“Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods.” I wheezed, struggling to not break down. I exhaled, inhaling deeply, holding my breath for a few seconds, before exhaling. I repeated the process several times until I no longer felt like I was instances away from cracking.

It wasn’t possible for slimes to hyperventilate, but I was doing the slime equivalent of it. I imagined my breaths coming out in ragged wheezes, uncompromising and harsh. Whenever I thought I was doing better, I saw the crackling bonfire through one of the orbs and was hit with another wave of nausea and guilt.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I muttered. Logically, I knew that there was nothing wrong with me on a physical scale. I didn’t breathe, had no heart, and I couldn’t break out into a cold sweat. Yet I was so intricately certain that all these aforementioned things were happening to me, that I conjured the imagery in my mind and projected it into reality. I didn’t breathe, but I knew I was supposed to have trouble breathing in situations like these, so I acted like I was. But at what point does acting become reality?

I told myself it would be vengeance that drove me on my crusades to eradicate the monkeys, but that was a lie, wasn’t it? At the end of the day, when I’d been barbecuing their flesh off their bones, I hadn’t given a shit about what they did to my ‘home.’ All I desired was to see the numbers climb.

It was more than just the growing urge to destroy that frightened me. I lost sight of my goal. I’d forgotten the reason I wanted to escape this dungeon. I’d let my purpose slip by. I regained my senses this time, but I wasn’t naïve enough to believe this wouldn’t occur again. What about next time? Would I have the willpower to break free?

Unbidden, the words of the doppelgänger swam to the forefront of my mind. Was this what all slimes—no, all monsters—felt? The carnal desire to get stronger that consumed every inch of your brain, and acting upon it? The fragile balance between slime and human was eroding quicker than I anticipated.

“I need to get out of here as soon as possible. While I’m still me.” I resolved. Glancing behind me, it was clear as day that I couldn’t travel down that path. My fiery rampage had spread to the rest of the cave, making transportation all but impossible. Turning to the other side, I began my long journey.

The Will-O’-Wisp was nowhere in sight. It’d most likely left during the battle. It was strange—we hadn’t had a good relationship, by any means—but I still felt a loss. The absence of having someone to talk to that wasn’t myself or the System would quickly escalate into a bigger problem down the road. My mental state would descend into chaos and primal instincts faster that way, not to mention that without a guide, I had no idea where to travel.

I experimented with [Super-Sensory Perception], adamantly refusing to even look at [Fire Glyph]. After several tries that resulted in running into the wall, I was successful in sending the individual orbs away from me. There was a limited range, after which I lost control and they fell to the ground, but this enabled me to extend my vision even further. This Skill seemed to be active at all times, and it barely drained my Magic Points.

Sending a lone orb ahead of me while keeping the rest, I peered through it. The abyssal darkness would have been enough to keep me at bay previously, but now, I could pierce through it with my sight. Almost immediately, I discerned that there were three holes embedded into the walls at varying heights. I sent three out of my four orbs through each tunnel, making it a few meters before recalling them. All of them appeared to be identical, but presumably, they led to differing locations.

I was at a crossroad, and my sense of direction had never been that great.

Giving myself up to fate, I circulated through the first three digits, planning on heading through whichever number I stopped on. I was on my fifth rotation through the numbers before something registered to my senses.

It was incredibly faint, to where I wondered if I’d just imagined it. Discarding the numbers, I crept closer to the hole situated lowest in the wall and waited for a sign. A gentle breeze flowed through the tunnel that wasn’t present in the others, caressing my body with the care of a loving mother before breezing past. I remained still for a few more minutes, ensuring it wasn’t a one-time thing and confirming my belief: there was air circulation through this tunnel.

That didn’t ensure it was from an opening to the outside world; it could easily be from another monster. But it was, without a doubt, the best hint I had to escape. Still, I was wary of entering.

It didn’t escape my notice how the tunnel that was most appealing was also the easiest to access. Coincidence, or something greater at work? It’s not difficult to believe the System doesn’t have some modicum of control over the dungeon’s layouts, and it could have placed this tunnel here for a reason.

I doubted the System particularly wanted me to escape. It had sounded like keeping me here and continuing to generate energy for it was its end goal for me. In that case, the logical course of action was to avoid this tunnel. At the same time, it could be assuming that I’ll reach this conclusion and purposefully choose one of the other two tunnels. There was also the third option of ignoring the tunnels all together and continuing on my way.

I gazed down the corridor I was in, and darkness seemed to stare back. A shiver ran down my body. No, I had to choose one of the tunnels. I didn’t know what it was, but something told me that if I traveled in a straight line, I would definitely meet an untimely demise.

“I can’t let the System dictate my actions. If I let fear of it control what I do, that’s as good as handing over the reins.” I murmured, sliding forward. I hopped into the tunnel and started my trip through it. I continually swiveled my orbs around, having them exchange places with one another as my primary guide. I discovered that exerting control on a specific orb strained it until the vision reception I got back became blurry. To maintain the best quality sight as possible, I needed to constantly switch out which orb I was sending forward.

The breeze came and went, luring me deeper into the tunnel. If this was indeed a trap, it was a deceptively simple one. The light gusts of wind that pummeled my surface with all the power of a newborn baby lulled me into a sense of relaxation, which I had to keep snapping myself out of with harsh reminders of the consequences of lowering my guard. I refused to let myself be taken out of the left field once again.

The end of the tunnel appeared, and I halted my advances a few feet away from the edge. Swapping my orb, I directed one of them out of the tunnel and into the new area.

I barely glimpsed columns and a domed roof when a swishing noise caught my attention. I turned my orb in time to discover a black blur slashing upwards. A second later, everything went black, and I was forcibly disconnected. A sharp stab of pain radiated from my surface, quickly fading away, but the aftermath left a bitter taste in my mouth.

There was something in there that didn’t want me here.

I was still reeling from having one of my orbs’ connection to me severed, and a pounding headache formed, feeling like someone was pounding a needle into my skull every once in a while as if to scold me for poking my nose in places I shouldn’t go. Pushing past the throbbing pain, I made to leave.

Turning around, I ran smack into a wall that definitely hadn’t existed a minute earlier. I furrowed my brows as I examined this troublesome obstacle; how had it appeared without my slime vision catching its formation? Damn you, System. So you want me to get in there no matter what, huh?

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[Weapon Generation] wouldn’t leave a mark on the wall and the piece of stone was immaculate, with no noticeable cracks or holes that would allow me to fit through. Using [Fire Glyph] was as good as cooking myself with this close proximity. The System and I had been playing a game, and I’d handily lost before I even knew we’d started.

I faced the exit, calming my nerves down. This time, I couldn’t go out there without a concrete, fool-proof plan. I didn’t know how many hostiles were in the room, nor what the layout was like. I couldn’t risk sending out another orb to glean more information because, as evident from my prior attempt, the enemy was wickedly fast. [Infirm Regeneration] was working on regenerating a new orb, but it’d take time.

I isolated a tiny section of my body, elongating it until it was akin to a baton. Carefully, I sidled forward and peered through the hole, trying to observe as much as I could from the limited angle. I made out several columns, just as my orb had, but the room was designed in such a way that the hole was in a horrendous position to see more of the room. 360 degree vision didn’t aid me in seeing through rock. I had to go in effectively blind.

I extended my slime baton until the tip poked out the hole and immediately tensed, preparing myself for pain. When nothing of the sort came, I attempted to move the baton further into the room. Even after I was straining myself to extend the baton as far as possible, no invisible strike of justice came to tear me down.

I retracted the baton into my body, a mixture of relief and confusion battling for domination. I’d expected to get the baton chopped in half, which would have let me see the perpetrator. Instead, I was left with a limb, but no sign of the hostile threat.

Is it possible that they left? I allowed myself to entertain the thought before shooting it down. No, that’s way too unlikely. But then what are they playing at?

The only way to find out was to venture into the unknown. I knew that there was no other option and I’d thoroughly scoured any other paths to take, coming up empty, but regardless, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that I was rushing into danger.

I inched forward at an excruciatingly steady pace, keeping my orbs in constant motions and eyeing every angle. If something was approaching me, I would find them. Reaching the end of the tunnel, I tested the hypothesis that the enemy had vanished by revealing a corner of my cube into the open. Nothing happened, and I felt emboldened to enter the majority of my body into the room.

Unlike the other caves and rooms I’d explored in the dungeons, this was fashioned by an architect, not Mother Nature. It was symmetrical and molded with curves, the circumference of the room being wide enough to fit an entire house in. The room was a mix of architectural genius and the rocky formation the rest of the dungeon enjoyed; spaced out evenly along the walls were 10 columns that stood tall and proud, holding up a beautifully crafted dome roof that was highly reminiscent of the paintings of the insides of the High Churches. In fact, these columns, combined with the dome-roof design which was considered a relic of the past, gave off the impression that this room had been constructed in the Bygone Era.

That’s impossible. The dungeon existed before the Bygone Era, right? And no one would have been stupid enough to build something in the dungeon.

The thought of someone bringing tools and materials into the dungeon and carving out a room made me chuckle. Shaking off the ludicrous thought, I scanned the rest of the room.

Stationed in the windows between each column was a statue clad in armor, each plate delicately crafted to mimic the real thing. If not for the gray texture instead of the gleaming silver of steel, I would have mistaken them for the real deal. All of them were in identical poses: their arms crossed over each other, gripping the hilt of their respective weapons tightly with the point embedded into the ground. Axes, swords, spears, shields, even weapons I doubted were in common use anymore, like the nunchucks.

“It’s forbidden to wear this kind of armor if you’re not a Knight in the Army,” I whispered. That was rudimentary knowledge that everybody knew, whether they be the highest of nobility or a starving peasant on the streets. Who would be so brazenly bold to construct these statues in the shape of knights inside of a dungeon?

Directly in front of me stood a statue that had received more care than the others. With broader shoulders, a greater level of detail in the finer aspects of the armor, and a plume of blue fur sprouting from the back of the helmet. The weapon of choice of this statue was a claymore sword that was exceedingly tall; even with a portion of it lodged into the ground, the hilt still reached the statue’s chest. Inside the pommel of the blade was a blue sapphire, which beautifully accented the crest on the breastplate.

I risked sending one of my orbs closer to the statue. The statue had seen better days; the breastplate was chipped and cracked, with the crest covered by a layer of dust and the more intricate details were tarnished and worn with age. Even so, I fancied I could make out something remotely resembling the sun and its rays spreading outward.

I don’t think any nobility in this kingdom has that crest. Sis would know a lot better. I discarded further contemplation on this subject. It was probably a priceless treasure for scholars seeking to learn more of the past, but I was concerned with getting out of here alive.

In the center of the room, taking up the vast majority of the floor, was a gaping hole. A black pit that led to gods know where, somewhere deep, deep, deep below. A gruesome distortion in the otherwise beautiful room, an abomination that tainted the whole place. It was just wrong that this architectural wonder that must have taken years to carve out was built for the purpose of housing this pit. It didn’t deserve it.

I floated an orb over the pit and tried seeing through the darkness. It barely crossed over the threshold before being sucked in by an incomprehensible force. It didn’t stand a chance. Within moments, it was long gone.

I shuddered. That’s a big nope for me. I didn’t care if the wall was hard to break through, I’d work on it for days if that’s what it took. Anything to avoid going down this pit.

A flash of blue caught my attention, and I glanced askew at the Will-O’-Wisp. I wasn’t even surprised at this point with how it came and went. I was getting a bearing on its personality; since we made a deal, it would always come back to me so it could harvest me when I perished. Other than that, though, there was nothing in our agreement that insinuated that it had to stay with me in between.

“You have something to say?” I asked. The instant the words left my mouth, they were pulled straight into the pit. I clamped my mouth shut; even speaking felt like a risk.

…Down.

Yes, I know it goes down, thank you very much. I rolled my ‘eyes.’ Like that wasn’t obvious.

…No. Down.

I froze. Had it—? I stared at the Wisp in disbelief. It could hear my thoughts as well? Another Skill unique to the Wisp, or was it a resultant of our status as party members? Clearing my head, I focused on what the Wisp said. Why would it repeat the same thing when I’d already made it clear that I understood? It was needless talk, something I figured the Wisp would despise.

I peered into the hole. The emptiness gnawed at me, threatening to yank me under. An irrational fear took over me, yelling that I would be sucked in even though I maintained my distance. My ‘eyes’ widened as a thought occurred to me.

Wait, when you say down…you’re talking about the Lower Levels, aren’t you?

Almost imperceptibly, the Will-O’-Wisp nodded.

I scrambled backwards. The adventurers told me that dungeons were typically split into different levels. The higher levels were the dungeon that most people thought of when hearing the term, where treasures and rewards were plentiful, and people had already conquered it. The middle level was the breeding ground of the monsters. Only experienced adventurers, usually in a party, were allowed to venture down here and with the explicit permission of the Guilds.

The Lower Levels was the true nature of dungeons that were too warped and toxic for the common people to know about. Most didn’t even believe it existed, and even the adventurers who talked about it in hushed tones around the fire likened it to a spooky ghost story than truth. But if this pit led to the Lower Levels…

My chances of surviving were zilch.

I prepared to storm the wall and break through no matter what when an ominous crrkt! rang through the room. I swiveled my vision, searching for the source of the noise. It sounded like it’d originated from the walls, but how was that possible? Unless…

Before my orbs, the claymore statue twitched.