Lowe peered through the narrow gap at the monster, sucking in his stomach as he did so. Arebella had tactfully - and Mylaf rather more untactfully - suggested he needed to ease up a little on the baked good consumables. However, if anything was going to persuade him to reconsider his dietary choices, it would probably be being slightly too big to comfortably escape what appeared to be a huge, oozing undead werewolf.

"Is it still out there?" Gral asked from, Lowe noticed, the very front of their little group. The lawyer was about as far away from danger as it was possible to get which considering Gral was the highest level of any of them - and was the reason their pursuer was quite so powerful - did not feel exactly value for money.

"No. I think it got bored and wandered off."

"Really?"

The creature howled and scrabbled at the entrance to the side tunnel again, claws very nearly reaching Lowe's chest. "No, not really, you fucking moron."

"Can you see what it is?" Preece asked.

"Other than terrifying?"

"If we know what it is, I might be able to help with how to fight it. There's precious little in the Dungeonverse I haven't come across. In a previous life. Knowledge is power and all that."

That made sense to Lowe, and he craned his neck a little further out. "I can't make out the text from here, but it appears to be some sort of giant zombie wolf."

"Ah."

"Is that an 'excellent. I have encountered many of this species in my Dungeon Delving days and have a step-by-step plan for you on how to defeat the creature' ah, or . . ." Lowe let the silence hover in the air for a moment. "This is where you come in with some reassuring words."

"Is it?"

"Come on, Preece. This is your time for your underpowered arse to shine. How do we take this down?"

The monster let out a low, rumbling howl, which sounded worryingly like it was letting its fellows know that meat was back on the menu. Lowe did his best to back off down the tunnel, noting how very tight the fit was the further he went. "Look, we really don't want to be stuck here if it summons any others. It only needs one of these things to be a touch smaller, and we're done. Anyone see where this tunnel leads?"

"I don't want to play fast and loose with the words 'dead end' here," Karolen said, her voice tight. "But as far as I can tell, it just keeps getting narrower and narrower. The more I look at it, the more I'm not convinced it isn't just a trap to get us all wedged in."

"Excellent." Lowe twisted slightly to face the gap to the corridor face-on. "So, real rock and a hard place, stuff."

"Well, undead werewolf and a hard place, certainly," Gral added, somewhat unhelpfully to Lowe's mind.

Stooping slightly, Lowe risked slipping his head forward a little further to catch the words floating above the monster's head a little clearer. "Level 31 Corrupt Fenrir. Any good to you?" he called back to Preece.

"Shit. Okay. Well, that's not great. Could be worse, certainly, but I've not got many good memories of fighting against those fuckers. Although . . . "

"Although what? Fuck!" Lowe jerked his head back just in time to avoid losing his nose to a raking claw. "Preece, mate, make with the exposition!"

"It's just one of them, you say?"

"Sure. It keeps howling as if calling others, but it's just the one at the moment. I don't think I’m being overly pessimistic to note it can probably take us."

"Okay. Well, when isolated, it'll be running under a Lone Wolf debuff. So, basically, when not in a pack, a Corrupt Fenrir will move into a berserk state and have no real sense of self-preservation. Its attack patterns will become predictable, which usually means you can exploit its blind rage to make a fairly easy kill." Preece's voice had the biggest 'but' of all time, hovering just beyond expression.

"Anything else useful other than it's fucking out of its mind with anger? Because I'm not seeing that as much of an upside."

"Sorry. I know of a bunch of group formations that would be killer against such a foe, but - well - we're lacking a bit in most of the suggested team members. I doubt it would even know I was attacking it."

Lowe took a moment to let the problem percolate through his mind. This was too early on in the Dungeon for them to be this outclassed. He only really had his experience of being power levelled by Latham to call on, but each of the Dungeons he had done with the had followed a fairly benign difficulty curve. Sure, because of Gral being in their party and the Dungeon scaling to him, they were batting way above their average, but - then again - so was Lowe himself. In real terms, he was basically a Level 50. A Level 33 wolf - all on its lonesome and debuffed - really shouldn't be this much of a head-scratcher.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lowe shut out the snarling and did his best to think. Over the last year, he'd become so used to being Classless - the literal runt of any litter he ran across - he'd stopped looking at problems as if there was any other outcome than him trying to survive being hosed. What did he have on his side here? Well, according to Preece, this thing was stupid. Strong, violent and vicious, for sure, but it sounded like its debuff made it thick as mince. If he couldn't figure out how to take it down, he really wasn't trying . . .

There was a pause as he ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, his fingers catching on the clumps of grit and blood. He would never admit it out loud, but all he kept thinking was, 'What would Latham do?'

Lowe squinted at the entrance to the side tunnel—just wide enough for him if he sucked in his gut, but certainly not wide enough for the massive, clawing beast trying to wriggle through. Its claws were getting frantic now, scraping up flecks of stone as they gouged and scrabbled with a manic desperation that told Lowe the creature's patience was running out.

Yeah, he could do something with this level of manic, frantic devotion . . .

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, I think I have a plan."

"Please tell me it doesn’t involve heroic self-sacrifice," Gral added brightly from his safe spot. "Or if it does, at least not by me."

"Tempting, but no." Lowe said as he checked through his inventory. He was sure that somewhere in here, he had just the thing. Ah, there it was—an old, half-empty bottle of 'Inferno Bourbon'. Arebella had banned the stuff from her house - and that had been during their first time on the relationship merry-go-round. The label was faded and peeling, but it probably had matured splendidly during that time. Lowe grinned, already feeling the gears whirring in his head.

He tossed the bottle down the corridor to Preece, who fumbled it like it was a live demonic imp. “Lowe! What—"

"Keep it steady. On the count of three, we're all going back the way we came."

Gral blinked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I'm going to grab him, you all slip past as he - doubtlessly - rips me a new one and then I'm pulling him back in here."

"Right . . ." Karolen clearly did not think much of this plan.

"Because if this tunnel’s too small for us, then it's damned well going to be too small for it. And we’ll make sure it’s too flammable for him, too." Lowe spoke fast, hand gripping and regripping his newly earned blade.

The Fenrir's claws raked closer, catching the leather strap of Lowe’s belt as he backed up a step. Was he really planning on grappling with this thing?

"Right, listen," Lowe knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop. If he did, he figured he'd lose his nerve. "I'm not going to fight it directly. I'm just going to pin it and wedge it in here. It's stupid. Predictable, right, Preece? All I need to do is trigger it into berserk mode, and then—"

"It’ll just fight blindly," Karolen finished, her eyes gleaming as the plan came together. "Trapped in a bottleneck. You’re going to light it up, aren’t you?"

"Exactly, the Fenrir's stuck, I torch the tunnel, and we avoid being clawed to death by a very angry wolf. Simple, right?"

"Define simple," Preece said, but he was already prepping the bottle, pulling off the cork. "I have a flint," he said, passing it up the line to Lowe.

Gral cleared his throat. "Loathe as I am to offer a counterargument here, but whilst I am very much on board with the plan to cook the wolf, is there not a danger of you being similarly incinerated? Not that this is a deal breaker as far as I am concerned, but I do feel the need to bring it up. Morally, you understand? Probably legally too, to be scrupulously honest."

The creature howled again, this time louder, its head starting to force its way down into the tunnel. Its crimson eyes locked onto Lowe, who felt the feral heat of its gaze like a physical force.

Perfect. It was furious now. Wasn’t it weird the things that cheered you up as you got older?

"I'm going to be working on the principle that one of us has an overpowered healing Skill, and the other is a monster covered in hair. I'm not loving the idea, but I'm not hating my odds, either. We all good?"

With no one having a better plan, it seemed to Lowe that Operation Cook-off was a go.

With no further ado, Lowe dashed forward, crashing into the beast and doing his best to lock its arms to the side. He saw the others run past and, headbutting the Fenrir on the snout, he let go, backing off into the tunnel again. The creature responded with a maddened snarl, lunging forward, the impetus of its rage and Lowe giving it a massive, Slugger empowered pull, wedging itself millimetres from Lowe’s face.

"Now, Preece!" Lowe shouted, bracing himself.

With a regretful sigh, Preece lobbed the bottle at the feet of the creature. Lowe felt the liquid wash under him and was already striking the flint against the side of the tunnel. Sparks caught. There was a moment of sickening silence as the fiery alcohol went woomph and met flesh. Then, the explosion ripped through the tunnel.

Both the Corrupt Fenrir and Lowe howled in unified fury and agony as fire spread across them, igniting necrotic tissue and skin like dry tinder. The monster’s claws flailed, smacking against Lowe in a frenzy, trying to force itself back out of the tiny passage, but it was too late: it’s berserk rage had driven it too deep into the tunnel to escape.

It was stuck. As was Lowe.

Karolen watched, chest heaving as the fire consumed the two figures in the tunnel from the inside out. The smell was beyond foul—like burnt meat and rotting carcasses—but thankfully, in a pretty brief amount of time, it was done. The monster's movements slowed, then finally, mercifully, stopped.

There was the longest pause any of the rest of the group had ever experienced. And then there was a dry hacking cough.

"Well," Lowe said, voice low and gravelly. "I think that counts as well-done. See, Mr Lawyer. No heroic self-sacrifice required. Or not a permanent one, anyway."

Gral, looking slightly ill from what he had just witnessed, gave a hesitant thumbs up. "For the record, I, uh, prefer plans when they don't involve people meltings."

"You’re welcome," Lowe replied

"You’re insane," Preece added, but there was admiration in his tone.

"Insanity’s just another word for creative problem-solving. Now," he continued. "In the interests of preserving our blushes, I don't suppose any of you happen to have any clothes in my size?"