The nest of Cave Scrabs was a writhing knot of chitin and clicking mandibles.
Ren lay flat on his stomach on a ridge of obsidian, overlooking the fissure where the creatures huddled. There were more than he had initially counted. Maybe twenty-five. They moved over each other in a chaotic, restless wave, their antennae twitching in the stale air.
"Excellent marbling," Gluttony whispered in Ren's mind. "See the ones with the reddish tint on their shells? Those are swollen with nitrate deposits. Spicy. But volatile. Don't let them spit on you, or you'll melt."
Ren gripped his rusted knife. His palm was sweaty. "I can't fight twenty of them. Not with a fruit knife."
"You aren't fighting them, Ren. You're culling them. You have 14 Agility. To them, you are a blur. Stop thinking like a prey animal."
Ren took a breath. The hunger in his gut was a physical weight, a coiled spring demanding release. The [Hunger: 18%] indicator pulsed in the corner of his vision.
He picked up a loose stone—a chunk of dense volcanic rock—and hurled it to the far side of the fissure.
CLACK.
The sound echoed sharply. The sea of black shells froze. Instantly, the swarm turned toward the noise, their mandibles clicking furiously. Half the group skittered away to investigate.
"Divide and conquer," Ren muttered.
He moved.
He didn't scramble down the rocks; he flowed. His new Agility stat made his body feel lighter, more responsive. He dropped ten feet, landing silently in the dust behind the remaining stragglers.
The nearest Scrab, a creature the size of a dog, sensed him. It turned, hissing.
Ren didn't hesitate. He lunged, driving the rusted knife into the gap between the creature's head and thorax.
CRUNCH.
It wasn't like fighting goblins. The blade went in deep, but the shell was hard. The feedback jarred Ren's wrist. Green ichor sprayed over his hand.
[Kill Confirmed.]
[Bio-Mass Acquired.]
One down. Eleven to go.
The hiss of the dying Scrab alerted the others. The nest erupted.
Ren yanked the knife free, spinning around just as two Scrabs lunged at his legs. He kicked out, his boot connecting with the first one's head. With 12 Strength, the kick didn't just push the creature back—it shattered its skull. The Scrab flew backward, crashing into the wall with a wet thud.
I'm strong, Ren realized, a savage grin forming on his face. I'm actually strong.
But arrogance was a killer.
The third Scrab didn't lunge. It reared back and spat a glob of sizzling yellow fluid.
"Dodge!" Gluttony barked.
Ren threw himself to the left. The acid splashed onto the rock where he had been standing, dissolving the stone into smoking sludge.
"Too close," Ren gasped.
He closed the distance, slashing wildly. He decapitated the spitter, then stabbed another that tried to flank him. It was a chaotic, messy brawl. He was panting, his movements fueled by adrenaline and the growing roar of the Hunger.
[Hunger: 25%]
[Hunger: 28%]
Then, disaster struck.
Ren drove his knife into the back of a particularly large Scrab. The blade hit a thick ridge of armor.
SNAP.
The sound was sickeningly loud. Ren stared at his hand. He was holding just the hilt. The rusted blade was embedded uselessly in the monster's shell.
"You have to be kidding me," Ren whispered.
The Scrab, unharmed and very angry, whipped around. Its mandibles clamped onto Ren's forearm.
"ARGH!"
Ren screamed as the serrated teeth tore through his scavenger leathers and bit into his flesh. He smashed his fist into the creature's face, but it wouldn't let go. It was grinding down, trying to snap his radius.
Two more Scrabs were closing in. He was disarmed, pinned, and bleeding.
"Pathetic," Gluttony sneered. "You rely on steel? Steel breaks. Steel rusts. You are a Predator, Ren. The only weapon you need is yourself."
The pain in Ren's arm was blinding. But beneath the pain, he felt something else. A strange, vibrating heat in his marrow.
"Use your bones, boy! Reshape them! Make them sharp!"
[Skill Activation Attempt: Bone Weaving]
[Success Rate: 100% (Adrenaline Assist)]
Ren didn't think. He just wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to kill.
He screamed, a guttural sound that tore his throat. He felt his own skeleton shift. It felt like his arm was being dipped in molten lead.
The bones of his left hand—the one pinned in the Scrab's mouth—elongated. His index and middle finger fused, the calcium density tripling in a microsecond. The flesh at his fingertips split open, not from a wound, but from the inside.
Two jagged, white spikes, sharp as needles and hard as diamonds, erupted from his fingertips.
Ren drove his mutated hand forward, punching directly into the Scrab's open mouth.
The bone-spikes pierced through the creature's brainpan and exited the back of its shell.
The Scrab went limp instantly.
Ren ripped his hand free. He looked at his fingers. They were coated in blood and brain matter, tipping into three-inch bone claws. They didn't hurt. They felt natural.
[Skill Unlocked: Bone Weaving (Lv. 1)]
[Current Form: Phalangeal Daggers.]
The remaining Scrabs hesitated. They sensed it. The shift in the air. The prey was gone.
Ren looked at them. His eyes, now glowing with a faint purple luminescence, narrowed.
"Dinner time," he rasped.
Ten minutes later, the fissure was silent.
Ren sat amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. The ground was littered with broken shells and green slime.
He was eating.
He didn't bother cooking the meat. The Hunger made raw flesh taste like ambrosia. With every bite, the exhaustion faded. The deep gash on his forearm where the Scrab had bitten him was knitting together, steam rising from the wound as his cells regenerated at a visible rate.
[Bio-Mass: 85 / 1000]
[Hunger: 5% (Sated)]
[HP: 98/120]
Ren wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His bone claws had retracted, leaving only small, callous-like scars on his fingertips.
"That... was intense," Ren muttered.
"That was barely a warm-up," Gluttony replied. "But the Bone Weaving was acceptable. Sloppy, but effective. You have calcium deficiency now, by the way. Eat the shells too."
Ren groaned but obeyed, crunching on a piece of Scrab armor. It tasted like chalk.
BOOM.
The ground shook again. This time, it was closer. Much closer.
Ren scrambled to the ridge. The Rot-Behemoth had finished its grazing. It was moving toward the noise of the battle. It had heard the Scrabs screaming.
"It's coming," Ren said, panic flaring in his chest.
"Then we leave," Gluttony said. "The ventilation shaft. North wall. Move."
Ren sprinted. He didn't look back. He crossed the field of debris, dodging between the massive ribs of the ancient skeletons.
He reached the north wall. High up, maybe fifty feet above the ground, was a square industrial grate. It was old, rusted, and leaking steam.
"How do I get up there?" Ren asked.
"Climb," Gluttony said. "Use the claws."
Ren activated the skill. Shnk. The bone spikes shot out of his fingers and toes, piercing through his boots.
He slammed his hand into the obsidian wall. The bone sank into the rock like an ice pick.
He began to climb.
He was halfway up when the Rot-Behemoth crashed into the area Ren had just vacated. The monster roared, a sound of pure frustration, as it found only dead bugs. It slammed its tail into the wall, shaking the entire cavern.
Ren held on for dear life, dust raining onto his face. He didn't stop. He scrambled upward, hand over hand, until he reached the grate.
He smashed the rusted metal with his elbow, kicking it inward. He pulled himself into the narrow, dark tunnel.
The air inside smelled of oil and damp earth. It was tight, claustrophobic, but it led up.
Ren lay in the shaft for a moment, listening to the monster roar below. He was alive. He was stronger. And he had a way out.
[Quest Generated: Return to Surface]
[Difficulty: B-Rank]
[Reward: Hidden.]
"Let's go home, Gluttony," Ren whispered.
"After you," the voice purred. "I wonder what humans taste like these days."