Alexander grimaced as he pulled the small, glimmering pill from his pouch, its polished surface catching the faint light. He hesitated, staring at it with a mixture of desperation and regret. This wasn’t just any healing pill—it was the healing pill. The one that had cost him more gold than he cared to remember. Swallowing it felt like swallowing a piece of his soul.

His fingers tightened around it. Every aching muscle in his body screamed for relief, but the thought of wasting something so valuable made his stomach churn. “Damn it,” he muttered, raising the pill to his lips. “You better be worth it.”

Just as he was about to toss it into his mouth, a voice cut through the silence.

"Do not consume it, boy."

Alexander froze mid-motion, the pill hovering inches from his mouth. His eyes darted around the dark cavern, his pulse quickening. “What? Why?” he demanded, his voice edged with irritation.

"You might need it later," the voice replied, calm but firm. "For now, just power through it. With your constitution, it won’t take long."

Alexander clenched his jaw, his gaze shifting from the pill to the shadows around him. Logic warred with frustration. His body needed this. Every fiber of him was begging for relief. But there was something in that tone, something unshakably certain, that made him pause.

Reluctantly, he lowered the pill. “Fine,” he muttered, stuffing it back into his pouch. “But if I end up half-dead because of this, it’s on you.”

The voice didn’t respond. Silence fell once more, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts—and his pain. His muscles throbbed with every heartbeat, his body trembling from the strain. Moving wasn’t an option, not yet.

So he stayed where he was, slumped against the wall, breathing slow and steady as he fought through the ache. Time dragged. Every second felt like an eternity. Minutes bled into each other until roughly two hours passed, but Alexander stayed still, his resolve hardening with each painful breath.

He might not have been up and running yet, but he was healing. And when he finally got back on his feet, he’d be stronger.

There was always the fear, on the back of his mind that another creature might step on to him, but fortunately, that never happened. When he finally emerged, the reason became clear. After moving through the tunnels for about 10 minutes, he hadn’t encountered a single mownworm.

In truth, he was following the guidance of his ancestor, who insisted he could sense the aura from the source. As for light, Alexander had fashioned a makeshift torch using scraps of muscle and burning flesh from the fallen mownworm.

Was there a stench? Absolutely. Was there any other option? Not in the slightest. So, he pressed on, enduring the suffocating smell.

Nearly 45 minutes later, Alexander was still making his way through the tunnels when suddenly, the voice of his ancsetero thundered in his mind: “Dim down the glow, now.”

Alexander thrust his makeshift torch into the ground, the flame sputtering out with a faint hiss, plunging them into near darkness. His voice was low, steady, but laced with tension.

Ahead, the tunnel sloped upward, the light thinning until it opened into a broader space. Alexander hesitated at the top, peering out from the shadows. His eyes adjusted to the dim glow seeping from the cavern beyond—and what he saw turned his blood cold.

His heart slammed against his chest.

The tunnel overlooked a vast cavern below, stretching wide and deep. The ground was a seething mass of writhing bodies. Mownworm. Dozens of them. Their pale, grotesque forms shifted restlessly, the larger, armored ones towering over their smaller, white brethren. Alexander’s eyes darted across the scene, instinctively counting.

Fifteen armored… at least fifty regular ones…

“Shit,” he muttered, the word slipping from his lips like a hissed breath. His mouth had gone dry. His hands clenched tighter around his axe until his knuckles whitened.

There was no time to think. No time to strategize. His pulse hammered in his ears as panic threatened to consume him. Without a second thought, Alexander spun on his heel, heart pounding, and legs moving on instinct. He bolted back down the tunnel, each footfall barely muffled by the soft dirt. He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. There was no way he could face them—not all of them.

His mind raced. The other route. There had to be another way out.

But running didn’t mean they were safe. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered these monstrosities since escaping the mushroom cavern. The memory of the two he’d fought there was fresh, their grotesque forms still haunting his mind. And since then? Thirteen more. Thirteen heavily armored beasts, each one a brutal fight for survival.

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Alexander didn’t stop running. He couldn’t afford to.

His main weapon, the axe, was useless. So he had to deal with them using his blade, which was not aligned with his style of fighting. A blade or sword relied more on precision rather than brute force, so Alexander had to adapt on the fly.

Needless to say, he did not kill all 13 of them; he killed just 5, and from the rest, he just ran away somehow. His changing of path did come at a cost. Now in front of him were three armored ones that he needed to go through to get to the other side.

But Alexander decided not to. Two reasons: he doubted he could take three at the same time, and even if he could, the cavern where an army lay was just in front, so he did not want to bet his luck on if they might call for reinforcement or not.

There was also another thing—he did not have that much time.

Alexander took out his axe and bent down before he harled himself with everything he had. But not at the three mown worms that were minding their own business but the wall them.

Bam!

With all his strength, he hit the wall as the place was engulfed in dust. Alexander did not waste a single second; using his chance, he made a run for it.

And he did not stop unless he was sure there wasn’t a single one chasing him.

And like this, Alexander continued his descent. Along the way, he did come into contact with several monworms—some he killed, some he fled from. All in all, he had been doing this for quite some time, and by this point, if he was not wrong, he was more than 5 kilometers deep beneath the earth.

The thought alone was enough to send chills down his spine, but he continued downward. He came too far not to do anything.

It was during this relentless descent that Alexander encountered something new. The first sign came as a faint squelching sound, then the sight of strange, smaller worms. These creatures were only about three feet long and entirely red, their slick, fleshy bodies glistening under the faint light. Their presence was jarring at first, but after a quick encounter, Alexander found they were hardly a threat. A single swing of his axe was enough to end them. Sometimes two, but no more than that.

Their fragility made them almost laughable compared to the mownworm, and Alexander quickly stopped paying them any real attention. They weren’t worth the effort to fear or avoid. With that settled, his focus returned to navigating the endless network of tunnels.

He’d been down in the caves for so long now that time had become meaningless. He was far too tired to keep track, and the monotonous, unchanging environment didn’t help. But one thing was clear—he was deep. Deeper than he’d ever imagined he’d go. And according to the whispered words of his ancestor, he was close. The source of the overwhelming power he’d been chasing was near.

But if that was true, Alexander couldn’t feel it. Nothing in the atmosphere had changed. The tunnel was still just a tunnel—its walls riddled with countless holes. It was hard not to feel like the oppressive silence was mocking him, as though the labyrinth was alive and playing with his resolve.

Yet, not everything was bleak. The endless battles had their perks. Fighting wave after wave of worms had honed his skills and pushed his limits. He had leveled up again. If he’d been bolder, if he’d risked fighting every worm he came across instead of slipping past when he could, he was certain he’d have gained another level. Maybe even two.

But Alexander wasn’t stupid. Ambition was one thing. Recklessness was another. Survival always came first.

Still, as he moved through the tunnels, his grip tightening around his axe, he couldn’t help but wonder: how much deeper could this go? And when he finally reached the source, would he be ready?

He soon reached the end of the tunnel, and as he exited it, it opened up to another cavern. And Alexander felt it just as he entered. There was something different about it, first of all, it was not that big, like the others ones he saw, and it did not have that many holes going from it either, just some here and there and the most obvious difference, a greenish-purple crystal-like thing stuck on a dead tree root at the end.

His ancestor did not need to say anything before he understood, this was the thing he came here for. But just as he started approaching it,

Clink.

The faint, metallic sound came from behind him—or was it above? Alexander’s head snapped up instinctively. His breath caught as his eyes locked onto the creature clinging to the cavern ceiling.

It was one of the red worms. But not like the ones he’d been cutting down with ease.

This one was massive—easily twice his size, its hulking form spread out across the stone like some grotesque, mutated gecko. Its muscular front legs, eerily human-like, gripped the ceiling with unnatural strength, while the rest of its body retained its worm-like grotesqueness. Scales covered patches of its flesh, glinting in the dim light, particularly on its forehead, chest, and along its back.

It tilted its head, the slick, glistening scales on its face catching the eerie glow of the crystal. A long, split tongue slid out, licking the air as though tasting his presence.

The sight might have been the stuff of nightmares for anyone with geckophobia, its gecko-like movements combined with its monstrous size creating a surreal terror. But to Alexander?

He frowned.

“Really?” he muttered under his breath, hefting his axe.

Sure, it was bigger. Sure, it looked more durable with those scales. But in the end, it was just a larger version of the red worms he’d already killed countless times. And bigger didn’t necessarily mean tougher.

Alexander braced himself, his fingers tightening around the axe handle. This thing might be more intimidating, but he doubted it would be much of a challenge. Still, his instincts told him not to underestimate it.

"Let’s get this over with," he growled, taking a steadying breath as the monstrosity’s tongue flicked out again, the faint glow of the crystal casting jagged shadows around them.

“jump”

The command roared in Alexander’s mind, sharp and urgent. He didn’t stop to question it. Trusting the voice, he dove to the side in a swift roll.

A split second later, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by a wave of heat and the assault of a vile, choking stench that made his stomach churn.

Alexander turned his head to see the ground where he’d just stood. It was bubbling, the stone corroding and melting into a smoking mess.

“What the fuck! Acid?” he blurted, his voice tinged with disbelief and anger.

“Move back and cover your nose!” the voice barked again, more commanding this time.

Alexander didn’t argue. He staggered backward, clamping a hand over his face as the acrid fumes clawed at his senses.

“This isn’t acid—it’s poison,” the voice hissed.

“What?” Alexander’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, but the poison is so potent it can even melt rock. I don’t think I need to spell out what’ll happen if you get hit with it.”

“Well, of course not,” Alexander grumbled, narrowly dodging another deadly strike as the poison-laced projectile slammed into the ground where he had been standing just seconds before. His heart raced, and panic threatened to rise within him. Things were escalating far faster than he could keep up with.

“And of course, the poison spreads...” the voice continued, coldly matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Alexander muttered, the words barely escaping his gritted teeth. He was on the move again, racing for his life. Each moment, the poison seeped into the atmosphere, thickening the air with danger. He couldn’t afford to waste any time—if he did, the poison would start to work against him, and the time he had left would dwindle.

“Fuck!” Alexander cursed, frustration bubbling up as he pushed off the ground with every ounce of strength he had. He had to keep moving—he had to make it to the laser, had to hack it down, whatever it was. His breath came in sharp gasps, sweat pouring down his face as he sprinted forward.

Without warning, he swung his axe with all his might, aiming for the target ahead. But then—

“Fuck.”

His swing faltered mid-motion as a cold wave of realization hit him. His fingers gripped the dull axe, not the sharp blade he needed.

He saw his wild, desperate swing cut through the air, heading straight for the monster. But the axe wasn’t going to make it through the armored scales. It wasn’t going to do anything.

The scales on the creature's hide mocked him, gleaming like a sick joke as his strike continued onward, hitting nothing but the unyielding armor.

Time was slipping away, and Alexander was starting to realize that he might have underestimated just how dire this situation was.

Just as Alexander’s axe swung down, the creature made a swift, unexpected move. It lifted its front leg, holding it up just in time. Alexander’s wide swing connected, but instead of striking the soft flesh, it hit the thick, scaly armor covering the calf. What happened next, however, caught Alexander completely off guard