Dungeon – 10th Floor
The air was damp. The smell of blood lingered.
Orcbolg moved through the tunnels, silent as a shadow.
He had been hunting for hours. His pace was steady, his movements precise. Each step was calculated. Each breath controlled.
The 10th Floor was filled with stronger monsters—Orcs, Needle Rabbits, and Killer Ants. Nothing he couldn't handle.
But something felt off.
The monsters were acting strangely.
They weren't attacking on sight. Instead, they lurked in the darkness, watching. Stalking.
As if something had changed.
Orcbolg knelt, touching the ground.
Blood. Fresh.
But no bodies.
Something else was hunting here.
Elsewhere – Adventurer's Camp
A small group of adventurers rested near a makeshift camp. Their armor was worn, their weapons bloodied.
"That was too close," one of them muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Another, a young woman, tightened her grip on her staff. "We lost two already… We need to go back."
"But the mission—"
"We're not prepared for this!" she snapped.
Before they could argue further, a low growl echoed through the tunnels.
Their blood ran cold.
A shadow loomed at the edge of their vision. Something large. Something unnatural.
Then—a scream.
Orcbolg Moves
The sound reached him instantly.
Orcbolg moved.
He didn't hesitate. Didn't think. His body reacted on instinct.
He followed the echoes, his steps light and swift.
When he arrived, he saw blood.
The adventurers were in chaos. One was already dead, their body torn apart. Another was desperately trying to cast magic, hands shaking.
And in front of them—
A Monster Rex.
No. Not a full-grown one.
A young Variant.
Its skin was black, its eyes glowing red. A mutation.
It wasn't supposed to be here.
It wasn't supposed to exist.
Yet, here it was.
Orcbolg drew his sword. No hesitation. No fear.
Just the hunt.
The Battle Begins
The monster roared, its massive arms swinging down.
Orcbolg moved. Fast.
The ground cracked where he had been standing.
The adventurers stumbled back, their faces pale. "W-We have to run!"
Orcbolg ignored them. His eyes locked onto the creature's movements.
Its attacks were strong but slow.
Its weak points—the joints. The eyes. The throat.
He adjusted his grip on his sword.
He had killed worse.
He would kill this too.
The hunt began.