"Fuck!"
Damon stabbed again, driving the rusted point into the first rat's shoulder.
-10
"Little shit still isn't dead," Damon complained.
These things had 80 HP. His damage was laughably low. Every hit felt like poking a brick wall with a toothpick.
The third rat leaped at his chest. Damon swung the dagger in a desperate arc, catching it mid-air.
-10
It landed on him anyway, teeth sinking into his forearm. Hot agony shot up his arm.
-12 HP
He kicked it off, then followed with two more stabs. Damon kept onstabbing it.The rat finally shuddered and collapsed after the eight hit, body twitching in the muck.
The remaining three swarmed. Damon backpedaled, splashing through the water. One clamped onto his boot, gnawing through the cheap leather.
-8 HP
Another scratched his side. He switched tactics, dropping the dagger into his left hand for a moment and putting on the Scrap Iron Gauntlets. The switch cost him; a rat bit deep into his calf during the awkward moment.
-14 HP
Now with gauntlets equipped, he punched downward. The iron slammed into the rat on his boot.
-12
'Nice, but still not enough. At least I can attack better.'
He hammered again.
-12
The rat died on the seventh punch, skull crunching wetly.
The other two kept coming. Damon felt his HP dropping fast.
He cast Ember Spark. A weak flicker of flame sputtered from his palm, barely brighter than a match, and struck one rat's flank.
-15
It shrieked, fur singeing, but kept charging. Multiple sparks later, it finally went down
The last rat got lucky, leaping onto his back and biting the back of his neck. Pain exploded in Damon's brain.
-11 HP
"Bastard," Damon roared, slamming himself backward into the brick wall. The impact crushed the rat between him and stone. He followed with rapid gauntlet strikes until it stopped moving.
Breathing hard, Damon checked his status.
HP: 46/100
MP: 40/50
Already down to less than half health after one wave. The dagger lay in the muck; he quickly retrieved it, wiping the blade on his torn sleeve.
Durability on the dagger had dropped to 26/30. Gauntlets still fresh at 28/30.
"So that's how it works," Damon sighed, reaching for his neck but feeling no wound.
Each time his HP went down, he wasn't physically harmed. The system would just hit him with a shitload of pain.
A warm, green light enveloped him.
+10 HP.
Damon's HP climbed to 56/100. his MP down to 36/50.
It wasn't much, but it was something.
The dungeon felt alive around him. The walls seemed to pulse faintly, and the chittering never stopped — it only grew louder, as if calling more.
He pressed on.
Another wave came in a wider section where three tunnels met. Six rats this time.
Damon's heart sank. He stayed in the darkest corner, Shadow Step boosting his agility just enough to dodge the first two lunges. He punched forward with the guantlets.
-12
-12
The lead rat took seven hits before dying, giving the others time to flank. Claws raked his back
-10 HP.
Teeth sank into his shoulder.
-13 HP.
Pain was starting to blur his vision.
Damon kept throwing punches at the rats. Each dealing12 points of damage. It felt too small. One rat died after four hits, but the others kept tearing at him.
HP dropped to 29/100 before he burned two more Ember Sparks and finished the wave with desperate, sloppy gauntlet slams
By the end, he was on his knees in the filthy water, gasping. The metallic taste of the dungeon's rot in his mouth.
HP: 29/100
MP: 24/50
He cast Minor Mend three times in quick succession.
+5 HP
+5 HP
+5 HP.
HP rose to 44/100.
The healing was slow, the light weak and flickering like his confidence. The third, fourth, and fifth waves blurred together in a nightmare of skittering claws and squeals.
Damon learned to kite them into narrow choke points where only two or three could attack at once. Still, every fight dragged. Twenty hits, forty hits and sometimes more if his strikes glanced off bone or matted fur.
In the fourth wave, a particularly aggressive rat got under his guard while he was switching weapons.
It latched onto his inner thigh, tearing viciously. 18 HP was gone in one bite. For a terrifying moment, black spots danced in his vision. He thought his HP was done.
He punched wildly with the gauntlet still half-on, cracking its ribs, then finished with the dagger in a frenzy. The rat died, but Damon's HP had plunged to 11/100.
He collapsed against the wall, hands shaking as he spammed Minor Mend.
+20 HP.
Damon's HP climbed to 31/100. MP critically low at 8/50. His breathing came in ragged gasps. The dungeon's oppressive heat and the smell of the rats' filth made him want to vomit
"Almost… died right there," he muttered, voice cracking as he forced himself forward.
Faced with a sixth wave, another six rats rushed at him in a flooded chamber where the water reached his knees.
The rats came from all sides. Damon stayed in the shadows along the wall, Shadow Step helping him slip between attacks.
His gauntleted fist blurred, smashing one rat twice in rapid succession
-24.
The creature's spine snapped with a wet crunch. It died instantly. The remaining rats tore into him. One claw swiped at his chest.
-15 HP
Another bit his wrist, nearly making him drop the dagger.
HIs HP fell to 22/100 again.
He burned his last Ember Spark for 15 damage on the biggest one, then switched back and forth between dagger and gauntlets in a desperate rhythm.
It was close call after close call. A rat nearly clawed at his eye. He felt its hot breath and teeth graze his cheek.
Another clamped on his ankle, dragging him off balance into deeper water. He went under for a second, filthy liquid flooding his mouth. Panic surged. He surfaced swinging, gauntlet crushing the rat's skull against the bottom.
By the end of the sixth fight, Damon was drenched head to toe in muck, blood, and rat gore.
Durability on the dagger had dropped to 15/30. Gauntlets to 20/30. His body felt like one giant bruise.
Seven through to tenth waves tested every ounce of his will. The dungeon seemed to sense his weakness, sending slightly larger groups or ambushing from ceiling pipes and wall fissures.
In the eighth wave, he got surrounded in a dead-end alcove. Eight rats.
Damon fought like a cornered animal — stabbing, punching, switching weapons frantically. His HP hit single digits; 7/100.
The chittering started to sound like laughter.
Damon leaned against the slimy wall, chest heaving. He survived ten fights. Ten grueling, soul-crushing encounters where every rat felt like it took forever to kill.
His low damage was annoying at the point. The constant switching between dagger and gauntlets left him vulnerable during those split-second moments. Shadow Step helped in the dark, but the dungeon's gloom was oppressive, the mold-light playing tricks on his eyes.
The air tasted thicker now, heavier with the coppery scent of his blood mixed with the dungeon's rot. The walls seemed closer, the chittering more insistent, as if the entire Warren was angry at the intruder who refused to die.
Damon wiped his face with a torn sleeve. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He still had 2 sections to go.
He took a single step deeper into the tunnel, water sloshing around his battered boots.
The next section sloped downward, darker, wetter. More chittering echoed from ahead; louder and hungrier.
A grim smile tugged at his cracked lips despite the pain.
"Let's fucking go!" Damon gripped his guantlets tightly as he saw a wave of rats rushing towards him.