Hunted by a pack of predatory sheep was not how Corrin expected to go, but lately his life had been anything but expected.

Sheep began swarming out of the walls by the dozens, blocking the way forward and back. The other side of the stream was sheep-free, but he wasn’t sure how long it would remain that way.

With a chorus of bleating, the sheep closed in, and Corrin leapt across the water. He hadn’t had enough time to gather enough energy into his legs, and one of them landed in the water. He scrambled up onto land and started hobbling further into the tunnel. The sheep followed, wasting no time jumping into the water after him.

He might’ve been able to kill some while they came ashore, but there were just too many, and he couldn't afford to get swarmed.

His pace picked up to a run as more power seeped into him and was dragged down to his legs. The sound of hooves hitting stone picked up behind him, steadily growing closer.

He hazarded a glance behind: the sheep were gaining. He might’ve been faster than them in short bursts, or even if he was at full strength, but it seemed they’d catch up in a straight run if they were given time to accelerate.

Two sheep came out of a tunnel ahead of him, and a second later he was on them. Without time to move the power to his arms, he wouldn’t be able to cut through their thick wool. He had to dodge, but he was worried about dodging to the side. If he misjudged it with this much power in his legs and ended up in the water again, he was dead.

So instead, he jumped, aiming forward and up, hands first. He soared over the sheep and landed awkwardly on the other side, before scrambling to his feet and getting back into a run.

He heard brief bleating behind him before it was quickly stifled, as the two sheep were unable to get out of the way of the horde behind him, no doubt getting trampled under the tidal wave of hooves and wool.

The tunnels passed overhead as he ran, following the stream, until he saw it finally empty into a small pool in a large room. The water didn’t seem to drain out anywhere, so it must be sinking into the ground or have some sort of underground drain. The room had two exits forking off in different directions.

Unfortunately for him, another sheep stood in the way, with dozens more blocking the pathway forward. But as he drew closer, he saw that the lone beast in the room wasn’t the same as the creatures that chased him. No, if they were sheep, this one was a ram.

It was now or never. Corrin reached into his cloak, grabbing the silk pouch holding his firestone, and he opened it, letting the scarlet spell stone drop into his palm before he tossed it into the air. He didn’t look back; he knew what would come.

The detonation launched him off his feet with a deafening boom, sending a sound like thunder through the cave. He felt his back grow dangerously hot as he tucked into a ball and let himself roll with the momentum. As he lay there, his ears ringing, the smell of burning flesh, rancid and greasy, drifted into his nostrils, dredging up memories he’d rather forget.

Breathe.

Power surged into him, like a false salvation telling his body it could still move. But he listened, there were more enemies ahead.

It was surprisingly light inside the room, with giant yellow crystals casting a glow on the cavern like the setting sun. For the first time in his experience, actual plant life—well, mushroom life—had taken form in the dungeon. Two large, purple mushrooms the size of small trees bent over the pool as if trying to drink from it themselves, and moss grew on rocks surrounding the water.

The ram stood beneath the mushrooms, glaring at him with the same red eyes as the sheep. It was the size of a horse, with thick, looping horns that extended its head’s striking range by a foot on either side. Whereas the demon sheep’s fangs weren’t visible until they opened their mouths, the ram had two large fangs sticking out of its mouth towards the ground. Its fur didn’t seem as thick as the sheep, but its body rippled with muscle and power. It lowered its horns for a moment, before stomping twice on the ground. The eyes of the sheep guarding the exits dulled, returning to their original black as they began to walk away.

Corrin chuckled, “What is this? Just you and me huh? Those sheep better leave me alone after I skewer you.”

He dropped his pack, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud as they approached each other. The first strike was one Corrin needed to survive; it would give him information on how the thing fought. He took in more energy, funneling it to his already full legs.

The ram rose up on two legs, tilting its head to the side as it began to run towards him, picking up speed at a shocking rate. Corrin crouched low, bouncing lightly on his feet, waiting until the last moment. Just before the charge hit, his feet picked off the ground, and then propelled him into his first step, his body shot to the side as the monster thundered past him. Unable to halt, it crashed into the wall of the dungeon.

The wall cracked.

Corrin’s breath caught. That shouldn’t even be possible. If he’d taken that blow head on, he would’ve been splattered.

The ram staggered back a bit before shaking its head, seemingly only minorly affected by the force of the blow. It stared at Corrin, red eyes glowing brighter as it approached again, before launching into another charge. Corrin moved slightly earlier this time, testing its reactions. Amazingly, even at top speed, it adjusted its charge to try and catch his movement.

This was a problem. If he took any power out of his legs, he wouldn’t be able to sidestep the charge. But without the extra power in his arms, he didn’t think he’d be able to swing his sword after dodging it in time to hit it before it sped past. And with how weak he was right now; he wasn’t sure he could even cut it to begin with. He needed more energy, but as he tried to call on more, he felt the flow of power slow to a trickle.

Is this as much as I can take in? There was a limit? Agh I should’ve tested that! Just… save it for later. I need a plan.

He might’ve been able to wear the beast down if he were at full strength. But with the way his muscles were aching, the beast probably had more energy left. He needed a way to either supplement the missing power in his arms or avoid the need to dodge in time. The ram charged again, and the dance continued. It was such a simple attack, but the sheer speed and power were absurd, an effective, unstoppable charge.

That’s it.

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He was falling into a trap. Dodging the charge completely meant he wouldn’t lose, but it also took away his chance at victory. He couldn’t face it head on, but he couldn’t run away either. He could make the timing of his dodge easier, and all it would cost was a little pain. Something he was getting quite used to.

The beast reared back up on its hind legs once more, preparing to charge again. Corrin didn’t flinch. He pulled power to his arms, running towards the beast as it did the same. A few moments before contact, Corrin dropped to the ground, and then, just as the head of the ram passed him, he thrust his sword straight up.

Over a thousand pounds of monster trampled him, but at the speed it was going, it was more like a really strong kick, the kind that cracks ribs. But compared to the chest pain, it was nothing. The claw sword plunged deep into flesh as a ripping sound mixed with the clattering of horns and hooves as they slammed into the ground. Crimson blood surged out of the wound, covering Corrin as the beast’s corpse flew past.

He came out the other side, battered, beaten, but still alive. He rolled over to look at his foe. The ram tried to stand again, but as it did, more innards spilled out of its stomach, and it let out a last, long bleat before it crumpled to the ground.

“I’m… the king… of the sheep,” Corrin muttered deliriously. He rolled over into the water, letting it rinse most of the blood from his face and body as he let the cool fluid run over him. Once he felt a little better, he rolled back out, not rising to his feet.

Perhaps an hour passed, lying on the ground, not moving an inch, waiting for the rest of the demon sheep to come back and finish the job, but they never did. Every part of his body ached, and he could hardly remember a time he hadn’t been in pain, but eventually, as the throbbing lessened a bit, he staggered back to his feet. Not giving up was all he had left, and he’d die before he did.

Two paths stretched out before him, left and right. A cursory inspection revealed no real differences, and Corrin wasn’t one for indecision. He confidently stepped to the right; he got a good feeling from that—

No.

Corrin walked left. Before he even realized what was happening. He’d fully intended to walk right, but it was as if his body wouldn’t let him go in that direction. Every instinct, nerve and sense in his body was telling him that the right would mean his death. He peered into the tunnel, it really was just the same as the one on the left, but with no reason to choose other than gut feeling, he relented and let his intuition carry him along.

Without the sound of running water to keep him company, the disturbing silence of the cave began to grate on him, until he could hear his own heartbeat. The temperature seemed to chill around him as he came to further crossroads. At each one, despite any evidence to the contrary, he felt clearly that one choice was better than the other. Something unnatural was at play, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.

The slope got steeper, downwards. He had to be going in the wrong direction. He started to turn around, but a sense of dread gripped his heart. The shadows behind him seemed darker than they had been. His ears strained, and he thought he could almost make out the shuffling of creatures back the way he’d come.

He found himself drawing in energy as his heart rate picked up, beating louder and faster with each second.

Corrin’s heart clenched, suddenly wracked with the now familiar phantom pain. It wasn’t just his chest though; it was his whole body, and the pain this time was worse than he could imagine. Arms, legs, head, every limb was burning as if he was being seared from the inside. He lost control of his legs, collapsing onto the ground as he tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips.

He flailed on the ground, screaming in his mind, begging the pain to stop. His memories burned away as the pain flared higher, to the point he couldn’t even remember who he was, or what he was doing. Sharp pain, throbbing pain, dull pain, burning pain, searing pain. Everything seemed to blur and burn away as the agony continued to—

Corrin woke up, lying on the cold floor of the dungeon, drenched in sweat. He rolled over and vomited, losing the last of his food in the process. The pain had been reduced to a dull throb in his chest now, and though he felt like he was breathing through a rag, at least he was able to think again. The air was hot around him, or was that…

He snapped his head up, coming eye to eye with the creature that had been breathing on his neck. A large, birdlike creature regarded him with a terrifying mix of hunger and curiosity in its eyes, though something seemed off about them, he couldn’t put his finger on it though. His hand went to his side where the claw sword had fallen, but the creature made no moves.

Corrin staggered to his feet, taking in the creature. Spirits, its claws were almost as long as those of the claw beasts he’d fought before. He backed away cautiously. It hadn’t attacked him yet, even though he’d been passed out when it arrived, and he didn’t want to make any sudden movements that might provoke it. He wasn’t in any condition to fight, it was all he could do at this point to keep walking. As he began to back up towards one of the tunnels behind him, he heard a sound from that direction. He didn’t have the luxury to see what it was, instead shuffling towards another tunnel quickly, his sword still drawn.

The beast slowly advanced on him, and as the source of the noise rounded the corner, he saw another horror: a large spider the size of his own body crawled towards him slowly on the ceiling, its brain visible through its semi translucent skin.

He continued slowly backing up, as both creatures slowly followed him. A third sound from the right, he glanced over to see another of the eyestalk deer, all twenty or so of its eyes trained on him. Wait, no they weren’t.

The eyes weren’t looking at him, they were glazed over somewhat, as if not entirely focused. At the same time, Corrin’s ears picked up on something else, the monsters were all stepping in sync, as if marching to some rhythm he wasn’t privy to.

He quickened his pace, and the monsters increased theirs to match him.

Within moments, more and more horrors had come pouring into the various tunnels around him, more than he’d ever seen in one place. The variety was astonishing, and he noticed not just monsters from this floor, but higher floors as well, stalkers, a stone-back tiger, the black metal skeletons, hundreds of beings herded him towards… something.

It was an interesting feeling for Corrin. Though the horde certainly meant the end for him, fear was not the emotion at the forefront of his mind.

It was fascinating.

As the glowing eyes of the monsters, each a different color, met his own, Corrin could not help but feel awe at the sight in front of him. The sheep had been one thing, operating like some kind of wolf pack controlled by the demon ram, but this was on a whole different scale. Short lived though it may be, he was confident no one else had experienced such a sight before. He moved, the horde moved with him, stepping in sync.

For what felt like an eternity, Corrin walked through the tunnels, the monsters trailing not far behind. The tunnels grew darker and darker, and he could feel himself getting herded deeper into the dungeon. It was almost definitely a bad idea to go that way, but between the unknown and certain death, he would choose the unknown every time. Corrin had no desire to die.

Hazarding a glance down the tunnel, Corrin’s breath caught in his throat. Cut into the blank stone wall was a perfect doorway. As he drew closer, his confusion grew further still. Through the hole, a set of stone stairs descended into darkness. They were cut too perfectly to be anything but manmade, but even that seemed insufficient to describe them. There were no visible imperfections in their craftsmanship, to the point that they hardly looked real.

Who had put them here? How had they been crafted? Other than the absurd charge of the ram, the walls of dungeons were all but impossible to damage in Corrin’s experience. Even firestones would do little more than slightly scratch the surface. He maybe could’ve believed it if the construction of the passageway was crude, and roughly made, but to craft something this precise? It didn’t make any sense.

Corrin looked at the passageway with apprehension, then looked back to the horde behind—

The horde was gone, as if they’d never been there. He hadn’t sensed or heard them leave. Never had he doubted his own senses so much as today. This was his chance. He could retreat and continue looking for the way out, only an idiot would lose this chance. But something in the shadows seemed to call to him, even as his senses screamed at him not to go… something was saying he should.

It only took a moment to make up his mind, the boy of ashen hair stepped onto the first stair, crossing the threshold of descension. There was a feeling he just couldn’t shake, and it overpowered the fear and the pain. Something was waiting for him down in the dark.