The next cavern inhabited by bats was only a hundred meters away from the first. It was slightly larger, though, which made sense as there were also more bats. Compared to the first colony, this one was almost twice its size, with fifteen beasts occupying it.

A group of five immediately dove at Stephen as soon as they could perceive his presence and, more importantly, that of his torch. This time Stephen didn't have the advantage of getting one separately as they were all already in flight.

Despite that, the fight was more manageable without the shield. Stephen took a few scratches at the beginning when he was finding his rhythm, yet once he wasn't randomly waving his arm but aiming at his foes, the bats fell one after the other. By the time the third and last wave of five came at him, Stephen's torch was a club once more. This time he let it drop, taking out a knife instead. The short-range made it practical when the bats grabbed on him. Less than being able to burn them, but more than just blunt damage.

Once the fight was over, Stephen was proud of how well it went. Before he remembered, it was just a colony of medium-sized bats, and his victory wasn't that noteworthy. With the bat's screeching ceasing after this fight, Stephen returned to where he had left his equipment, bringing it to this cave. There was yet another gallery on the other side of the cavern, proof his adventure wasn't over.

Before exploring further ahead, Stephen had some looting to do. The wings were thus collected along with the fangs and put aside at the cavern entrance. Then he armed himself again, taking his shield and machete.

As he advanced, he saw the path going down and getting wider. It wasn't easier to move in, though, as the stalactites and stalagmites were also more numerous and kept getting bigger. Several columns could be seen where both met, making the path a hazard to traverse.

Creeping amidst the stone jaws while walking along the right wall proved safe, though the sight on the other side was anything but. Several huts, around six, could be seen, with humanoid frog-like or toad-like creatures milling around, wielding swords, spears, and clubs. He couldn't tell their size accurately but believed them to be shorter than him, maybe around five feet. A few of them were standing at attention. They were, however, looking anywhere but on his side.

Stephen noticed the cavern was roughly circular, the path from where he was coming curving around their encampment. The cavern's ceiling was lower than the tunnel where he was at the beginning, prompting Stephen to look for a vantage spot to observe his next opponents more thoroughly. He found a place overseeing the cavern at the middle point of the gallery. Any higher and the left side facing the cavern was a wall. From here, he could guesstimate the enemies at around twenty heads, with another group of five going out sometimes. However, the group wasn't always the same, exposing the presence of at least two patrols and other caverns.

A disturbing fact was the presence of cages, with humanoids sporting a snake's tail from their waist down, bound inside. Their physique and nude state showed that one was a male, its body much more bulky than the others. He and another weren't moving, and from the way they were hanging by their arm without their tails supporting their body, it was doubtful they were still alive. It was even more apparent from how the other snake-woman had her tail coiled under her body, and despite her head dolling down from sleep or at least unconsciousness, she was still somewhat standing. Her better health was also evident from how her body wasn't covered in as much blood as the other two or laden with as many scars.

Stephen's observation also allowed him to notice that none of the amphibious humanoids ever got close to his path. It was good news for him, as it meant he had time to prepare for the assault he intended to make.

His plan primarily took advantage of his advantageous position, higher and hidden from the enemies. He had prepared five spots providing an excellent sniping location with ammunition. Eight rocks were stacked for his sling at each spot, along with one or two javelins. The last two sniping sites only had one javelin, as Stephen was worried he might get noticed long before that point.

His backpack was left close to the border of the stone jaws with the cavern so that he could quickly access his first aid kit upon need. Along with it were his shield, a harpoon -one of the three-pronged spears he had crafted from the gardening forks- and the other four javelins. The vast cave and presence of armed foes made the harpoon a better weapon in this situation. It also seemed better than a regular spear, which should increase his accuracy. The other bags were left further up, hidden under several patches of moss Stephen had harvested for the occasion.

When the attack began half a minute after a patrol left, Stephen couldn't help but lament his low accuracy. His luck was still good, as the frogs could not find their attacker. After a few lucky shots and other skilful ones, Stephen knocked down six of the enemies and killed another two, going by the blood spooling under their bodies. However, he had emptied his ammunition. Which said a lot about his aim, considering he had five sniping spots for about forty rocks and eight javelins. This also forced him to reveal his position and let the enemies come to him.

With still twelve frogs-person combat able, Stephen went out of the cover provided by the jaw-like tunnel. There was still enough distance to throw another two javelins. One of which found its mark, impaling an enemy to the floor. The other only grazed one of them. They were advancing as a group, making it easier to land a shot.

Not well-defined rows, but close enough that they were hindering each other sight.

When he couldn't delay the confrontation any longer, Stephen grabbed his harpoon and shield, ready to face his foes up front. As they got closer, he could see how similar they were to frogs rather than toads. Just oversized and intelligent enough to know how to wield tools. His earlier estimation wasn't far off the mark, their size ranging from four to five feet. Their skin was sleek, for which Stephen was quite proud of having the forethought of using a harpoon. He had no doubt it would make it more likely for blades to slip. It also made them less scary. While they couldn't be considered beautiful from a human point of view, from an artistic one, saying they were aesthetically pleasing to the eye wasn't wrong.

As the fight started, Stephen yelled, more to give himself some courage than to intimidate his foes. The shrill war cry he got in answer was almost unheard. The first target Stephen selected was the one on his rightmost side, closer to the wall. He intended to keep as many of his foes on his left side, where his shield would protect him.

As Stephen rushed at them, he hoped his weight advantage and derived momentum would catch off-guard his opponents. It wasn't enough to prevent the first stab he delivered from being avoided. But Stephen kept advancing, bashing his first foe with his shield.

This time the event went as expected, their small and light build allowing Stephen to keep pushing. His charge thus led him to impact the second frog-people. His next stab, from overhead his shield, managed to reach the closest frog in front of him. The one he missed at the start.

It was for Stephen the first horrors of fighting to the death. Before, he had either killed from afar or slayed beasts. This feeling of the weapon's tips going through the skin and the cry of pain from another seemingly intelligent being was off-putting. It was made even worse when pulling out his harpoon, the squishy noise as it got out of the flesh feeling much more audible than it had any right to be. Stephen's only thought then was that he didn't have to see the action.

Putting those sensations at the back of his mind, Stephen kept moving forward. Another frog-people was in his path, and the charge had slowed down by this point. That also meant the other frog people on his left were already reacting to his assault.

Forced to protect his left side with his shield, Stephen had to leave his front open. He could only bet on his offence being enough to compensate for the lack of defence. It almost worked.

The human knew his enemies would try to surround him, so he had to keep moving. It was the only way to keep his enemies on his most protected side. Alas, the path forward was still hindered, if not by the still-standing enemies, by the fallen ones. Keeping track of his enemies on his left side and those in front was hard enough. Having also to mind those below him, which he had to avoid stumbling on as he kept moving, was much more difficult.

Stephen's initial strategy was to circle the enemies to prevent himself from getting encircled. He had expected, accurately, that his foes would rush toward him. Thus, by advancing towards the rightmost side, along the wall, Stephen would keep his enemies in sight. Then he could move around them, never worrying about his right side or back.

It didn't work out quite as well as he had hoped.

Up to his charge and going past the group, the initial part succeeded. It was the following steps that were more arduous. Despite his best efforts, Stephen wasn't fast or skilled enough to keep his enemies away from him.

The environment and numbers were against him. At some point, he lost his weapon, the long shaft of the harpoon increasing the drag when he had to pull it back. Stephen was thus forced to unsheathe his machete, therefore reducing his range. It voided him of his most important advantage and prevented Stephen from keeping himself from being encircled. The situation then became more dangerous for him.

Furthermore, while the frogs were lighter than him, they were faster. The fact they were humanoids also played against Stephen, as the bolder ones grabbed onto his shield, making it a burden more than anything.

By the point he had killed four of this group's frog-people, Stephen was trading blows, making him aware of his armour's efficiency. Most of the blows he could not avoid or parry were deflected in significant part by his armour. Firstly by the chain mail, then by the gambeson, whose thickness was enough to reduce most of the strikes' strength. He would undoubtedly have bruises, but the wounds on his back and side weren't bleeding.

The wounds kept coming, mostly on his hands, then arms and legs. His back was also targeted, but the armour still held. Not that Stephen didn't feel the pain, only it was as if someone had beaten him with a club rather than spears and blades. His shield arm also started getting numb from the repeated shocks and the weight.

The first patrol returned when he eventually reduced their number by half, from eleven to five. Replenishing their number to ten. Stephen hadn't given up despite the tiredness that started creeping up his limbs. He had gotten used to how the frogs fought, and their patterns were somewhat repetitive. A slash, a stab, a bash. Each weapon had one specific blow without much variation, and their coordination was lacking. Even with what little experience Stephen had, he could tell they weren't good fighters. The only difficulty he had to face was their number, which increased the angles from where he got attacked and the stamina needed to last long enough to survive.

Still, once he got used to their way of fighting, Stephen could pay enough attention to where and how he moved that he was the one surrounding them, despite their superior numbers. He was barely aware of what was happening, having entered a battle trance of kind. One where he danced around his foes while regularly hiding behind his shield and bashing or stabbing anything that came in range. He might have stumbled at the beginning of his fight, but his initial strategy worked.

The other patrol returned once Stephen reduced their group to only four frog people. By that point, Stephen was riddled with wounds, and the limb part of his armour was shredded and useless. He was groggy and couldn't recall precisely how the latter half of the fight went, but his foes kept coming despite the blows he landed and the smell of blood that kept getting heavier. Proof his blows dealt damages. Then suddenly, the fighting stopped, Stephen still fighting an imaginary enemy for a few seconds before his body caught up with his brain.

As Stephen collapsed on the ground, relieved to be alive, he could feel his blood boiling, his heart hammering in his chest. It took him a while before he was able to calm down. He almost started removing his armour to tend to his wounds, then reminded himself that some enemies might still be alive, albeit suffering on the ground.

While dealing the last blow and stabbing each body with a spear was gruesome, Stephen remembered that it was either him or them. That they weren't human, nor could they be understood, also reduced his aversion to his task. As well as his guilt. Though, it didn't prevent him from emptying his stomach at some point. They were a somewhat intelligent species, making it effectively Stephen's first murder, no matter how inhuman they might have been.

Stephen was thus quite content to put that episode behind him and tend to his wounds. Contrary to his earlier hurry, he was reluctant to remove his armour as he didn't know if or when other foes would come. He still did it, his body hurting everywhere, letting him know he had no choice. One problem he met before being able to heal himself was first to clean up his wounds. He had no clothes besides his own, not a rag or anything to use. The loincloths the enemies wore weren't considered even for a second. What was considered, however, was the moss. There was plenty around, its humid state making it a suitable replacement for a cloth or a sponge.

Although cleaning supplies were the only thing he lacked to tend to his wounds properly, it didn't mean he had enough of his other supplies. Despite the many bandages he had put in his backpack, there were only enough to cover his limbs. His torso, however, would require more bandages than he had. Stephen still applied ointment on every wound, grinding his teeth when he went over a particularly nasty injury. He couldn't do anything about the ones on his back besides cleaning and applying ointment. The others, those he could see, he could suture. Something Stephen had never done before, a training that would've proven incredibly useful. Self-inflicted pain could be so much worse than accidental one. Sewing shut his wounds became torture to the man. The ones on his arms more than the others from the reduced dexterity.

Once he was mostly healed and had to put back his clothes and armour, Stephen lamented, looking at their sorry state.

Putting back bloody and sweaty clothes above his wounds seemed a terrible idea, no doubt about that. He didn't have much of a choice, fighting as a barbarian not being a possibility if he wanted to survive. Except they were all cut out and barely held together. Not even cleaning them would be enough.

He also had to repair his armour or find an alternative. For that, looting his enemies seemed a good solution since all of them were wearing bracers and leather chest plates. In most cases, their chest armour was only a piece of leather to protect their heart or lungs. The other area Stephen checked was the huts present in the cave. They all contained the same things, a roughly made bed from braided strips of leather or hemp-like material, then diverse trinkets of dubious uses.

Using the bits of armour and the materials from the beds to repair his armour was challenging. In part, because Stephen was still very much stressed, doing precise work under those conditions wasn't optimal. But also because he didn't want to waste or damage what needle and string he had among his supplies. They were planned for his wounds, not for repair work. The alternative was to cut bits of each piece and assemble them as he could. The result was ugly and certainly wouldn't last more than his last equipment.

The questionable hygiene of his new clothing and armour was then noticed. And promptly ignored. The most important was to ensure he was once more covered. He would clean everything as he could by rubbing it with moss, no matter how ineffective it proved to be.

The last time he chose the lesser evil concerning his equipment was because it was better to be dehydrated than dead. This time it was either risking an infection or dying. Maybe dehydration and infection were already good enough to cause his death, as was either one. Yet, Stephen would rather bet on that than increase his chance of direct death for not using armour.

After which, Stephen looted the weapons, gathering all the spears on one side, including the javelins he had thrown before, while the other weapons were put on another pile. It amounted to his twelve javelins, one spear, and the other four harpoons. Then around ten spears from the frog people. Their choice of weapon was somewhat balanced. Their blades and clubs weren't considered, as they were unwieldy to his human build. At least the spears could be thrown or just used as traps.

By then, the only areas Stephen had avoided were the path leading into the rest of the dungeon and the cages holding the snake-like humanoids.

Stephen wanted to ignore those captives for now, as he didn't believe he could ignore them if he went closer. He would probably want to help the one that appeared still alive, yet he knew he had to clear the rest of the dungeon. It was what mattered the most. Freeing this snake woman without getting her help or being able to watch over her would only hinder him. He didn't even know if he could communicate with her. The chance he could enlist her help was low. Better to leave her be until he came back.

Instead, Stephen gathered all equipment he had left in the gallery leading to his entrance, then put all of it in one of the huts he emptied before. It was the one he believed to be as far from either path.

Then he sat outside this hut, still wanting to rest for a while. The path on his back was the one by the rocky teeth leading to the gateway to Earth. And the other way, the one he faced, showed somewhere unknown, where lay the portal to the next floor.