The screams faded behind Arthur, swallowed by distance and stone.
What replaced them was worse.
The steady scrape of bone against rock echoed through the tunnels, slow and deliberate. It followed him like a reminder that the dungeon never forgot prey.
His heart hammered in his chest, but his steps stayed measured. He didn't run. Running burned energy and invited mistakes. Instead, he moved deeper, following the curve of the tunnel as it widened into a large chamber ahead.
Arthur slowed at the entrance.
The room opened up before him, wide and uneven. Broken stone pillars lay scattered across the floor, some snapped clean in half, others leaning at dangerous angles. Old weapon fragments littered the ground—rusted swords, shattered shields, bent spearheads—half buried under layers of dust and bone.
The ceiling arched high above, cracked stone ribs stretching upward. Shadows pooled between them, thick and unmoving, like something was hiding just out of sight.
Arthur took one step forward.
Something moved on the far side of the chamber.
Then something else.
The sound was sharp and familiar.
Clatter.
Skeletons stepped out from behind a fallen pillar. Then another group emerged from the opposite side. Their hollow eye sockets locked onto him at the same time, glowing faintly with mana, as if they had been waiting for him to arrive.
Arthur stopped.
His fingers tightened around the dagger.
His mouth went dry.
Three on the left.
Four on the right.
Too many. Too close.
His body tensed, instincts screaming at him to turn and run, but there was nowhere to go. The tunnels behind him were narrow and twisted. Turning his back would be suicide.
He swallowed and forced his breathing to steady.
"So this is it," he murmured, more to himself than them. "Guess you don't negotiate."
The skeletons advanced.
Their blades scraped along the stone as they moved, bones clicking together in a slow, steady rhythm. They didn't rush. They didn't hesitate. They simply closed in, step by step.
Arthur shifted his stance, planting his feet firmly against the stone floor.
He had no awakened power.
No skills.
No mana to rely on.
Only his body, a dull dagger, and a stubborn refusal to die.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears as the skeletons suddenly picked up speed.
They didn't roar. They didn't snarl. There was no rage in them, no emotion at all. Just empty eye sockets fixed on him with a single purpose.
They wanted him dead.
Arthur lifted his dagger and lowered his center of gravity. His breathing slowed, even as his pulse raced. Panic would kill him faster than any blade ever could.
He rolled his shoulders once, loosening the tension.
"Alright," he muttered. "Come on, then."
The skeletons charged.
The first sword came down in a straight, brutal arc.
Arthur stepped into the strike and angled his dagger upward. Steel met rust with a sharp clang that rang through the chamber. The impact jolted his arm and sent pain shooting up into his shoulder.
He felt it immediately.
The thing was stronger than a normal human.
But not strong enough.
His boots slid back half a step, stone grinding beneath them, but he held his ground. His muscles screamed under the strain, yet his body didn't give in. The instincts from his past life kicked in without conscious thought.
Before the skeleton could recover, Arthur spun and drove a roundhouse kick into its ribcage.
Crack.
Bones burst apart as the skeleton flew sideways and crashed into the ground, collapsing into a loose pile. It didn't scream. It didn't die.
But it was down.
Arthur didn't waste time celebrating.
Another skeleton lunged.
Arthur met it head-on. He hooked its sword arm with his dagger hand while stepping inside its reach. His knee came up hard, smashing into its abdomen.
The impact echoed with a hollow thud.
The skeleton barely reacted.
"Tough bastard," Arthur growled.
Still, the force knocked it back just enough. Arthur twisted his wrist, keeping the blade pressed against the skeleton's weapon as another strike came in from the side.
Steel scraped bone.
Sparks flickered.
Clang.
Crack.
Thud.
The chamber filled with uneven, chaotic noise as Arthur moved without stopping. He blocked, struck, and retreated in short bursts. His mind stayed ahead of his body, tracking angles, counting enemies.
Three left.
Four right.
The skeleton he'd kicked earlier was already pulling itself back together, bones snapping into place with unnatural ease.
There were too many.
Still, he was holding.
Confidence crept in despite himself.
"Not so scary," he said aloud, breath coming heavier now. "I've handled worse."
A sword skimmed past his ribs.
Cloth tore.
Skin split.
Pain flared hot and sharp.
"Alright," Arthur added through clenched teeth. "Maybe not much worse."
He ducked another strike and slammed the pommel of his dagger into a skull. The bone cracked but didn't break. The skeleton staggered, then steadied itself as if nothing had happened.
That was when Arthur felt it.
A shift.
The skeletons moved differently now. Their steps matched. Their weapons lifted at the same time.
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me," he muttered. "You've got tricks too."
The nearest skeleton slammed its foot into the ground.
The air snapped.
Bones along its arm twisted and locked together, forming jagged ridges. A faint pulse of mana ran through the white surface, sharp and cold.
Arthur felt it before he fully understood.
A skill.
The skeleton lunged forward, speed exploding in a straight line.
Arthur barely twisted aside in time.
The blade missed his chest by a hair, slicing through the air with a shrill whistle. Stone shattered where the sword struck, chunks flying across the floor.
"Shit," Arthur breathed.
The skeleton didn't slow. It pulled back and charged again, movements stiff but sudden, like a released spring.
Arthur rolled aside as another skeleton copied the motion.
So that was it.
A burst skill.
Straight line.
Fast.
No feints.
"Predictable," Arthur muttered, even as sweat ran into his eyes.
He dodged again, feeling the rush of air brush his cheek. His foot slipped on loose bone fragments and his heart jumped into his throat.
Too close.
He forced himself upright and backed away, never taking his eyes off them.
"That's your edge," he whispered. "Short bursts. No thinking."
Another charge came.
Arthur waited until the last possible moment, then stepped inside the line of attack. He slashed hard across the skeleton's knee joint.
Crack.
The bone shattered.
The creature collapsed mid-charge and slid uselessly across the stone floor.
Arthur grinned, breath ragged.
"Got you."
A sword slammed into his side before he could react.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He flew backward and crashed into a broken pillar, stone biting into his back as he slid down.
Pain exploded across his ribs.
He coughed, gasping for breath.
Arthur pushed himself up just in time to deflect another blow.
Clang.
His arm screamed in protest.
His muscles burned now, every movement slower than before. Fractions of a second stretched into something dangerous.
"Stay focused," he told himself. "You can still move."
He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight to ease the strain. The skeletons advanced again, clicking and scraping, tightening their circle.
They pressed him toward the center of the chamber.
And they didn't intend to stop.