Ren yanked his hand away from the purple dust as if he'd touched burning coals.
His first instinct—panic.
The second—
terrified curiosity.
He stared at his clawed finger, expecting rot, decay, something wrong.
Nothing.
The rough green skin looked the same.
But the purple system window remained.
Anomaly.
Corrupted Mana?
Analysis in progress?
In the game, mana was blue. Energy was yellow. HP was green. Poison was purple.
But this—
this wasn't normal poison.
"Corrupted" implied something deeper. Something broken at the system level.
Like gravity suddenly having a hidden rule.
And "absorbing traces"…
Was the system sampling it?
Or—
was he absorbing it?
The thought made his skin crawl.
The percentage ticked up.
[2%…]
Slow.
Whatever this was—
not immediate.
A timer.
For something he didn't understand.
Ignore it.
He had to.
Heart still racing, Ren backed away from the glowing dust and pushed deeper into the unknown tunnel.
He needed shelter.
A place to think.
To survive.
The tunnel opened into branching passages—older, more worn than the crystal hive. The air was stale. Dust-heavy.
Dead.
He passed an overturned mining cart, wrapped in fossilized webs.
This wasn't part of the dungeon he knew.
It felt…
abandoned.
Like an old version of the map the devs never removed.
His stomach growled.
Wet. Hollow.
Loud.
The Scraper meat was gone.
Burned up by running.
The hunger came back fast.
Relentless.
Food. I need food.
His mind shifted.
What lives in abandoned mining tunnels?
Answer came instantly.
Rats.
He froze.
Focused.
His pointed ears twitched.
Filtered sound.
Dripping water.
Blood rushing in his veins.
Then—
a squeak.
And the scratch of claws on stone.
He moved toward it.
Slow.
Silent.
[Stealth] was no longer a skill.
It was instinct.
He slipped through a narrow corridor and peeked over an edge.
Below—
a small chamber.
A nest.
Four of them.
[Dungeon Rat - Lv. 2]
Disgusting.
Dog-sized.
Patchy fur. Bald spots exposing sickly pink skin.
Beady red eyes glinting in the dark.
Teeth long. Yellowed.
Made for gnawing bone.
For Zephyr—
trash mobs.
For Ren—
threat.
And opportunity.
HP 15.
Low bite damage.
Chance to inflict Rat Fever.
Group aggro.
Hit one—
fight all.
He couldn't take four.
But maybe—
one.
He watched.
Three were feeding. Tearing into a carcass.
The fourth—
patrolling.
A sentinel.
Three meters left. Sniff.
Three meters right.
Repeat.
Patterns. Everything is patterns.
Ren waited.
Tense.
Coiled.
The sentinel reached the far edge of its route.
Turned its back.
Now.
No rock this time.
No tool.
Only surprise.
He slipped down from the ledge.
Silent landing.
Three meters away.
The others kept eating.
Noise cover.
Perfect.
He moved.
Zephyr's mind calculated.
Distance.
Timing.
Execution.
At the last second—
the rat sensed him.
Started to turn.
Too late.
Ren struck.
He leapt onto its back.
A small green demon driven by hunger.
No weapon.
So he used what he had.
Teeth.
He bit into the back of its neck.
Sharp goblin fangs piercing fur—
flesh—
The rat shrieked.
Violent.
Thrashing.
Trying to throw him off.
[-3 HP]
Ren held on.
Blood flooded his mouth.
Hot. Metallic.
The other three stopped feeding.
Three pairs of red eyes locked onto him.
[-4 HP]
Ren bit deeper.
Shook his head.
Instinct took over.
He felt it—
a vertebra snapping under his jaws.
The rat went limp.
[You have killed a Dungeon Rat!]
[+2 EXP]
He let go.
Spat out a clump of filthy fur.
Meal secured.
But—
the other three were moving.
No fear.
Only rage.
They surged forward.
A wave of teeth and fur.
Shrieking.
Ren grabbed the dead rat by one leg—
and ran.
[Cowardice] surged.
Boosting his speed beyond what his body should allow.
He bolted out of the chamber—
back the way he came.
Claws scraping stone behind him.
Closer.
Closer.
He hadn't just found food.
He had put himself—
at the top of the menu.