After Benny had returned to the first floor sanctuary, he now had a better picture of the second floor. Although it was still a huge place, he'd discovered at least half of it for now.
He slept to regain his lost energy and recover from the mental drain. After waking up he ate what remained of his supplies from the surface, pairing them with the smoked rat meat. It wasn't as bad as he'd thought—gamey for sure, but the spices he'd put on it made all the difference.
Only after he woke up did he begin planning his next expedition to the second floor.
He reviewed what he'd learned and prepared as best he could for what he'd need to bring this time around. Since he wasn't sure the monsters would be so accommodating now, he'd have to be more prepared than during his first excursion.
Now that he'd gotten a better sense of the second floor's layout and dangers, Benny knew he needed a different approach. Just wandering around hoping to stumble across a sanctuary wasn't going to work—not with those giant scorpions and mutated rabbits patrolling the area.
He'd observed their patterns during his first reconnaissance. The scorpions moved slowly but deliberately, following specific routes through the rock formations. The rabbits were faster, more erratic, but they seemed to stick to open areas where they could use their speed advantage.
Both types avoided certain areas entirely. That was what interested him most.
"If they're avoiding those spots, maybe there's a reason," he muttered to himself as he prepared his gear.
This time he'd bring more supplies—extra water, some of his smoked rat meat, and his two remaining healing potions. His makeshift armor felt more secure after the adjustments he'd made, and his confidence had grown since successfully hunting those rats on the first floor.
But confidence and overconfidence were two different things. These monsters could kill him in seconds if he fucked up.
His target was a section where both monster types seemed to give a wide berth—a cluster of particularly tall rock formations near what might be the floor's center. Getting there meant crossing two patrol routes, but he'd timed their movements during his last visit.
The scorpion would pass through the corridor in roughly ten minutes. The rabbit that hunted in the adjacent area followed a pattern that brought it close every fifteen minutes or so. That gave him windows to move.
Time-wise, he counted it in his head since he had no actual timepiece. Counting with his fingers felt stupid, but it worked, while he kept a tally in his mind.
(A minute in this world was 240 seconds. An hour consisted of 120 minutes. A day was still 24 hours, a month 28 days, and a year was 13 months.)
He waited, counting his heartbeats to track time. When the scorpion's heavy footsteps faded into the distance, he moved.
The rock formations were taller than he'd realized, stretching up toward that oppressive ceiling. More importantly, there were crevices between them—some big enough for a person to squeeze through, others that might hide entrances to deeper chambers.
As he explored the area, he noticed something interesting. The light crystals here were dimmer, almost subdued. Not because there were fewer of them, but because they seemed somehow different. Less energetic.
Then he found it—a gap between two massive stone pillars that led to a narrow passage. The passage itself was barely wide enough for his shoulders, but it continued deeper than his light could reveal.
More importantly, it felt different. The oppressive atmosphere that weighed down the rest of the second floor seemed lighter here. The air moved differently, carrying hints of something that might have been fresher air.
He squeezed through the gap, his bone armor scraping against stone. The passage opened up after about twenty feet, revealing a chamber that made his breath catch.
It wasn't as large as his sanctuary on the first floor, but it had the same feeling—the same sense of safety and protection. Light crystals embedded in the walls provided gentle illumination, and there was even a small spring of clear water bubbling up from the floor.
"Holy fucking shit," he whispered. "I actually found it!"
A small grin spread across his face.
But as he stepped into the chamber, he heard something that made his blood freeze—the rapid clicking of claws on stone, coming from the passage behind him.
One of the rabbits had followed him in.
He spun around, drawing his broken sword just as the creature squeezed through the narrow opening. Up close, it was even more terrifying than he'd imagined. Those massive front teeth gleamed in the crystal light, and its red eyes fixed on him with predatory intelligence.
The rabbit's muscles bunched as it prepared to lunge. Benny had maybe two seconds to act before those claws tore him apart.
His mind raced. The sanctuary's protective effects—would they work like they had with the bugs? Or was he about to find out the hard way that some monsters were immune?
In the first place, he hadn't actually witnessed the sanctuary destroying those bugs before. But that was what he'd concluded after many hours of deliberation—or was it days? When he'd woken up last time, sprawled on the ground, he'd deduced that the sanctuary had actually done something to destroy those bugs. So he was betting everything on that theory. If it didn't work, this would most likely be his end.
The rabbit launched itself at him, and Benny dove sideways, hoping like hell that whatever ancient magic protected these places would save his cowardly ass one more time.
As he hit the ground, he rolled toward the chamber's center, putting the water source between himself and the creature. The rabbit landed where he'd been standing, its claws scraping against stone as it spun to track his movement.
But then something started happening. The rabbit's aggressive posture began to shift. Its muscles, which had been coiled for another attack, started to relax. The predatory gleam in its red eyes dimmed, replaced by something that looked almost... confused.
The creature took a step toward him, then stopped. It shook its head as if trying to clear away some mental fog. Then it took another step and stopped again, this time backing away slightly.
"What the fuck?" Benny whispered, not daring to move.
The rabbit's behavior was becoming increasingly erratic. It would start to approach, then retreat. Its ears twitched constantly, and it kept looking around the chamber as if searching for something it couldn't find.
Finally, the creature let out a frustrated chittering sound and turned back toward the narrow passage. It squeezed through the opening and disappeared, leaving Benny alone in his newfound sanctuary.
He lay there for several minutes, hardly daring to breathe. Whatever had just happened, it had saved his life. The sanctuary's protection wasn't just about preventing monsters from entering—it seemed to actively discourage aggressive behavior within its boundaries. If excessive killing intent was further detected its defenses would activate. This time around he didn't see it destroy the mutated rabbit, it may have only detected its aggressive assault but not killing intent.
"Well," he said to the empty chamber, "that's fucking useful to know."