swarm like this, there was only one option: run.
He had barely taken a step when his eyes caught movement—just meters ahead, behind a large, rounded boulder.
Someone else was there.