Frank sat slumped against the cold stone wall, his head tilted back and his breathing shallow. He could still feel the dull ache in his limbs, though his regeneration skill had stopped him from completely collapsing. The faint blue glow of the interface hovered in front of him, a silent reminder of his ongoing situation. But that wasn’t his immediate concern.
What really bothered him was the gnawing in his stomach.
It wasn’t just hunger. It was the kind of deep, painful emptiness that threatened to sap what little strength he had left. He opened his character sheet again, scanning for any hint of a solution. As the system chimed softly in the background, a new message scrolled into view.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM ALERT:You are suffering from extreme caloric deficit. Stamina regeneration is compromised. Immediate nutrient intake is strongly recommended.Warning: If this condition persists, regeneration effects may be permanently reduced.
----------------------------------------
Frank groaned, letting his head thump back against the wall. “Thanks, system. Really helpful. Got any actual food in that interface of yours?”
Silence.
He rubbed his face, grimacing at the feel of dried blood and grime on his skin. His eyes drifted over the dimly lit cavern, finally settling on the lifeless carcass of one of the creatures he’d defeated earlier. Its twisted, sinewy form glistened faintly, still oozing whatever passed for blood. The sight of it made his stomach churn, but it was also the only source of sustenance he had.
Frank sighed. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”
He crawled closer, every movement making his joints protest. When he reached the carcass, he hesitated. The creature’s hide was tough and rubbery, its flesh dark and unappetizing. He looked down at his hands—no tools, no knife, nothing. He was going to have to do this the hard way.
“Bon appétit,” he muttered, trying to psyche himself up. He tore at the hide, finally ripping off a chunk of flesh. The smell hit him first—a pungent, sour stench that made his throat tighten. He gagged but forced himself to take a bite.
The taste was as bad as he’d imagined: metallic, bitter, and overwhelming. He struggled to chew, feeling the rubbery texture fight back against his teeth. When he swallowed, his stomach immediately rebelled. A wave of nausea rolled through him, but he kept it down.
Then came the system’s reaction.
> ----------------------------------------
>
> SYSTEM NOTICE:Foreign substance detected. Analyzing…Condition Updated: Poisoned. Stamina drain increased.New Passive Acquired: Poison Resistance Level 1.Warning: Continued exposure to toxins may have lasting effects
>
> ----------------------------------------
“Fantastic,” Frank growled, clutching his stomach. “Eat to recover stamina, get poisoned, lose stamina. Real great cycle we’ve got here.”
Still, he could feel a faint boost—enough energy to stay upright, even if just barely. His regeneration continued to tick upward, albeit more slowly. He leaned back against the wall, feeling the poison work through his system. His head swam, and the faint hum of the interface seemed louder than before.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:Poison Resistance has leveled up to 2.
----------------------------------------
A thin, wry smile crept onto Frank’s face. “Guess that’s one way to power level, huh?”
He stayed where he was, waiting for the worst of the nausea to pass. When he felt stable enough, he reached out again, tearing off another piece of the creature’s flesh. It was a miserable process—chew, gag, swallow, repeat—but the poison resistance kept improving. Every time it leveled up, the effect of the toxins lessened, and his stamina loss slowed.
Eventually, the poison barely registered. The system alerted him one final time.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:Poison Resistance has reached Level 5.
----------------------------------------
Frank leaned his head back and let out a long, ragged sigh. He was still weak, still worn out, but at least he wasn’t actively dying anymore. His stomach growled again, and for once, he didn’t feel like he was on the verge of passing out.
“Well,” he muttered, his voice rough but steady. “Looks like I’m getting the hang of this. Sort of.”
He closed the interface and allowed himself a few more minutes of rest before he’d have to figure out.
Frank let his head rest against the jagged stone wall, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. The poisoned feeling had subsided, leaving only a faint bitterness on his tongue and a dull ache in his limbs. His status screen hovered in front of him, casting a faint blue glow across the rough cavern floor. For the first time since this nightmare began, he had a moment to catch his breath.
“Let’s see what we’re working with,” he muttered, squinting at the floating text. His voice sounded rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.
With a flick of his hand, he brought up his character sheet. The details scrolled into view, each line a reminder of how far things had spiraled. His stats, abilities, and class—all there in neat rows, as if his life were nothing more than a set of numbers.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM INTERFACE: USER STATUS
>
> NAME: Frank (UNREGISTERED ENTITY)LEVEL: 28CLASS: Delver
>
> HEALTH: [300 / 890]STAMINA: [3 / 195] (RECOVERING)
>
> CORE ATTRIBUTES:
>
> STRENGTH: 16 DEXTERITY: 14 CONSTITUTION: 22 INTELLIGENCE: 15 WISDOM: 13 CHARISMA: 11
>
> PASSIVE SKILLS:AURA (Lv 8): Passive field effect. Stronger damage against nearby hostile entities.REGENERATION (Lv 9): Healing rate increased, resource demand increased.
>
> DELVER CLASS SKILLS:DISASSEMBLY (Lv 1): Process defeated creatures into usable materials.EARTH MAGIC (Lv 1): Limited terrain manipulation unlocked.
>
> ALERT: UNSPENT POINTSATTRIBUTE POINTS: 125SKILL POINTS: 65
----------------------------------------
Frank stared at the lines of text, trying to make sense of it all. Level 28? When had that happened? He’d barely had time to process the system’s frantic messages during the fight. The memory of those towering, misshapen monsters flashed through his mind. They were grotesque, relentless, and way above his supposed level. Yet somehow, he’d survived.
Barely.
He leaned back, letting his gaze drift over his passive skills. Aura—what the system had called a “unique random ability”—was probably the only reason he wasn’t monster food right now. Its passive damage had chipped away at the enemies before they could overwhelm him. And then there was Regeneration. Without it, his wounds wouldn’t have closed, and his body wouldn’t have held together long enough to get him here. He owed his survival to that strange, jury-rigged combination.
Frank smirked bitterly. “Thanks for the handout, system. Real nice of you to wait until I was almost dead.”
He brought up the description for Aura, curious to see more details. The interface responded, expanding the section. The numbers were straightforward: damage output tied to his health, scaling with his Constitution. It didn’t feel like something he’d earned—more like a lucky roll on some cosmic loot table. But lucky or not, it had saved his life.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:Aura: Damage output scales with current health.(Level × 1.5) + (CON × 0.05) = Aura damage per second.
----------------------------------------
“That explains the constant ticking,” Frank muttered. “Guess it wasn’t just a fancy light show.”
Next, he tapped on Regeneration, pulling up its formula. It wasn’t much more complicated than Aura’s—just a steady stream of healing tied to his Constitution and level. The system must have granted it in a panic, desperate to stabilize him when the level-ups started rolling in.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:Regeneration: Heal rate scales with Constitution and level.(CON × Level × 0.1) = HP recovered per second.
----------------------------------------
“So you threw this at me because I was breaking your damn level curve,” he said, shaking his head. “Figures.”
He closed the detailed views, letting the main status screen fill his vision again. The unspent points at the bottom caught his attention. 125 attribute points. 65 skill points. He hadn’t touched them yet—he’d been too busy staying alive. But now that he had a moment, it was tempting. Those numbers represented a chance to improve, to become stronger. And after what he’d been through, he wasn’t going to turn that down.
Not yet, though. Frank wasn’t the impulsive type, and he wasn’t about to waste his points on something that wouldn’t keep him breathing. The monsters in this dungeon weren’t playing around, and he had no intention of dying because he made the wrong choice.
For now, he’d leave them be. He had a vague plan in mind, but it could wait until he had more information. Until then, he’d stick with what worked: Aura and Regeneration. If they kept him alive so far, they’d keep doing it.
The faint glow of the system screen was almost comforting as Frank settled into a more comfortable position against the cold stone wall. His head still throbbed from the earlier ordeal, and the memory of poison coursing through his veins lingered like a bad taste. Even now, after fighting off the worst of it, his muscles ached and his limbs felt heavy. But the system notices had stopped pouring in, giving him a rare moment to think.
“Well,” he muttered, letting his eyes drift over the rows of text floating in front of him, “this is... something.”
Frank focused on the section labeled “Delver Class Skills.” It felt oddly official, almost like someone had handed him a certificate of achievement after a marathon he hadn’t signed up for. He tapped the entry for Earth Magic, and a brief description expanded into view.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:EARTH MAGIC:Level 1 – Allows limited manipulation of terrain.Formula: (Level × 2) cubic meters affected.Range: (INTELLIGENCE / 10) meters.
----------------------------------------
“So I can move rocks,” he said, his voice dry. “What am I, a cave janitor?”
He closed the window and moved on to another section: Crafting. The text there was equally brief but hinted at potential. It didn’t give a detailed breakdown, just a general note that he could create or repair equipment given the proper tools and materials. Frank frowned, rubbing his temple. It sounded useful, but it was hard to imagine crafting his way out of this hellhole.
Then there was Disassembly. The name alone made him wince. He hadn’t used it yet—didn’t even know he had it until the system spat out a notification during the chaos—but apparently, it could break down defeated creatures into usable materials. It was gruesome, but considering his current situation, it might come in handy. He brought up the description.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:DISASSEMBLY:Level 1 – Automatically extracts basic materials from defeated creatures.Effectiveness: (Level × 10)% material quality.
----------------------------------------
Frank let out a slow breath. “This just keeps getting better.”
He leaned his head back, staring up at the cavern ceiling. The system messages weren’t telling him anything revolutionary—just confirming what he’d already figured out. But it was still useful to see it laid out so clearly. Earth Magic, Crafting, Disassembly... They weren’t flashy skills, but they rounded out the picture. His class wasn’t just about surviving; it was about adapting, creating, and making the most out of whatever hellish environment the system threw at him.
And then there was Aura. Frank pulled up the description again, reading it more carefully this time. The numbers didn’t lie: the skill was a lifeline. A passive field of damage tied directly to his health. It explained so much—why the creatures around him had started dropping before they could even reach him, why his body felt like a furnace burning through energy with every second. The system had given him this ability on day one, during whatever induction process it used for new “citizens.”
Frank frowned at the word. “Citizens.” That implied an entire society, a structure beyond this dungeon. He hadn’t seen any signs of civilization since this nightmare began, but the system’s language suggested it was out there, somewhere. The idea made his head hurt even more.
Shaking off the thought, he returned to the numbers. Aura wasn’t just a gimmick; it was his edge. And the system hadn’t stopped there. Regeneration, initially a failsafe to keep him alive during the massive level surge, had turned into an invaluable tool. It kept him going, allowed him to recover faster than the monsters could tear him down. The combination of these skills, along with his class abilities, was the only reason he was still breathing.
But he still had no clue what came next. The system’s silence wasn’t comforting—it felt like the calm before a storm.
Frank sat cross-legged on the rough stone floor, his back resting against the cavern wall. The blue glow of the system screen flickered faintly before him, reflecting off the jagged edges of the surrounding rocks. He hadn’t moved in a while, too busy studying the numbers, trying to piece together what had just happened.
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It didn’t add up. Well, it did, mathematically—he had 125 unspent attribute points and 65 skill points staring him in the face. But the sheer leap in levels, the rapid-fire stream of achievements and system notices, it all felt surreal. The system had all but screamed at him about balance issues, adjusted compensation, and emergency administrative reviews. None of it had been planned; it was as though the entire process had broken down under the weight of his unexpected survival.
Frank rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders to loosen the stiffness that had crept in. He should’ve been happy, thrilled even, with the windfall of power and potential. Instead, he felt uneasy. No, that wasn’t the right word. Jaded? Maybe. The system hadn’t handed him these levels out of generosity. It had panicked, recalibrated, and dumped them on him like a pile of bricks. What would’ve happened if it hadn’t intervened? Would he have simply... stopped existing? Imploded under the weight of all that experience?
“Yeah, thanks for that, system,” Frank muttered. “Really appreciate the thoughtful gift. Super generous.”
The screen blinked, displaying a prompt: “Assign Attribute Points?”
Frank leaned forward, squinting at the floating numbers. Constitution was the obvious choice. It fed directly into both his regeneration rate and his aura damage. He’d seen it firsthand—the more durable he was, the harder he hit, and the faster he bounced back. Strength, Intelligence and Dexterity were useful too, but they were secondary. Constitution was the backbone of his survival, the stat that had kept him breathing this long.
“Alright,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get this over with.”
He tapped on Constitution and watched the points climb. One after another, the number rose steadily. When he hit ninety points allocated, he paused. His health and stamina numbers updated in real-time, rising as the points settled into place. The change was immediate. He felt sturdier, more grounded. His body felt just a little less like a collection of raw nerves.
With ten points remaining, he split them evenly between Strength, intelligence, and Dexterity, adding a little extra punch and speed to his movements. It wasn’t much, but every bit helped.
The prompt flickered.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:ATTRIBUTES ALLOCATED:CONSTITUTION: +95 STRENGTH: +10 DEXTERITY: +10 INTELLIGENCE +10NO UNSPENT ATTRIBUTE POINTS REMAINING
----------------------------------------
Frank exhaled, sitting back against the wall. The attribute points were spent. No more lingering decisions, no more uncertainty about what to prioritize. Now he had to deal with the skill points.
He tapped the skill menu and brought up his current abilities. Aura sat at level 8, its description still glowing faintly on the screen. Regeneration was close behind at level 9. And Earth Mastery, barely touched, remained at level 1.
Frank scratched his chin. It wasn’t a tough call. Aura and Regeneration were his bread and butter, the two skills that had carried him this far. They needed to be maxed out first. Earth Mastery could wait. He didn’t have the luxury of experimenting with terrain manipulation when his life depended on consistent, reliable abilities.
With that thought in mind, he dumped 32 points into Aura, bringing it to level 40. The changes were immediate. Its damage numbers climbed, the range extended slightly, and the text now mentioned a more potent effect on nearby enemies. Regeneration followed next, receiving 31 points to also hit level 40. Its healing rate skyrocketed, and the stamina drain lessened to something more manageable. Finally, he placed the last two points into Earth Mastery, nudging it up to level 3.
The system chimed softly.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:SKILL POINTS ALLOCATED:AURA: +32REGENERATION: +31EARTH MASTERY: +2NO UNSPENT SKILL POINTS REMAINING
----------------------------------------
Frank closed the screen and leaned his head back against the stone wall. The cold surface bit into his skin, but he didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like forever, he had a clear path forward. His health was stable, his skills were stronger, and the ever-present threat of poisoning had finally subsided.
“Well,” he said quietly, “that’s done. Time to see what kind of mess I’ve gotten myself into next.”
Frank rubbed his face with both hands, as if trying to scrub away the mounting exhaustion. The system’s faint glow still lingered before his eyes, a persistent reminder of how far he’d come and how little sense any of it made.
He let out a sharp sigh, muttering under his breath, “Alright, what’s the deal with this aura?”
Pulling up the skill’s description, Frank took his time reading the text carefully. The aura was more than just a simple passive effect—it was his invisible lifeline. It surrounded him in a subtle, constant field, sapping the strength from anything hostile that dared to get too close. What caught his attention most, though, was the formula for the damage calculation.
----------------------------------------
> AURA FORMULA:DAMAGE = (LEVEL × 1.5) + (CON × 0.05)
----------------------------------------
It wasn’t a lot on the surface. But now that he was level 28, and with his Constitution nearing triple digits, the numbers were starting to add up. Aura’s passive damage could chip away at even high-level enemies over time, and that had saved his life more than once already. Yet, it wasn’t perfect. The skill didn’t announce its presence. There was no fanfare, no flashy effect—just a steady, invisible erosion of enemy health.
Frank leaned back, his gaze drifting upward. “So, I guess this is my gacha pull,” he said, his tone half-joking, half-bitter. “Everyone gets some unique system power when they join, right? And mine’s a silent killer. How fitting.”
The system’s response was the same as ever: silence. But as Frank stared at the screen, he began to piece things together. Aura hadn’t been a reward for something he’d done; it had been assigned to him at the very start, as part of his induction into the system. It wasn’t an accident. It was his assigned role, his personal edge against the chaos of this dungeon.
His eyes drifted down to Regeneration, the other skill that had carried him through the nightmare. The system hadn’t granted that one out of kindness, either. Regeneration was a patch job—a reactive fix to prevent his body from failing under the torrent of levels he’d gained in such a short time. The formula for its healing rate confirmed it was based on Constitution as well, tied directly to his ever-growing health pool.
----------------------------------------
> REGENERATION FORMULA:HEALING RATE = (CON × LEVEL × 0.1)
----------------------------------------
He still remembered the message that had popped up during his first encounter with the system: something about stabilization. The skill had been granted automatically, not as a reward, but as a necessity. The system had scrambled to prevent him from outright dying under the strain of multiple level-ups at once.
Frank shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, real considerate of you. Thanks for not letting me explode.”
He closed the skill interface and sat in silence for a moment, staring at the flickering blue glow of the system’s menus. Aura and Regeneration—those two skills were the foundation of his survival. And the more he understood about them, the more he realized how unprepared he’d been. The system had essentially built him a house with no walls and then thrown him into a storm.
But now, the walls were going up. Brick by brick, point by point, he was starting to piece together a strategy. Aura’s silent, constant damage. Regeneration’s steady, dependable healing. The Constitution boost he’d poured into his stats—everything fed into those two skills, amplifying their effectiveness. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t glamorous. But it worked.
Frank leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s see how far we can push this.”
Frank shook out his hands, flexing his fingers to push the stiffness away. The screen before him glowed faintly, a constant reminder that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Sure, he’d taken stock of his skills and the strange gacha system that had landed him with Aura, but there was more to unravel here—more to understand if he wanted any chance of survival.
As his gaze settled on the crafting section of his interface, he couldn’t help but grimace. Crafting. The word alone brought back memories of scrounging together scraps of junk, duct tape, and whatever else he could find in his previous life just to make ends meet. The thought of returning to that scavenger mindset wasn’t exactly appealing. Still, the skill was there, blinking at him from the menu, waiting to be explored.
He tapped on it, and the interface expanded, revealing a long, densely packed screen of options. There were the basics: Scrap Assembly, Basic Smithing, and Improvised Tools. None of it was flashy. In fact, most of the entries seemed designed for someone just starting out—someone who didn’t have access to a proper forge or decent materials. But then again, that described him pretty well at the moment.
----------------------------------------
> Crafting Skill: Beginner Level 1Description: The crafting skill allows for the creation, repair, and enhancement of equipment using a variety of materials. Advanced recipes unlock as skill level increases.
>
> * Current Recipes Available:
> * Scrap Assembly: Combine raw materials into makeshift gear.
> * Basic Smithing: Forge simple weapons or tools with proper equipment.
> * Improvised Tools: Create utility items from limited resources.
----------------------------------------
Frank stared at the descriptions for a long moment before exhaling sharply through his nose. “Okay,” he muttered. “Not exactly cutting-edge technology, but it’s something. I guess it beats running around in rags forever.”
Still, his mind raced as he considered the possibilities. With this skill, he wouldn’t have to rely solely on whatever scraps of equipment he found lying around. He could make his own. It might not be pretty—or particularly durable—but it was a start. More importantly, it gave him options. Options were something he hadn’t had much of lately.
He flicked back to his status screen, his eyes tracing the numbers again. The crafting skill wasn’t going to save him from the next fight. He knew that. But if he played his cards right, it could give him an edge down the line. A better weapon, sturdier armor, or even a few useful gadgets—anything to help tip the odds in his favor.
As he studied the interface, a new thought hit him: what if crafting wasn’t just about equipment? What if it could help him leverage the environment itself? The faint memory of his earth magic skill floated to the surface of his mind. He’d barely touched it so far, but if he could combine it with crafting, maybe—just maybe—he could create something more than just gear. Traps, barricades, even basic structures could all be possibilities.
Frank leaned back against the cool stone wall, staring up at the cavern’s dark ceiling. The idea of blending his abilities into something greater intrigued him. It was a long shot, sure. But if he was going to survive here, he’d have to start thinking beyond just the next fight.
“Alright,” he said softly, a trace of determination creeping into his voice. “Let’s see where this goes.”
Frank sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his breathing steady for the first time since waking up in this accursed place. The faint blue glow of the system interface hovered before him, casting flickering shadows against the rough walls. This time, he wanted the full picture—all of it laid out clearly so he could finally get a grip on where he stood.
The interface shimmered as it loaded, then solidified into a full readout of his status page. His eyes scanned the details slowly, taking in every number, every ability. There was no rush now. The poisoned status was gone, and his regeneration had stabilized. For the first time, he could afford to stop and understand what he’d become.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM INTERFACE: USER STATUSNAME: FRANK (UNREGISTERED ENTITY)LEVEL: 28CLASS: DELVER
>
> HEALTH: [7,500 / 7,656]STAMINA: [52 / 1,686] (STABILIZED)
>
> CONDITION: Normal
>
> CORE ATTRIBUTES:
>
> * STRENGTH: 26
> * DEXTERITY: 24
> * CONSTITUTION: 117
> * INTELLIGENCE: 25
> * WISDOM: 13
> * CHARISMA: 11
>
> PASSIVE SKILLS:
>
> * AURA (Lv 40): Aura Damage: 116.5
> * REGENERATION (Lv 40): (HP/sec): 339.3
>
> DELVER CLASS SKILLS:
>
> * DISASSEMBLY (Lv 1): Material quality and extraction efficiency improved.
> * EARTH MAGIC (Lv 3): Limited terrain manipulation capabilities increased.
>
> UNIQUE ABILITIES:
>
> * POISON RESISTANCE (Lv 5 MAX): All toxin effects nullified.
>
> NO UNSPENT POINTS REMAINING
----------------------------------------
Frank read the entries carefully. Aura was at its peak, and regeneration was no longer struggling to keep up. The “Poison Resistance” line, now maxed, brought a faint smirk to his lips. The meat that once threatened to kill him was now a non-factor, thanks to the cycle he’d endured. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, but it worked.
His gaze shifted to his attributes. Constitution dominated the list, standing far above the others. He wasn’t surprised. That stat had been the cornerstone of his strategy. Without it, Aura wouldn’t have scaled as it did, and regeneration wouldn’t have kept him standing. Strength and Dexterity had received their due as well, just enough to ensure he wasn’t completely unbalanced. Intelligence and Wisdom, though… Frank frowned slightly. He hadn’t given them much thought. Not yet, anyway.
The class skills were another story. Earth Magic, though still low, was an intriguing prospect. He had barely touched its potential. Disassembly, on the other hand, had proven useful enough when it came to stripping materials from the monsters he’d fought. He’d have to invest more time into both eventually, but for now, they weren’t priorities.
He let the screen linger for a moment longer, then swiped it away. The faint hum of the system faded, leaving the cavern in silence once again. The numbers hadn’t changed, but seeing them all laid out like that—clean, orderly, and final—gave him a sense of control. For now, he was ready. The dungeon awaited, and Frank was done waiting.
Frank stared at his status screen, watching stamina tick down. The sight of his stamina bar edging dangerously close to zero sent a jolt through his chest.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM ALERT:STAMINA CRITICAL. SYSTEM REGENERATION WILL CEASE IF STAMINA DEPLETES.
----------------------------------------
His breath hitched. He hadn’t noticed how low it had gotten, not until the system decided to throw that warning in his face. Panic prickled at the edges of his mind as his eyes darted around the cavern. He had chewed through everything edible—if the monstrous flesh could even be called that—and now he was left with scraps too far gone to stomach.
“No, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, fingers twitching as he brought the status interface back up. His health was fine—better than fine, actually. Fully restored, bolstered by the significant attributes and skills he’d allocated after his recent leveling spree. But stamina… that was another story. Every tick of regeneration was pulling from reserves that were no longer there, a cruel joke played by the very system that had stabilized him in the first place.
Frank paced the cramped space, eyes darting to every shadow, every discarded bone, every smudge of ichor on the walls. There had to be something left to eat. Something. Anything. He didn’t dare stop moving. If he sat down, if he let his exhaustion catch up to him, that bar would hit zero, and he had no idea what would happen next.
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM WARNING:STAMINA LEVELS CRITICAL.
----------------------------------------
The blue glow of the interface mocked him, the warning message pulsing in the corner of his vision like a slow, taunting heartbeat. “Oh, sure,” he muttered bitterly. “Warn me when it’s already at the edge, why don’t you? Real helpful.”
There was no response, of course. The system remained silent. The faint flicker of the warning stayed put, unchanging, unwavering. He clenched his jaw and started searching the cavern more thoroughly, overturning stones, ripping apart what remained of the creature’s carcass. Nothing. It was all gone.
His mind raced, desperately trying to think of something he could do. The system hadn’t offered any solutions, only that grim warning. His regeneration was the lifeline keeping him stable, but now it felt like a noose tightening around his throat. Without stamina, regeneration would shut off. If that happened, would his health start dropping again? Would he be left defenseless, weak, and bleeding out in this godforsaken place?
A faint flicker of light caught his eye, and he turned sharply. It was nothing. Just the interface shifting slightly as he moved. The walls loomed closer, pressing in. The silence of the cavern seemed louder now, deafening, as though the entire dungeon was holding its breath, waiting to see what he’d do.
Frank glanced back at the dwindling bar, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel time running out, the numbers ticking down like a countdown he couldn’t stop. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. There had to be something he’d missed, some hidden resource, some way to—
----------------------------------------
> SYSTEM NOTICE:STAMINA DEPLETED. SYSTEM REGENERATION SHUTTING DOWN.
----------------------------------------
The message appeared before his eyes, stark and final. Frank froze, his breath catching. “Oh Shit,” he muttered to himself