After defeating the skeletons that had chased him, he slumped against the stone wall of the cave, gasping for air. His breaths were heavy, his clothes dirty and covered in dust. He stared at the black dagger gripped tightly in his hand. Every time he moved the blade, a faint hiss echoed—like the whisper of a snake slithering in his ears.
He frowned. "What kind of weapon is this…?" he muttered softly.
Then his thoughts returned to the earlier incident—the skull-adorned chest that had sent chills down his spine. The skeletons… they had appeared after he opened it. That meant... it wasn't a coincidence. They were guarding the contents of that chest, and now he realized his reckless action had nearly cost him his life.
Yet, it was that same recklessness that saved him... thanks to what he found inside.
"If I hadn't opened that chest, I'd be dead…"
Suddenly, he remembered something. He quickly checked the pockets of his clothes—the dagger was there, the two gold coins too… but—
"Where's the crystal?!"
Panic surged through him as he searched all his pockets again. Nothing. The dark black crystal had vanished. His face turned pale.
But before he could think further, a sudden, blinding pain shot through his head. It felt as though something sharp had pierced directly into his brain. He dropped to his knees, groaning, clutching his skull.
"Arghhh… What the hell is this?!"
In the midst of the mind-splitting pain, a vague image formed in his mind. Movement. Shadows. Stillness. Killing. Infiltrating. He felt like… memories that weren't his own were being planted inside him.
Then, the pain slowly faded… and a strange notification appeared before his eyes—somehow visible, like something out of a game.
Skill Acquired: [Stealth]
Ability to move undetected. Ideal for escaping, evading, or striking from the shadows.
He fell silent, staring blankly ahead. Then slowly, a smile formed on his face.
"…I got a skill."
His hand clenched. His chest thumped with newfound energy. Even if it was just one skill, this was the first step. Proof that he could grow stronger, survive—and maybe—just maybe—find a way home.
But then, new doubts crept into his mind.
"If I leave this place… will I be safe? What if there are even more monsters outside? What if this dungeon is in the middle of a forest, or near some monster nest?"
He clenched his jaw, gazing into the depth of the cave tunnel.
"If that's the case… maybe it's better I stay here for now."
His eyes locked onto the darkness ahead. He had a weapon now. A skill. Maybe there were other things inside this dungeon that could help him survive—or even become powerful.
With a slow-burning determination, he stood up, adjusted the dagger at his waist, and looked into the unexplored corridor.
"If the world out there is too dangerous… then I'll conquer this place first."
He stepped forward, letting the darkness welcome him.
His footsteps echoed softly through the cold, silent stone corridors. The only light came from faintly glowing minerals embedded in the cave walls. He had lost track of time. This dark world offered no clue of day or night—only the slow crawl of fatigue and hunger creeping through his body.
His stomach growled. His throat was parched, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He stopped, leaning against the rough stone wall, trying to steady his mind.
"Humans… can survive about three days without water," he murmured, recalling the basics of survival. "And without food… maybe a week, if you're strong. But that's just surviving. Not living."
He stared ahead. The unexplored tunnel looked damp. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of dripping water echoed—a calm rhythm in the chaos of his thoughts.
"Water… maybe from condensation on the cave walls."
But food was another matter. He knew he couldn't hunt like in the normal world. This place didn't offer mercy.
Not long after, he spotted movement in the distance—something shifting slowly across the stony path. Narrowing his eyes, he saw a beast resembling a wolf, but not quite. Its body was covered in stiff, dark fur, and its long fangs jutted out of a wide, twitching jaw. But most disturbing were the pulsating black lumps along its back—like living tumors, sometimes glowing with a faint green light.
"A chimera…?" he whispered. Not a wolf. A monster.
He held his breath, focusing. His hand closed around the cold hilt of his dagger. Survival instinct kicked in.
His body moved naturally—not panicking, not rushing. He knew what he had to do. A faint whisper echoed in his mind, and then—
Skill [Stealth] activated.
His presence vanished into the shadows. His breathing softened. His scent dissolved into the cave's stale air. Silently, he crept forward, approaching the creature from behind.
His heart pounded, but his mind remained calm.
One… two… three steps.
In a swift, precise motion that surprised even himself, he slashed the monster's neck. The dagger flashed like a striking black serpent. Dark blood sprayed as the creature collapsed instantly, letting out a low whimper before going still.
He froze for a few seconds, eyes wide, slowly realizing what he had just done. His hands trembled. His breathing was ragged. Sweat rolled down his temple.
"This skill… is insanely effective. But…" He staggered, falling to his knees, his body weakening. "...my mana's drained. Or maybe… I'm just exhausted. No food. No water…"
He looked at the creature's corpse. Thin steam rose from its still-warm body. The scent of iron and rot stung his nose.
His stomach roared again.
There was no other choice. His logic recoiled, his reason screamed—but his body had passed the point of no return. He leaned closer, sinking his teeth into the flesh without hesitation. It was raw, tough, and warm. He chewed it down savagely. Blood coated his lips and chin, the bitter, metallic taste making his gut twist.
But he was thirsty. He was starving. He wanted to live.
He drank the chimera's blood like hot soup in the dead of winter. One gulp. Two. Three. Until the thirst eased, and strength trickled back into his limbs. His heart felt hollow. His head spun. But his body… endured.
He collapsed backward, gasping for air, face smeared with filth and blood. Then he chuckled—quiet, broken laughter.
"A normal person would've thrown up by now… But I'm still alive."
He looked up at the dark ceiling of the cave.
"Maybe I'm not human anymore… But that doesn't matter."
His grip on the dagger tightened, his eyes fierce as they stared into the void ahead.
"What matters… is that I survived."