The smell of a Goblin was distinct. It was a sensory assault—a pungent mixture of wet dog, sulfur, and the kind of sour sweat that stuck to the back of your throat.
Ren Walker adjusted his respirator, his boots squelching in the thick, grey mud of the F-Rank dungeon known as "The Weeping Caverns." He wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to level up. He was here to clean.
"Sector 4 is clear," a bored voice crackled in his earpiece. "Hunters have moved to the boss room. Scavengers, you have twenty minutes before the mana density spikes and the respawn cycle begins. Grab what you can and get out. If you die, it's not coming out of our insurance."
"Copy that," Ren muttered, though nobody was listening.
He knelt beside a goblin carcass. The creature had been cleaved in half by a broadsword—clean, efficient, and incredibly wasteful. The "Heroes" of the Raid Team had taken the core, naturally. That was where the money was. But they had left the liver, the teeth, and the bile sac.
Ren pulled out a serrated knife. It was rusted at the hilt, the steel chipped from years of sawing through bone, but it was the only weapon he could afford.
Slice. Snap. Bag.
It was grueling work. Ren was twenty years old, skinny as a rail, and tired. Always tired. While the Awakened were out there broadcasting their flashy fireballs on StreamCast to millions of adoring fans, Ren was knee-deep in viscera, hoping he didn't catch Space-Rabies from a dead imp.
He checked his wrist-mounted interface. It was a cheap, cracked model he'd bought second-hand.
[Name: Ren Walker]
[Class: Scavenger (Civilian)]
[Rank: F]
[Strength: 8]
[Agility: 9]
[Mana: 2]
A strength of 8. The average adult male before the "Great Merge" fifty years ago had a strength of 10. Ren was statistically weaker than a pre-apocalypse gym teacher. He was a bottom-feeder in a world of sharks.
"Just two more livers," Ren whispered to himself, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Two more, and I can pay the interest on Maya's medical debt."
He moved deeper into the tunnel. The bioluminescent moss on the ceiling cast a sickly green glow over the cavern. He found another pile of bodies—three goblins and a Horned Rabbit. Jackpot.
Ren set his bag down and got to work. He moved with the precision of a surgeon. He knew monster anatomy better than most A-Rank hunters. He knew that if you nicked the gall bladder of a goblin, the meat spoiled instantly. He knew that the third rib of a Horned Rabbit could be ground into calcium powder for cheap potions.
He was just sealing the bio-hazard bag when a heavy boot slammed into his ribs.
Ren gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a wheeze. He tumbled backward, landing in the mud.
"Yo, Rat!"
Ren didn't look up immediately. He clutched his side, fighting the urge to vomit. He knew the voice. He hated the voice.
Kael.
Ren looked up. Standing over him was a man clad in polished D-Rank composite armor, a heavy mace resting casually on his shoulder. Kael was a Porter—a glorified luggage carrier for the Hunters—but he was a D-Rank. His strength stat was at least 25. He could snap Ren like a twig.
"Hey, Kael," Ren said, forcing his voice to remain steady as he stood up. "I'm working. Quota is tight today."
Kael smirked, kicking Ren's collection bag. The bag slid across the mud, stopping near the edge of a subterranean drop-off. "You didn't pay the toll, Rat. You know the rules. Entrance into Sector 4 costs a tax."
Ren grit his teeth. "There is no tax, Kael. The Guild pays you a salary. I live on commission."
"And I'm offering you protection," Kael said, stepping closer. He loomed over Ren, blocking out the green light of the moss. "Do you know how dangerous these tunnels are? A slime could drop from the ceiling. A straggler goblin could bite your throat out. I'm just looking out for you."
"I don't have credits," Ren said, his hand tightening around the handle of his rusted knife. "I haven't sold the haul yet."
"Then I'll take the haul."
Kael reached down and grabbed the bag.
Ren's hand twitched. For a split second, a suicidal thought flashed through his mind. Stab him. Just jam the knife into the gap between his greaves and his knee guard.
But logic—cold, hard, poverty-stricken logic—held him back. If he attacked an Awakened, even a Porter, he would be arrested. If he was arrested, Maya wouldn't get her medicine. If she didn't get her medicine, the mana-poisoning would kill her.
Ren released his grip on the knife. "Fine."
Kael laughed, slinging the heavy bag over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. "Smart Rat. See? That wasn't so hard. Maybe if you work overtime, you can scrape together enough for dinner."
Kael turned his back, whistling a tune as he began to walk back toward the exit.
Ren stood in the mud, humiliated. He stared at his empty hands. Three hours of work. Gone.
RUMBLE.
The vibration started in the soles of his boots.
Ren froze. It wasn't the rhythmic thumping of a boss monster walking. It was a deep, tectonic grinding, like the earth itself was screaming. Dust rained down from the stalactites above, coating Ren's hair in white powder.
"Seismic activity?" Kael stopped whistling. He frowned, looking around. "The boss room is miles away. The Raid Team shouldn't be triggering quakes this big."
The ground lurched violently to the left. Ren was thrown against the cave wall. A massive crack appeared in the ceiling, and a chunk of rock the size of a sedan crashed down between Ren and Kael.
The radio in Ren's ear screamed static, ear-piercing and high-pitched. Then, a panicked voice cut through.
"ALL UNITS! CODE RED! RETREAT! IMMEDIATE EVACUATION!"
It was the Raid Leader. He sounded terrified.
"The Boss... it's not a Hobgoblin! The dungeon scan was wrong! It's a Variant! It broke the containment seal! It's heading for the lower tunne—"
The transmission cut with a wet, sickening crunch.
Ren and Kael locked eyes. The color had drained from Kael's face.
"A Variant?" Kael whispered. "In an F-Rank dungeon?"
From the deep darkness of the unexplored tunnels behind Ren—the tunnels that were supposed to be empty—a sound emerged.
It wasn't a roar. It was a chittering sound. Like a thousand knives scraping against glass.
Skreeeeee...
The temperature in the cavern plummeted. The bioluminescent moss turned from green to a dead, rotting grey.
"Run," Ren said.
He didn't wait. He scrambled over the debris, heading for the exit tunnel where Kael was standing.
Kael was already moving. He was faster, his D-Rank stats propelling him toward the narrow passage that led to the surface elevators. He reached the threshold of the tunnel.
Ren was twenty meters behind him, sprinting with everything he had. "Kael! Wait!"
Kael looked back. He looked at Ren, then he looked past Ren, at the encroaching darkness. Kael's eyes went wide with primal fear. He saw something in the shadows that Ren couldn't see yet.
"Don't follow me!" Kael screamed.
Kael raised his mace. He wasn't aiming at a monster. He slammed the weapon into the support beam of the exit tunnel.
"No!" Ren shouted, skidding in the mud.
CRACK.
The wooden beams splintered. The rocky archway above the exit groaned and gave way. Tons of rock and earth collapsed, sealing the tunnel shut.
Kael had collapsed the exit behind him. He had blocked the path to ensure that whatever was coming would stop to eat Ren before it could chase him.
Ren slammed into the wall of fresh rubble. He clawed at the rocks, his fingernails tearing, blood slicking his hands.
"Kael! Open it! KAEL!"
Silence.
The only sound was the settling dust.
Ren leaned his forehead against the cold rock, panting. He was trapped. Buried alive in the bowels of the earth.
Slowly, the ambient light began to fade as the moss died completely.
Pitch black.
Ren turned around, his back pressed against the rubble. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face.
But he could hear.
Step. Step. Squelch.
Something massive was moving through the mud. It was heavy, dragging itself along the floor. The smell hit him first—worse than goblin. It smelled of ancient rot, of meat that had been dead for centuries.
Ren held his breath. He clutched his rusted knife, his hand trembling so violently the blade rattled against his buttons.
A low growl vibrated through the air, so deep it rattled his teeth.
Two eyes opened in the darkness.
They were purple. Vertical slits. And they were floating ten feet in the air.
[System Alert: High-Level Entity Detected.]
[Rank: ???]
[Advice: Pray.]
The eyes focused on Ren.
Ren didn't scream. He couldn't. His throat had seized up. He was a Scavenger. He was trash. He was supposed to clean up the bodies, not become one.
The creature lunged.