Ren didn't stop running.
He plunged deeper into the Scraper Hive, the sounds of the player party battling the swarm fading behind him. Every step was agony. Pain radiated from his shoulder where the Scraper had bitten him, and a new, troubling notification blinked in his vision.
[Status Effect: Weak Scraper Venom]
[Strength and Agility temporarily reduced by 1.]
[You will lose 1 HP every 10 minutes until cured or expired.]
Shit.
He forced himself forward, limping down a spiraling tunnel.
The air had changed.
The damp, moldy stench was gone—replaced by something cleaner. Ozone. And beneath it… something sweet. Rotting fruit.
The cave walls weren't raw stone anymore. They were coated in strange crystalline growths, pulsing with a faint purple glow.
He was officially out of the tutorial zone.
The Scraper Hive was Level 3–5 territory.
As Zephyr, he would've sprinted through it without slowing down.
Now—
it was a death maze.
He needed to deal with the poison.
His mind flipped through its internal database.
Scraper Venom. Weak. Cure: Minor Antidote. Level 1 Purify. Or… Moon Moss.
Moon Moss.
Common alchemy ingredient. Grows in damp, low-light cave areas.
There was supposed to be a small underground stream in this section.
That's where it should be.
He followed memory, ignoring the low hum filling the air—the sound of hundreds of Scrapers in their crystal nests. He moved in pure-terror stealth, sticking to shadows cast by the pulsing crystals.
Finally—
he reached it.
Or rather—
where it should have been.
The stream was gone.
Dry.
Just a shallow trench filled with dust and loose pebbles.
Ren frowned—on a goblin face, probably a grotesque grimace.
Weird. This never dried up in the game. Fixed spawn point.
He stepped closer.
His dark-adapted eyes caught something.
The dust wasn't normal.
It shimmered faintly purple—barely visible. Like residue from the crystals.
He touched it with a claw.
Cold.
A seed of doubt formed.
The map was… wrong.
But he didn't have time to theorize.
The poison was still ticking.
Fortunately—
even without the stream, residual moisture had allowed a small patch of moss to survive.
There.
A pale silver glow in a rock crevice.
Moon Moss.
He tore it free and shoved it into his mouth.
The taste—
frozen dirt and mint.
But the moment he swallowed—
[Weak Scraper Venom has been cured.]
One problem solved.
Now—
the second.
His stomach twisted.
Not from the moss.
Hunger.
Deep. Violent. Primal.
Not human hunger.
This was different.
A screaming need.
His goblin body demanded fuel.
Constantly.
His eyes scanned the cave.
Predator?
No.
At best—
scavenger.
His gaze landed on a lone Scraper crawling along a crystal wall. Probably one he'd disturbed earlier.
His human mind recoiled.
Eat that? No way.
His stomach growled.
Louder.
Hungrier.
Food.
He didn't have a choice.
Survival meant compromise.
He grabbed a loose rock. Hand-sized.
A pathetic weapon.
But enough.
He crept behind the Scraper, applying what little stealth he'd learned minutes ago.
The insect was focused on scraping crystal, feeding.
Ren raised the rock.
Brought it down.
Crack.
The Scraper writhed. Thin legs twitching wildly.
He struck again.
And again.
Driven by panic.
By hunger.
Until—
it stopped.
He stood there, breathing hard, staring at the broken carcass. Dark green fluid leaking out.
You're not doing this, his human mind said.
I have to, the goblin instinct roared back.
He closed his eyes.
Snapped off one of its legs.
Bit down.
Taste—
nothing.
Just brittle shell. Bland, slightly sour pulp inside.
Disgusting.
The worst thing he'd ever eaten.
He swallowed.
[+1 HP]
A new window appeared.
[You have consumed an Insectoid Creature for the first time.]
[Skill Unlocked: Monstrous Metabolism (Passive)]
Description: Your digestive system can extract sustenance from sources toxic or non-nutritive to humans. Allows consumption of raw monster flesh for minimal HP regeneration.
He looked at the notification.
Then at the carcass.
A dry laugh escaped him. A hoarse, broken screech.
The system was rewarding him—
for degrading himself.
Every step away from humanity—
a step up the food chain.
With grim resolve, he kept eating.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he needed to.
Each bite was a fight against vomiting.
Each +1 HP—
a reason to continue.
Slowly—
he stabilized.
Not stronger.
But no longer on the brink.
When his HP finally returned to [10/10], he dragged himself into a dark crevice to rest.
For now—
safe.
Alive.
Fed.
He allowed himself a single second—
eyes closing.
Then—
a sound.
Not Scrapers.
Not water.
Something else.
A low, heavy scraping.
The sound of hundreds of legs moving in unison.
Something large.
Armored.
Dragging its weight across stone.
Ren's eyes snapped open.
Terror surged back instantly.
He knew that sound.
Scrapers weren't the only things in this hive.
They were prey.
Food.
For something bigger.
He peeked out from the crevice.
And saw it.
A massive shadow moving through the main tunnel.
Segmented body.
Over ten meters long.
Covered in rock-like chitin plates.
A Level 12 Rock Centipede.
This wasn't a safe zone.
Not even close.
He hadn't escaped.
He had walked straight—
into a predator's pantry.