I push at the stone around me.
Not with hands — I don't have those anymore — but with whatever passes for instinct now. Like trying to flex a muscle I'm not entirely sure exists.
The cavern wall shivers.
A little dust falls.
A pebble tumbles across the ground.
…okay.
Alright. That's something.
I focus harder, trying to repeat whatever I just did.
The floor bulges awkwardly.
A crack forms.
A thin spike of stone shoots up, crooked and flimsy, like a half-baked sculpture made by someone who didn't know what hands were.
And yet—
I did that.
A warm spark hits me — pride, or something close enough.
Before I can enjoy it, something else flickers underneath the feeling.
Colder.
Hungrier.
More.
You can do more.
You should.
I shut that down fast.
"Later," I mutter automatically.
It comes out as a weird vibration through the walls. Not ideal, but at least the thought feels like mine.
I'm not letting some instinctive voice drag me around. Not when I barely understand what I am.
First things first: location. Situation. Context.
I push my awareness outward again, like stretching a muscle that's sore but functional.
The cavern sharpens in my mind:
– Rough stone everywhere
– One narrow tunnel deeper underground
– A slow drip of water echoing from somewhere
– Stale, untouched air
– And… movement
Something's in the tunnel.
Scraping.
Dragging.
Something breathing wrong.
My awareness tightens instinctively.
Not fear — more like readiness.
Whatever it is, it's getting closer.
It steps into the cavern, and I get my first good look at it.
Humanoid… sort of.
Hunched.
Skin sickly and stretched thin.
Eyes pale and blind-looking.
Jaw a mess of sharp teeth.
Arms too long.
Fingers curling like hooks.
A cave ghoul.
Not exactly the welcoming party I hoped for.
It sniffs, making this wet, unpleasant sound, then turns straight toward me — not because it sees me, but because it feels me.
Dungeon cores apparently give off "eat me" signals to certain things. That's just great.
The ghoul crawls closer, jaw hanging open, drool dripping.
Oh great. It is hungry. For me.
Inside me, those instincts from earlier stir again — louder this time.
Kill.
Consume.
Grow.
My human brain pushes back immediately.
This thing is alive.
Breathing.
An actual creature.
And I'm a crystal in a wall about to stab it with stone. The whole thing feels absurdly messed up.
But then reality sets in:
If I don't kill it, it eats me.
And that's it.
Game over. No restart.
The hesitation lasts maybe a second.
Fine. If it's between me and it, I'm picking me.
The ghoul lunges.
I react.
The cavern floor jerks upward.
A stone spike shoots out — this one much stronger than the first — and slams straight through the ghoul's lower jaw, up into its skull. Bone cracks. Something pops. The creature twitches violently.
Then it goes still.
Blood spills down the spike.
Dark. Hot. Strange-smelling.
The stone drinks it like thirsty earth.
And I feel it.
Not taste.
Not texture.
More like an intake of energy flowing into me — warm, spreading, almost pleasant in a way I wasn't prepared for.
The glow inside the core brightens.
A tingling runs through my awareness.
That… felt good. Too good.
My thoughts stumble over themselves.
Oh.
That's—
Okay, that's dangerous.
My human side recoils immediately, uncomfortable with how much I almost enjoyed that.
But some other part of me?
It purrs in satisfaction.
More.
Take more.
Grow.
I force the voice down, but it doesn't disappear.
It curls up inside me like an animal settling in to sleep.
Temporary.
Waiting.
And absolutely not going to stay quiet forever.