The parasite moved.
With a sound halfway between a wet snap and a hiss, the charred figure lurched forward, smoke curling from its ruined shoulders. Each step left greasy smears on the stone floor. Airen's fingers tightened around his sword; sweat prickled at the back of his neck despite the cool air of the dungeon.
He forced himself to breathe slowly. Stay calm.
Up close, the thing was worse than he'd imagined. Strips of scorched hide clung to raw muscle, and jagged bits of bone jutted out at crooked angles. A dozen rat skulls were fused into its torso, their teeth bared in a silent snarl.
[You can beat it,] the System said calmly. [Even though this parasite is tier-3, its body is fragile. It doesn't even have ears, mouth, nose, or eyes.]
Airen's grip hardened. He stepped in and slashed across the parasite's chest. His blade tore through half-cooked flesh and brittle bone, spraying grayish pulp—but the wound knitted together at once, as if time itself had rewound.
"You said its body was weak," Airen growled, "but it heals instantly!"
[It does,] the System replied. [But look how slowly it moves.]
Airen noticed it now—the creature's steps were heavy, sluggish. Each time its foot touched stone, hunks of flesh sagged loose and slapped wetly onto the ground. A revolting stench, sour and burnt, rolled over him.
[Cut it into enough pieces that it can't recover,] the System advised.
Airen's jaw tightened. Istill have a little mana left… If I channel it into my body, I can boost my speed for maybe two seconds.
He inhaled sharply, forcing every last shred of mana into his limbs. Power flared through him like lightning. In a blur, Airen lunged, blade flashing again and again. For two furious seconds he carved the monster into ribbons—hundreds of strikes shredding it into thousands of scraps.
When the glow faded, he stood amid a rain of gore. He smirked, chest heaving. Victory.
The scraps twitched. From within the pile, something squirmed free—a slick knot the size of a cricket ball, veined with tiny tendrils that writhed like pale worms.
[Quickly—kill the core!] the System urged.
Airen stamped down with all his weight. The parasite burst under his boot with a wet crack, spraying foul ichor.
A translucent panel flashed:
[Experience Gained: 2,000,000]
[Points Earned: 20,000,000]
[Level Up! Current Level: 45]
"Huh… only one level up, even with two million EXP?"
[Levels require more experience as you advance,] the System explained.
"Right. Makes sense." Airen exhaled and wiped his blade clean. "Now for the reward."
He followed the passage to the far end of the hall, where a single chest waited in a pool of torchlight. Anticipation flickered across his face, sharpening into a grin.
He threw the lid open.
The first thing to catch his eye was gold—six solid bars, gleaming with warm weight. He turned one over in his hand, savoring the cool heft before storing all six in his inventory.
[Each bar weighs one kilogram,] the System noted.
With four kg from first floor"That makes ten kilos total," Airen said, satisfaction bright in his voice.
Next came six bottles filled with pale red liquid. He stored them as well.
[Tier-1 recovery potions,] the System reported.
"Only tier-1?" Airen frowned. "I found tier-5 and even a tier-7 on the first floor. Shouldn't this floor give better rewards?"
[You were unusually lucky before,] the System replied. [This is the normal grade.]
Airen shrugged. "Figures." The last item was a plain longsword—sturdy but unremarkable. He slid it into his inventory, then glanced back into the empty chest.
"That's all?" A thought struck him. Wait—the 'God-Fallen Piece.' I almost forgot after seeing the gold.
"You said I'd find the God-Fallen piece here, but I didn't."
[That item only appears every fifth floor: 5, 10, and so on,] the System clarified.
"Got it." He stretched his shoulders and looked toward the stairway leading down.
The Third Floor
The steps deposited him into a blindingly white chamber. The walls, floor, and even the ceiling were made of smooth stone, bathed in a soft light that had no visible source. Lining the room were chests—hundreds of them, stacked and scattered, their polished surfaces gleaming.
Airen's eyes widened, a greedy smile curling across his lips. Riches beyond counting, just waiting.
He strode forward—but froze mid-step. A faint sound drifted through the still air. Laughter. Low, sly, almost playful.
The nearest chest trembled. Then another. One by one, lids creaked open, revealing jagged teeth where hinges should be. Wood split and reshaped into stubby legs; handles twisted into clawed hands. Grinning faces stretched across their fronts, smiles sharp and wicked.
"Too bad you stopped," one rasped, voice dry as old parchment.
Airen's grin faded as a hundred treasure chests stood upright, their toothy maws widening in eerie unison.