The tunnels narrowed as Lucas moved deeper, the walls closing in until he had to duck to keep from scraping his head on jagged veins. The glow had dimmed from steady blue to a restless flicker, casting uneven shadows that danced along the stone like nervous ghosts.
The air felt different here — heavier, charged.
Each breath tasted metallic, faintly bitter, like inhaling static.
Lucas slowed his pace. "Alright," he muttered, "note to self: if the air tastes like batteries, cover your nose and mouth."
He glanced down the tunnel and spotted a torn scrap of cloth half-buried in the dirt — maybe from an old miner's uniform or abandoned pack. He picked it up, brushed off the dust, and sniffed. "Yeah, that's definitely not clean," he said, tying it over his mouth anyway. "Congratulations, Lucas — fashion icon and disease vector."
The cloth clung damply to his face, filtering the metallic tang just enough to breathe easier. Combined with the dark jacket, the glowing ducks, and the Reaper's Hook slung across his back, he looked halfway between a lost miner and a very confused superhero.
He caught his reflection in a crystal shard and nodded once. "Not bad," he muttered. "Post-apocalyptic chic. We're getting there."
Something cracked in the distance — faint, wet, deliberate.
Lucas froze. His grip tightened on the Reaper's Hook.
"Hello?" he called out, instantly regretting it. "...Please don't answer."
Silence. Then, a second crack — closer this time, followed by the soft grind of shifting rock.
He exhaled through his nose, steadying his voice. "Okay. Rocks move. Totally normal. That's what rocks do."
The veins above him pulsed once. Just once. Like a heartbeat skipping a note.
He glanced over his shoulder. No movement, no sound — only a faint trail of his own footprints pressed into the thin film of dust coating the ground. He looked down and blinked.
There were more prints.
Smaller. Heavier. Uneven.
They weren't his.
He crouched and touched one. The edge was wet, slick with a faint shimmer of blue residue that glowed faintly on his fingertips. It wasn't just mud. It was crystallized vein energy — corrupted somehow, unstable.
A cold prickle crept down his spine.
"Yeah," he whispered. "That's fine. Totally fine. Love that for me."
He pressed onward, moving slower now, the veins casting more shadow than light. The air grew warmer, each breath making his skin feel clammy. The tunnel curved and dipped into a wide chamber that seemed half-natural, half-carved. Broken mining tools lay scattered along the walls — pickaxes rusted to dust, torn bags, a single helmet still glowing faintly from a cracked crystal embedded in its rim.
At the far end of the room stood a door.
It wasn't stone or wood — it was iron, thick and ancient, its surface covered in vein-like carvings that glowed faintly in time with the energy running through the walls. Someone had built this, not found it.
Lucas approached cautiously, raising his lantern. The light reflected off the carvings — not decoration, but circuitry, each line pulsing faintly with residual energy.
A low hum vibrated from it, deep and rhythmic.
He ran a hand over the surface. It was warm — alive, almost. The hum grew louder at his touch. Then, for a heartbeat, the pattern brightened.
And something moved behind the door.
Lucas jerked his hand back, stumbling a step.
"Nope," he said immediately. "No. Not touching that again."
The hum deepened, almost like a growl.
The veins along the wall flickered violently, flaring bright blue before dimming again.
Then the system pinged faintly in his vision.
[Environmental Anomaly Detected: Corrupted Vein Entity Nearby]
"...That doesn't sound friendly."
A sharp crack split the air — not from the door, but from the wall beside it.
The veins there swelled like veins under fevered skin, bulging outward before bursting in a shower of glowing fragments. The light twisted and congealed, forming into something half-solid, half-wrong.
The creature that crawled through the gap was human once — maybe.
Its body was a lattice of flesh and crystal, skin stretched thin between shards that pulsed with faint, uneven light. Where its eyes should've been, two dim stones flickered like dying coals. Its movements were jerky, unsteady, as if its bones were learning how to move again.
Lucas's stomach turned. "...Right. So that's a thing."
The creature hissed, a sound like stone grinding against glass. Its jaw split too wide, glowing faintly from within.
Lucas raised his Reaper's Hook. "Let's… not make this awkward."
The thing lunged.
He sidestepped — barely — the creature's arm scything through the air and slamming into the wall with a metallic screech. Sparks erupted as crystal shards shattered against the stone. Lucas swung the Hook reflexively, catching it in the shoulder.
The blade bit deep — but instead of blood, molten blue ichor sprayed out, splattering the floor with sizzling droplets. The creature shrieked, the sound shaking through his teeth.
"Okay! Bad idea! You don't like that!"
He tried to pull the Hook free, but the thing grabbed the handle with jagged fingers. The veins around the room pulsed faster, reacting to the surge of corrupted energy bleeding into the air.
Lucas's pulse matched it — his heart hammering in sync with the flickering walls.
He activated Vein Sense without meaning to.
The world shifted.
He could see the energy currents flowing through everything — the veins, the walls, the creature. Its body glowed with warped energy, unstable, chaotic. A broken pattern. The core pulsed brightly in its chest, erratic and toxic. For a moment, he was able to anticipate the creature's movement. A moment was enough.
"Got you," he whispered.
He yanked the Hook upward, twisting. The blade tore free, trailing light behind it, and he slammed it downward again, aiming for the core. The Hook connected with a dull, wet crack — but not enough. The creature caught his wrist mid-swing and threw him backward.
Lucas hit the ground hard, his lantern skidding away and shattering. The chamber plunged into blue shadow. His ribs screamed in protest. The creature's silhouette loomed, flickering with its own failing light.
He coughed and spat blood. "You're… definitely not OSHA compliant."
The thing screeched and charged.
He rolled to his feet, pain screaming through his arm. He gripped the Hook in both hands and, out of pure desperation, reached for the veins again — this time pulling instead of feeling.
Energy answered.
Blue light surged from the walls, racing toward him in threads of living current. It slammed into his body, burning through his nerves, and then flooded into the weapon.
The Reaper's Hook ignited — veins across its blade flaring alive.
Lucas roared, swinging with everything he had. The impact was a blinding explosion of light and sound. When his vision cleared, the creature was gone — shattered into a thousand smoking shards scattered across the floor.
He staggered back, panting, his arms trembling.
[Corrupted Channeler – Level 6] Defeated.
Experience Points Gained: +250
[Skill Leveled Up: Vein Channeling → Lv. 2]
[Weapon Infusion Unlocked]
Vein Channeling can now directly infuse weapons with active vein energy. While infused, weapon integrity and striking power are significantly enhanced. Duration: 20 seconds.
⚠️ Sustained use increases vein strain. Overextension may cause feedback or partial weapon destabilization.
[Skill Leveled Up: Bladed Tool Handling → Lv. 3]
The chamber went silent. The light in the veins steadied, then dimmed again — not fading, but retreating, as if the system itself were taking a breath after exertion.
Lucas leaned against the wall, his whole body shaking. "Okay," he gasped. "That was… a lot."
The shards of the creature still pulsed faintly on the floor, faint light flickering inside them like trapped heartbeats. He crouched and picked one up. It was warm to the touch, vibrating faintly in rhythm with his own pulse.
"Guess you're coming with me," he muttered, pocketing it. "Souvenir from my first boss fight."
He glanced around the ruined chamber. The shards from the corrupted thing still littered the floor, faint blue energy pulsing weakly within them like dying embers. One was warm in his pocket, thrumming faintly against his thigh.
He crouched and picked up a few more, weighing them in his palm. They shimmered faintly — not stable, but not dangerous either. "Alright," he muttered. "Let's call you… problem rocks."
He slipped the rest into his jacket pocket. "Maybe the blacksmith can do something with you. Jewelry, maybe. Magic mood ring? I could use something that doesn't explode when I touch it."
The idea stuck.
If the crystals could store energy — maybe they could regulate it too. A channeler's limiter, or a way to keep himself from frying every time he touched a vein.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. A charm, or a ring… something to help me not die. That's progress."
The thought almost made him smile.
He turned back toward the tunnel, lifting his Reaper's Hook. The air was cooler now, the electric tang fading from his tongue.
"First killer rabbits," he said under his breath. "Now zombies made of rock. At this rate, next week's boss is gonna be a sentient stalactite."
He hesitated at the edge of the darkness, then sighed. "Please don't make it a sentient stalactite."
He gave the chamber one last look, ducked his head beneath the low arch, and started walking. The soft clink of the crystals in his pocket followed him — faint, rhythmic, like an echo of the veins themselves.
Behind him, the shards of the fallen creature pulsed one last time before crumbling to dust. The veins dimmed completely — as if the world itself were holding its breath, waiting for what came next.