Twenty days. For twenty days he wandered in those underground depths, tracking the slightest sign of an exit, facing creatures stranger than the last. With every step, at every turn of the cave, the man encountered new threats, but he held firm. Despite the solitude, the fatigue, and the misunderstanding weighing on him, he did not waver. His military training, forged in the toughest battles, remained etched in his body and mind. That kept him alive.

During these past days, he had gathered enough to survive. Through ingenuity, he had managed to create a rudimentary water purifier, made with stones, charcoal he had found in a small vein of the abandoned mine, and a kind of animal membrane he had discovered in the remains of a carcass. Using the water from the underground river, he could now drink without fear of being poisoned by the toxic minerals or impurities that the cave seemed to harbor.

He had also made a makeshift torch, using branches he had gathered from the mine's crevices and a kind of animal fat he had extracted from one of the armored rats he had killed. These rats, large and robust, had shells that looked like they were made of bone, as hard as stone. The torchlight danced before him, illuminating the darkness and casting unsettling shadows on the uneven walls of the cave.

While exploring the depths of this cave, he had encountered other strange creatures. Bigger scorpions than those he had encountered before in the deserts where he had served. Their pincers clicked ominously with every movement, and their venomous tail swayed in a threatening manner. He had no choice but to take them down, his pickaxe flying with deadly precision. His body, despite the years, still responded to instinct, his reflexes sharpened by decades of fighting.

One day, he was attacked by black bats, but these were not like the ones he knew. Their wings were covered in black feathers, bristling, almost sharp, as if nature had decided to give them extra weapons. Once again, his makeshift weapon found its mark, slicing through flesh with a fearsome efficiency.

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But what struck him the most were those black lizards with purple spots on their backs and heads. They spat small purple flames, hot enough to cause burns. During his expeditions, he eventually managed to capture one in a glass jar he had found, half-buried under rubble. He pierced a few holes in the lid to allow the lizard to breathe and used it as an improvised lighter. Every time he gently pressed its belly, the lizard would spit out a small purple flame, perfect for lighting his fires. It wasn't the most reliable tool, but it was better than nothing.

To cover himself, he had used the skins of the creatures he had hunted down. He had cut these hides to make a sort of cloth that he wore around his legs. He had also made a rudimentary bag with those skins, a practical container for carrying the few items he had found and the provisions he managed to gather. The smell that emanated from those rudimentarily tanned hides was abominable, but it was better than remaining naked in that icy cave. The warmth it provided allowed him to sleep better and conserve his strength.

During these twenty days, two things had caught his attention. The first was the discovery of the properties of green slimes. One day, after a scratch inflicted by the claws of an armored rat, he rubbed a piece of slime on the wound. To his great surprise, the wound had healed much more quickly than he would have imagined. He had then decided to no longer kill those slimes to eat them – their taste was terrible anyway – but to keep them for their healing properties. They would now be valuable allies in this underground hell.

The second thing he had noticed was that the deeper he went into the cave, the more dangerous the creatures became. The enemies were faster, stronger, and sometimes even smarter. His skills and strength were put to the test, but he did not waver. Each fight was a reminder of who he was. A retired general but still just as effective.

His thoughts often drifted back to the world he had left behind, but above all, to Leila. But if he were still here, it might be because it wasn't yet time to join her.