After three days of exploration I finally mapped what I believed to be most of the sewers. Now it was time for my other job. Croc hunting.

I entered the big chamber, carefully examining the walls and the floor. There were no other exits for the crocs, just the three small openings that lead to smaller chambers that, in turn, lead back to the tunnels. It was a dead end, a natural pit trap.

It wasn’t perfect. The chamber was relatively small when the size of my prey was taken into consideration, only about ten meters in diameter. But it was the best I had found so far. And it was big enough for five or six crocs.

Despite not being as secured as my triangular sewer penthouse, I decided to switch to another small chamber. It was pretty much the same, except for the fact that on that side of the sewers there were no sounds of things walking around. Things that could take my food when I’m out.

This means I will have to make it more secure. Not a big problem when compared to what I will get in return. This new base of operations is closer to the tiny shards, there are still no signs of other creatures, no footprints or trails or poop, and I could work on my trap or explore more tunnels without having to lose half an hour walking for every meal.

Regarding my hunt, well, I would need to find a way to lure those creatures here, but that was a problem for another day. For now, I had found a safe place to rest and plan further.

Now, it was time to go back to my previous home and enjoy dinner. I am thinking of barbecue and yakisoba, in the form of chips, obviously. Tomorrow, I will start preparing to catch some crocs.

The morning of the fifth day dawned much like the previous ones: dim light filtering through grates, damp air heavy with the smell of stagnant water, and the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. But today was different. Today was prep day, getting ready to hunt.

I stretched my stiff muscles, wincing at the aches and pains. Believe or not I still wasn’t back into top shape after the whole axing roots and vending machine pushing four days ago. The makeshift map I’d scratched on the wall was still there, a crude but useful reminder of the sewer layout. I traced the route to the circular chamber with my finger, then back to the junction where I’d spent the last two nights. But now I have a notepad. Fetched one for the library. So, the map was in my pocket.

My plan for today was simple: fortify that smaller chamber and move my supplies. It would be a tedious, time-consuming process, but it was necessary.

First, the grates. I needed to secure the entrances to my new “home.” I retraced my steps back through the tunnels, towards the area where I had found the thin metal grates. They weren’t much, but they were better than nothing.

The process of prying the grates loose was even more difficult this time. My hands were still sore from hacking at the roots, and the axe felt heavier than ever. But I persevered, working slowly and methodically, trying to minimize the noise.

After what felt like an eternity, I collected half a dozen grates. They were awkward to carry, but I wedged them under my arm and against my side, using the axe as a support.

I made my way back to the smaller chamber, carefully navigating the narrow tunnels. The grates scraped against the concrete walls, creating a grating sound that echoed through the sewers. I stopped frequently, listening intently for any response. But the tunnels remained silent.

I reached the smaller chamber and began to work on securing the entrances. The openings were narrow and uneven, making it difficult to fit the grates properly. I used the axe to chip away at the concrete, widening the openings slightly and creating a more secure fit.

It took several hours of painstaking work, but I finally secured both entrances. The grates weren’t perfectly flush with the walls, but they were firmly in place. They wouldn’t stop those large creatures, but they would deter smaller pests. Not that I had seen any, but I did hear something.

With my new “home” secured, it was time to move my supplies. The thought of making multiple trips back and forth between the two locations filled me with dread. Each round trip would take at least half an hour, maybe even a full hour, considering my exhaustion.

I estimated that I would need at least five trips to move all my food and water. That meant a full morning, or perhaps even an entire afternoon, spent hauling supplies through these dark tunnels.

I sighed. There was no way around it. It had to be done.

I started with the heaviest items: the water bottles. I gathered as many as I could carry in my makeshift shirt-bag and started back towards the smaller chamber.

The journey was slow and tiring. The bag was heavy, and the narrow tunnels made it difficult to maneuver. I had to stop frequently to rest, my muscles aching with every step.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally reached the smaller chamber and deposited the water bottles. I took a short break, catching my breath, before heading back for another load.

The process repeated itself several times. Each trip was more exhausting than the last. The dampness seeped into my clothes, chilling me to the bone. My hands were raw and blistered, and my muscles screamed in protest.

But I persevered, driven by the knowledge that I needed these supplies to survive. I needed to be prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.

By late afternoon, I had finally moved all my loot to the smaller chamber. I collapsed against the wall, exhausted, my body aching all over.

I had barely enough energy to think about anything else. I would have to postpone the search for the spirit shard deposits and dungeons for tomorrow. For now, I just needed to rest.

But this was fine. I wasn’t in danger as far as I knew. I was sleeping better. I sure have enough water and food. And I even dared to think I would catch and kill one of those crocs, the thing exploding in a rain of shards all for myself.

How absurd. Perhaps it’s time to go to sleep properly since I am already dreaming.

The next day, my sixth day in this place, my muscles ache like they did on day three. But the gnawing hunger had subsided significantly. My body was at least adapting to my new diet. The granola bars and chips weren’t exactly balanced, but they were fuel.

What I wanted to do on my sixth day: hunt crocs.

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

What I end up doing on day six: scouting the area where I’d found those tiny shards, in the hopes of finding a dungeon somewhere around there. The system did say they could be found in such places, and I really needed more spirit shards. And I was too tired to risk going to the surface.

So, I left my fortified chamber, carefully repositioning the grates behind me. Can’t have giant bugs or something like that dropping by to an unauthorized meal. I moved with more confidence now, my footsteps echoing softly in the silence.

I retraced my steps to the area where I’d discovered the tiny shards. The light filtering in from the grates above was dim, but I could still see them shimmering faintly. I ran my fingers over the rough concrete, trying to dislodge one of the fragments. They were stubbornly embedded, almost fused with the wall. No hope there.

I sighed, frustrated. I kind of needed those shards, but I couldn’t waste any more time on this. I had a dungeon to find. I didn’t even know if shards of that size were worth anything.

I continued my exploration, following some tunnels that went to yet another side, the third section so far, of the sewer network. The tunnels became narrower, more twisting, and the air grew even thicker and more stagnant. And sewers aren’t built to be twisted. Suspicious.

Then, I saw it.

A faint glow emanated from a side tunnel, a soft, ethereal light that pulsed gently. I approached cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest.

The tunnel opened into a larger chamber, different from any I had seen before. The walls were smoother, almost carved, and the air was noticeably warmer. The ethereal glow came from strange, glowing fungi that grew on the walls and ceiling, illuminating the chamber with an otherworldly light.

And then I saw the message.

It shimmered in the air, a translucent blue text that hung before me like a holographic projection.

[Dungeon Detected: The Rat Warrens. Level: 1. Recommended Party Size: 1-3. A dungeon filled with giant rats.]

My heart sank. A dungeon. Exactly what I was looking for. Until I read the last line.

Giant Rats.

I had no illusions about my ability to take on such creatures, not in my current state. Not with just a dull axe and no combat experience. And lots of antiseptic.

Sure, facing one giant rat was no problem. But rats weren’t exactly known for living alone in nests. A dungeon was sort of a nest for them, right? I’m not sure. But I could surely imagine it.

I could picture them now: hordes of oversized rodents, with sharp teeth and beady eyes, swarming over me, tearing me apart. The image sent a shiver down my spine.

Direct combat was out of the question. But… perhaps there was another way.

I looked around the chamber, assessing the environment. There were several narrow tunnels leading away from the main chamber, each one barely wide enough for me to squeeze through.

If I could find enough grates, I could block off the larger entrances, creating a choke point. Then, I could use the axe to create a makeshift trap, perhaps a falling rock or a sharpened stake.

It would be a long shot, but it wasn’t impossible. And it might be a worthy investment since I am not afraid of running out of food anytime soon.

I took a deep breath, steeling my resolve. I couldn’t face those giant rats in a straight fight, but I could outsmart them. I could use the environment to my advantage.

I took note of the dungeon’s location, marking it on my new map. I would need to come back here later, when I was better prepared.

Before leaving, I noticed shards scattered near the entrance to the dungeon. Not tiny ones, proper spirit shards. They were lying loose on the ground, not embedded in the concrete like the ones I had found earlier.

I carefully picked them up, one by one, placing them in my pocket. They were small, almost insignificant, but they were spirit shards. My first spirit shards since I’d spent them all on information.

I counted them. Five.

Five spirit shards. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was enough to free Mark from his crystal coffin, when I had enough to take both of us out. Twenty more shards to go. Nice.

A small spark of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, I could get out of this mess after all.

I turned away from the dungeon entrance and headed back towards my fortified chamber, my heart a little lighter, my steps a little quicker. This seemingly boring day turned out great.

I would leave the dungeon alone for now. Maybe it would give me another handful of shards in a few days. And I would have to kill myself some rats eventually. I secured my shards in a makeshift bag tied to my belt and held inside my pocket. Can’t drop this. Ever.

The seventh day was finally trap day. Big trap day. The plan was simple, brutal, and hopefully effective: use the circular chamber as a croc-sized pit trap. The grate above was the pit. If I could loosen it enough, I could lure those creatures over it and watch them plummet into the darkness below. Then, I’d do it again. And again. As many times as possible.

Thankfully, those creatures weren’t sprinters. They were ambush predators, relying on patience and pack tactics. I could outrun them, as long as I had access to the sewers. That meant finding and marking as many surface entrances as possible. Exit options were crucial.

The problem, initially, was bait. I wasn’t about to put myself in a position to be chased by those things. I needed something to draw them to the grate.

And then it hit me. I was the bait. I just didn’t have to put myself at risk.

I secured three different small entrances to the sewers around the big grates. Enough for me to slide down if anything goes wrong. No crocs allowed.

I slipped up, pulled out the axe and went towards the big grates. I picked the biggest one, the middle one, and used the axe to dent and bent the metal that was supposed to hold it in place. What was once a flat perpendicular shaft became rounded and not much larger than a bump. I smiled.

The grate was still holding its own weight, but it won’t hold much more than that. I did a few tests. It was working like intended.

Time to pull aggro.

I took a deep breath to contain my excitement and carefully made a small cut on the palm of my hand. It stung, but it was manageable. I approached the big grate and squeezed my hand, letting a few drops of blood accumulate before throwing it onto the middle of the grate. Then, I smeared the rest of the blood across the grate’s surface, ensuring the scent would carry.

Then I slid down, retreating back through the tunnels, smiling.

I positioned myself in an adjacent chamber, sort of beneath the grate but separated by a solid concrete wall. There was a small opening in the wall, just large enough for me to see and hear what was happening in the chamber and to peek at the grate. It was the perfect vantage point.

Now, all I had to do was wait. And make some noise.

I took a deep breath and started to talk, my voice echoing through the tunnels. I didn’t say anything specific, just random words, phrases, anything to attract attention. I varied the volume, sometimes whispering, sometimes shouting, creating a cacophony of sound that would carry up through the grate.

“Testing… one, two… can you hear me?… is anybody out there?… just… thinking out loud… about… logistics… and… supply chains… very important stuff… you wouldn’t understand…”

I continued my rambling monologue, my voice growing louder and more insistent. It felt strange, talking to myself in the darkness, but I had to attract their attention.

It didn’t take long.

First, I heard the familiar hissing and growling, growing louder as the creatures approached. Then, the sound of heavy footsteps on the concrete above. And then…

The grate above me rattled violently. Metal screeched against metal. There was a loud snap, followed by a deafening thud. I couldn’t resist and peeked.

A wide smile spread across my face. It worked like a charm.

Got myself a croc.

Why would I hunt giant rats when I can hunt dinosaurs?