Having roughly mapped out the entire second floor and found the stairs leading to the lower floors, Benny was satisfied enough to return to the second floor sanctuary for now.
Without even realizing it, Benny was already growing stronger. Physically and tactically, he'd also developed more courage—he could face the unknown a little better now. But as usual, a person doesn't change overnight. It's a gradual process, and whatever traits you had before will always stay with you. They might even act out more harshly when you reach a certain threshold in your mental state.
But Benny couldn't be bothered by his psychological state right now, though. He was doing fine—he was alive and had reached most of his immediate goals. But now it was time to return to the first floor, to conquer it entirely and make it a permanent base of operations he could always retreat to. He'd need similar waypoints on other floors as he descended deeper into the labyrinth.
This labyrinth wasn't like the common ones. It was inverted—going deeper rather than higher. A labyrinth unique unto itself. Most conquered labyrinths had always spiraled upward, but this one went down into the earth's depths.
He'd managed to avoid every monster patrol route he'd encountered, often just watching as the creatures battled each other. These monsters had probably done this millions of times already—small skirmishes that occurred daily. They'd grown accustomed to their enemies' strengths and weaknesses, exploiting them to their advantage. At least, that was how Benny viewed it from his human perspective. Who knew what the beasts actually thought about their endless conflicts.
To exploit their behavior, he'd have to learn and adapt to what these creatures were showing him—their strengths and weaknesses. In turn, he'd use that knowledge as his own weapon if he ever faced them in full confrontation.
But just knowing wouldn't get him far. He'd have to put it into action when the time came. There lay the problem—he'd only observed these fights a few times while staying on the second floor. He wasn't the one fighting, so the experience of watching versus actually battling was vastly different. Pair that with his negative traits of being cowardly and weak-willed, and there was a high possibility he'd freeze up in the moment.
He was actually underestimating himself too much, though no one was there to tell him that. Even his internal voices and ego were constantly trashing him with their negativity about everything. A bunch of pessimistic pieces of shit that were the first to bring him down whenever something bad was about to happen.
Returning to the first floor was easier this time than when he'd first descended to the second floor. This expedition hadn't been meaningless. Like a scavenger, he'd brought materials from every battle he'd witnessed—pieces of scorpion carapace and some rabbit fur and meat.
Upon reaching the stairs that led back up to the first floor, he slowly made his way up the spiral path. After about ten minutes of climbing, he was greeted by something unexpected.
Two mutated rats had come out of their nest to forage.
He froze where he stood, quickly grabbing the hilt of his sword without drawing it. He remembered to breathe as he started hyperventilating—typical Benny behavior, though he was more calm and level-headed now than before.
For now, he had to assess the enemies before him. It wasn't typical to see a duo of rats out and about, at least not in his experience. He'd only seen them alone, never in pairs.
This changed everything. Fighting one rat was manageable now—he'd proven that. But two? That was a completely different challenge. They could coordinate, flank him, or one could distract while the other attacked from behind.
His mind raced through possibilities. He could retreat back down to the second floor, but that meant abandoning his plan to secure the first floor as a base. He could try to separate them somehow, maybe use the narrow stairs to his advantage so only one could attack at a time. Or he could wait and see if they'd move apart naturally during their foraging.
The rats hadn't noticed him yet—they were focused on whatever scents they were following. He had time to think, to plan, to choose his approach carefully.
But his hands were already shaking slightly, and that familiar cold fear was creeping up his spine. Two rats shouldn't be that much worse than one, right? He was stronger now, more experienced. He had better gear, more confidence.
So why did he feel like he was about to piss himself?
"Come on, Benny," he whispered to himself. "You've killed these bastards before. You can do this."
But the question remained—would he survive this encounter, or would facing two enemies at once finally be the end of him?
His grip tightened on his sword hilt as he prepared to find out.