Time had become a blur to Charlie in this bleak dungeon, a nightmare designed to sap the hope out of even the most buoyant spirit. A creeping dread was starting to root in his heart, the idea of never breaking free from this hellhole seeming increasingly likely with each dragging hour. He'd been stuck in this subterranean abyss for what felt like forever, and the chilling truth was he had no idea how much longer he'd remain ensnared. About an hour ago, he'd scarfed down the last of his grub. The stuff that was supposed to stretch out over three days was all gone. He had more than enough time left to crack this dungeon, but the difficulty had spiked so much from the last level that it was a cruel joke.

But Charlie hadn't been just sitting around twiddling his thumbs. He'd been picking off the smaller kobold hunting squads he'd bumped into, knowing full well their camp had to be somewhere close. He'd been doggedly trying to sniff it out, looking to deliver a big hit to their ranks or maybe stumble upon a stash of supplies. Right now, he was hunched over a kobold carcass, another three littering the tunnel around him, his hands mechanically rifling through its belongings for anything useful, though he knew it was a long shot. His eyes flicked from the dead body to his stats. His heart pounded like a drum as he saw he was just a hair's breadth away from hitting level 3. The urgency to hit that milestone was all he could think about. He held onto the glimmer of hope that levelling up might unlock some new skill, some extra firepower that could make the idea of breaking free from this nightmare a little more real.

Charlie's mind worked over the mental blueprint he'd been painstakingly assembling since he bolted from that cave. His mind might work a beat slower due to his cerebral palsy, but it was sharp as a tack His mental map of the dungeon layout was solid, the passageways and rooms seared into his memory. His tenacity, one of his core traits, drove him to be thorough, and to leave no room unchecked. The idea of trekking back to that cave, to the mushroom forest and that lake monster, was about as appealing as a root canal. But Charlie was nothing if not a realist. He knew that if he got cornered by a major kobold squad, he could use the forest and the lake critter to his advantage, a savvy move that spoke to his quick thinking and adaptability. Despite the physical hurdles he faced, Charlie's spirit hadn't been dented. His cerebral palsy had shaped his life, but it didn't box him in. He was stronger, in better shape, and more built than before, his body gradually changing as his attributes ramped up. His grit was his North Star, guiding him through the murkiness of the dungeon, a testament to his iron will.

Charlie's attention flicked to the tunnel the kobolds had just poured out from. There was something off about that direction, a subtle shift he couldn't quite pin down. He couldn't hear a damn thing, and his sight was as good as blind in this pitch-black abyss, but his gut, sharpened over time and put through its paces in this dungeon, was nagging him. He was near the kobold hangout, he was damn sure of it, and he clung to the shred of hope that it might also lead him to the way out. He remembered the system notification he'd got amidst the bedlam back in the cave - [Stealth Rank G]. Now, Charlie was well aware that these alerts weren't like his Berserker feat; they weren't there to gift him abilities he lacked. They were more like a report card, reflecting his skill development and growth.

The [Stealth Rank G] made him slightly more sure-footed, his movements a touch more fluid when he was actively trying not to be noticed. It was a subtle improvement, nothing close to the glaring change his Berserker feat brought, which was as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. But at rank G, the refinement was nearly invisible. Still, thinking about it prompted a smile, a rare burst of light-heartedness in an otherwise grim and deadly dungeon. He could almost hear Carter's voice, dripping with jealousy and disbelief, when he would inevitably brag about his new stealth rank. "Carter would flip," he laughed to himself, the sound ricocheting off the cavernous tunnel walls.

Charlie was painfully aware of the grime and muck caked on his skin, the stink of it a constant reminder of his present situation. He longed for the simple pleasure of a hot shower, a luxury he'd never thought twice about before getting sucked into this dungeon. Despite the yuck factor, he knew his grubby getup had done its job. The roaming kobolds were less likely to spot him, handing him the element of surprise more than once. With that in mind, he snuck along the dark, damp tunnel. His hand brushed against the icy, wet stones of the wall, his guide through the inky black. Out of nowhere, something skimmed his shin. Reacting on pure instinct, Charlie hit the deck, going flat as several objects zipped past him in the dark. His heart hammered in his chest as he realized he'd just set off what he guessed was an arrow trap. If he was right, this was the third one he'd come across today. He'd managed to sniff out the other two without tripping them, neatly sidestepping the dangers. This one, though, had almost been his undoing.

Despite the close call, Charlie kept his cool. He was getting stronger, his body more toned, and his muscles more defined with each passing day. His stats were climbing, and he was learning how to play to his strengths. His quick-thinking and smart intellect were his trump cards in this treacherous environment. He was learning, adapting, and most crucially, surviving. Getting up from the cold, damp tunnel floor, Charlie couldn't help but chuckle at his own situation. "Good thing I already stink, 'cause I reckon I just shat my pants," he muttered to himself, his words echoing around in the darkness. His sense of humour, a spark of light in the grim dungeon, hadn't faltered despite the near miss. Shaking off the residual fear, he pressed on down the tunnel, his caution dialled up a notch. His brush with the trap had only reinforced his belief that he was close to something big. If the kobolds had gone to the trouble of setting traps, then he was surely on the right track. With a rejuvenated determination, Charlie soldiered on, ready to face whatever awaited him.

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Charlie's heart plummeted into his stomach as he stumbled out of the tunnel and onto a ledge overlooking a gargantuan cave. Nestled within its stone confines was an expansive village, an array of buildings moulded from mud and capped with large, flat fungi serving as makeshift roof tiles. The view might have stirred a sense of awe if it weren't for the gut-wrenching sight nestled in its centre. There, like a slap in the face, stood the dungeon's exit portal. Its tantalizing proximity, now feeling more like a cruel tease, unleashed a surge of frustration within him. "How the hell is this fair?" he muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes fixated on the inert portal. He knew he had to take out the dungeon boss to activate it, but the sight of the teeming kobolds across the village made this task appear like climbing Everest. He observed as the creatures hustled and bustled, absorbed in various tasks. Hunting groups trickled in and out, some disappearing into tunnels while others appeared, their errands fulfilled. Seeing hundreds of kobolds, all blissfully unaware of his presence, was a daunting prospect. "How on earth am I supposed to get through that?" he mused, the weight of his predicament sinking in like an anchor. Despite the mountainous task that loomed, Charlie knew he couldn't throw in the towel. He had already trudged too far, and surmounted too many hurdles, to let this latest obstruction deter him.

Charlie slumped down at the precipice edge, his gaze firmly rooted on the bustling community below. This was not the moment for impulsive moves. Recklessly charging into the village without a plan, especially when the portal may not even light up, was a suicide mission. What he required now was a clever strategy, a trick to outwit the dungeon and its denizens. His mind hummed with scenarios. The dungeon boss had to bite the dust for the portal to spark to life, but who was the boss? Could it be one of the Kobolds or that behemoth creature from the lake? He craved time to brainstorm, to devise a plan, but time was a luxury slipping away. His provisions had dwindled to nothing. He was out of grub and water, and refilling from the monster-infested lake wasn't even on the table. He was painfully aware that if he didn't make a move soon, his strength would begin to wane.

Suddenly, a flurry of activity on the village outskirts caught Charlie's attention. A hunting party had returned, dragging what looked like a body behind them. His heart hitched in his chest, fearing it might be one of the kobolds he had offed, now on the verge of being discovered. However, his concern evaporated quickly as the lifeless form was casually tossed onto the main square. The chief of the hunting party started barking out commands, the raw, guttural language grating against Charlie's ears. He couldn't decipher a single word, but the authoritative tone was unmistakable. Out from one of the huts lumbered a bulky, red kobold - the same one that had been on his tail the previous day. As the kobold stooped to heft the body, Charlie registered with a jolt that the creature was still breathing. It was a goblin, he was positive. But where the hell had it come from? He hadn't run into any goblins during his time in the dungeon. They must have ventured from another part of the dungeon, an area he hadn't yet scoped out.

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As Charlie observed, the goblin, a pathetic shell that bore no resemblance to the fierce warriors he'd imagined its kind to be, was forcibly bound to a makeshift wooden frame. The frame was a simple structure of roughly hewn logs lashed together. It wasn't much, but it held the captive goblin securely enough. The leader of the kobolds snarled something at the goblin, the harsh, guttural words rebounding ominously around the village square. The goblin remained silent, its eyes bulging with pure terror. The leader repeated his command several times, each rendition growing more aggressive. Yet the goblin stayed mute, its fear locking away any response. The kobold leader, seemingly irritated, shifted his focus to a pair of kobold underlings. He barked an instruction, and they sprinted towards Charlie's direction. A wave of dread washed over Charlie as he watched them approach. To his relief, they veered off towards a small, mud-brick hut and vanished within its shadowy confines.

Moments later, they reemerged, struggling under the burden of what looked like an oversized water skin. The skin was damp, its surface reflecting the faint light as it glistened darkly. It was almost half the size of the kobolds themselves, and they grunted under its weight as they lugged it back to their leader. The leader seized the skin from his minions, his sharp-clawed hands easily encompassing the large object. He then proceeded to drench the goblin with the skin's contents. The liquid, clear and sticky, clung to the goblin's skin, making it gleam under the village's dim light. After swigging from the skin, the leader held a small metallic object in his mouth. A simplistic tool, but under the kobold's control, it morphed into an instrument of terror. A sharp exhale and a burst of flame exploded from the tool, immersing the goblin in a fiery hell. The goblin's bone-chilling screams echoed around the village square, creating a haunting soundscape to the horrific display. The kobold leader stepped back, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched the goblin being consumed by the dancing flames.

As the dreadful cries of the goblin reverberated throughout the cave, Charlie's attention shifted back to the small hut. The whole village seemed engrossed in the macabre scene, their focus entirely drawn away from their surroundings. A plan began to take shape in his mind. The contents of that water skin were highly flammable. If the hut housed more of the same... It was a golden opportunity he knew he had to exploit. It was a gamble, but potentially his only shot at escaping this hellhole. Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, he began his descent from the ledge, following a narrow path that led to the village. Moving with as much stealth as he could muster, he concentrated on staying out of sight. Yet, just about twenty yards from the hut, his foot caught a small unnoticed rock. He tumbled face-first into the dirt, a pained grunt escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him. Scrambling to his feet, he was about to resume his approach when the hut's door was abruptly thrown open. Two alert, weapon-clad kobolds emerged. Charlie's heart thumped wildly in his chest as he froze, his body rigid as he found himself staring directly at the enemy.

Taken by surprise, Charlie realized he had to act immediately. He drew his sword and lunged forward silently, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. The first kobold barely registered his approach before Charlie crashed into him with all the force he could muster, knocking him back into the hut. Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie detected a swift motion. On pure instinct, he ducked, just barely evading a dagger strike from the second kobold. The blade swished past his ear, its sound reverberating ominously within the confined space of the hut. Capitalizing on his momentum, Charlie sprung up from his crouched stance, seizing the kobold's arm as he did so. In a swift, fluid movement, he hoisted the startled creature over his shoulder. The kobold slammed into a storage shelf with a resounding crunch, causing objects to fly off in all directions.

A quick scan of the room confirmed Charlie's hunch. He was indeed in a storage facility, the walls lined with various goods. His focus quickly shifted back to the fallen kobold, who was now clumsily attempting to regain its footing. Not missing a beat, Charlie plunged forward, thrusting his sword into the creature's back. The kobold emitted a choked cry before slumping to the floor lifelessly. As he whirled around to confront the remaining kobold, a searing pain exploded beneath his right eye. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching up to feel the fresh wound. A dagger, hurled by the surviving kobold, had grazed him, leaving a gash beneath his eye. Disregarding the pain, Charlie lunged at the final adversary. His sword became a blur as he launched a series of fierce stabs and slices. The kobold attempted to shield itself, but it was futile against Charlie's onslaught. It crumpled lifelessly to the floor under his relentless attack. Panting heavily, Charlie took a moment to take stock of his situation. He was injured, but he was alive. More importantly, he was a step closer to escaping this horrifying ordeal.

Once the fight was over, Charlie knew he had to move swiftly. The noise might have drawn attention, and being found there could mean his doom. Gruesome images of being consumed by flames like the goblin flashed in his mind, fuelling his urgency. Shoving these morbid thoughts aside, he quickly scanned the room. His gaze fell on two more of those large water skins, hanging from a hook on the wall. He hastily stashed them into his inventory ring, a wave of relief washing over him. The flammable fluid could shift the odds in his favour. As he was preparing to make his exit, something else piqued his interest. Against one wall was a stand of crude spears. They were basic weapons, but they could prove useful - and snatching them from the kobolds was a strategic move. As he picked up the spears, he noticed something that sent a thrill of hope through him. The spear tips were made of a stone that resembled flint. This was better than he could have ever hoped for. He now had the means to ignite the flammable fluid, plus some extra weapons. With the spears and water skins securely in his possession, Charlie stealthily slipped out of the storage hut.

The muted glow of the cave draped long, uncanny shadows around him as Charlie navigated his way cautiously over the hazardous cave terrain. The grim reality of his predicament had driven him to take this audacious step. His heart pounded relentlessly against his ribcage, mirroring the rhythm of a battle drum, as he snuck back to the rocky overlook where he first spied on the kobold village. The silence of the cave amplified even the minutest of sounds - the scraping of his boots against the stone floor, the sporadic dripping of water somewhere in the distance, and the gentle rustle of his clothing. He knew he needed to be swift, soundless, invisible. But the sudden echoing shout reverberating behind him confirmed his worst fears. The harsh, jagged kobold language filled the air, intensifying into a fevered pitch. The alarm had been sounded. He had been found out.

A hasty glance over his shoulder confirmed the terrifying reality: the corpses of the two kobolds he had dispatched earlier had been discovered. Through the gloom, he saw a flood of kobolds pouring out from the confines of the village, their scales gleaming menacingly in the dim light. Their eyes bore into him, ablaze with a ferocious wrath. Terror clenched at his heart, but he knew stalling was a luxury he could ill afford now. His only choice was to flee. And so, he did, darting away from the immediate threat, away from the pursuit of the enraged kobolds. But even as he ran, a daring thought started taking shape in his mind. It was a plan as fraught with danger as it was desperate, a clusterfuck of stupidity, but he was out of options. A stupid plan was better than no plan.