The air crackled with tension, thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid sting of burning flesh. The cavern walls were lined with jagged rock, flickering torchlight casting deep shadows that twisted with every movement.
Henry's muscles burned, his breathing controlled but heavy. The battle wasn't over yet.
A blur of motion—
He twisted his body, barely dodging as a razor-clawed beast lunged past him, its serrated talons slicing through the empty air where his throat had been seconds ago. The creature slammed into the cavern wall, let out a piercing screech, then rebounded toward him—this time faster, angrier, hungrier.
Abyssal Gorefang – Level 4-E Rank.
HP: 900.
Threat Level: Moderate.
Abilities: Serrated Claws, Enhanced Agility, Blood Frenzy.
Henry had faced these things before, but the 14th floor wasn't playing fair anymore. The Gorefangs here weren't just fast and vicious, they were relentless. Their glowing amber eyes locked onto him, their movements perfectly synchronized.
Another one emerged from the darkness, its muscular frame twisting mid-air, aiming to take his head clean off.
Two at once.
His instincts screamed.
Move.
Henry dropped low, sliding under the first Gorefang's wild swipe. The second beast landed inches from him, its claws carving deep gouges into the rock.
He didn't hesitate.
His blade flashed—
SHRRK!
Steel tore through flesh, a clean, precise cut along the second Gorefang's exposed flank. The beast let out a gurgling hiss, black ichor spraying from the wound.
Henry yanked his sword free, pivoting just in time to see the first Gorefang charging again.
Too fast.
He braced—
A shockwave erupted.
The Gorefang's attack never landed.
Its body seized mid-motion, a jagged spear of stone impaling it from below, lifting the beast several feet off the ground.
It let out a final, guttural snarl before its form disintegrated into dust, the magic fading as quickly as it had appeared.
Henry exhaled sharply.
As he checked his progress.
EXP Gained: +450.
Total EXP: 1,750 / 18,000.
The second Gorefang barely had time to react before Henry was on it, his blade carving through muscle and bone in one clean stroke.
It fell.
The cavern fell silent.
Henry straightened, his chest rising and falling as he wiped the sweat and blood from his brow.
He then checked his stats.
Status Update.
Name: Henry Gray.
Rank: E-Rank, Level 3.
HP: 770/800,
EXP: 1,750 / 18,000.
Available Skill Points: 40,
Abilities.
Dash Level 3 – Enhanced speed burst.
Titan's Grip Level 3 – Increased weapon force.
Domain of the Stonebreaker Level 2.
Dash had leveled up.
So had Titan's Grip.
He had leveled up 3 times, doing his rampage through each floor, and now the EXP required to level up again was huge, but he knew that when he does level up, he would be getting something huge in return.
Every fight, every clash of steel, every second spent on the edge of survival pushed him further.
But the gap between levels was widening.
The first few ranks had come quickly—kill, grow, survive—but now, every step forward cost more, demanded more.
The dungeon wasn't going to let him climb easily anymore.
And that only made him more determined to push forward.
He sheathed his blade and turned toward the exit of the 14th floor.
The 15th floor awaited.
Henry stepped through the threshold—
And the world changed.
The air was wrong.
Too thick. Too heavy. Laced with something metallic that settled like rust on his tongue.
His boots sank slightly into a floor that pulsed beneath him, soft and organic—like stepping on flesh.
The walls towered impossibly high, slick with dark liquid, veins crisscrossing them in thick, throbbing tendrils.
This wasn't a normal dungeon anymore.
It was alive.
Henry's grip tightened on his sword, the faint hum of his system barely registering as it struggled to process the new environment.
Then—
The ground rumbled.
A low, distant sound—not quite a growl, not quite a whisper—vibrated through the chamber.
Something massive was waking.
A shadow loomed overhead, blocking out the sickly green glow filtering from above.
And then—
It dropped.
Enemies Identified: Fleshwoven Behemoth – Level 5.
Rank E.
HP: 1000
Threat Level: High
Abilities: Regenerative Mass, Acidic Tendrils, Crushing Bulk.
It stood twice Henry's height, its body a grotesque tangle of muscle, jagged bone spikes jutting from its limbs like weapons.
Its face—if it could even be called that—was nothing but a gaping maw, writhing tendrils tipped with acidic barbs, dripping a hissing black liquid that sizzled where it fell.
It roared, and the dungeon shook with it.
Henry didn't flinch.
The Behemoth lunged.
He rolled sideways, the acidic tendrils whipping through the air where he had been standing a second ago. His cloak sizzled, the edges burning away from the poison.
He came up swinging—
A clean slice across one of its tendrils.
Black ichor splattered against the floor, the severed limb writhing like a dying snake before melting into the organic terrain.
But the Behemoth barely reacted.
Its wounds knitted shut almost instantly.
Regeneration.
Henry gritted his teeth. Great.
"Fine," he muttered, adrenaline burning through his veins. "Let's see how fast you can heal."
He dashed forward, weaving through the monster's limbs as they lashed out. His blade flashed—once, twice, three times—each strike carving into the Behemoth's bulging flesh, but the wounds vanished almost as quickly as they appeared.
Then—
A tendril caught him off-guard, slamming into his side and sending him skidding across the floor.
The pain flared sharp and hot, but he forced it down.
No time for that.
The chamber trembled.
Then he saw it.
At the Behemoth's core, buried deep within its heaving chest, a glowing red crystal pulsed faintly.
A weak point.
Henry smirked.
"Got you."
Then the Fleshwoven Behemoth roared, its acidic tendrils lashing wildly, forcing Henry to dodge and weave between the relentless attacks.
The crystal at its core pulsed, each throb matching the dungeon's eerie heartbeat.
Henry's eyes locked onto it.
His way out. His only chance.
The Behemoth swung one of its massive, bone-spiked limbs, aiming to crush him against the pulsing walls. Henry kicked off the unstable floor, using Dash to blur out of the attack's path.
The moment his boots touched the ground again—
He moved.
He charged straight at the creature, ignoring the pain in his ribs, ignoring the burning in his muscles.
He was going to end this.
The Behemoth twisted, trying to intercept him. Tendrils snapped out, but Henry was too fast.
His sword carved through the first.
His Titan's Grip-enhanced fist shattered the second.
Then he leaped.
His blade glowed with raw force as he drove it into the creature's chest, sinking deep into the core.
CRACK!
The red crystal inside the Behemoth splintered, light erupting from the wound.
The creature convulsed violently, its body thrashing as if trying to resist the inevitable collapse.
But it was over.
The dungeon itself trembled as the Behemoth let out one final, ear-shattering roar before exploding into a cascade of black ichor and light.
The walls groaned.
As the ground buckled beneath Henry's feet.