The creature's breath filled the tunnel, heavy and rancid, as it closed in. He could feel the cold radiating off its hulking body, hear the slow drag of its claws on the stone floor. It hadn't seen him yet, but its nostrils flared, tasting the air for any hint of prey. He remained still, every muscle coiled tight, poised to move at a moment's notice. His swords were ready, the only thing standing between him and death. The tension in the air was suffocating, but he controlled his breathing, keeping his heartbeat steady.
The creature's shadow, massive and twisted, loomed closer. In this pitch-black labyrinth, it was stronger, faster, and more accustomed to the terrain. Its kind ruled this place, creatures of pure darkness that hunted in silence, only revealing themselves when they were ready to kill. He knew he was weaker here, the lowest on the food chain. The beast could rip him apart in seconds. But he would not die. Not like this.
It sniffed the air again, growling low, its body tensing for the hunt. This would be the moment. If it attacked, he would have no choice but to fight. The sword in his hand was his only lifeline, but he didn't grip it tighter. He couldn't afford to panic, not now. He would wait for the creature to make its move, and then he would react.
The creature lunged, its massive body tearing through the narrow tunnel with terrifying speed. In one swift motion, he sidestepped, his instincts kicking in. The blade arced through the darkness, finding the soft flesh of the creature's side. A growl echoed through the stone walls as the steel sliced into its thick hide. But it wasn't enough. The beast spun, claws lashing out in retaliation. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike, feeling the air shift above his head.
He had no room to maneuver. The tunnel was too tight, and the beast too large. He had to end this quickly. With a sharp, controlled breath, he pressed forward, his sword flashing again, this time aimed at the creature's neck. The blade found its mark, cutting deep into muscle and bone. Blood, hot and sticky, sprayed across the stone walls. The creature let out one last guttural growl before collapsing in a heap, its body twitching as life bled from it.
[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Darksapwn.]
He stood over the carcass, chest rising and falling in controlled breaths. His heart pounded, but his mind became excited, his pulse unsteady.
It's his first kill. It is the first time he has killed a nightmare creature. First time taking a life. A dark exhilaration filled his being. The sensation of killing...
He hadn't wanted this fight, but the labyrinth had forced his hand. Weak as he was compared to the other creatures in this place, he was still human—cunning, calculating. He had outthought the beast, not outfought it.
The stench of death quickly filled the air, the smell of blood mixing with the musty dampness of the cave. He knew he couldn't linger. The scent would draw more predators, and in this labyrinth, the weak rarely survived for long.
Kneeling beside the creature's body, he began to strip some of the hide from its thick, furred skin. The task was brutal, but necessary, he set to work, cutting away pieces of the creature's flesh. He also took out an soul shard and crushed.
[Your soul grows stronger.]
The meat was raw, thick, and tough, but he had no fire to cook it, and his hunger gnawed at him. He tore into the flesh with deliberate, mechanical precision, ignoring the metallic taste and the way the blood ran down his throat.
This isn't his first time eating raw meat and it won't be the last. It was food. It would keep him alive. That was all that mattered.
He also summoned his [Black Box]. It was a small ornate chest made of black wood. He opened it and stored some of meat. Then he dismissed the memory.
His swords, now coated in dried blood, remained at his side as he stood and continued deeper into the labyrinth. The tunnels twisted and turned, each one indistinguishable from the last. He couldn't tell how long he had been walking. Time had become meaningless in this place. All he knew was that he needed to keep moving, to keep searching for a way out—or, at the very least, a way to survive another day.
The darkness here was alive, pulsing with something ancient, something malevolent. Every step he took felt like it carried him further away from the surface, deeper into the belly of the earth. And with each step, the whispers grew louder.
At first, they were faint, barely noticeable. But now they were undeniable—a low murmur that seemed to rise from the very stone around him, voices that carried no language, only a constant, oppressive presence. They filled the air, pressing against his mind, trying to break his focus. But his will was iron. He would not be distracted by the shadows that lurked in the corners of his perception. He had a goal: survival.
Still, the whispers clawed at him, growing louder as he ventured further into the maze. They felt like a warning. Or a lure.
Konrad stopped in his tracks. The air had shifted again. Something was wrong. The ground beneath his feet felt unstable, as though the earth itself was shifting. He crouched low, sword ready, listening, waiting. The whispers became a cacophony, their eerie tones vibrating through the stone walls. His instincts screamed at him to move, to run—but where? Every tunnel led deeper, every path twisted back on itself.
Suddenly, the floor gave way beneath him. He saw it but...
There was no time to react, he could only brace himself. The stone collapsed, and he fell, tumbling down into a chasm he hadn't even known was there. His body slammed into the rocks as he descended, rolling uncontrollably through the pitch black. His swords slipped from his grasp, clattering somewhere into the abyss. The fall seemed endless, a blur of motion and pain.
He hit the ground hard, his body crashing against the unforgiving stone. For a moment, the world spun, and all he could do was gasp for air. The pain was sharp, but familiar. He had endured worse before. His mind cleared quickly, and he forced himself to sit up, checking for injuries. His muscles ached, and he could feel a bruise forming on his ribs, but nothing was broken.
Konrad had survived the fall without any serious conciquences
The cavern he now found himself in was different from the narrow tunnels above. It was vast, expansive, the air here colder, heavier. He could feel the weight of the darkness pressing down on him from every side. He dismissed and summoned the sword again. The whispers had stopped, but the silence that replaced them was even more unsettling.
Then he heard it—a low, deep growl. It echoed through the chamber, vibrating through the stone. His senses went on high alert, every nerve in his body screaming danger. Whatever had made that sound was close. Very close.
He stood slowly, sword in hand, scanning the darkness around him even though he could see only a little distance. The growl came again, this time closer, more menacing. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it—a presence lurking just beyond the edges of his perception, massive and primal. The creature from before had been a minor threat compared to this. This was something ancient, something that had lived in the depths of the labyrinth for far longer than he had been alive in this world.
His body tensed, clairvoyance ready and he knew what was to came. He can't run away, he can't hide. He can only fight. And fight will he give.
The creature growl again and step forward. It was filled with murderous intent to rip Konrad apart...
This is going to be Konrad's first life and death fight in the dream realm.