The silence hit harder than the fangs ever did.
Renji stood motionless, surrounded by twitching corpses. Snake blood clung to his boots, his arms, his face. Dozens of scaled bodies littered the tunnel—some sliced cleanly, others crushed against stone walls. The air was hot, thick, and suffocating with the metallic stench of death.
Then the system chimed.
[Gate Completion Threshold Reached]
[Beastline Assessment: Exceeded Expectations]
[Additional Rewards Granted]
But unlike before, nothing changed around him. No magical lights. No shimmering exit portal. No rumbling collapse of a dungeon ending.
This place... wasn't collapsing.
It was still here—solid, grounded, real.
Renji frowned. "So this isn't some pocket dimension… it's part of the world?"
He turned his gaze down the tunnel. The darkness no longer felt alive. No more hissing. No more distant slithers. The wave had ended.
The challenge was done.
He was alone again—but not the same person who entered.
[Skills Upgraded: Dash → E, Serpent Shedding → E]
[Stat Bonus: +40]
[Level: 6 → 8]
[New Title Earned: Fangless Reaper (Unofficial)]
He chuckled tiredly. "Unofficial? You saw me slaughter seventy-one of them. That's as official as it gets."
He sat down on a rock, letting the blade rest against his knee. His arms trembled from exhaustion, and a dull ache pulsed behind his eyes. The Viper Aura Armor had faded, leaving behind nothing but the afterglow of battle instinct.
Around him, the corpses began to cool. Some of the younger snakes had tried to flee. He hadn't let them. They weren't intelligent creatures—just beasts. But his body had moved faster than his thoughts. His instincts had screamed finish them all.
And he had obeyed.
Renji leaned back, staring up at the moss-covered ceiling. "So this is what being a predator feels like."
The Beastline stirred faintly within him. A warmth in his core—more noticeable now. Not burning, but present. It was growing. Evolving. Adapting.
It liked the fight.
He liked it too.
Slowly, he stood, wiping blood from his face with the torn edge of his uniform. The gate had no dramatic end. No fireworks. Just a path leading back through a quiet, blood-slick tunnel.
"I guess I'm walking."
Each step echoed. He glanced around one last time—at the bodies, the walls, the torn chunks of flesh.
He didn't feel fear.
Just hunger.
Not for food.
For more.