My legs shook with every step as I limped toward the edge of the chamber. Each breath burned, the ache in my ribs flaring whenever I moved too quickly. The faint pulse of the orb in my chest was the only thing keeping me upright, its steady rhythm like a quiet command: Keep moving.
The horned rabbit stood ahead, her mottled fur blending seamlessly with the shadows. She scanned the room with unflinching precision, her blue eyes darting to every corner. Not once did she look at me.
I sat heavily against the cold stone wall, wincing as the pain in my side sharpened. My claws scraped against the floor, their dull sound echoing faintly in the chamber.
"I didn't need your help," I muttered. The words escaped me before I could stop them, and they hung awkwardly in the air.
Her ears twitched, but she didn't turn. She didn't even glance back. She hopped lightly toward the chamber's far wall, her movements fluid and deliberate.
I glared at the jagged floor beneath my paws. I didn't need her help—did I? The thought sat heavy in my chest, mixing uncomfortably with the dull ache of exhaustion.
Earlier in the fight, when she first appeared, there had been a moment of hesitation. The horned rabbit had crouched low, her blue eyes locked on the adventurers, assessing them with a sharp, unyielding gaze. Her body had remained still for a fraction longer than necessary—considering, calculating.
Why had she stepped in? She could have waited in the shadows, let them finish me off, and then moved on.
But she hadn't.
The passage narrowed as we moved, its rough walls brushing against my fur. I struggled to keep up, my legs screaming with each step. The sharp incline of the floor made it worse, every slip on the slick stone sending jolts of pain through my battered body.
She moved effortlessly ahead of me, her frame darting between jagged rocks like a shadow. Her horn caught the faint glow of the moss lining the walls, its surface gleaming faintly.
"You always run off like this?" I rasped, more to myself than her.
She didn't respond, her ears flicking once at the sound of my voice.
The passage opened into a larger chamber, the air cooler and heavier. Pale moss clung to the walls, casting the space in a sickly green glow. The ceiling stretched high above us, its edges lost in the darkness.
She paused in the center of the chamber, crouching low as her ears swiveled. Her blue eyes scanned the room, sharp and deliberate.
I hesitated at the threshold, the weight of the cavern pressing against me. It felt oppressive, the cold stone beneath my paws sucking away what little energy I had left.
"Okay," I muttered, stepping into the room with measured caution. "You've got my attention. Now what?"
She turned her head slightly, her blue eyes catching the faint glow of the moss. For a moment, we simply stared at each other.
She glanced at me, her gaze unreadable, before hopping toward a patch of moss-covered stone. Without hesitation, she began scraping at it with her horn.
"What are you…?"
The rhythmic sound of her scraping echoed faintly through the chamber. I frowned, watching her. She stopped after a moment, stepping aside as if to invite me closer.
Was she… showing me something?
I moved closer, my paws cautious on the uneven ground. The moss she'd scraped away revealed faint grooves in the stone—markings? No, they were too rough. Claw marks.
Her horn gestured toward the far wall, where more of the strange grooves crisscrossed the surface. I followed her gaze, my chest tightening as I realized what they were.
Something big had been here. Recently.
"Great," I muttered.
"You dragged me in here to show me that we're not alone. That's comforting."
She hopped a few paces away, her movements quick and purposeful. She stopped at the edge of the chamber, her body low to the ground as she scanned the darkness beyond.
"Wait,"
I said, my voice louder than I intended.
She froze, her ears twitching.
"Why are you even helping me?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
She didn't pause.
"What's your deal?" I pressed, taking a step closer.
She glanced at me briefly, her blue eyes unblinking. For a moment, I thought she might respond—or do something to acknowledge the question. But she turned away, disappearing into the next passage without a sound.
I exhaled sharply, my claws scraping against the floor as I pushed myself upright to follow her.
"Figures," I muttered under my breath.
The next passage was steeper, the ground sloping downward into a narrow tunnel that seemed to stretch forever. My legs screamed in protest, every step sending sharp jolts of pain through my body.
She noticed.
Halfway down, she stopped and glanced back, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"What?" I said, my voice more defensive than I intended.
She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on my trembling legs. Then, without a sound, she hopped back toward me.
I tensed as she approached, unsure of what to expect. She stopped just a paw's length away, her horn dipping slightly as she gestured toward the ground.
Was she… offering to stop?
"I'm fine,"
I said through gritted teeth, straightening as much as I could. My muscles screamed in protest, but I forced myself to keep moving.
"Just… lead the way."
She tilted her head once more before turning and continuing down the path.
The tunnel opened into another chamber, smaller but chaotic. Jagged stones jutted from the uneven floor, and faint, rhythmic tapping echoed through the cavern, coming from somewhere beyond the darkness.
The horned rabbit stopped at the entrance, her body low to the ground. Her blue eyes scanned the chamber with sharp precision, her ears flicking at the faint sound. I hesitated, lingering in the shadows.
This was her space—I could feel it. The way she moved, her quiet confidence, the calm but deliberate way she surveyed the area—it all screamed of ownership.
I clenched my claws, unease prickling at the back of my neck. For all my Pride, stepping into her territory felt… wrong. I wasn't used to this. Back in the forest, I'd always carved out my own space—claimed my ground, no matter how small. But now, I was following someone else's lead, treading on ground that wasn't mine.
For a moment, I debated turning back. What was I even doing here? Why was I following her?
The horned rabbit didn't look back. She crept further into the chamber, her steps silent on the stone. I swallowed hard, forcing my legs to move.
"I don't like this," I muttered, more to myself than her.
The horned rabbit stopped near the center of the chamber, her head low and her horn angled slightly forward. She crouched beside a cluster of loose rocks, sniffing at the air before tapping the ground with one paw.
I hesitated a few paces behind her, watching carefully. She moved like she belonged here—like this space was an extension of her. Her actions were purposeful, every step calculated, every glance deliberate.
I… didn't feel the same.
This wasn't my space. I could feel the weight of the cavern pressing down on me, its narrow walls and jagged edges unfamiliar and unyielding. The orb in my chest pulsed faintly, a quiet reminder that this was a challenge I hadn't prepared for.
The horned rabbit glanced back at me, her blue eyes sharp and unreadable. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a flicker of annoyance—or maybe impatience.
"What?" I said, more defensive than I intended.
"I didn't ask to be here."
She tilted her head slightly before turning back to her inspection.
A twinge of frustration flared in my chest. I wasn't used to this—trailing behind someone else, letting them take the lead. It felt… wrong.
I straightened up, my claws scraping lightly against the stone. I wasn't just some helpless tagalong. If this was her space, then fine. But if I was going to be here, it wouldn't be as a bystander.
My gaze swept over the chamber, searching for anything useful—anything to prove I wasn't just dead weight. The orb pulsed again, a faint warmth spreading through my chest.
"Let's see what you're hiding,"
I muttered, stepping forward.
The horned rabbit didn't react as I moved closer. She remained focused on the far wall, where faint grooves crisscrossed the stone. Claw marks. Recent ones.
I stopped beside her, my eyes narrowing as I studied the markings.
Sigh
The horned rabbit's ears twitched, but she didn't look at me. Instead, she stepped aside, her body angled as if inviting me to take a closer look.
The faint grooves in the wall told a story of conflict—a predator's claws, perhaps, or something worse. My [Blood Sight] flickered to life, illuminating faint traces of life energy beyond the stone. They were faint, erratic, like the last embers of a dying fire.
"Whatever made those marks isn't here anymore," I muttered.
"But it doesn't mean we're alone."
The horned rabbit stepped closer to the markings, her blue eyes narrowing as she sniffed the air. Her movements were deliberate, as though she were piecing together the same puzzle I was.
For a moment, I let myself watch her. Her calm precision—her ability to move with purpose, even in unfamiliar territory—was a stark contrast to the tension bubbling under my skin.
The orb in my chest pulsed faintly, urging me forward. I tensed, my Pride stirring uneasily.
"Come on," I said, moving past her.
"We don't have all day."
Her ears twitched at the sound of my voice, but she didn't follow immediately. Instead, she remained by the wall, her gaze lingering on the grooves.
I stopped, glancing back at her.
"What are you doing?"
She didn't answer, of course. Instead, she pawed lightly at the ground, uncovering something half-buried in the loose dirt. A fragment of bone, jagged and splintered, its surface scarred with faint bite marks.
My ears flicked back.
"Great. More company."
She turned her head slightly, her blue eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I thought I saw… disappointment?
"What?" I said, more defensive than I intended.
"I know what I'm doing."
She tilted her head, her gaze steady but unreadable. Then, with a quiet sniff, she hopped past me, her steps light and deliberate as she moved deeper into the chamber.
I clenched my claws, my chest tightening.
"Fine," I muttered, following her.
"Let's see what you've got."
The cold stone pressed against my side as I struggled to keep breathing. Every twitch of my legs sent a jolt of pain through me, and the faint pulse of the orb in my chest was barely enough to keep me awake.
The horned rabbit was ahead of me, her blue eyes scanning the chamber as though I wasn't dying right behind her.
"Hey," I croaked, my voice little more than a whisper.
"A little… help?"
She didn't move at first. Instead, she crouched low, her ears twitching as she listened to the faint sounds echoing through the cavern. Then, with deliberate care, she turned and hopped back toward me.
Her gaze flicked over my battered form, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. She wasn't judging me, not exactly, but I could tell she wasn't impressed.
"Well, excuse me for not being perfect,"
I muttered weakly, though I wasn't sure she even understood me.
She lowered her head slightly, her horn pointing toward the ground as she nudged me—not hard, just enough to get me to move.
"You've gotta be kidding,"
I said, wincing as I tried to push myself up. My legs screamed in protest, and my vision swam.
"I can't—"
She nudged me again, more firmly this time.
I glared at her—or at least tried to.
"Fine," I growled, dragging myself upright.
"But if I die, it's on you."
She hopped a few paces ahead, her horn angled forward like a guiding beacon. She didn't look back, but she didn't rush, either. Her pace was slow and deliberate, as though she understood that I couldn't keep up.
Every step felt like dragging a boulder uphill, but I kept moving. The faint pulse of the orb in my chest steadied slightly, its warmth a quiet reminder that I was still alive—for now.
The next chamber was smaller, its walls lined with jagged stones that cast sharp shadows in the dim light. Patches of glowing moss clung to the floor, their faint luminescence reflecting off the slick surface.
The horned rabbit stopped near a cluster of moss, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. She pawed lightly at the ground before glancing back at me.
"What now?" I muttered, stumbling closer.
She gestured with her horn—toward the moss.
I frowned.
"You're kidding. You want me to eat that?"
Her blue eyes remained fixed on me, her expression unchanging.
I sighed, lowering myself carefully to the ground. My legs protested every movement, but I managed to tear a small piece of moss free with my claws. It felt cool and damp against my tongue, and the taste was earthy, almost bitter.
But as I swallowed, a faint warmth spread through my chest, and my breathing eased slightly.
[+3 HP]
My ears twitched.
"That… actually worked?"
The horned rabbit snorted softly—at least, that's what it sounded like—and turned back toward the chamber's exit.
I gathered a few more and ate some in case I would need it in the future.
"Alright, fine," I muttered, forcing myself upright again.
"Lead the way, oh wise and noble guide."
The next passage sloped downward sharply, its surface slick with moisture. I slipped twice, my claws scraping against the stone as I struggled to keep my balance. The horned rabbit moved ahead with ease, her small frame darting between the jagged rocks.
At one point, she stopped abruptly, her body low to the ground. Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared into the shadows ahead.
I stopped beside her, my heart pounding as I followed her gaze. My [Danger Sense] buzzed faintly, a low hum at the edge of my awareness.
"What is it?" I whispered.
She didn't answer—of course not. Instead, she crouched lower, her ears straining toward the faint sound of shuffling ahead.
The creature emerged slowly; its hulking form barely visible in the dim light. Its fur was matted and dark, its claws scraping against the stone as it moved. My [Blood Sight] flared to life, illuminating the creature's faintly glowing life force.
The horned rabbit didn't move. She remained perfectly still, her blue eyes locked onto the creature's every movement.
"Are we fighting this thing or not?" I hissed, my voice trembling.
She glanced at me briefly, then back at the creature. Her body tensed slightly, her horn angling forward. But she didn't attack.
Instead, she gestured—her movements subtle but clear. Wait.
I gritted my teeth, every instinct screaming at me to act. But I held still, watching as the creature moved slowly toward the far side of the chamber.
When it disappeared into the shadows, the horned rabbit straightened and glanced back at me.
"Great," I muttered, my legs shaking.
"Let's just avoid everything, then."
She didn't react. Instead, she turned and continued forward, her movements calm and deliberate.
----------------------------------------------------
(Adventurers' POV)
The quiet after the fight was suffocating. The faint glow of Malric's staff illuminated the chamber, casting long shadows on the jagged walls. The air was heavy with tension, and the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the faint hum of mana coursing through the dungeon's veins.
Kelsor lowered his shield, his hand trembling slightly as he exhaled. His armor bore fresh scratches, and his shoulder throbbed where the rabbit's kick had thrown him off balance. He glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.
"Everyone okay?" he asked, his voice low but steady.
"Barely," Nira muttered, wiping a streak of blood from her arm. Her twin daggers hung loosely at her sides; their edges dulled from the repeated strikes.
"That thing… it wasn't normal."
Malric slumped against the wall, his staff clattering to the ground. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his breathing was uneven.
"Not normal is an understatement," he said, his tone grim.
"That wasn't just a dungeon creature. It was something… else."
Kelsor frowned, his gaze fixed on the spot where the rabbit had disappeared into the shadows.
"What do you mean?"
Malric hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"Dungeon creatures are mindless. They act on instinct or respond to the dungeon's mana. That rabbit… it was different. It fought with purpose. Strategy. It parried your shield, Kelsor. How many monsters have you seen do that?"
Nira's expression darkened.
"And it didn't kill me when it had the chance," she said quietly.
"It froze me with that… gaze of its, but it didn't finish me off. Why?"
Kelsor's jaw tightened.
"Doesn't matter. It attacked us. If it's still in the dungeon, it's a threat."
"Is it, though?" Malric countered, his voice soft but firm.
"Think about it. It didn't kill any of us. It could have, but it didn't. Why?"
The group fell silent, the weight of the question hanging in the air.
Kelsor broke the silence, his tone decisive.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't belong here. We'll finish the mission, clear the dungeon, and report everything to the guild. They'll decide what to do."
"Finish the mission?" Nira asked, arching an eyebrow.
"After that thing nearly wiped us out? What if it comes back?"
"We're not leaving," Kelsor said firmly.
"We've faced worse. We regroup, recover, and keep moving. The guild is counting on us."
Malric shook his head, his expression uneasy.
"This isn't just about the mission anymore, Kelsor. That rabbit… it changes things. If the dungeon is spawning creatures like that, something's wrong. We need to report this before it's too late."
"And abandon the mission?" Kelsor asked, his tone sharp.
"You think the guild will thank us for running back with our tails between our legs?"
"It's not running," Malric said, his voice rising slightly.
"It's being smart. That rabbit wasn't natural. If there's more of them—or worse—we could all die down here."
Nira crossed her arms, her gaze flicking between the two men.
"He has a point, Kelsor. This dungeon isn't like the others we've cleared. The creatures are stronger, the mana is thicker, and now there's… whatever that was. Maybe Malric's right. We should pull back."
Kelsor glared at her but didn't respond immediately. His shield arm dropped slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
After a long moment, Kelsor sighed.
"Fine. We'll adjust. Finish the next trial, then head to the safe zone. If we find anything else out of the ordinary, we leave and report back to the guild."
Nira nodded, satisfied.
"Fair enough."
Malric still looked uneasy but didn't argue further.
"We should document everything," he said, pulling a small journal from his satchel.
"The guild needs to know exactly what we've seen."
"Do it," Kelsor said.
"And keep your spells ready. If that thing comes back, we're not holding back this time."
Malric nodded, his quill scratching against the journal's pages as he recorded the events of their encounter.
As they prepared to move forward, the weight of the encounter lingered in their minds.
"What do you think it is?" Nira asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Not a dungeon spawn," Malric said without looking up from his journal.
"It felt… independent. Like it didn't belong here."
"A rogue creature, maybe?" Kelsor suggested, though he didn't sound convinced.
"Something that wandered in?"
Malric shook his head.
"No. It was connected to the dungeon somehow. I could feel it. But it wasn't like the others. It was… evolving."
Nira frowned.
"Evolving?"
Malric met her gaze, his expression grim.
"Like it was adapting. Learning. And if that's true…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.
As the adventurers continued deeper into the dungeon, their thoughts remained fixed on the rabbit. Their encounter had raised more questions than answers, and the implications were unsettling.
Would the guild see this as a new threat? Something that would cause some major concern in the future? Or something else entirely?
For now, all they could do was survive the labyrinth and ensure the guild knew the truth.