When Andrew awoke, he wasn't at home. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—a stark white roof. He blinked, disoriented, and felt the tug of something attached to his arm. Glancing down, he saw an IV line hooked into his veins.
He was in a hospital.
A groan escaped his lips. "Great," he muttered bitterly. Dalton's going to lose it.
Just imagining his friend's reaction made him want to cover his face in frustration. There was no way Dalton would ever agree to enter the dungeons with him again. Not after this.
Still, Andrew couldn't blame him. Dalton had always been the cautious one, and after seeing what happened, Andrew had to admit his friend's concern wasn't misplaced. Maybe they were too reckless. The dungeons were dangerous—deadly, even. Andrew sighed, his head sinking back against the stiff hospital pillow.
But something didn't add up. The water bat's explosion shouldn't have injured him this badly. Sure, it caught him off guard, but it hadn't even hurt that much on impact. So why was he here?
Before he could dwell on it further, a strange sound caught his attention. Andrew froze. It was faint but distinct—a muffled, tormented moan. He frowned. The usual hum of hospital activity was absent; no chatter, no footsteps. The silence pressed down on him like a weight.
His gaze darted to the walls. Something was wrong—very wrong. Blue roots snaked along the plaster near the window, pulsating faintly with an eerie light. His chest tightened. This wasn't normal.
Andrew ripped the IV from his arm, wincing as blood beaded on his skin. He staggered to his feet, his head pounding.
"Armor."
At his command, his gear materialized in a shimmer of light—well, most of it. His helmet was missing. If a piece was displaced, it couldn't teleport back on, but he didn't have time to worry about that. He gripped his ax tightly, the familiar weight grounding him.
Andrew crept to the door and eased it open. What he saw made his stomach churn.
A decayed corpse lay sprawled in the hallway—a doctor, judging by the tattered uniform. Their head was missing, and the blood pooling beneath them had long since dried. Andrew's breath caught in his throat. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream, forcing himself to look away.
The hallway was chaos. Dried blood smeared the walls in frantic streaks, and more bodies—patients and staff alike—were strewn about. The positions of the corpses told a grim story: they had been running from something.
Andrew's heart raced. He triggered his ability instinctively, though he still didn't know exactly what it did. If there was even the smallest chance it could help, he'd take it. He scanned the corridor, searching for any sign of movement. There was none, but the walls were lined with unnatural growths—blue, red, and green veins that pulsed like they were alive.
Near one corner, a bizarre tree clung to the wall. Its glowing leaves, shaped like carrots, bathed the hallway in an otherworldly light. It was too detailed, too organic to be fake. Andrew's mind raced. The dungeons. Someone must've brought this back from a dungeon.
His thoughts snapped back to the muffled sound. Could someone still be alive?
A soft drip echoed through the hallway—a water droplet hitting the floor. Then, the moan came again, louder this time. Andrew's instincts screamed at him to move. He bolted down the hall toward the exit, his boots thudding against the tile.
The sound of claws tearing through the ceiling sent a shiver down his spine. He didn't dare look up, but the creature's presence was unmistakable. It was fast—too fast—and it was gaining on him.
Andrew sprinted, leaping over bodies where he could and cringing when he couldn't avoid stepping on them. Guilt gnawed at him, but survival took precedence. He reached the staircase and hurtled downward, skipping steps in his rush.
I've leveled up; I can handle this, he thought, his confidence rising. He jumped the last flight, but as soon as he landed, pain exploded in his leg. A sickening crack echoed in the stairwell. His bones had fractured.
He barely had time to process the injury before the creature landed in front of him. It was a spider—no, something worse. Its hulking form bristled with green chitin, and its limbs were grotesque, humanoid arms instead of legs. Andrew's breath hitched. He tried to move, but his leg betrayed him.
The spider reared back, its limb poised to strike. Andrew's chest burned with regret. I shouldn't have jumped. I shouldn't have been so reckless.
The world flickered.
When he opened his eyes, he was back on the staircase, mid-sprint. His leg was unbroken. The pain was gone. His surroundings were exactly as they had been moments before the jump.
Did I… go back in time?
There was no time to process the revelation. The creature's screeches echoed behind him. This time, he didn't jump. He ran, his focus on the torn exit ahead.
The monster leaped, its claws reaching for him. Andrew swung his ax, aiming for its eyes. The blade glanced off its arm with a metallic clang. Acid sprayed from its mouth, searing his skin. He barely had time to scream before everything reset.
Again, he was back on the staircase. His heart pounded as realization hit. His ability triggered when he regretted a decision deeply enough. I can't afford mistakes.
This time, he swung at the creature's eyes with all his strength, blinding it momentarily. As it thrashed in agony, Andrew kicked off and sprinted through the broken exit, lungs burning.
He stumbled outside, nearly tripping over a massive root that twisted out of the ground like a serpent. A notification blinked into his vision:
[You have exited an Earth relic: Hospital]
[This relic is protected by a tier 2 monster.]
[You have entered a tier 1 zone.]
Andrew collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The nightmare wasn't over, but for now, he was alive.