The screams faded behind Arthur, now replaced by the steady sound of bones scraping stone.
His heart pounded, but his steps stayed controlled. He moved deeper, following the curve of the tunnel as it opened into a wider chamber.
Broken pillars lay scattered across the floor. Old weapon fragments littered the ground, half buried in dust. The ceiling arched high, with shadows pooling between cracked stone ribs.
Arthur paused at the edge.
Something moved on the far side.
Then another.
The clatter was unmistakable.
Skeletons emerged from behind a fallen pillar, then another group from the opposite side. Their empty sockets fixed on him as if they had been waiting.
Arthur tightened his grip on the dagger.
His mouth went dry.
Three on the left. Four on the right. Too many.
His body tensed, every instinct screaming to run, but there was nowhere to go. The tunnels behind him were narrow and winding. Turning his back would be death.
He swallowed and steadied his breathing.
"So this is it," he murmured, forcing a calm he didn't fully feel. "Guess you don't negotiate."
The skeletons advanced, blades scraping, bones clicking in unison.
Arthur shifted his stance, feet grounding against the stone.
He had no awakened power.
No skill.
Only the desperate will to survive.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears the moment the skeletons picked up their pace.
They did not roar or snarl. They did not hesitate. Empty eye sockets fixed on him as if they could see straight through flesh and fear alike. Every monster carried the same instinct toward humans, a raw aggression that did not need thought or reason.
They wanted him dead.
Arthur lifted his dagger and lowered his center of gravity. His breath slowed, even as his pulse raced. Panic would get him killed faster than any blade. He rolled his shoulders once and focused.
"Alright," he muttered. "Come on then."
The skeletons charged.
The first sword came down in a straight, brutal arc.
Arthur stepped into it and angled his dagger up, steel meeting rust with a sharp clang. The impact rattled his arm and sent a jolt up to his shoulder. He felt the difference immediately. This thing was stronger than any normal human.
But not much stronger than he could manage.
His feet slid back half a step, stone scraping under his boots, but he held. His body screamed at the strain, yet it did not fold. The training from his past life kicked in without thought.
Before the skeleton could recover, Arthur spun and drove a roundhouse kick into its ribcage.
Crack.
Bones scattered as the skeleton flew sideways and collapsed into a loose heap. It did not die. It did not even scream. But it was down, and that was enough.
Arthur exhaled sharply and moved.
Another skeleton lunged. Arthur met it head on, hooking its sword arm with his dagger hand while stepping inside its guard. His knee came up hard, smashing into its abdomen. The impact sent a dull, hollow thud through the chamber.
It barely reacted.
"Tough bastard," Arthur growled.
Still, the force knocked it back just enough. Arthur twisted, keeping the blade pressed against the skeleton's weapon, deflecting a wild swing from the side. Steel scraped bone and sparks flickered.
Clang!. Crack!. Thud!.
The sounds filled the chamber in uneven rhythm.
Arthur moved without stopping, as he blocked, striked, and retreated. His mind raced ahead of his body, mapping angles and counting enemies. Three left. Four right. As he watched the one he kicked earlier already pulling itself back together.
There were too many.
Still, he was holding.
Confidence crept in despite his situation.
"Not so scary," he said aloud, breath heavy. "I've handled worse."
But a sword skimmed past his ribs, tearing cloth and skin. And pain flared.
"Alright," he added through clenched teeth. "Maybe not much worse."
He ducked another strike and slammed the pommel of his dagger into a skull. The bone cracked but did not break. The skeleton staggered, then steadied.
That was when Arthur felt it.
A shift.
The skeletons moved differently. Their steps synchronized. Their weapons lifted at the same time.
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me," he muttered. "You've got tricks too."
The nearest skeleton slammed its foot into the ground.
The air snapped.
Bones along its arm twisted and locked together, forming jagged ridges. Mana pulsed faintly through the white surface.
Arthur felt it before he understood it.
A skill.
The skeleton lunged, speed exploding forward in a straight line.
Arthur barely twisted aside.
The blade missed his chest by a hair, slicing through the air with a shrill whistle. Stone shattered where the sword struck, chunks flying.
"Shit," Arthur breathed.
The skeleton did not pause. It pulled back and charged again, movements stiff but sudden, like a spring released.
Arthur rolled to the side as another skeleton copied the motion.
So that was it.
A burst skill. Straight line. Fast, with no feints.
"Predictable," Arthur muttered, even as sweat dripped into his eyes.
He dodged again, feeling the rush of air graze his cheek. His foot slipped on loose bone fragments and his heart skipped.
Too close.
He forced himself up and backed away, eyes never leaving them.
"That's your edge," he said under his breath. "Short bursts. No thinking."
Another charge came. Arthur waited until the last second, then stepped inside the line of attack. He slashed across the skeleton's knee joint. Bone cracked. The creature collapsed mid charge, sliding uselessly across the stone.
Arthur grinned, breath ragged.
"Got you."
A sword smashed into his side before he could move again.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs. As he crashed into a broken pillar and slid down, coughing. Pain flared white hot across his ribs.
He pushed himself up just in time to deflect another blow.
Clang!.
His arm screamed.
His muscles were burning now. His movements slowed by fractions of a second that felt like hours.
"Stay focused," he told himself. "You can still move."
He adjusted his stance, shifting weight to ease the strain. But the skeletons advanced, clicking and scraping, pressing him toward the center of the chamber.