Rana leaned against the wall of the rocky corridors and glanced out of the corner into an empty tunnel. There was a muted groaning in the darkness and it shambled closer, but she knew it was what dwells in the silence that she had to be wary of.

She waited and an unsteady silhouette in the shadows limped into the faint light. The zombie wandered, searching for life essence to prolong its damned existence, unaware that its undead life was about end. Rana remained motionless. She was not one to act.

The ground below the zombie shuffled as the muted movement within the dirt breached the surface. The sharp fang of the Rot Eaters launched into the walking corpse and tore through rotting skin and putrid flesh. The victim did not realize it was being consumed, or rather, it did not care. It simply dragged its broken body forward.

The scouts were preoccupied with their meal. It was her chance. Rana came out of her cover and ran past the zombie. She had no sympathy for the poor soul before her. The zombies were not her kin. She only felt dread. The sound of unrelenting blades cutting into bone and scraping out bits of meat were reminders of what would happen to her if she lost the game of cat and mouse.

The Rot Mother was blind and deaf, a congregation of dead flesh given sentience and form. In a Dungeon with the monster active, Rot Eaters were not just minor inconveniences, they were her eyes and ears. If an adventurer was to alert the little worms of their presence, it was an invitation to be absorbed and dissolved by a whirlwind of corrupting flesh.

The Rot Mother in these mines was hunting Rana. She was the prey and she would use that to her advantage.

Rot Eaters were lesser-monsters and had limited intelligence. They could sense rotting flesh but the ability was weak. It was their sense of touch that guided most of their awareness. The most information they could give the mother was where they were and what it was. This meant that as long as they did not touch Rana, the worms would not be able to sense her mana.

Rana left the zombie behind her. She gave the wretched body one last look as the worms cut through its bone. It slumped to the ground and waited to be devoured. The Rot Eaters would not be able to tell a zombie ran past them, they were preoccupied with their feast and its rotting flesh masked Rana’s smell of the dead.

The Rot Mother was looking for dead flesh rich with mana, not some decaying zombie. One was a prized treat and the other an insignificant snack. The only information she would’ve received from her scouts was that they dined on some zombie flesh.

Rana ducked into a lowered opening and crawled through a narrow passage. She lifted herself out of a hole and found herself in a tall corridor with walls instead of jagged earth. Good. She would be able to take a brief rest here. Rot Eaters were not able to dig through hard stone and the Rot Mother would not risk the tunnel collapsing.

Still, Rana had little time to rest. She needed to go deeper into the mines which meant overcoming challenges other than the Rot Mother.

She took a look at her surroundings. Walls and tiles similar to the ones in the previous floor entrance, made out the tunnel before her. Unlike the tunnels dug out of the earth, these constructed corridors were indications that the adventure was on the right track towards their goal, the core of the Dungeon. These halls were usually void of monsters and only lone stray ones wandered within. However, the lost monster would soon fall victim to the danger presented in these tunnels.

Traps killed all who entered, whether they were human or monster.

The traps here were not as elaborate or grand as the ones in a floor entrance, but the threat they pose, especially towards a level one mage-class with low health, should not be underestimated. However, these halls were only located past the first floor-entrance. The traps should be manageable as long as she was careful.

Rana stood up and began walking forward. Unlike the floor entrance, tunnel traps were hastily made and needed to adhere to the shifting nature of the mines. This meant that they were more robust, simpler, and easy to spot.

There was a slightly raised plate and several deliberate cracks within the wall to its side. Rana sighed. It was almost childish. She stopped before the plate and inspected the area in front of her. There were many cracks on the ceiling but two splits, in particular, were long and cut through the others.

She wondered why this corridor was where it was. The Dungeon surely was not expecting the careful to fall for the traps. However, the careful would’ve never chosen to explore these mines in the first place.

It was difficult to understand the mind of a Dungeon. Hatred was never a rational thought.

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Rana marched forward. She planned out her steps and avoided triggering the many juvenile traps. Most of them seemed to be set off by obvious contraptions, but some were launched by the mines themselves. She was able to tell where the attack would come from, but since she wanted to conserve mana, she relied on either defending with her staff and jacket or dodging, the latter which lead to her triggering more traps.

Click. The ceiling above rumbled and Rana rolled forward as a bunch of spiked debris stabbed into the ground of where she once was. The pointed death fell from quite high and it gave her ample time to dodge. She patted down the jacket of dust, a futile gesture considering what was wearing it, and looked at the result behind her. That was when she heard footsteps.

Rana called upon her mana.

She turned around and saw eyes leaking green smoke. It had eight slabs of scale for legs and a body of hissing spores. She winced at its crinkly visage and was glad she had no functioning nose or lung. The stench of a Shambler caused nausea in the strongest of wills and its gas poisoned the lungs. The large glow on the top of its body pumped even thicker gas. Still, she cursed her luck. She knew there were wandering monsters, she didn’t expect to encounter one this soon.

Shamblers were not difficult under normal circumstances. They were slow and their tells were conspicuous. Their massive health pool made for a prolonged fight, but it did not have the physical stats to make use of that advantage, unlike the Fenris. The monster’s unique ability was the spikes launching from its spores and jaws. However, the spikes were weak and the range short. A strong melee fighter was able to tank them and physically frail simply needed to keep their distance.

The issue was that these corridors were narrow and Rana had low health. It meant she cannot use the normal means of fighting the Shambler. She had to use the corridors that impeded her to her advantage.

Rana turned around and ran. The Shambler screeched from its body and began its chase. The powerful legs stomped and raised dust but Rana paid the monster no attention. She deliberate stepped on the triggers but since she was running towards the opposite direction and knew where the traps would be coming from, they slowed down the Shambler rather than her.

She saw several holes on the ground and jumped over a plate and ran until she was in front of the hole that lead to these corridors. The Shambler spotted its prey. The prey was about to escape and the monster charged towards her. Just as she planned. Rana never intended to run. Her goal lied ahead and behind her was something far worse than the monstrosity before her.

Rana ran towards the Shambler. She noted the pattern in its steps and the narrow opening next to the walls. The monster was surprised but unable to stop its charge. She slipped past the monster that crashed into the dead end. The crash broke the wall. It quickly recovered but it struggled to turn around as its feet stuck within the narrow walls.

Rana waited until it spotted her. She ran and let the Shambler follow. Its anger increased its speed but she was already where she needed to be. She never intended to have a Shambler chasing her back during her exploration of the mines. The Rot Mother alone was enough of a threat.

Rana stepped on the plate she leaped over earlier. She turned to face the monster and skipped back. A lance speared out from the ground and caught her jacket from within. The edge was not enough to pierce the kingdom’s finest equipment, but it was enough to bring her to the ceiling. She gathered mana within her body and a Spell burned on her palm.

It was a wisp, a dancing dot of flame. It was Fool’s Fire.

Rana dropped Fool’s Fire into the opening on top of the Shambler's body. The fire was weak, a cheap jester incapable of inciting even a chuckle on its own. The wisp would only fizzle. However, against the volatile, easily influenced crowd, even a fool could elicit an explosion of noise.

The red dot fell slowly into the body of the Shambler, a furnace of highly poisonous and unstable gas.

The monster burst into flames. Burning flesh splattered the walls and smoke filled the corridors. The Shambler was dead.

Rana smiled but it was quickly replaced with a frown once she realized she cannot wiggle off of the spear. Its blade dug deep into the ceiling. With a sigh, she slipped out of the jacket and slid down the wooden handle. It was unfortunate to lose the jacket, but she rather lose a piece of clothing than her life. The only issue now was that she needed to find something else to cover her noticeable dead skin.

There was an explosion and Rana tensed. It came from the distance and the familiar sound of collapsing dirt meant only one thing.

The Rot Mother was near.