Tommy's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped deeper into the Parasite Dungeon. The walls of the dungeon loomed ominously around him, casting dark shadows that seemed to swallow the faint light from his lantern. His breathing was shallow, and his palms were slick with sweat. He had barely processed what had just happened—the surge of mana, the overwhelming feeling of power, the pain.
But now, standing alone in the cold, stone corridor, the reality of his decision began to settle in.
"What the hell was I thinking?"
He had barely tested the limits of his newfound mana. He had no idea how much he could handle. Screw that. He had no idea how to use it.
In his desperation to get stronger, he had rushed into this, thinking that just having mana would change everything. But now, as the dungeon stretched out before him, Tommy couldn't shake the sense of impending doom.
A hundred parasites. He had no party, no system, and barely any combat experience on his own. He had only killed twenty parasites in a dungeon full of hundreds before him, and the thought of facing them all, alone, was starting to feel like madness.
"You can do this, Tommy. You're stronger now. You have mana, remember?"
But deep down, he felt the weight of his doubt growing heavier with each passing moment. The parasites around him were not the slow, weak creatures he had faced in the beginning. They were fast. They were relentless. And without a System to back him up, he was just a man with a little mana running on desperation.
"Just keep going. It's too late to turn back now."
Tommy heard the faint skittering sound behind him, a low rustling in the darkness. He spun around just in time to see two parasites leap from the shadows toward him.
He barely had time to react, but he swung his sword with everything he had. The first parasite collided with his blade, but it didn't die—it barely slowed down. The second one slammed into his side, its sharp mandibles scraping across his leather armor. Tommy gritted his teeth, using all his strength to push the creature back.
His heart was racing, his hands trembling. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. He tried to breathe deeply, to focus. But the parasites kept coming, swarming him from all sides. Their grotesque, mushroom-like bodies skittered across the floor, their spindly legs carrying them faster than Tommy could react.
He swung wildly, trying to keep them at bay, but they kept coming, their numbers overwhelming him.
"This isn't what I thought it would be." Tommy's thoughts were scattered, his panic rising as the parasites closed in. He wasn't stronger. He wasn't special. He had mana, but it wasn't enough.
It was just a little power. And it didn't change the fact that he was still just a man in a world full of powerful adventurers.
His sword slashed through another parasite, but the momentum of his strike left him open. One of the creatures darted forward, sinking its mandibles deep into his arm. Tommy screamed, the pain searing through him as it punctured the flesh. He staggered back, blood leaking from the wound, but before he could recover, more parasites were on him.
"No… no, no!"
His breathing became erratic. He had to get out of there.
He turned and ran.
His legs burned as he sprinted down the narrow corridor, his breath ragged in his chest. The parasites weren't far behind, but he didn't dare stop to fight again. He had to find a safe place to regroup.
Tommy stumbled into a small alcove deep within the dungeon—a dead-end, a corner where the parasites couldn't reach him immediately. He collapsed against the wall, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him like a heavy stone.
He winced in pain as he pulled his arm away from the wound, his fingers trembling. His heart raced, his vision swimming. His body was screaming at him, begging for rest, for a moment to catch his breath. But there was no time. He couldn't stop now.
Tommy reached into his bag and pulled out a small flask of water, drinking greedily as he tried to steady his racing heart. His arm throbbed, but he couldn't afford to rest for long. He needed to heal, to recover, to figure out how to move forward.
The poison. The parasites had injected their venom into his bloodstream, and if he didn't act quickly, the effects could be fatal. He dug through his bag for the antidote—a bitter-smelling medicine he had purchased earlier. He opened the vial and gulped it down, the taste lingering in his mouth.
Tommy leaned back against the wall, breathing slowly, letting the medicine and water work their way into his system. He couldn't afford to waste time. He had killed twenty parasites so far, but there were still over eighty more to deal with.
He had to finish this dungeon.
With slow, deliberate movements, Tommy focused on the mana still swirling inside him. He had no System, but he had *something*—he could feel it now, like a pulse inside of him, thrumming through his muscles, his blood. He remembered something he had read before, something that had stuck with him from his time as an aspiring adventurer.
*Move the mana into your muscles. Amplify your strength. Make your body stronger.*
Tommy took a deep breath, shutting out the pain, the exhaustion, the doubt. He focused on the mana inside of him, trying to direct it into his muscles.
At first, nothing happened. But then, slowly, he felt it.
His muscles tensed. His skin tingled as if it were charged with electricity. His body felt more solid, more *alive* than it had in ages. A new strength flooded through him, like his very cells had been reawakened. His legs, his arms, his back—all of them surged with power he had never known.
He stood up, a renewed sense of purpose flooding through him. He couldn't waste this opportunity. He had to finish this.
Tommy stepped back out into the dungeon, his sword gripped tightly in his hand. The parasites were still out there, waiting for him. But now, he felt different. Stronger.
With a roar, he charged back into the fray.
Parasites leapt at him from all directions, but this time, he was ready. He swung his sword with precision, each strike finding its mark. His movements were fluid, quick—he was a blur, cutting down parasites one after another. His muscles were firing on all cylinders, every movement like a well-oiled machine. His strikes were stronger, faster, more controlled.
The monsters fell before him.
But it didn't come without a cost.
As Tommy slaughtered the last of the parasites, a wave of exhaustion hit him. His muscles screamed in protest, and the mana within him began to fizzle out. The burst of strength had taken its toll on his body, leaving him weak, fatigued, and drained. He staggered forward, nearly losing his balance as his vision swam.
*I… I can't stop now.*
He forced himself to keep moving, stumbling through the dungeon. He couldn't afford to rest. He had to finish it.
And finally, after what felt like hours, he reached the end of the dungeon. The remaining parasites had been slain. Tommy had done it.
But his body was on the brink of collapse. His muscles were sore and strained. His mana was spent. He barely had the strength to stay upright.
With a heavy sigh, Tommy dropped to his knees, his sword slipping from his hand as he collapsed onto the stone floor.
---
An hour later, Tommy groggily awoke, blinking against the dim light of the dungeon. He had passed out in exhaustion, his body aching all over. But he had done it. He had completed the dungeon.
His hands shook as he picked up the parasite cores scattered around him. He had to collect them all. The dungeon wasn't over until he had gathered every last one. It felt like the longest, most brutal task he had ever done, but eventually, he had everything.
Tommy staggered toward the dungeon exit, his legs like jelly beneath him. The portal flickered as he approached, and he stumbled through it, exhausted but alive.
As he emerged from the dungeon, the adventurers outside paused. They saw Tommy emerge alone, bloodied and bruised, his armor torn and battered. His face was pale, his eyes unfocused. He was barely standing, but somehow, he had made it.
They exchanged nervous glances, whispering amongst themselves.
"Did his party get killed?" one of them asked, his voice full of disbelief.
"There's no way *he* did it on his own," another muttered. "A systemless adventurer… there's no way."
"He must've run away when it got too tough. He's lucky to be alive."
Tommy ignored them as he walked past, the weight of their words heavy on his shoulders. They had no idea what he had just gone through.
He wasn't special. He wasn't a hero. But for the first time, he felt something more than desperation.
He had done it. Alone.
And that, for now, was enough.