The echoes of Myuk’s victory reverberated in his mind as he turned back to the fallen warrior. The body lay still, a stark reminder of the life he had just taken. But there was no remorse, no hesitation—only the cold efficiency of a task completed. Myuk had a task to finish, and nothing would stand in his way.

The warrior’s gear was worn but sturdy, crafted from leather and adorned with metal studs that glinted in the dim light of the dungeon. Myuk unfastened the sword from the warrior’s side, feeling the weight of it in his hands. It was a short blade, just the right length for him—a perfect fit. He slid the sword into its sheath, fastening it securely at his waist. The cool metal felt reassuring against his skin, a promise of protection and power.

As he donned the warrior’s cloak, its weight settled on his shoulders like a mantle of authority. The tattered edges whispered of battles fought and lives taken, and Myuk welcomed the dark history woven into its fabric. He was no longer just a victim of circumstance—he was becoming a force of retribution, a shadow in the night.

Rummaging through the warrior’s pouch, his fingers brushed against something hard. He pulled out a handful of gems and coins, their surfaces gleaming even in the darkness. Myuk quickly tied the pouch to his belt, feeling the weight of it settle comfortably against his hip. The gems and coins were meaningless trinkets—useful only as a means to an end. Power was the only currency that mattered now, and Myuk was determined to amass as much of it as possible. Anything else—anyone else—was expendable.

With his new gear in place, Myuk turned toward the entrance of the dungeon. The darkness loomed ahead, a gaping maw that promised both danger and adventure. The moment he stepped forward, the dungeon seemed to awaken around him, the shadows shifting as if they had been waiting for him all along.

As he walked, the ground beneath him was littered with the remnants of creatures that had dared to cross his path. He had changed; he was no longer the boy who had run from his fears. He was a force to be reckoned with, and with each step, he embraced that identity.

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The first creature he encountered was a small, scuttling thing, its multiple legs moving in a frantic dance. Without a second thought, Myuk drew the sword from its sheath. The blade glinted in the dim light, and with a swift motion, he slashed through the creature with precision. It fell to the ground, lifeless, and Myuk kept walking.

He continued forward, encountering more creatures—larger, more menacing ones. Each time he struck, there was no hesitation, no remorse. The darkness had become an ally, guiding his movements, urging him to embrace the warrior within. He dispatched each foe that dared to challenge him, their forms crumpling under the weight of his newfound strength. With each creature he felled, Myuk felt a grim satisfaction. There was no fear, no hesitation—only the cold thrill of dominance. The darkness around him seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heart, urging him forward, deeper into the abyss. He was becoming something more—something darker—and he relished every moment of it.

As he neared what appeared to be the entrance of the dungeon, he paused to catch his breath. The air was thick with anticipation, and he felt the weight of the moment. He pulled up his stats screen to see the changes that had come with his victories.

Status Window:

Name: Myuk

Level: 12

HP: 600/600

Mana: 360/3600

Attack: 60

Defense: 48

Agility: 72

Skills:

• Mimicry (Lv. 1): Ability to imitate or replicate a trait, behavior, or characteristic of another being. (Skills Acquired: 3/3)

• Crushing Blow: A powerful punch that channels immense strength into a single, devastating attack.

• Flash Step: Allows the user to instantly move to a nearby location, almost as if slipping between the folds of reality.

• Razor Wind: Fires a burst of compressed air in the shape of multiple razors, capable of slicing through anything in its path.

The stats were merely numbers, cold and impersonal, but they represented something far more important—his growing power. Myuk’s eyes scanned the screen, noting the increases with a clinical detachment. Each stat, each skill was a tool, a weapon to be sharpened and used with deadly precision. There was no joy in the numbers, only the satisfaction of progress, of a plan unfolding.

Myuk closed the screen and turned back to the entrance of the dungeon. The world outside awaited him, full of challenges and adversaries. But this time, he would be ready. This time, he would not falter. The path ahead was clear, and he would walk it with ruthless determination, leaving nothing but darkness in his wake.