The ruin breathed.
That was the only way Alaric could describe it. The murals along the walls pulsed faintly with light, veins of green and gray tracing like rivers through stone. The cavern floor hummed under his tiny fingers. Every inhale carried dampness and age, like the whole place had been sleeping for centuries and just stirred awake.
Ashen stood still as marble in front of him, sword already drawn, the silver of his eyes reflecting the faint glow. He didn't blink. Didn't shift. Just stood there, waiting, like he'd seen this before.
Alaric, on the other hand, was very aware that his diapered butt was sitting directly on the mossy floor of a haunted ruin with suspiciously "living" murals.
Oh great. Creepy glowing walls. Whispering floors. I always dreamed of dying in a discount horror movie set. Ten out of ten reincarnation, really hitting the jackpot here.
The air thickened. Shadows deepened near the stairwell leading deeper into the ruin. A sound—low and dragging, like stone scraping against stone—echoed up from the darkness.
Alaric's golden eyes widened, tiny fingers gripping at the moss beneath him. His baby body trembled, not entirely from fear but from the sheer pressure in the air. The threads inside him—life and death mana—twisted violently, agitated by the intruder he couldn't yet see.
Ashen tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the stairwell. His blade gleamed under the pulse of the murals, faint silver against the green glow.
The sound grew louder. Scrape. Pause. Scrape.
Something was climbing.
Alaric swallowed, heart hammering.
Nope. Absolutely not. I didn't sign up for this dungeon crawl yet. I'm literally four. I should be at home throwing rocks at frogs, not watching monsters crawl out of a murder staircase.
The glow intensified. Murals depicting great beasts seemed to ripple, their stone bodies shuddering as though trying to step free from the wall. The central carving of the great tree reached further downward, roots glowing brighter until they nearly brushed Alaric's shadow.
Ashen's free hand moved subtly, and Alaric felt a tug at the edges of his shadow. Scratchy and Ugly—the little undead critters—rustled against the darkness, restless but silent. They didn't lunge. They didn't whine. They waited.
A heavy breath rattled up from the stairwell.
Then it appeared.
The first monster.
It crawled out of the stairwell on limbs too long for its body, its shape twisted, like a beast sculpted wrong and left to rot. Its skull-like head dragged against the ceiling, horns scraping sparks across stone. Its body was blackened, cracked like burnt wood, with molten veins pulsing inside.
The moment it stepped fully into the chamber, the murals flared. The carvings of beasts glowed in answer, as if recognizing their kin.
Alaric froze. His little chest heaved, eyes locked on the abomination.
Oh. Oh, that's not just ugly. That's "nightmare fuel" ugly. Mom, I want a refund on life, please. Take me back. I'll settle for being a goldfish.
Ashen moved.
No words. No hesitation. Just a blur of pale steel. His sword cut through the air with perfect precision, slashing across the monster's limb as it lunged. The sound rang sharp, echoing in the chamber. The beast reeled back, ichor spraying across stone, sizzling when it hit the murals.
The ruin itself roared in answer.
More shapes stirred in the stairwell.
Alaric's stomach dropped.
"…Gh."
Oh, come on. Multiple spawn waves? Already?! What kind of tutorial level is this?!
The monster Ashen struck didn't fall. Instead, it shrieked—an ear-splitting sound like tearing metal. The air vibrated with it, making Alaric clutch at his tiny ears. His body shook, vision blurring.
For the first time since his reincarnation, he felt it clearly—death. Not as a concept. Not as magic. But as something reaching for him, cold fingers brushing his neck.
His golden eyes stung with tears.
Ashen didn't falter. His silver gaze remained calm, movements sharp as he parried the monster's next strike. He was fast. Too fast. The creature's massive limbs hit only air. Every counterstroke sliced deep, spraying more molten ichor.
Alaric stared, torn between awe and terror.
He's… unreal. He's not just strong. He's perfect. Even like this—
His thought broke when he realized another monster was crawling out of the stairwell, dragging itself free of the stone. Then another.
Three in total.
The ruin pulsed brighter, murals lighting up like veins of fire.
Alaric's tiny chest heaved. His body knew what his mind already screamed—
This was only the beginning.
The chamber shook as the second and third beasts pulled themselves free of the stairwell. Each one was twisted in its own way—one with limbs bent backward like a broken marionette, another with a maw that split its entire torso open when it screeched. Their molten veins pulsed brighter with every step, dripping embers that hissed against stone.
Alaric's tiny hands balled into fists as he pressed against the moss, heart thundering in his chest. His golden eyes darted between Ashen and the monsters.
Three of them. Nope. Nope. I don't care how cool zombie-dad is, that's three too many. I vote retreat. Raise your hand if you want to live. Oh right, only I'm voting.
Ashen didn't retreat.
His sword blurred again, slicing clean through the claw of the first beast as it came down. The severed limb hit the floor with a wet thud, ichor sizzling against the moss. Ashen spun smoothly, cutting through its side with another stroke. His movements were too precise to waste effort—every slash was measured, deliberate, fatal if he pressed harder.
But Alaric noticed. The monsters weren't ordinary.
Every cut healed. Slowly, but surely. The molten cracks in their bodies pulsed brighter, sealing wounds as they lurched forward again.
Alaric's chest tightened.
"…Gh."
Of course. Regeneration. Because why wouldn't the nightmare monsters heal themselves? It's not like I wanted to sleep tonight anyway.
The second beast lunged past the first, its backward limbs scraping the floor as it scrambled unnaturally fast toward Ashen.
Ashen pivoted, cloak sweeping behind him. His blade cleaved upward in a flash, slicing across the creature's torso-maw before it could close on him. The shriek that followed rattled the chamber, stones cracking under the pitch.
Alaric winced, tears welling from the force of the sound. His baby body shook violently, and he fell forward onto his hands, barely able to keep upright. His shadow rippled beneath him. Scratchy hissed soundlessly, claws scraping as it tried to surge forth.
Alaric gritted his teeth, tiny though they were.
No. Stay. If you go out there, you'll just get shredded. And then what? I'll be left with Ugly and Boney, and let's be honest, they're not exactly the A-team.
Still, his chest burned. His fingers twitched. The threads of mana inside him pulsed wildly, resonating with the ruin, the murals, the monsters themselves. He could feel it—life's warmth and death's chill tangling together, screaming at him to act.
Ashen held his ground, facing all three at once now. The clash rang sharp and cold. Every time a claw descended, his blade met it, sparks spraying in the air. Every shriek that tore from the monsters was answered with silence and steel.
But they were adapting.
One feinted. Another circled. The third dragged itself along the wall, molten saliva dripping from its jagged maw.
Alaric's breath hitched. His golden eyes darted desperately across the chamber.
He can't hold them forever. Even he can't.
The murals glowed brighter, light spilling down the cracks like rivers of mana. The great tree's roots stretched further, reaching toward the center of the floor where Alaric sat.
He felt it then.
The cavern itself was watching him.
Expecting him.
He swallowed hard, sweat beading on his tiny forehead.
"…Gh…!"
No way. You want me to fight? Now? I'm four! My biggest accomplishment today was not drooling on my bedding!
His protest didn't stop the mana. The warmth and chill surged inside him, twisting until his skin prickled. His little body trembled violently, threads pulling him toward the fight whether he liked it or not.
Ashen struck again, cleaving through the maw-beast's chest. For a moment, silence.
Then the third beast lunged—straight for Alaric.
The air split with its screech.
Alaric's eyes widened. His shadow writhed as Scratchy and Ugly surged, but they weren't enough to stop the monster barreling down.
Time slowed.
Ashen was too far.
The monster's molten maw stretched wide, heat searing against Alaric's face.
The threads inside him screamed, bursting outward—life and death colliding in his tiny fists.
He raised his staff with shaking arms.
And the confrontation truly began.