PREVIOUSLY-
Theo took a slow breath and stepped forward, axe in hand.
The cave around him breathed.
Something clicked deeper in the stone.
Something wet.
Something waiting.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-
STEP!
Theo arrived at what seemed like bone strewn corridors that loomed like old battlefield graves.
DING!
[REACHED LEVEL 2!]
[DO YOU WISH TO ENTER?]
Theobald sighed,
"Yes."
DING!
[COMMENCING LEVEL 2]
[ENTERING BONE WARRENS]
GROWL!
A pair of goblin-like beings emerged. They were larger and maintained a formation.
Hobgoblins.
A tall, muscular hobgoblin stepped forward, plates of mismatched salvaged armour clinking with every stride. Dried sinew held some of it together. His clawed fists tightened around the shaft of a worn, splintered spear—half wood, half rusted iron.
He didn't roar.
He threw.
THROW!
The spear tore through the air with a shrill, bone-chilling SWISH!
Theo twisted to the side—the head scraped past his ribs, close enough to feel the pull of wind as it buried itself in the bark behind him with a thunk.
LUNGE!
Another hobgoblin came flying in, blade raised, feet leaving the earth. A second crept from the rear—blade low, targeting Theo's blind side.
"The more you use your heads," Theo murmured, chuckling darkly,
"the easier it becomes."
CLANG!
Theo's axe met the leaping hobgoblin's sword mid-air, steel grinding against steel.
Then came the follow-through—his axe swept low and caught the creature across the torso.
SLICE!
TEAR!
Flesh parted. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed.
The hobgoblin hit the ground in a wet thud, twitching once before going still.
As the corpse fell, Theo's hand shot out, snatching its sword mid-air. Without even looking, he whipped the blade backward—driving it straight into the eye of the goblin behind him.
"!@#@$^!*"
The hobgoblin shrieked, flailing.
SHLK!
Theo didn't even flinch—his boot slammed forward, driving the hilt deeper, until the tip punched out the back of the skull.
The goblin's legs gave way. It collapsed in a pile.
Cold. Lifeless.
CRUNCH!
Theo's elbow shattered another attacker's skull, bone and brain bursting like rotten fruit.
GRAB!
Before he could pivot, a burly hobgoblin lunged from behind, wrapping massive arms around Theo's torso, locking him in place.
"!@#!"
it grunted, straining with effort.
Its partner came barrelling in—heavier, snarling, flail swinging in a wide arc.
KICK!
Theo's boots launched upward—he planted them squarely in the charging hobgoblin's face, using the force to lift himself.
SWISH!
The creature's momentum turned against him—his body twisted mid-air and crumpled into the dirt, groaning.
But Theo didn't fall. He flipped
His boots planted on the muscly hobgoblin's back, his weight now above him.
"Sweet dreams," Theo whispered with a grin.
CRACK!
His arms snapped tight around the hobgoblin's throat.
One twist. One jerk.
A sickening pop.
The creature's legs buckled.
It dropped—a lifeless heap beneath Theo's boots.
RUSH!
The remaining hobgoblins charged at Theo.
"That's good,"
Gorvax chuckled.
SWISH!
SLICE!
TEAR!
SPLAT!
But before any hobgoblin could come closer. Theo rushed towards them.
His axe cracked skulls, sliced throats, tore limbs until he alone remained standing.
"Fuu…"
Theo closed his eyes,
"Did you see that, Mr. Gorvax?"
He turned to Rook and Gorvax.
"Whatever, just eat some of their meet and get to your circulation."
"You could just say, 'good'"
Theo grumbled.
"Krrr!"
Rook shrieked, clapping his wings.
"Thanks partner!"
Theo beamed.
CHOMP!
Theo tried to bite a hobgoblin's arm.
"Gargh!"
His stomach lurched.
"Rook!"
"Krr,"
The vulture flew to him, giving him a flask of water.
Theo picked up an arm again.
BITE!
"Gurrgh!"
His throat rejected the meat, even water couldn't wash it down anymore.
"Haah… haah…"
Theo panted.
"Krr…"
Rook stretched out a talon.
TAP!
Theo tapped his fist against his talon.
"No worries partner, I will overcome this myself,"
He inspected the arm of another hobgoblin closely.
SLICE!
TEAR!
Theo gripped the severed arm by the wrist. With his knife angled just beneath the elbow, he made a shallow incision and ran the blade down the length of the forearm, slicing open the skin like peeling fruit.
Dark blood oozed out sluggishly, pooling in the dirt.
He dug his fingers beneath the flap and ripped the skin free, tendons snapping like wet twine.
"Gotta drain it before it stiffens," he muttered.
Once the blood had been drained, Theo wiped his blade clean on the grass and rose to his feet. He reached for his pole.
BLAZE!
One end of the staff erupted in flame, flickering orange and blue.
The hobgoblin meat hissed as he lowered it toward the fire.
CRACKLE.
The smell of scorched sinew rose as he roasted the flesh, slowly turning it over the blaze.
"What are you doing, boy?"
Gorvax's voice echoed.
Theo shrugged.
"Figured eating it cooked would be safer. Might burn off the impurities."
He eyed the meat warily.
"Krr!"
Rook chirped from a crooked perch above, wings ruffling with interest.
"Here. One for you too."
Theo tore off a small chunk and held it up.
"Krrr…"
Rook swooped down, beak spearing the chunk in midair.
BITE!
The little beast chewed noisily, feathers puffing with satisfaction.
Theo hesitated, then took a bite of his own.
'Tastes like boiled leather... with hints of wet dog. But edible.'
'I need to bring salt next time.'
He crouched and laid a few blood-slicked bones near Rook.
"Have some marrow-rich ones too. Don't say I never feed you."
"Krr!"
Rook's eyes gleamed as it began pecking through the bones, beak tapping like a tiny hammer.
"What about me?"
Gorvax's voice returned, tone drier than dust.
"I want some."
Theo glanced at the werewolf.
"Can you eat?" he asked, brow raised.
"...No."
"Then why ask?"
TAP.
Theo rose and strode deeper into the corridor, boots echoing softly on the stone.
SQUEAK.
A faint, wet sound emerged from the darkness ahead.
He froze.
The fire on his pole flickered lower, casting long shadows.
Something was waiting.
From the shadows emerged, large, furless rats with black eyes and razor teeth.
Bonepicker Rats.
"Not this again!"
Theo cried.
SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK!
A horde of bonepicker rats appeared before Theo.
The faint squeak echoed again, sharper now—wet nails scratching stone, sliding over loose gravel.
Theo's breath was shallow, tight in his chest. The flame on his pole flickered uncertainly in the stale air. He crouched low, boots silent against the slick floor.
From the shadows burst the creature.
Its frame was twisted, sinewy—a hollowed husk of flesh stretched over brittle bones. Its eyes were pale pits, glassy with hunger. Jagged teeth snapped in a cruel grin.
THUD!
It slammed into Theo's left shoulder, knocking him sideways against the wall. The breath slammed out of him, pain flaring sharp and sudden.
Theo's hand tightened on the pole, reflex swinging it down in a wide arc.
CRACK!
The heavy end smashed into the creature's ribs, a sickening crunch echoing in the narrow corridor. But it didn't stop.
With inhuman speed, the tunnelborn swiped claws toward Theo's throat.
WHOOSH!
Theo dropped the pole just in time and yanked his axe free from his belt.
SLASH!
The blade bit into the creature's arm, tearing ragged flesh and crunching bone.
SNAP!
The claw curled uselessly, blood spilling like dark rain onto the stone.
The beast snarled, lungs rattling with fury, and leapt forward.
Theo stumbled back, pivoting sharply as the creature's other hand slashed at his ribs.
He caught the wrist with one arm, twisting hard. A bone cracked with a sickening pop.
The creature howled, snarling in pain.
Theo's boots slid slightly on loose gravel, but he didn't falter. He jabbed the pole forward, flames licking the shaft.
The fire caught the beast's face, making it recoil, screeching.
CHOP!
Theo swung his axe in a brutal overhead arc, cleaving through sinew and skull with a wet crunch.
The creature collapsed, limbs twitching spasmodically, eyes wild but dimming.
Theo didn't wait.
He slammed the pole's burning end into the creature's chest, forcing it down.
SIZZLE!
Flesh hissed and blackened as smoke curled upward.
A weak claw groped for him—Theo kicked it aside.
He crouched low, axe raised, and with one final strike—
CRACK!
The skull shattered beneath the blow, sending fragments of bone and dried blood spraying across the wall.
Theo's lungs burned; sweat dripped down his forehead, mixing with grime and blood.
The corridor was silent again—save for the drip of water echoing in the dark.
Theo wiped his blade on the creature's torn flesh, then sheathed his axe and grabbed his pole.
He glanced toward the shadows ahead.
There would be more.
The corpse of the first tunnelborn lay still, smoke rising from the charred wounds, but Theo didn't pause. His breath was ragged, every muscle tight with adrenaline. Faint wisps of crimson rising from him. The narrow corridor offered no room for error—he stayed alert.
A faint scrabbling noise echoed behind him.
RATTEETH.
From cracks in the walls, dozens of small shapes surged forward—swarming, snarling, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Their claws clicked on stone, tails whipping, teeth gnashing.
Theo tightened his grip on the pole. Flames still flickered at the end, but the fire was weak.
He swung the heavy shaft in a wide arc, catching the first wave of rats.
CRACK! CRACK!
The pole smashed several of the creatures, bodies crushed beneath the blow.
But the rats were relentless, slipping past and swarming his legs.
Theo dropped low, bringing the pole down again—smashing skulls, cracking spines.
But the swarm only grew. Dozens of beady eyes fixed on him, their shrill cries bouncing off the stone walls.
One rat leapt at Theo's ankle, claws digging in.
Theo slammed the pole down, but it was too close.
BITE!
Sharp teeth snapped at his boot, tearing leather.
He spun, brought his small axe up in a chopping motion.
SLASH!
The blade sliced clean through the snarling rat's neck.
Blood sprayed warm across Theo's forearm.
More rats surged—bodies slipping under the pole's arc.
Theo's boots shuffled backwards, seeking higher ground on a pile of rubble.
He swung the pole horizontally, sweeping rats off their feet.
But one lunged from behind.
Theo twisted sharply, raising his axe just in time to block a vicious bite aimed at his throat.
CLANG!
Steel met teeth; the rat screamed in frustration.
Theo kicked hard, sending it tumbling back into the pile of its kin.
The fire at the pole's tip sputtered out.
He cursed under his breath and struck the flint against stone, sparks catching.
Flames flickered back to life.
Rats hesitated—fire was an old enemy.
Theo pressed forward, jabbing the flaming pole into the thick of the swarm.
SIZZLE!
The rats scattered, yelping as fur caught flame.
But some dived under, attacking from blind spots.
Theo cursed and crouched low, swinging the pole vertically, crushing rat skulls beneath its heavy end.
CRUNCH! CRACK!
The corridor became a chaotic blur of snapping jaws, flailing limbs, and the hiss of flame.
Theo's axe gleamed—bloodied but steady.
When the swarm surged too close, he stabbed viciously with the axe, targeting heads and necks.
SLICE! TEAR!
Rats fell in bloody heaps.
Fatigue gnawed at him, muscles trembling.
He swallowed pain, wiped sweat from his brow, and focused.
Behind him, the tunnelborn stirred, weak but not dead.
Theo cursed—no time to rest.
He lunged forward, axe raised, driving the blade deep into the creature's skull once more.
The twitching stopped.
The rats faltered.
Theo's breath came hard and fast, but his eyes burned with grim determination.
This fight wasn't over.
Somewhere towards the south of the Verdantcrag Woods-
"Mr. Drelgor," Raphael turned to Drelgor,
"Why are we only getting normal and hard difficulty labyrinths?"
TAP!
DING!
The purple screen shimmered to life before him.
TAP!
-----[QUEST: Labyrinth Hunter]-----
◈ Clear 15 labyrinths
Progress: [12/15]
Reward: ???
Penalty: None
------------------------------
"Boy," Drelgor said, arms crossed and wings flicking behind him,
"I am surprised by how much you've grown in a single night."
RUSTLE!
Raphael waved the worn, leather-bound "spell book" in his hand. The pages fluttered with a whispering sound, still damp from morning mist and blood.
"Master Drelgor," he said evenly, "this was very helpful."
Drelgor gave a delighted chirr, wings half-unfurling in a twitch of pride.
"Ah! Now you begin to see the brilliance of our master," he said, the purple embers behind his faceplate glowing.
"He knew you were the surgical type. All finesse, no waste."
Raphael smirked, the barest curve of lip—cold and efficient.
"You're a fast learner," Drelgor continued, talons tapping the dirt as he strutted.
"The way you struck all their vital points... precise. Clean. I daresay not even a surgeon of the Medic Guild could do better. Have you memorized the whole tome already?"
Raphael tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable.
"I only studied the anatomy of monsters found in Verdancrag Wood."
Drelgor gave a sharp laugh, half pride, half mischief.
"Studying smartly, hmm?"
He gestured broadly to the thicket behind them, where carcasses of felled monsters lay in eerie silence—eyes glassy, vital organs neatly ruined.
"Keep it up, boy," Drelgor said, voice lowering into something raspier. "Kill with knowledge, not just steel."
Raphael turned the book over in his hand once more. Blood clung to the edge of the cover like paint to a brush.
He nodded, then walked forward—silent as a shadow.
CRUNCH!
Raphael turned, pivoting low. The butt of his spear kissed the dirt as its gleaming head leveled forward, unwavering, deadly. His posture was firm, his breath even—every muscle coiled in readiness to strike.
"I-It's me,"
The voice trembled. A breath caught between fear and recognition.
A thin hand emerged from behind a crooked pine, pale against the shadows. Fingers slightly scraped, faint streaks of blood around the knuckles.
Raphael's eyes narrowed. His grip slackened.
The figure stepped out, brushing aside low-hanging leaves. Hair the color of ocean light spilled over her shoulders in knotted tangles. Her robes clung to her frame in damp folds, torn at the hem, speckled with dried mud. Yet her sapphire eyes still held that familiar clarity—a glint of pride under exhaustion.
Raphael straightened slowly, lowering his spear. His voice was calm, yet the edge of tension remained.
"Good morning, Lady Miriel."
He bowed slightly, stiff with formality.
Miriel's lips parted, unsure. Her gaze flicked to his face, then the spear, then back again. Her fingers clutched the fabric of her sleeve, knuckles pale.
"Good morning, umm…"
She hesitated. Her eyes pleaded for something—permission, maybe. A bridge between who they were and who they were trying to be.
Raphael noticed the way she swallowed. The pause. The unsaid.
"The name is… Raphaeldor," he said, with a small shrug, then softened, "Or just Raphael."
Her grip tightened slightly around her robe's edge. A flicker of a smile ghosted her lips—awkward, restrained.
"Okay, R-Raphael," she said quietly.
Raphael blinked. Then, without thinking, he slammed his fist against his chest.
A thud.
'I nearly died back there,' he thought, his heartbeat still erratic from before—not the ambush, but this.
He looked at her—Miriel, as if seeing her for the first time again. She was thinner than he remembered. Her shoulders carried fatigue that went beyond mana depletion or combat stress. Her brows furrowed in concern.
"Are you okay, Raphael?"
Her voice carried genuine worry. Not polite curiosity, but the kind that caught you off guard.
He stiffened, confused at the warmth rising in his chest.
"I am well, Lady Miriel," he answered quickly, though his words came out sharper than intended.
She bit her lower lip. Nervously. Her eyes dipped to the ground.
"Please… call me Miriel," she said.
His breath caught.
'Miriel! She wants me to call her Miriel!'
He nodded too quickly. Too forcefully.
"Very well… Miriel."
The name lingered in the air between them like a spark that refused to die. Her cheeks blossomed with colour, warmth rising to her ears, turning them a soft rose hue. She turned her face slightly, but not before he caught the way her lips curved.
Then—
SNAP.
A sharp crack echoed through the woods—branch breaking. Not far.
Raphael immediately turned, his spear halfway raised again, eyes trained on the trees Miriel had emerged from.
"Please," he said without looking back, "come out, Miriel's… friends."
Leaves rustled. Hesitant steps. Three figures emerged from the shade of pine and bramble—girls around Miriel's age, their clothes torn at the seams. One limped slightly, a rough bandage wrapped around her calf. Another cradled her arm against her chest. Dried blood flecked their sleeves.
Their eyes met his cautiously, wide with the wary edge of those who'd seen more than they should've.
Raphael looked them over, then back at Miriel.
"Did you stumble upon a labyrinth of hell difficulty?"
His tone wasn't mocking—if anything, it was almost impressed.
"Yes," Miriel answered with a grim nod, her voice steadier now.
Raphael stroked his chin with two fingers, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"I think you would have no difficulty in one… if you had three companions."
A slight, rare smile tugged at his lips—barely there.
Miriel blinked, the corners of her mouth twitching in return.
'He thinks I will have no difficulty…'
Her heart fluttered.
'Is he… complimenting me?'
Raphael tilted his head slightly.
"I am praising you," he said aloud, as if reading her thoughts.
Miriel's eyes widened. Her lips parted, then closed again in a deeper, more genuine smile. Her shoulders relaxed for the first time since she'd stepped out.
'He is praising me…'
Beside Raphael, Drelgor gave a low chortle, nudging his armoured elbow into the boy's ribs.
"Boy, I didn't take you for the straightforward type."
Raphael barely spared him a glance, eyes still on Miriel.
"I wanted to see her smile more."
Miriel's breath hitched at the quiet confession.
Before another word could bloom, a voice cut in—an interruption as jarring as a sword clang.
"We… need your help," a girl said hesitantly. Her hair was bright orange, tied in a loose braid over her shoulder, freckles scattered across her dirt-streaked cheeks.
Raphael turned his head slowly toward her.
"How?"
His tone was level again. Measured.
"Well, we… we made it to level eight," she explained, fidgeting. "But it seems the next floor—level nine—requires five participants to unlock the gate."
Raphael didn't answer immediately.
"Yes, will you help us?"
Miriel asked, stepping forward slightly.
Her voice was soft, uncertain.
Raphael felt the question carve into his thoughts like a blade.
'I can't.'
He turned inward, his expression unreadable.
'I need to separate my personal matters from the test.'
His gaze lingered on Miriel.
She was tired, hopeful, determined—and still smiling.
'I am sorry, Lady Miriel… but I can't risk this over a mere crush of age.'
He closed his eyes for a beat. And then—
Just as Raphael turned his back toward the group—
DING!
-----[INBOX]------
◈Hidden quest received.
Do you wish to accept?
(Y/N)
--------------------
Raphael chuckled,
"Let's see what we have here."
TAP!
DING!
-----[HIDDEN QUEST]----
◈ Go on a dungeon date.
Progress: [0%]
Reward: Vitreocleave Doctrine
Penalty: Baldness
Detail- Do you know baldness? Yes, Baldness?
------------------------------
"Boy," Drelgor gasped, "We need that-,"
"I," Raphael interrupted Drelgor,
"I am going!"
Raphael turned to Miriel. Miriel and her friends had healed themselves and prepared their gear.
"Okay,"
Miriel nodded shyly.
Drelgor smirked,
"Wow, excited for a date. Huh?"
Raphael shook his head,
"I don't know why the system is playing cupid. But,"
He ran a hand through his hair,
"I am not going to be bald."
"Haha!" Drelgor wheezed,
"I don't know whether to be happy or sad now."
Raphael clenched his wrists,
"Happy…. Let's be happy."