I spent the next hours—days, maybe—in silence. The only sound was the subtle hum of my silk being stretched, pulled, and anchored through the corridor's ribs like an artisan threading through the bones of the earth.
[Dungeon Feature Unlocked: Trap Design I]
[Trap Types: Web Snare, Sticky Pitfall, Tension Tripline]
[Material Use: Silk Threads, Organic Remnants, Mana Dust]
[Current Resources: 8 Mana Dust | 4 Bone Shards | 1 Rusted Short Sword]
I read through the System's instructions not with confusion—but fascination. There was logic in the design. Physics, strategy, timing. Things I understood.
Not because I had been a monster before.
But because I had been a fighter.
I had always been small.
Back in the world I once called home, I stood five-foot-four on a good day. Frail, easy to overlook. Teachers forgot my name. Classmates never looked twice. But on the mat—on that polished hardwood soaked with sweat and silent fury—I was undeniable.
Judo wasn't about brute strength. It was about reading movement. Using momentum. Timing. Control.
You wait.
You listen.
You bait.
And when the time is right, you strike with precision.
It was only now, stringing web between rock and bone, crafting tension lines that would snap into motion like coiled snakes, that I realized—
I hadn't changed.
I had simply… evolved.
The first trap was a basic Web Snare. A horizontal thread stretched low across a narrow choke point, nearly invisible unless the torchlight hit it just right. It connected to a vertical net woven with sharp bone fragments—former prey turned into teeth.
The second trap, a Sticky Pitfall, took longer. I carved a shallow basin with acidic secretions, then layered it with a false floor of silk so thin it looked like solid ground. Anyone who stepped through would be caught in the thick, adhesive webbing below, sinking like an insect in amber.
[New Trap Installed: Sticky Pitfall I]
[Trigger Sensitivity: Calibrated]
[Warning: Structural support weak. Reinforce with Bone Shards?]
"Of course," I whispered, more to myself than the system.
I recalled the rusted short sword I'd taken from the adventurer. I coiled silk around its hilt and lashed it upright inside the pit. It would pierce anyone who fell, armor or not.
Simple. Effective. Elegant.
As I worked, I began to think more clearly—not like a beast, but like Riku.
And I realized something strange.
This dungeon… it listened. It didn't just react to me. It adapted with me. The walls opened more easily under my legs. The ceiling bent slightly toward where I preferred to nest. When I laid thread in a pattern I found pleasing, the Core pulsed faintly—approving.
Was it shaping me?
Or was I shaping it?
Perhaps it didn't matter.
I was no longer the weak boy who flinched at loud voices.
I was a hunter.
A tactician.
And this place—the tunnels, the silence, the scent of stone and blood—was beginning to feel like home.
The next visitor came at dusk, if that word even meant anything underground.
He was younger than the last—a boy no older than I'd been before the accident. Leather armor. A dagger held too tightly. Eyes that hadn't yet seen real war.
He tripped the Web Snare.
The trap snapped up with a crack, slamming the bone-net into his chest. He screamed, flailing as blood bloomed from shallow cuts across his collarbone. His torch flew from his hand.
Then silence.
He panted, suspended, trying not to struggle.
"Hello?" he called, voice shaking. "Anyone? Is someone there?"
I watched from above.
My legs curled over the edge of the ceiling like hooks, body pressed against stone, motionless.
He tried to reach his knife—but every twitch made the net tighten.
Then he began to cry.
Not out of pain—but fear.
And for a moment… I hesitated.
His body was thin. His wrists bruised. He looked how I used to look in the mirror—before tournaments, before the gym, before I knew how to hold my ground.
I could have ended it then.
But instead…
I descended.
Silently. Slowly.
The boy didn't even notice until my legs brushed against his cheek.
He gasped.
His eyes met mine.
And for one heartbeat, I saw not prey—but someone who still had a future.
I let him go.
Snapped a thread, and the net fell, dropping him to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, blood dripping from his arms, and ran—sobbing, screaming.
The dungeon would not forget.
But neither would I.
[Trap Usage: 1/3 Activated]
[Instinct Override Detected]
[Trait Progress Unlocked: Mercy (Dormant)]
[Effect: ???]
That night—or whatever passed for night—I perched in my nest and stared at the Core.
A thought came to me. Unbidden.
Was I losing my humanity?
Or was I redefining it?