I didn't celebrate the kill. I couldn't. The body at my feet didn't feel like a victory. It felt like a line I'd crossed. I leaned against the cold wall and tried to steady my breathing, but my thoughts were louder than the dungeon. I had just attacked first. I had just aimed for something's throat and didn't hesitate. A week ago I was the shield. The one who stood in front so others didn't have to see this part. Now there was no one to protect. Just me, learning how to survive without asking permission.
The system window stayed quiet, like it had already said enough. My arms still ached, but the pain wasn't overwhelming anymore. It was manageable. That scared me more than the monster did. I tested my grip, flexed my fingers. The strength felt natural, not forced. Like it had always been there and I just hadn't needed it before. "Adaptation," I murmured. It wasn't healing me. It was adjusting me. Every hit rewriting something inside my body. If that was true, then this dungeon wasn't finished with me. It was going to keep testing how much I could endure.
A distant rumble echoed through the tunnels, deeper than before. Something bigger was moving. I swallowed, fear rising again—but it wasn't the helpless kind. It was sharp. Focused. I picked up the broken shield and started walking toward the sound. Each step felt steadier than the last. They had sealed the gate thinking I'd buy them time. Maybe I did. But down here, with every injury turning into strength, I realized something that made my chest feel strangely calm. If this place didn't kill me soon… it was going to regret keeping me.