Ethan stood over the crumpled remains of the skeleton archer, his breath coming in heavy gasps. His body felt like it was on fire—his muscles sore, his hands slick with sweat and blood. He'd fought harder than he ever had in his life, and yet, the dungeon showed no signs of stopping.
The eerie hum of the dungeon filled the air, vibrating in his bones as his eyes flicked toward the next wave of undead slowly advancing. The blue screens that had been popping up finally stopped. For a moment, the silence was deafening.
Ethan wiped his brow again, the tension in his shoulders building as he surveyed the room. His notification screens still hovered faintly in the corner of his vision, but he was too focused on the undead to pay them much attention. He needed to think.
'The dungeon must have an exit. It had to.'
'But where?'
His eyes narrowed as he noticed something: The stone walls of the room were slightly uneven, as though they'd been hastily constructed. There was a faint glimmer near the far corner, a sliver of light in the otherwise dark room. It almost looked like a crack in the wall.
"Is that an exit?" he muttered to himself, cautiously taking a step in that direction.
A growl broke through his thoughts. One of the undead had gotten too close—too fast.
It was a hulking brute of a skeleton, its broad shoulders and distorted frame easily three times the size of the others. Its skull was adorned with jagged metal spikes, and its hollow eyes gleamed with malice. Carrying a heavy sword that appeared to be used for a thousand years.
Ethan's instincts kicked in. He didn't have time to wonder how a creature like this had even made it into the dungeon. The only thing that mattered now was surviving.
The brute swung its heavy sword down towards him, and Ethan dove to the side just in time, the blow grazing past his ribs. The force of it sent a jolt of pain through his side, but he bit it back. He couldn't afford to lose focus.
His hands tightened around the shovel. The new skill he'd acquired, Shovel Mastery, was useful, but it wasn't going to help him with a beast like this—not unless he figured out how to use it effectively.
Ethan gritted his teeth, taking a steadying breath. The brute raised its arm again, its massive fingers curling into a fist.
No more dodging.
He planted his feet, positioning himself just beyond its range. The moment the brute's fist came down, he stepped forward, avoiding the blow and, with everything he had left, slammed the shovel into the creature's side.
The impact was thunderous. The brute let out a strange, gurgling hiss, its bones cracking under the force. But it wasn't enough. The thing barely staggered, its limbs seemingly unbreakable.
"Okay, think, think, think!" Ethan muttered, his mind racing. The brute's wide swing came next, and he ducked again, narrowly avoiding it.
He needed to take it down—fast.
Then he remembered the crack in the wall. He couldn't keep fighting forever. He had to get out. He took a deep breath and scanned the room, his eyes landing on the scattered remains of fallen skeletons. The ground beneath his feet was still trembling from his Ground Slam, and for the first time, an idea sparked in his mind. Without another thought, he turned and ran straight at the brute, his legs screaming in protest. The thing roared and swung at him, but he was already in motion. At the last moment, just as the brute's fist came crashing down toward him, he dropped to the ground, skidding under its massive form.
He didn't stop. He sprinted toward the crack in the wall, his heart pounding as the brute followed in hot pursuit. The blue screens flickered in his peripheral vision, showing messages he couldn't afford to read.
It was all or nothing.
The crack in the wall wasn't wide—just a narrow gap barely big enough for him to slip through. But if it was an exit, it would be his way out. With the brute right behind him, Ethan dove for the gap. He didn't make it cleanly. His shoulder scraped against the jagged stone, but he was through.
For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. Then, his eyes adjusted. He was in a narrow stone passageway, the walls smooth and cold to the touch. His breath was ragged, and he could hear the brute's angry growls echoing through the passage, but it couldn't reach him.
For now, he was safe.
But he couldn't stop. Not yet.