"Endel, behind you!" – Leina shouted.
He managed to turn sharply, his eyes catching the movement—but it wasn't enough.
The white creature lunged like a projectile, ripping through the air, and in the next instant it was right in his face.
The last thing Endel saw before his consciousness went dark was a grin.
A stupid, sticky grin of a creature that looked disturbingly like a rabbit.
Snow-white fur, reddish button eyes… and paws.
Unnaturally large, human-sized, covered with bulging muscles.
They looked almost cartoonish—like the perfect anatomy of a bodybuilder, taken to grotesque extremes.
Even the most decorated champions in strength sports would have thrown away their trophies and retired to monasteries if they saw these limbs.
For Endel, though, there was nothing funny. Just a single blazing thought seared into his mind:
Rip this bastard to pieces.
But he blacked out before fulfilling that small, burning desire.
"Again? Damn… these monsters really don't like you," muttered the Third, already far too used to this pitiful tradition.
While Endel lay in darkness, the Third heard Leina and Carlos fighting desperately.
Steel clashes, fast footsteps, short cries—and then:
Crack!
The loud snap of bones, followed by Carlos's voice, strangely carefree in the middle of the apocalypse:
"Rabbit for dinner again? I'd prefer vegetable stew over this meat…"
"Be grateful you're not starving," Leina shot back coldly.
Footsteps drew closer, and soon they were standing over Endel's unconscious body.
The Third wanted to cover his ears beforehand, knowing what was coming, but too late—he heard it all.
"Endel…" Carlos began, his tone already dripping with mockery. "You seriously fainted again… from this little cutie?"
Laughter. Quiet, but sharp and poisonous.
Leina was silent longer, but when her voice finally came right at his ear, the Third wished the ground would swallow him whole.
"Everyone has their weaknesses."
Logical, wasn't it? Yet for the Third, it felt worse than a knife in the gut.
Embarrassment, humiliation, and rage swelled inside.
"GET UP ALREADY, YOU DISGRACE! STOP HUMILIATING ME!" he screamed in the depths of their shared mind.
And—miracle—it worked.
Endel's eyelids fluttered, then opened wide.
At first, his vision was blurry, but soon the faces of his friends came into focus—worried, even warm.
His heart stirred with a flicker of gratitude…
Until the Third's voice cut through.
Cold as glass, dripping with contempt:
"You've shamed me again. I don't want to share this mind with you anymore. Get out."
The words cut deeper than any wound.
Rage surged through Endel's chest like fire, his heartbeat quickening, breath turning ragged. Consciousness shrank into pure fury at losing control yet again.
At being knocked out. Again.
Leina and Carlos stepped back at his reaction, their faces unreadable, like stone masks.
Endel couldn't tell what they were feeling—and that only fueled his anger further.
His eyes locked on Carlos, who held the limp body of a dead Artlap in his hands.
A small white creature with grotesquely muscled paws—ridiculous, yet dangerous.
Even dead, it stoked Endel's fury.
His heart clenched, fists tightening.
Enraged, his gaze darted around the room; even the walls seemed to press in under the weight of his anger.
He wanted to step forward, to smash the corpse, to slam it against the wall again and again until it was nothing but gore.
But reason cut through.
It's already dead. Don't do something so depraved.
He told himself this.
The Third, noticing his tension, whispered quietly:
"Calm down. Remember—sooner or later, we'll get our chance to deal with them."
His voice was like an anchor. Not extinguishing the rage, but guiding it.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Each breath steadied Endel, releasing the tight grip of anger inch by inch.
His heartbeat slowed, his body began to obey again. Sweat trickled down his temple; his hands still trembled slightly, but clarity returned.
And with it, control.
Cold, focused eyes looked out again from Endel's face.
The fury hadn't vanished—but now it was harnessed.
"Are you calm now, Endel?" Leina broke the silence first, staring directly at him.
Her face was the same: emotionless, impassive.
"Yeah…" he exhaled heavily. "Sorry for the outburst. Again."
"Happens, man," Carlos smirked, still dangling the dead Artlap by the scruff. "Anyway, main question: shall we eat?"
They exchanged glances, then nodded.
Minutes later, the three of them sat on the floor as if it were the most natural dining table.
Before them—a battered electric stove, miraculously working, and a frying pan where slices of Artlap sizzled.
Carlos flipped the meat deftly, hot fat spitting against the pan with sharp crackles.
The air filled with the heavy aroma of roasting flesh, making their mouths water.
Leina closed her eyes, savoring the smell.
Even Endel, trying to stay detached, couldn't help but feel a primitive satisfaction.
The meat was surprisingly tender.
Even without salt or spices, it chewed easily, leaving behind a faint sweetness.
No one spoke as they ate—only the crunch of meat, the hiss of the pan, and the sound of deep, weary breaths.
While Carlos tended the food and Leina sat in silence, Endel's thoughts drifted back to the past five days they'd spent in the building.
Five days. That was all.
Yet it felt like an entire lifetime.
His plan, drafted before the fight with the Abyss Reaper, had worked. Imperfectly, but it had gotten them to the seventh floor.
And now… instead of relief, madness awaited.
In the far corner of the room, a small portal pulsed lazily with light—no larger than a dog, but infinitely more dangerous.
Every hour, more Artlaps crawled out, as though delivered in batches.
They killed, trained, killed again.
The body grew used to it. The mind—not completely.
And that wasn't the strangest part.
The first time they'd stepped inside, the system's cold chime cut the air:
[You have entered an Unformed Dungeon of F-rank.]
They froze, exchanging glances, not knowing what it meant.
Leaving now would've been cowardice. They'd come too far.
And yet, the closer they came to the portal, the heavier each step felt.
When only a few meters remained, another window appeared:
[Do you wish to clear the Unformed Dungeon of F-rank?]
[Since the dungeon is unformed, rewards will be halved.]
[Yes/No]
The words still echoed in his skull. "Clear." "Unformed."
As if even the system wasn't sure what it had birthed.
Leina and Carlos didn't hesitate—they both said "No."
It made sense: why dive into the unknown, when the system itself warned it was broken?
Unformed sounded like… defective. Twice as dangerous.
But Endel thought differently.
His eyes couldn't leave the pulsing portal. With every minute, that same inner fire grew stronger—an urge to see what lay beyond.
If there was a chance to grow stronger or find answers—how could he refuse?
"Well, finally something interesting," the Third muttered, clearly pleased, as if he had been waiting all along.
When Endel voiced his thoughts, his friends were silent at first.
Then—they protested. Tried to talk sense into him. Tried to pull him back.
But he stood firm: stubborn as an iron spike.
It became clear: he couldn't be stopped.
So the only choice left—was to follow.
Leina, ever the voice of reason, offered a compromise: wait and study the monsters that emerged first. "At least we'll know what we're dealing with."
That calmed the tension.
Carlos perked up, Endel nodded, conceding her logic.
Thus began their five-day training.
They watched, they experimented, they learned tactics. At first, fear gripped them—Artlaps darted faster than the eye, struck with trickery, and always targeted the weakest.
Their blows weren't strong, but speed and cunning made up for it.
They looked ridiculous—white rabbits with absurdly muscled paws.
But take your eyes off them for a moment, and those paws were in your face, turning the fight into a carousel of pain.
Every time, hearts pounded in terror. Every time, they fought on the edge.
And slowly, they understood: the Artlap wasn't a beast of brute strength. It was a beast of speed and deceit.
And that could be far worse.
"Ready to move out?" Endel broke the silence.
Over five days, he'd been knocked unconscious by Artlap blows dozens of times—but it honed his reflexes.
Now he could see, could sense their movements faster.
"Strength through pain—an eternal truth," mused the Third, stroking an imaginary beard.
Ignored, as usual.
Leina exhaled heavily.
"Are you sure? This could be too dangerous."
Endel looked her dead in the eyes.
"Where's safe now? Other than safe zones, is there a single corner where we can rest easy? What if one day the zone collapses? Or monsters break through? Can you be sure it's eternal?"
"Straight to the throat," the Third snorted.
Leina didn't answer.
For the first time, she heard aloud the thoughts she'd been burying.
What if the hope of "returning to normal life" was nothing but self-deception?
Carlos slapped his chest and stood tall.
"Let's go already! With me, you'll be safe!" he declared heroically.
And without waiting for them, he strode into the shimmering portal.
His figure dissolved instantly in its glow.
Endel and Leina exchanged startled glances.
But hesitation wasn't an option.
Almost at the same time, they followed—leaving behind their unfinished rations, and Endel even his rifle, useless against Artlaps but still his comfort.
A second later, the cold light swallowed them too.
The portal closed.
The hall fell silent.
…until heavy breathing broke the quiet.
Something unseen settled in the spot where they had just been.
The aura was so dense that the walls trembled.
In one instant, the seven-story sports building quaked—and then collapsed as if it were made of sand.
[First Scenario: Survive 30 days.]
[Time remaining: 17 days, 15 hours, 43 minutes.]