Mission Progress: Killed Mutated Rats — 1/15
At that moment, I had the chance to rethink my opinion that being thrown into a dungeon to kill monsters wasn't nearly as cool as I had thought. But what could I do? I didn't see any button to abandon the mission. And where would I even find these mutated rats?
Only seconds later, I heard a low growl.
It came from behind me.
I jumped to the side just in time, watching as a massive shape crashed headfirst into a wooden box. Wood splintered and scattered across the floor as the creature skidded to a stop.
I stared in disbelief.
The rat was enormous—just a little smaller than a wolf, its body long and thick with muscle. Dirty black fur clung to it in uneven patches, and thick, curling horns sprouted from its skull, completely wrong on something that should have been vermin.
The creature shook its head, claws scraping against the stone as it regained its footing. Slowly, it turned toward me. Burning red eyes locked onto mine. A deep, hateful growl rolled from its chest before it lunged.
I slashed at it with my dagger. The blade cut through fur, and the rat shrieked—but it didn't stop. Its weight slammed into me like a charging animal.
Something clamped down on my arm.
Then—
Impact.
My head struck the stone floor, hard.
The world shattered.
Sound vanished. Light smeared. For a moment—seconds, maybe longer—there was nothing. No pain. No fear. Just a hollow blankness, like my thoughts had been ripped away.
Then fragments came rushing back.
Weight.
Pressure.
Something on top of me.
My breath hitched as sensation returned all at once. My chest wouldn't rise properly, crushed beneath a heavy, uneven mass. Panic flared as I tried to move and couldn't.
Red eyes snapped into focus inches from my face.
They didn't blink.
They didn't move.
I lay there, stunned, my mind struggling to catch up with my body. I remembered the growl. The charge. The fall. My arm—where was my arm? It felt numb, trapped somewhere beneath the creature's weight.
I waited for pain.
For teeth tearing into my throat.
For claws ripping me open.
Nothing came.
The silence was wrong.
My heart began to pound harder as awareness fully returned. The weight didn't shift. The eyes didn't change. The thing pinning me down felt… wrong. Too still.
Panic finally broke through the fog. With a hoarse cry, I shoved upward with everything I had. The body slid off me and hit the floor with a wet, heavy thud.
I sucked in a ragged breath and scrambled backward, dragging myself across the stone until my back slammed into the wall. My dagger shook violently in my grip as I held it out, waiting for the rat to leap again.
It didn't move.
Only then did I look down.
Blood soaked my sleeve, dark and spreading fast. Deep puncture wounds marked my arm—bite marks. The pain hit all at once, sharp and burning, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I looked back at the rat.
Its limbs were twisted at unnatural angles. The red glow in its eyes had faded, leaving behind a dull, empty stare. Blood pooled beneath its body, mixing with my own.
Slowly, the truth sank in.
The mutated rat was dead.
A loud bang sounded beside me. I flinched, snapping my dagger toward the noise—but it wasn't another rat. Two crude wooden spears lay on the floor next to me.
I grabbed one with my good hand and, wincing, poked the corpse.
No reaction.
It was really dead.