Jor held his breath before he opened his eyes. It's been a month since he dedicated to finding the monster in the dark. This was his thirteenth attempt. Nothing. There wasn't a sign anywhere. So, he tried again. 

The quiet was unnerving. Sometimes, it got to him. The isolation, the solitude. This vast space in the caverns, filled with nothing but giant pillars and rock formations was as unending as the night sky. So, Jor dealt with it the best he could- he meditated, he cried, and he trained. Time was but a fleeting memory in an existence as desolate as his. 

The long hours of staying still ached his back, as he leaned low against the wall. He needed a place well hidden, and with a good cover. Down below, a hundred yards away and much closer to the city than he liked it to be, Jor witnessed a small concentration of undead unsteadily wandering toward the north. A few hundreds of undead variety, some he hadn't even seen before.

Fighting them in their numbers was a death sentence. But, that wasn't what he was here for. Jor had a different target in mind. Something much more precious and far more dangerous. He wondered whether he was out of his mind. To challenge something that may as well be far out of his league. He might as well present his head on a chopping block. 

Hours passed. He stayed where he was, unmoving. 

Jor thumped his fingers, presenting a beat from an old song. 

"Some days I close my eyes and fade away,

And I fade away,

That's just the dark side of me,"

Jor stilled. A flicker. 

There! He could see it, just the barest of outlines shadowed in the darkest of corners. It was tall, easily over seven feet, with skin as black as the muck and mud it to crawled out of. Its flesh didn't pulse, so much as it throbbed in veiny scaly tendons. Its face was sharp teeth, jaws protected by exoskeletal bone. The eyes were pits of black holes.

It was long-limbed and had a much longer reach than he did. That was a problem. The bigger problem, he noted, was its weapon. The weapon the monster dragged, scraping against the stone floor, was but a giant slab of iron with the length to match the monster in height.

What differentiated the weapon from any other, wasn't its ability to cut or any mundanity as that. No. The arms that seemed to crawl out of the sword. Large, muscular arms, skinny arms, even arms that belonged to children. Pale, stricken, dead arms. They were all arms, protruding out of the iron cleaver as if it were a macabre horror show. 

Jor carefully studied his next opponent, the monster that towered as the apex predator of this world. The lone wolf, seeking out the seemingly unaware undead for a meal, or for sport. Jor didn't know, but he might find out. 

He crawled out of the cave slowly and picked up the axe he left by his side. The weapon was the very same he gained from killing that zombie, and it might just come in handy. Jor held it close to his chest, as he crawled out of his hiding spot. 

The sudden displacement of his previous occupation escaped him. Vertigo hit him like a ton of bricks, and he could feel his brain being bounced around inside his skull. He wanted to throw up. Jor slammed into something hard again. His head exploded in pain, and he heard something crack. His ribs. That hurt. A lot. 

Jor lay there, stunned and still. His body felt like it went through a grinder. He could barely move, and he felt blood welling up inside his mouth. He bit his tongue. He was just lucky he hadn't completely bitten it off. Terrible way to die. 

A pair of barefoot, dark and mangled feet stepped in front of him. The nails were jagged, black and sharp. The heavy breathing was loud. It wasn't his. He could hear his heart beat a thousand miles a minute. They sounded like drums, only filled with anxiety and fear. Also, he needed to clean his pants. He might have pissed in his boxers. 

Jor turned his face up, to look at the monster that was about to kill him. It was the same monster he spied so far away. Even as hidden as he was, somehow it noticed him. To have found him here, and so fast, left him stunned. 

Those black pits gazed back with not a shred of mercy or humanity. 

"I don't...," Jor grinned weakly. "I don't suppose we could talk this out?"

The monster's foot slammed down on top of his head. Ah, he'd definitely got a concussion now. Jor tried to lift his head, his hands scraping against the foot. It felt like trying to lift a ten-ton boulder. He might as well be a gentle wind.

"I haven't seen a human here in centuries," Its voice was like an echo chamber, but quieter. He heard it like a whisper, carried by something larger, domineering and endless. It also spoke. His language. No, wait. That wasn't it. Jor understood it, but it wasn't his native language. "You've come a long way down to the bowls of hell."

Jor, confused, wondered about what that city was. He saw sunlight shafting through the ceiling, with an enormous entrance that led to the exit. 

"The city...," Jor coughed and spat out blood. "The sunlight, I saw there...," 

"Simply the floor above us," It said, chuckling. Its laughter brought a fresh wave of uneasiness. "Merely a false light. There is no sun, only death," 

Jor gasped, his mouth gritting with frustration and despair. No. No, no, no! It was supposed to be his freedom, to escape from this hell pit. He needed to escape. And now, he might just die to a monster. 

"That watch...," Its sudden change of subject was startling, as it was confusing. The realization came to him fast. The monster knew what a watch was. Its nonexistent eyes flickered a baleful white. "How did you get here?" 

Its foot lifted off his head, freeing him. Jor dared not move. "I don't know. I was walking home from school. Then, I fell. All I remember was an old man, waking up. And a bird, a phoenix. I think," 

The monster grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up. His feet dangled a few feet from the floor. Jor tried to breathe as he held onto the scaly arm that held him. Jor felt those fingers tightening around his neck, squeezing him of his life. He was going to die here, just like that.

He slammed his hand against the arm that held him repeatedly, to no avail. Its cords of muscle was an obstacle he couldn't get past. His strength was meaningless. 

Then, the hand left his neck. Jor crumbled to the floor, grasping for the lungful of breaths. 

"I've been here for a... long time," The monster kneeled before him, its mouth gaping open into a yawn. The stench of his breath nearly choked him out of consciousness. "I've been here for as long as I could remember, but I have not forgotten my roots. And I have not forgotten the old man either," 

Jor froze. "How? I've only been here for five, maybe six months," 

The thing looked down at him, then glanced at the wristwatch. "You're luckier than I," It turned back to face him. "Time has no meaning here," 

"You said the old man," Jor hesitated, then pushed on. "I think he did something to me, the old man I mean. He changed me. I just don't know what, but I could feel it." 

"Yes," It stretched out the word, contempt easily recognizable. "The old god infused me with the chimeric demon. A thing of old and lost to the heavens. It changed me beyond recognizable," Jor stayed still, as its eyes flickered back to him. "The old god learned from his past mistakes, at least," 

"A god?" Jor was never particularly religious. The idea of praying to a god seemed useless when the things the world needed was something far more than miracles. That the idea of a god who had kidnapped him, for what? An experiment? A lesson? A test? Speculations were all he had, and the more he thought of it, the more he came to hate the old man. 

"A god, yes," It turned back to lift that grotesque and malformed sword. The arms, dozen in all, scraped at the owner's legs with its nails, breaking and oozing blood. "I suspect the old god is bound, unable to act as it wills. I think this old god is trapped, just like us," 

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"What about the levels, then? Was that a part of its experiment?" 

The monster shook his head, then stopped. "I would say no, but he has altered yours somehow, made you into a part of something greater. You said you saw a phoenix?"

Jor nodded. 

"A Phoenix, a mythical, sacred fire-bird that symbolizes rebirth, and renewal in the various mythologies in Arabian, Persian, Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Chinese, Turkish, Indian and Phoenician/Canaanite people," The monster paused, as it continued to ponder. "They are the kings of fire and sky. To see one such here, in this lightless world, means something has changed." 

"How do I escape?" Jor wanted to ask a lot more questions, but this was far more important. It was a fleeting hope, but one that he wished for beyond all others. "Is there a way to leave this world?" 

"You're in the hundredth level of a dungeon that changes on a daily basis. Its space grows and expands beyond its own control," The monster grunted, growling low. "It's an unstoppable force of nature, eating up and consuming entire cities and lands from other worlds for sustenance," 

Jor stared wide-eyed, the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. 

"This thing, you're living in, was an oversight gone wrong, meant to hold a god imprisoned. It was hungry, so it acted," Jor felt hope when the monster continued. A bitter, small light of hope. "... Yet, there's always a way," 

Jor blinked. The monster loomed over him. "But first, you need to grow stronger. You're weak as a kitten, and simple zombies could kill you," 

This time, he felt a different kind of fear grow. 

Jörmungandr Shesha

Level 2 - +2

Class - N/A

Strength - 9 - 35%

Endurance - 15 - 20%

Intelligence - 9 - 2%

Willpower - 24 - 35%

Vitality - 30 - --% +1

Racial Trait - The Heart of the Phoenix