The hum of mana in the dungeon vibrated against my bones. Blue and silver light shimmered through the smoke-choked alley, twisting unnaturally across the walls. My ears twitched, picking up every movement, every small breath in the corridor. Every sense was on edge. Every fiber of my fragile body screamed to run, to hide, to escape—but running was death. Observation, calculation, patience—those were my weapons. I had survived death once, twice, and the System would not let me survive without strategy.
I crouched behind the remnants of a toppled wall, knives in hand, eyes scanning the corridor. My status screen glimmered softly:
Level 2 – Tanya von Degurechaff
HP: 42/42
Strength: 4
Agility: 19
Dexterity: 17
Magic: 20
Endurance: 5
Perception: 14
Pathetic. Weak. Fragile. A single bite from the first monsters would kill me. But I was alive, and alive meant opportunity.
The streets outside the dungeon were chaos incarnate. Fires burned uncontrollably, thick black smoke curling into the sky. Humans ran blindly, screaming, tripping over rubble, collapsing into walls or pools of blood. Some didn't even make it ten steps before claws and teeth ended their lives. Screams, howls, the crackling of fire, and the splintering of wood created a symphony of death. I didn't flinch. I didn't pity them. I noted patterns, analyzed behavior. Fear and death were tools.
A low growl echoed down the corridor. Predator's Instinct pulsed faintly in my vision, highlighting weak points on the approaching creature: Eyes, throat, forelimbs.
It was small, Level 2—a Feral Hound—but its teeth were sharp, claws scraping over the rubble as it advanced. I observed its gait, noting the slight favor of its left paw. Weaknesses to exploit.
The corridor reeked of blood and smoke. My knives glinted faintly as I crouched. My first step in the dungeon would be careful, deliberate. I could feel the monster sniffing, alert, hungry, chaotic—but I had the advantage of thought.
I grabbed a small bottle from my pocket—ammonia. A chemical I had scavenged outside. Its sharp smell was painful to human eyes, chaotic to monsters. I hurled it.
SMASH.
Liquid splashed across the creature's face. It yelped, a high, piercing shriek. Claws scraped against the wall as it thrashed, blinded by the acrid burn. Perfect.
I darted behind a broken pillar. Another hound appeared, cautious, sniffing the smoke-heavy air. I moved quickly, setting a crude trap: a piece of concrete balanced on a rope looped over a railing. One step, one miscalculation, and it would fall.
It lunged blindly. The trap triggered. Concrete toppled, crushing one of its legs with a sickening crack. The hound yelped, limbs twisting, claws catching the walls. I attacked. Knives flashed, striking into soft tissue and eyes, spraying blood across walls, floor, even myself. The smell of iron and smoke filled my nostrils. The monster convulsed, its screeches filling the corridor until it went still.
I moved forward, careful. The dungeon was slick with gore, the smoke thick, curling around my ankles. I could feel every heartbeat, every breath of monsters further ahead. Another shriek echoed, louder this time. My Mana Sense pulsed. Another Level 2 hound, slightly larger, approached from the shadows.
I let it move into the trap. Debris tipped, glass shattered, chemicals from scattered bottles mixed in the air. It screeched, thrashing violently. Its eyes burned, claws shredded on broken metal. I waited, knives poised, and struck again, targeting the soft points revealed by Predator's Instinct. Blood sprayed in arcs, sticky and dark. The monster collapsed in a twitching heap.
Notifications appeared.
[Monster Killed: Feral Hound (Level 2)]
EXP: 14 → Level Up: Tanya von Degurechaff, Level 3
[First Monster Kill Achievement Unlocked!]
+3 Agility
+3 Dexterity
+3 Magic
New Skill: Mana Sense (F)
I wiped blood from my hands. The smell of iron, smoke, and acrid chemicals filled my senses. No guilt. Only efficiency. Survival. Observation. Advantage.
The corridor stretched forward, twisting. Shadows moved, mana pulsed, traps lay waiting. Another Feral Hound appeared, sniffing the air. I noted its pattern: speed over precision, blind aggression. Perfect for a trap.
I crouched low, moving silently. My knives glinted faintly. Debris, glass, overturned furniture formed a deadly maze. When the hound stumbled, I struck again. Claws twisted, teeth snapped, blood sprayed in arcs. Smoke and chemicals hissed, steam rising from its torn flesh. The creature collapsed.
Floor One was chaos, blood, smoke, death. Every movement had to be deliberate, every strike precise. Outside, humans ran screaming, others already torn apart. Fires licked at walls, black smoke clouding the sky. Monsters roamed freely, hunting instinctively, oblivious to traps.
I paused, knives at the ready, chest rising and falling slowly. Mana Sense pulsed. Another creature approached from the shadows, bigger, faster. My mind raced—traps, angles, timing. Precision over power. I was small, fragile, thirteen in body, but sharp.
I could survive this floor. I could learn its rules. I could use it.
The hum of the dungeon grew louder. Floor One had been a taste. A warning. A lesson.
I stepped forward, into smoke, into shadows, into blood. Every sound, every movement, every twitch of a clawed limb was an opportunity.
I was Tanya von Degurechaff. Fragile, small, weak—but intelligent, cold, and merciless.
Floor One was mine to conquer.