Near death
"I'm going to die."
"You're not going to die."
"I'm DEFINITELY going to die."
"Stop being dramatic."
We managed to reach the 14th floor in one piece. Somehow. Against all odds and my better judgment.
I nearly got fried by a Hellhound ten minutes ago—black fur, red eyes, flames spitting from its jaws like it was personally offended by my existence. My left shoulder still throbbed where the fire had grazed me, leather armor singed and smoking faintly.
Then, five minutes after THAT, my skull almost got crushed by a Silverback.
A FREAKIN SILVERBACK. On the 14th floor!
"Why didn't you tell me those freaks spawn here?!" I'd screamed while diving behind a rock formation, the ape-monster's fist cratering the stone where my head had been.
Raska raised her hand mid-dodge, grinning. "Oh yeah! Forgot to mention that!"
"FORGOT?!"
"My bad!"
Her face said she wasn't sorry at all. In fact, she looked like she was having the time of her life.
Now we stood in a spring chamber—high ceiling, water trickling down moss-covered walls, light crystals casting everything in pale blue. Safe. Quiet.
For now.
That grey-haired girl—Elara—surveyed the perimeter with sharp focus. Like she expected something to jump out at any second. Which is fair. This was the Dungeon. Something ALWAYS jumped out.
"Clear," she announced.
"For now," I muttered, eyeing the tunnel entrances. Three of them. Any one could spawn a monster.
"Relax, goblin guy." Raska stretched, rolling her shoulders. Grey fur rippled over muscle. Half a foot taller than me and built like she bench-pressed Minotaur's for fun.
Which, honestly, she probably could.
Hell, everyone in this world probably could. Even the KIDS here had Falna-boosted strength that made Earth's Olympic athletes look like toddlers. I'd seen a ten-year-old carry a barrel twice her size like it was a pillow.
Everyone except me, apparently.
My ghost Falna was weird like that. Stats that didn't match. Strength that felt wrong. Like I was constantly fighting against my own body's limits.
"We just cleared a Dungeon Worm. Monsters won't respawn for at least ten minutes."
"A Dungeon Worm that was GREENISH," I shot back. "They're not supposed to be green!"
Elara glanced over. "Discoloration happens sometimes. Environmental factors."
"Or mutation." Raska finished.
"...Or mutation."
"GREAT. That makes me feel SO much better."
I stumbled toward the spring, legs shaking. The fight with that worm—watching it burst from the ground, mouth wide enough to swallow a person whole, all those TEETH—
Nausea hit me hard.
I crouched by the water's edge. Cupped my palms. Splashed my face.
Cold. Sharp. Blessedly real.
"Hey! Don't go near the—"
A claw exploded from the water.
Massive. Black. Dripping.
My brain screamed. My body froze. Time slowed as those claws reached for my face—
A sword flew past my cheek. So close I felt the wind.
It severed the claw mid-reach.
Black smoke erupted. The claw dissolved. The water rippled violently, then stilled.
I didn't move. Couldn't. Just knelt there, heart trying to break through my ribcage.
Raska appeared beside me in a blur, claws extended. Her expression torn between worry and exasperation.
"Are you DUMB?!" she snapped, grabbing my collar and hauling me back. "Don't EVER let your guard down inside the Dungeon! ESPECIALLY on the middle floors!"
"I—I was just—"
"Just WHAT? Taking a bath?"
"I'm sorry!"
"You SHOULD be sorry! That was a crab monster! One grab and you'd be GONE!"
I nodded frantically. My heart hammered so hard I could taste copper.
I'd never gotten past the 4th floor before this. Solo, I could maybe manage the 5th or 6th if I was careful. Really, really careful. But one mistake meant another War Shadow incident. One slip, and you're dead.
Now I was on the 14th floor.
With THESE two.
Still couldn't process how this happened.
Elara approached, sheathing her sword smoothly. Not a single strand of pale grey-ash hair out of place. Blue eyes assessed me. "You alright?"
Her tone was neutral. Professional. Like she was checking equipment, not a person.
"Y-yeah. Fine. Totally fine."
"You're shaking."
"That's just... adrenaline. Normal adrenaline. Very normal."
Raska snorted. "You almost died. Again."
"I'm aware!"
"Third time today."
"I'M AWARE!"
Elara's lips twitched. Almost a smile. But she caught it, smoothed it away. Ice queen mode reactivated. "Stay close. And don't touch anything without checking first."
"Trust me, I've learned my lesson."
"Have you though?" Raska grinned, fangs showing. "Because five minutes ago you tried to pick up a glowing rock."
"It was SHINY!"
"It was a Crystal Mantis egg!"
I opened my mouth to defend myself, then stopped. No defense. She was right. I was a walking disaster down here.
Then my eyes caught something.
A vine. Small. Delicate. Growing out of the wall about four meters up. The wall itself was rough—jagged protrusions sticking out like natural handholds. The vine shimmered faintly, translucent leaves catching the light, stems tinged with purple.
I pointed. "Is that it? Is that what we're after?"
Both heads turned.
For half a second, Elara's expression changed. Her eyes widened slightly. Excitement flickered across her features—genuine, unguarded. Like a white lily blooming in spring.
Then it vanished. Professional mask back in place.
But I saw it. That moment.
"Yes," she said, voice carefully neutral. "That's Phantom Vine."
"FINALLY!" Raska punched the air. "Okay, let's grab it and GET OUT. I do NOT want to fight another Hellhound pack today."
"Agreed," Elara said, already moving toward the wall. "Keep watch. This will take time."
"How long?" I asked.
"However long it takes to do it right." She pulled climbing gloves from her pack. "Phantom Vine bruises easily. Damage it, and it's worthless."
"No pressure then."
"Exactly."
---
The harvest took forever.
Or at least it felt like forever. Minutes blurred together down here where the light never changed. Could've been twenty minutes. Could've been an hour.
Elara climbed with grace that made it look easy. Handholds that seemed impossible, she found naturally. Each movement deliberate. She reached the first vine, drew a small knife, cut with surgical precision.
"Got one," she called down softly.
Raska circled the spring's perimeter, ears flicking at every sound. Restless. Alert. Her hand never left her hip shortsword.
I stood guard near the main tunnel entrance, dual butcher knives drawn, trying to look competent. My hands still trembled slightly.
"You good?" Raska asked, not looking at me.
"Yeah. Good. Totally good."
"You don't sound good."
"I'm FINE."
"Uh-huh."
Silence stretched.
Then: "Hey, goblin guy."
"Stop calling me that."
"Why? You look like a goblin."
"I'm HUMAN!"
"A very goblin-looking human."
"Raska—"
"With goblin energy."
"I swear—"
"It's a compliment! Goblins are scrappy. Survivors." She grinned over her shoulder. "You're still alive, aren't you?"
"Barely!"
"See? Scrappy."
I wanted to argue. Couldn't. She had a point.
"Two," Elara announced from above. Another vine carefully wrapped, placed in her pack.
"How many we need?" I called up.
"As many as we can find. Minimum four for the research."
"Research?"
"Client confidentiality." Her tone made it clear the topic was closed.
Right. Professional. Of course, she wouldn't just tell some random guy she met a few hours ago about whatever project this was for.
"Three," she said moments later.
Time dragged. My legs started to ache. My eyes burned from staring at shadows.
"Four."
Raska yawned. Stretched. "Bored now."
"Don't jinx it," I warned.
"Jinx what?"
"Us. This. The—"
A distant howl echoed through the tunnels.
We all froze.
"Was that—" I started.
"Hellhounds," Elara said flatly, not stopping her work. "Far away. Probably two chambers over."
"PROBABLY?!"
"Five," she announced, ignoring my panic. "Almost done."
"We should hurry," Raska said, suddenly serious. Ears flat. "They're moving this direction."
Another howl. Closer.
"Six!" Elara dropped from the wall, landing in a crouch. She straightened, adjusting her pack. "That's all in this chamber."
I stared. "That's IT? Six?"
The chamber was ENORMOUS. High ceiling, multiple tunnel branches, water source, tons of wall space. And yet... Just six?!
"You think Phantom Vines are cheap moss?!" Raska flared, ears flattening. "You think they just GROW everywhere like weeds?!"
"I—no, I just—"
"It's a RARE herb!" She stepped closer, poking my chest. "Even FINDING one is lucky! Six is basically hitting the jackpot!"
"Oh." My face heated. "I... didn't know that."
"Obviously."
Elara adjusted her pack straps, expression softening slightly. "It's fine. You're new to material gathering. Phantom Vine only grows in specific conditions—near water sources, in high-magic-density areas, on middle floors. This is a good haul."
"Right. Good. Great." I rubbed the back of my neck. "Sorry."
"Next you'll ask why we don't just farm Unicorn Horns," Raska muttered.
"I wasn't going to—"
"Sure, you weren't."
Another howl. Much closer now.
Elara's hand went to her sword hilt. "We should move. The longer we stay—"
Footsteps echoed from the opposite tunnel.
Not howls. Not monster sounds.
Human footsteps. Fast. Multiple.
We all turned.
Five figures emerged into the chamber.
Adventurers. Leather armor. Mismatched weapons.
The lead one—human, chipped axe—saw us. Saw Elara's pack.
Stopped.
"You took the Vine," he said.
Ah, hell.
---