I press Y. Stone doors grind apart and a wall of swamp-warm air rolls over me. The room inside could swallow a basketball court. Black water fills it to thigh height, the surface covered in patches of green scum that glow faint like dying coals. Broken pillars lean at odd angles, some half sunk, some snapped clean. A rank smell of rot hangs in the mist.
[System Alert]
Difficulty modulation active – target flagged.
The ripples start before I even step off the threshold. Slow at first, then faster, as if a subway train is rumbling under the pool. A ridge of plated back pushes up through the slime, followed by a snout big enough to park a motorcycle on. Yellow eyes rise last, shining sickly light across the water.
Text flares above the creature:
Marshscale Matriarch Level 8
Level eight? The sign outside said one to three. The System must be cranking difficulty because I am a walking anomaly. No loot, harder boss. Great.
I draw the sword, the point quivering just a touch. The Matriarch slides closer, waves slapping the walls. Its armor looks thick as manhole covers, the mouth packed with knives.
The doors slam shut behind me with a hollow clang. No exits, no backup, just me, the sword, and a reptile big enough to eat a truck.
The Matriarch lifts its head and lets out a roar that shakes water from the ceiling. The blast hits my chest like a bass drum. Before I can reset my stance, the monster surges through the pool, tail cutting a wake. It pivots fast for something that size and whips that same tail straight at me.
I barely get the sword up. The hit still lands. Scales like stone smash my ribs and launch me backward. I slam into the slick wall, air shooting from my lungs. My back skids down the tiles and drops into the water with a splash.
[System Alert]
Health below 75%!
Pain blooms across my side, but the warning snaps me awake. I drag in a shaky breath, push off the wall, and lift the sword just as the Matriarch lunges again, jaws crashing where my head was a heartbeat ago.
I dart sideways, boots sloshing, and throw myself behind a broken pillar. The Matriarch's bulk crashes past, tail churning the pool into white chop. I peek around the stone just in time to see it twist and lunge again. Teeth snap shut on empty air, but the jaws clamp my sword instead, steel screeching between cracked fangs.
It yanks and spins. The world whirls into a blur of green slime and black water. My arm feels like it is peeling from the socket.
I ram the cross-guard sideways between the jaws. The blade catches on bone and locks. With my free hand I punch hard into the gill slit right behind its hinge. Soft tissue gives. The beast howls, flinging me loose. I tumble across the water, coughing, ribs blazing.
The Matriarch dives. I scramble to my feet, see bubbles streak toward me, and hurtle onto a floating slab of pillar just as a blast of sludge erupts where I stood. Thick grit coats my legs, dragging at each step.
Two Mud Skitterlings ride the surge, claws raised. I hack the first in half, pivot, slice the second through the neck. Both pop to mist, shards zipping in.
Sludge hardens on my calves like wet cement. The Matriarch's head pops up five yards away, jaws dripping the same muck. It surges and slams its tail across the water, sending a wave that launches the slab and me sideways. I skid off the stone and smash ribs-first into a jut of broken pillar.
[System Alert]
Health below 50%!
Air bails out of my lungs. I cling to the jagged rock, vision wobbling while the monster turns for another pass. I peel grit from my boots and force one shaky step onto a second lump of fallen masonry. Higher perch, better angle.
The Matriarch dives again; a wide circle of bubbles tracks straight for me. I time the rise, leap as its snout breaks the surface, and slash down across the thinner plates under the jaw. Green blood splatters, but the beast snaps sideways, catches my left forearm between rows of teeth. Pain detonates. It rolls, wrenching me half under. The joint tears; bone peeks through ragged skin.
I scream so hard my ears ring.
[System Alert]
Health below 25%!
Blood pours down my sleeve, hot and steady. I wrench my shredded arm free, bite back another scream, and tumble off the monster's jaw into the water. Every kick feels like fire in my ribs, but I claw to the surface and haul myself onto a half-submerged pillar.
The Matriarch wheels for a fresh strike, green blood still leaking from its jawline. I suck damp air and force focus through the red haze. Soft spot under the head, weak gills, heavy tail. Patterns, not panic. The beast rushes. I drop flat as the tail whooshes over the stone, missing my back by inches. Shards of pillar spray my face.
It turns again, water heaving. I spring up and run the length of the broken slab, boots slipping on slime. At the edge I leap, sword high, and rake the blade across a second gill slit as the head passes below. The cut is shallow but fresh blood boils up. The monster thrashes, smashing a pillar to gravel.
Tiles crack. A wave lifts me, slams me into another fragment of stone. I twist away, lungs screaming, just as the snout snaps shut where I landed. The impact sends tremors through the wrecked masonry, but I stay upright.
The Matriarch backs off, sides heaving, eyes glowing brighter. It sinks until only the spine ridges show, circling tight like a coiled spring. I know the pattern now. It will surge, tail first, then lunge with jaws wide. One mistake and the next alert will be the last.
I spit blood, plant my right foot on solid rock, and raise the sword for the charge I feel coming.
The tail whistles past, spraying water, and I explode forward, shoving my torn arm between the jaws to jam them half open while bellowing every ounce of pain and fury in one raw roar; I slam the sword through the blood-slick gill, feel skull give, and drive on until steel buries to the hilt. The Matriarch convulses, waves hammer the walls, yellow eyes flicker out, and the whole bus-sized corpse melts into a cyclone of pale shards that crash into my chest like hail. I collapse to one knee in the sudden hush, sword quivering in my good hand, left arm dangling by threads, water rippling calm around me.
White text slams into my fading sight.
[System Notification]
Kill confirmed: Marshscale Matriarch
Reward: +15 Shards
Shards whirl into my chest, count climbing to thirty-eight, but the blood keeps pumping from what is left of my arm. Vision narrows to a pinhole. I sag, certain I will black out right here.
A second screen flares.
[System Notification]
Level Up!
Current Level: 5
All core stats increased by 0.5
Unused Attribute Points: 3
Heat erupts inside my ribs and floods every limb. Bone knits with grinding pops, muscle laces back together, skin stretches tight over raw red. I grit my teeth and howl as the broken arm yanks itself straight, veins lighting under the skin like fire wires. The rush crests, then fades, leaving my hand whole, ribs solid, blood flow stopped.
I slump on the pillar, trembling but alive, green core pulsing in the calm water like a new sun waiting for its claim.
A fresh panel whirls into view, edges flashing gold as three icons spin like a slot machine. They click to a stop, each haloed in pale light.
[Random Loot Reward]
Boss kill + Level 5 unlocked one pull of the wheel.
Pick one item. Timer: 60 s
Iron-Nerve Pendant – Uncommon necklace. Slip it on for a permanent +1 Strength and +1 Dexterity. Restoration Whetstone – Single-use tool. Run it along any blade to repair chips, restore full sharpness, and add a small durability buff. Crumbles afterward.Manual of Firestorm – Sealed booklet. Tearing the seal teaches the spell Firestorm, a one-shot cone of flame that scorches everything in front of you.
The wheel keeps spinning, the corner clock draining fast, and I work through the choices in one long shaky breath. The whetstone is practical but burns out the moment I use it, the fire spell is flashy yet gambles my life on one shot, while the pendant loads two fresh points straight into muscle and reflexes and never asks for payback. Sword edges can be fixed with time, fire can wait until I know how magic even works, but raw stats pump every swing and every dodge forever.
I slap the pendant icon just before the timer vanishes. The whetstone and spell blink out like dead pixels, and a cool iron chain drops into my hand. I hook it over my head; heat ripples down my spine and into every limb, muscles firming, fingers lighter on the sword. A blue screen flares, quick and bright.
[System Update]
Name: Charles Mercer
Level: 5
Class: N / A
Title: Sealed Case
Shards: 38
Stats
Vitality: 3
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 4
Luck: 3
Unused Attribute Points: 3