The air thickens as I ascend to the next floor. The corridor stretches before me, shrouded in darkness, the dim lights overhead flickering like the dying remnants of a once-vibrant place. Every inch of this floor feels wrong. The walls close in, their surfaces slick with moisture, and the familiar stench of rot clings to the air. There's something lurking here, something that's been waiting for me.
And then I hear it.
That growl—low, guttural, and terrifyingly familiar.
It sends a shiver down my spine, my body instinctively tensing as the sound bounces off the walls. My grip tightens around the dagger in my hand, and I scan the shadows ahead. The wolves are back, those twisted fusions of flesh and metal, their eyes glowing in the dark like hungry predators. Their howls echo through the labyrinth, growing closer by the second.
This time, though, they feel different. Smarter. I can sense it in the way they move, in the way their growls carry a note of coordination, of planning. They aren't just hunting—they're organizing. They've learned from our previous encounters, and now, they want revenge.
The corridor ahead splits into three paths, each one descending into an ominous blackness that promises more traps, more danger. The walls are lined with hidden mechanisms, ready to spring the moment I take a wrong step. I can feel the wolves in the distance, circling, testing the air. They're surrounding me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The game has changed.
I move cautiously, my senses on high alert as I navigate the darkened corridor. Every footstep echoes, every creak of the floor sends a jolt of tension through my body. I can hear them now—the soft pads of their feet, the scrape of their claws against the metal. They're getting closer, waiting for me to slip up, to make a mistake.
Suddenly, a blur of movement catches my eye—a flash of glowing eyes in the darkness.
I spin, raising my dagger just in time to deflect the first attack. A wolf lunges at me from the shadows, its teeth bared, claws outstretched. The force of the blow sends me stumbling back, but I recover quickly, slashing at its exposed flank. The blade cuts through flesh and metal, and the wolf lets out a pained howl, but it's not enough to stop it.
Another wolf charges from behind, and I barely manage to sidestep, the creature's jaws snapping shut inches from my arm. My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins. They're faster this time, more aggressive, more coordinated.
I dive to the side, narrowly avoiding another lunge, and land in a crouch. My eyes dart around, scanning the environment for anything I can use. The floor is lined with traps—pressure plates, concealed pits, and even a fire pit in the corner, its flames flickering ominously. If I'm going to survive this, I need to be smart. I need to use the environment to my advantage.
The first wolf comes at me again, its eyes glowing with a savage hunger. It leaps toward me, jaws wide, but this time I'm ready. I sidestep at the last second, grabbing hold of its hind leg and using its own momentum to hurl it toward the fire pit.
The wolf crashes into the flames, its fur igniting instantly. It lets out a blood-curdling howl, thrashing wildly as the fire consumes it. The stench of burning flesh fills the air, thick and acrid, but I force myself to stay focused. One down, but there are more.
Another wolf charges, its metallic claws scraping against the floor as it lunges at me. I spin, kicking out with all the strength I can muster, sending the creature crashing into the nearest wall. Before it can recover, I grab a loose piece of debris—a jagged metal rod—and slam it into the wolf's skull, driving it deep into the creature's brain. The wolf twitches once, then goes still.
I don't have time to celebrate the kill. The pack is still circling, their glowing eyes watching me from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
One of the wolves moves in from my left, but I can see the trap it's about to trigger. I leap onto a nearby ledge, grabbing a hanging chain for support, and wait for the inevitable. The wolf steps on a hidden pressure plate, and a set of iron spikes shoot out from the walls, impaling the creature before it even has time to react. It's over in an instant.
The others hesitate, wary of the traps that line the floor, but I know they won't stop for long. They're smarter than before, learning from their mistakes. I can't afford to let my guard down.
With each passing moment, the battle becomes more brutal, more desperate. I use every trick I can think of—luring the wolves into traps, smashing their skulls against walls, even using one of their own bodies as a shield against another attack. My movements are quick, precise, but my body is beginning to falter. The constant fighting is wearing me down, and I can feel my stamina slipping away with every swing of the dagger.
Another wolf lunges at me, and I slam it into a floor plate that triggers a falling ceiling. The stone slab crashes down, crushing the creature's body with a sickening crunch. Blood pools beneath the wreckage, but I barely have time to catch my breath before the next attack.
A wolf leaps at me from above, its claws outstretched, but I manage to catch it mid-air, driving my dagger into its throat. Blood sprays across my armor as the wolf collapses, twitching as it dies.
I'm covered in blood—mine and theirs. My muscles ache, my wounds burn, but I can't stop. Not yet.
Just when I think I've cleared the pack, one of the wolves comes from behind, faster than I expected. I turn, but not fast enough.
Its teeth sink deep into my leg, the sharp fangs tearing through the armor and into my flesh. I scream, the pain blinding, white-hot. My hand grips the hilt of the dagger, but my body is slow, sluggish from exhaustion. The wolf pulls me to the ground, its jaws locked around my leg, dragging me toward the shadows.
I grit my teeth, refusing to let it win. With a surge of adrenaline, I twist my body, raising the dagger high and driving it into the wolf's eye. The blade sinks deep, and the wolf howls in agony, releasing its grip on my leg as it thrashes wildly. I stab again, this time in the throat, and the creature collapses, its body twitching before going still.
I'm free, but the damage is done.
Blood pours from the wound in my leg, soaking the ground beneath me. I try to stand, but my leg buckles under the weight, sending me crashing back to the floor. The pain is unbearable, a searing agony that shoots through my entire body with every movement.
But I can't stop. Not now.
I force myself to stand, leaning heavily against the wall for support. Every step is agony, every breath a battle. But I keep moving, driven by the primal need to survive. The wolves may be dead, but this floor isn't done with me yet. There are more traps, more dangers lurking in the shadows.
I limp forward, my body battered and broken, but my mind focused on one thing: getting out of this place. Each step is a reminder of the pain, but also of the victories—the wolves I've killed, the traps I've survived. I'm stronger than I was when I first entered this gauntlet, but the toll it's taken on my body is undeniable.
My strength is fading, my energy drained, but I can't stop. The hunger to escape, to survive, drives me forward, even as my leg bleeds out and my vision begins to blur.
The wolves may have returned, but I've survived them once again. And as long as I keep moving, I'll survive whatever comes next.