The stone steps were cold under Taren's boots. His breath fogged in the air as he descended deeper into the ruin. The torchlight flickered on walls carved with faded runes — words of a language no one had spoken in hundreds of years.
Behind him, Mira stumbled, clutching a heavy pack of cooking gear. "You walk too fast," she said, her voice echoing off the narrow corridor.
"I'm not fast," Taren replied. "You're carrying too much again."
"It's called preparation."
"It's called bringing three pans when one would do."
A third voice spoke up from behind them — deep, steady, and calm. "Arguing won't make dinner cook faster."
It was Korr, their warrior and quiet leader. He carried a shield made from the shell of a giant beetle — scavenged from a battle two floors above. His armor looked worn, patched with scales and leather from fallen monsters.
The three had been traveling for weeks through the Dungeon of Harthune, one of the oldest and strangest labyrinths in the kingdom. It wasn't just a place of danger — it was alive. Every floor had its own climate, creatures, and plants. Even food could be found here, if you knew what you were doing.
And Taren knew.
He crouched near the corner where moss glowed faintly along the floor. With his dagger, he scraped some into a small jar. "Lumen moss," he said. "It glows brighter when heated. Good for light stew."
Mira wrinkled her nose. "We're not eating moss again."
"Not just moss. The moss is the side."
"What's the main?"
He grinned. "Whatever we catch next."
They reached the end of the hall — an open chamber filled with mist. The air was thick, wet, and smelled faintly of salt. Something moved in the fog, slow and heavy.
Korr drew his sword. "Stay behind me."
A shape appeared — a creature like a crab, but taller than a man, its shell covered in crystals. It clicked its claws, the sound sharp and metallic.
Mira raised her crossbow. "Crystal crab. Its shell can crack steel."
"Then aim for the joints," said Taren, already moving.
The fight was short but hard. Korr blocked a swing that nearly split his shield. Mira fired bolts into the legs, slowing the beast. Taren darted forward, slipping under one claw and plunging his dagger into the soft spot under its body.
With a final hiss, the crab collapsed, its shell cracking as it fell.
Silence returned to the chamber.
Mira dropped to her knees. "You're not thinking of—"
"Yes," Taren said, already inspecting the creature. "The meat's white, smells like sea salt. Probably tender once boiled."
She sighed. "You're insane."
"Hungry," he corrected.
Korr watched him with his usual calm. "If it's edible, cook it. We need strength for the next floor."
They built a small campfire in a dry corner of the room. The glowing moss provided soft light, painting the walls in pale green. Taren cracked open the crab shell, pulling out thick chunks of meat. Steam rose as he dropped them into a pot with water from his canteen.
He added crushed stone herbs — bitter, but they helped with poison — and tossed in a few glowing moss strands for warmth.
The smell spread quickly, rich and strange. It reminded Mira of the sea, though none of them had seen one in years.
When the food was ready, they ate in silence.
The crab meat was tender, slightly sweet, and filled their stomachs better than dried rations. Mira couldn't hide her surprise. "This is… actually good."
"Monster cuisine," Taren said proudly. "Nature's way of rewarding the brave."
Korr looked into the fire. "Then may it reward us again tomorrow."
They sat there quietly as the torches burned low. The dungeon was never truly silent — distant echoes of creatures and shifting stones always filled the air — but in that moment, they felt at peace.
Mira leaned back against her pack. "Do you ever wonder how deep this place goes?"
Taren stirred the pot lazily. "No. I only wonder what's for breakfast."
Korr gave a small smile. "Then you'll fit right in down here."
The firelight flickered against the stone, and the three of them rested — travelers surviving one meal at a time in a dungeon that wanted them dead.
Tomorrow, they would descend again.
And whatever waited below — they'd find a way to cook it.
When the three awoke, the fire was nothing but ash. A dim glow came from the moss-covered walls. It was never truly dark in the Dungeon of Harthune — every level had its own strange light.
Taren stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. "Morning, if you can call it that."
Mira was already packing up the cooking gear. "We've got two meals left in the bag. After that, it's whatever you catch."
"I prefer that anyway," he said.
Korr stood by the tunnel entrance, quiet as always. "Let's move. The next floor's down this passage."
They followed the narrow tunnel until the ground sloped downward and opened into a vast cavern. The air was cooler, filled with the sound of dripping water. Stalagmites rose from the ground like teeth. Pools of clear water shimmered in the dim light.
It was beautiful in a way — peaceful.
Then they noticed the footprints.
Mira knelt beside them. "Human. Recent."
Taren frowned. "No one else should be this deep."
"Unless they got lost," Korr said.
The tracks led them through winding tunnels until they reached a small camp. A single lantern hung from a spear stuck in the ground. Books and papers were scattered around, along with small glass jars filled with powders and dried herbs.
Someone was here.
"Careful," Korr warned.
Before they could move closer, a voice shouted from behind a rock. "Don't step closer! I have… I have a sleeping gas flask!"
Taren froze. "We're not here to steal anything!"
A thin man stepped out from behind the rock. He wore round glasses, cracked in one lens, and a robe covered in dirt and ink stains. His hands shook slightly as he held a glass bottle full of some green liquid.
He looked terrified.
"Who are you?" Korr asked.
The man hesitated. "Draven. Scholar from the Royal Academy. I—I came here to study the dungeon's ecology. I thought this level was empty."
Mira crossed her arms. "It's not. You're lucky something hasn't eaten you yet."
Draven sighed, shoulders dropping. "You're probably right. My escorts ran off two days ago. I've been surviving on dried mushrooms and luck."
Taren looked at the jars. "You've got good supplies, though. What's that powder?"
"Grinder root. Repels cave serpents when burned."
Taren smiled faintly. "Then maybe you can earn a spot with us. We could use someone who knows the monsters' habits."
Korr nodded. "If he slows us down, we leave him at the next safe point."
Draven gulped. "Understood."
They rested briefly while Taren prepared breakfast. He boiled leftover crab meat with some dried fungus Draven had collected. The mixture smelled strange but edible.
Draven ate carefully, then blinked in surprise. "This is… surprisingly good."
"Monster cuisine," Mira muttered, rolling her eyes.
When they were done, they packed and moved on. Draven followed close, scribbling notes in a small journal as they walked.
"This ecosystem is remarkable," he said quietly. "The creatures here don't just survive — they adapt with each other. The crystal crab, for instance, feeds on the minerals left behind by slimes. Everything's part of something larger."
Taren listened but kept his focus ahead. "And everything tries to eat us in the process."
They turned a corner — and froze.
The tunnel ahead was filled with bones. Long, curved ribs and shattered skulls scattered across the floor. The air smelled faintly of rot and acid.
Draven's face went pale. "Cave serpent."
Before anyone could speak, the ground trembled. Something massive moved under the stone — a low rumble followed by a wet scraping sound.
Korr lifted his shield. "Positions!"
The serpent burst from the ground — scales black and slick, eyes glowing yellow. It was as thick as a tree trunk, its jaw lined with sharp teeth.
Mira fired her crossbow. The bolt bounced off its scales.
Korr stepped forward, blocking its strike with his shield, sparks flying as the serpent's fangs hit metal. Taren darted to the side, searching for a weak point.
"Draven!" he shouted. "That powder!"
Draven fumbled with his bag, pulling out a flask of ground root and tossing it into the fire. The smoke that rose was thick and bitter. The serpent recoiled, thrashing violently.
"Now!" Korr yelled.
Taren leapt forward and drove his dagger into the creature's neck — right under one of the scales. The serpent writhed, then collapsed with a heavy thud.
The air filled with silence again.
Mira kicked one of the fallen scales. "Guess we found dinner."
Taren grinned. "Snake stew. Haven't tried that one yet."
Draven stared at him. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious."
Later, they cooked the meat in the serpent's own cave — thin white slices boiled with herbs and moss. It tasted oily but rich, almost like roasted fish.
Draven took a cautious bite. "This… actually tastes better than academy rations."
"See?" Taren said. "Everything down here's food if you're brave enough."
Korr sat beside the fire, sharpening his sword. "Let's hope the next thing we eat doesn't try to swallow us first."
They all laughed softly.
For the first time in a while, the dungeon didn't feel like a prison. It felt like a strange kind of home.
Tomorrow, they would move deeper.
And Taren already had one thought on his mind — what was next on the menu.