Ah, the ol' brainbox, a right mischievous bastard. Like a bloody puppeteer, yanking the strings of perception with wild abandon, all based on the absolute cacophony that bombarded one through their senses. What we saw, what we heard, what we felt—it all came charging at the brain like a herd of stampeding manaroes, a chaotic flood of perception squeezing through the narrow gorge of our noggin.

And the mind, ever the eager beaver, couldn't wait to start spinning a bloody yarn, crafting a tale of what was about to go down.

But it wasn't just a guess, was it? More like a premonition, an expectation so vivid it was practically real, as if the event was already playing out before one's very eyes.

That mental jig, that cognitive conga line, was probably what kept us ahead of the game, letting the mind run amok with wild simulations of scenarios based on the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of actions one observed.

So there I was, the moment I clocked that odd little patch of shadow, completely devoid of those vibrant hues that had become my constant companions—on the tunnel walls, the floor, everything was drenched in them, bathed in them—perhaps my mind decided to take a creative leap ahead of reality.

It conjured up a hole, an escape route, a lifeline in those last desperate moments.

Why? Hell if I knew? Maybe it was just easier to dream of salvation than face the grim truth of a dead end. Perhaps that's why my brain painted a picture of a hole where there was bugger all, simply because it was what I needed to see.

And then, the very next image my lovely brain served up, right after that vision of a dead end and my poor mug careening towards the unforgiving wall, was the anticipated crash—loud enough to rattle my senses and reignite the dreadful notion that I was well and truly screwed.

So, for the love of all things sacred… WHERE IN THE BLINKING HELL WAS I?!?

I had braced for it, ready to kiss that solid rock with my head. But, yeahhhh—I didn't crash! I sailed right through that so-called solid space in the wall.

Alright, Jade, keep your knickers on. Time to take stock of this bizarre new space…

I cast my peepers around and those familiar hues were back, lighting up the sides of this new tunnel, clear as day. It was a tight squeeze, but just roomy enough for me to wriggle through. And as for that hideous creeper? No chance it could squeeze its ugly mug in here. Small mercies.

But, the strangest thing wasn't the size of it—it was the bloody material it was made up of. It wasn't made of the same stone as the outside. I touched it with my claw, it felt more like the inside of a tree trunk. And worse yet, it was sticky. Yuckies! I whipped my head around for another look, and of course, the entrance was blocked off—again, no hues in sight in that particular part.

With a full-bodied twist, despite the tunnel being tighter than a miser's purse strings, I managed to shimmy my way through, arching my back just so, and slid my tail at an angle, letting me squeeze through without too much of a to-do.

Ha! Look at me, all scaly, bendy and whatnot.

Right then, I retraced my steps and took another gander at that blocked-off entrance. It was odd—downright peculiar, actually. Everything in my sight was lit up by those hues, but this thing? It was as if it was having none of it. No light dared touch it, making it look as though it simply... wasn't there at all.

Swallowing hard, I lifted a cautious paw and pressed it against the surface... and blimey, it went straight through!

IT WENT RIGHT THROUGH THE BLOODY SOLID STONE?!?

Some sort of illusion, perhaps? I knew a fair bit about illusions, thanks to the [Path of the Winter Salamander] that folks in Randall studied. It was all about handling illusions, though I never dabbled in it myself. I knew the pitfalls of the basics well enough. You could always spot one if you knew where to poke.

But there wasn't a soul around me, and illusions didn't just pop up on their own... or did they? I was so far out of my league here. I didn't have a clue about how dungeons worked. Never wanted to be a delver, and I certainly didn't envy those nutters who did. EVERYTHING IN THIS PLACE WAS OUT TO KILL THEM—AND EACH OTHER, FOR THAT MATTER. I mean, who in their right mind would willingly come down here?!

Swallowing hard, I braced myself and slid my serpentine noggin through that unsettling, shadowy patch. And, naturally—because why would anything be straightforward—it passed through like it was no more than a figment of my imagination.

First order of business? Look for that sneaky creeper. The moment my eyes didn't catch sight of anything in the tunnel, I knew better than to linger. I glanced up. Of course, of course, that little bastard had scurried up to its favorite haunt, clinging to the ceiling like a deranged chandelier, biding its time.

Why was it doing this? I was just a wee thing, barely a snack, and certainly not gourmet! Surely, I wouldn't even make a satisfying crunch! Why couldn't it just leave me be?

Well, it was welcome to hang about for as long as it fancied, but I wouldn't be playing its game. Not today, you oversized twit!

I pulled my head back through the shadowy veil, twisting myself around in that narrow hole with a maneuver that was becoming second nature.

Ahead, the tunnel wound its way into the unknown, twisting out of sight about seven meters ahead. The whole place was a death trap, everything here fashioned to be a weapon—including me, as it turned out.

But what choice did I have? I couldn't just sit here like a sitting duck. What if that ceiling-hugging monstrosity decided to get creative and shoot its tongue right through the wall I'd disappeared behind?

Perhaps I was overthinking it; maybe the daft thing hadn't even noticed where I'd gone—it didn't have eyes, after all. But paranoia was a powerful motivator, so I carefully nudged my paws forward, slipping into stealth mode and creeping along as quietly as a cat.

The tunnel was bathed in hues that cast an eerie, ever-present glow, as if someone had left a spell of illumination on indefinitely. Every thirty seconds or so, I paused to refresh my vision, blinking rapidly to clear the uncomfortable haze. I wouldn't be caught unawares this time, oh no.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

As I continued my cautious trek through this peculiar passage, I couldn't help but notice the odd details. The walls were made of some bark-like material, and the smell was getting stronger. I raised my head and sniffed, a curious mix of Lumenrass and Charmelia if I were to guess. But what really caught my attention was the sticky stuff beneath my claws. It was collecting in a narrow stream below me, like a sluggish little river of sap, oozing its way along the tunnel floor.

At first, it was so narrow I might've overlooked it, had it not been for the way it glowed—bright hues shimmering in that sticky sap, turning it into a glowing thread. But now, oh, it was spreading, this stream of glowing goo, getting wider with every step, and the hues in it were getting more intense than ever. It was like walking over a bloomin' bright fluorescent tube.

Hmm, fluorescent tube… what on earth was that? A flicker of memory came from my long-lost dreams, huh, some sort of magic illumination tool? Had to be!

I gave the little river of sap another look, blinking hard. It burned my eyes just to stare at the thing.

I really needed to ask Lotte what those hues were all about. Why did they prance around in my vision like that? Why were they in everything around me, first in those webs, and now this sticky little river? And, more importantly, what was the connection between these hues and the monsters that spawned in this blasted dungeon?

Questions, questions—enough to make one's head spin. Barn couldn't rouse himself quick enough to yank me out of this blasted fever dream!

But for now, I slogged on, without a clue how far I'd stumbled. The sap stream had bloated to the size of a little river, forcing me to waddle through it like a ruddy duckling. Stupid sticky sap. I could feel a proper phobia brewing for anything remotely adhesive.

Then, just as I was about to lose my mind, I spotted movement up ahead. A bug—or rather, a monster of a bug—a shade smaller than me, but not by much. The bug had a glossy amber-colored shell, segmented into sections that looked almost see-through. Legs were thin but long, ending in sharp hooks that gripped the tunnel walls. The head was large, with big, round eyes. Its mandibles were dripping with sap, twitching as it worked on whatever task it was doing with it.

I just stood there, gobsmacked, watching it go about its business. It was busy doing something in the sap, possibly having a right go at its dinner. But, I wasn't too sure.

I edged forward, while already in stealth mode, but apparently, something tipped it off. It let out a shriek and... vanished.

What in the blithering blazes?

I swear I only caught the faintest shadow before it disappeared, leaving behind a patch of tunnel oddly …devoid of those cursed hues.

Brilliant. Another bloody illusion.

How in the devil's name does anything, ANYTHING AT ALL, without my knack for spotting these hues manage to survive in this godforsaken pit?

I couldn't help but chuckle. The poor sod thought it was being all clever, didn't it? But its illusion was about as effective as a child playing hide and seek behind a curtain. The hues, bless them, didn't even bother to light up the spot where it tried to pull its little disappearing act. Not that I was about to pass up an easy bit of experience and mutagen. Oh, heavens no!

So, I tiptoed closer, claws at the ready. The knowledge of the perfect Claw Swipe was already bubbling up in my brain. The moment I was within striking distance, I lashed out at that suspiciously hue-less patch.

The bug let out a blood-curdling shriek, and its illusion fell apart like a cheap disguise. But apparently, it fancied itself a bit of an ambush artist, because before I knew it, its bloody mandibles were clamped onto my paw!

PAIN!

I yelped as they dug in, but then I felt my scales toughen up, doing their level best to protect me.

[Scale Harden has reached level 2]

Oh, this little prickly sensation wasn't about to slow me down, not on your life. With a wide grin that probably looked more terrifying than I'd care to admit, I sank my teeth right into its face, mandibles and all. It squirmed like a worm on a hook, trying to scramble up the tunnel walls with those rather unpleasant leg hooks, but my bite—now powered by Crunch—wasn't letting go anytime soon.

From that point on, it was less of a fight and more of a slapstick skirmish. I rather gleefully took to manhandling the poor blighter with my claws, tossing the shrieking little nuisance into the river of sap like a rubbish bag. Then, with all the elegance of a lunatic with a hedge trimmer, I went to town with a series of Claw Swipes, hacking away at its shell until it was leaking who-knows-what from who-knows-where.

[Claw Swipe has reached level 3]

The creature kept up its pitiful wailing, but honestly, it was just noise at that point. There was no escape on the horizon for it, and soon enough, even the screaming fizzled out.

[You have slain a Level 1 Coleoptera Titanus Adolescentus (II).]

[Experience Points acquired.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

[Skill point(s) obtained: +2.]

It finally keeled over, my claws having left it with deep gashes. Sticky, revolting green goo was leaking out, mingling into the sap below.

But hang on a minute, how in the hell did I manage to bag two full levels from a measly level one beastie? Last time, on that triple experience reward, I barely scraped a single level off that level one turtle. What was the difference? I squinted at the screen again—definitely level one, but with a curious little (II) in the corner.

Before I could ponder this further, another screen decided to rudely interrupt.

[Level Cap Reached: Maximum Level Attained.]

[Evolution Process: Available and Ready for Initiation]

What the fuck?