Thane didn't sleep, not fully.
The dungeon wouldn't let him.
Every time he drifted, some noise echoed through the walls... a shift of stone, the shuffle of something wet against the floor, the faint crackle of distant mana. No single sound threatened him, but together they wrapped around his nerves like a wire.
So he sat.
Still. Quiet.
Breathing through the aftermath of poison, fire, and hunger.
Minutes passed. Then hours. Maybe more. The idea of time had already begun to decay. He judged progress by the rate of his trembling. When it lessened, he knew his body had done something right.
Eventually, the screen returned. Unprompted.
[STATUS]
🧍 Name: Thane🧬 Race: Human🌍 Origin: Unknown Plane❤️ Vitality: 4💪 Strength: 3⚡ Agility: 5🧠 Intelligence: 6🔥 Mana: 3 (12/30)🔁 Passive: Law of Absolute Repetition(Active)🎒 Skills: [Firebolt – Untrained] • Level: 1 • EXP: 22 / 100 • Mana Cost: 10 [Poison Resistance – Lv. 1](Passive) • EXP: 5 / 10📈 Level: 1🧪 EXP: 30 / 100
The numbers settled him.
They gave form to what he had done. Proof that pain wasn't wasted.
His mana had begun to return. The bar ticked up one point every few hours, it seemed. At this rate, he could fire another bolt by the time he needed it. Two, if he was lucky.
But Firebolt wasn't what preoccupied his mind.
Poison Resistance.
It had saved him.
Not by blocking the pain, but by helping him bear it.
He stared at the corpse.
There was more left. He could take more bites. Push the skill to its limit. But his body was already stretched thin. He needed strength, not just resistance.
Maybe... maybe there was a smarter way.
He tore off another strip of meat, but instead of eating it whole, he pinched off a corner the size of his thumbnail. He sniffed it, grimaced, and popped it into his mouth.
It hit hard—his jaw clenched, stomach churned—but it didn't break him.
He waited.
[Poison Resistance – Lv. 1]
• EXP: 6 / 10
He nodded slowly.
Small doses. Slow repetition.
Like swinging a sword until the blade became part of the arm. Like breathing through the burn instead of against it.
He could train this.
He would train this.
Even poison would become part of him.
For the next few hours, he rationed out tiny bites, pacing them between rests, tracking every flash of the screen. Each one brought more pain, yes... but less than before. His body no longer tried to reject the toxin immediately. It braced for it. Accepted it.
Each time he took a bite, the experience ticked upward.
7 / 108 / 109 / 10
He swallowed the last piece of flesh he dared to risk, breathing through the dizziness. Sweat clung to his skin, but his hands no longer trembled.
Then the screen shimmered again.
[Poison Resistance – Lv. 2](Passive)
Your body has grown more tolerant to low-grade toxins. Minor symptoms are suppressed. • EXP: 0 / 25
The bar had reset.
But the number to level up again had nearly tripled.
He grinned weakly.
"Of course..." he whispered.
The world didn't make things easier. It just raised the bar.
But he could feel it... the way his body didn't seize up this time, the way his stomach didn't twist. The skill was doing something. Not protecting him from pain, exactly. But allowing him to keep going through it.
That was better.
More honest.
He stood again.
The ache was still there, but it had become manageable. Familiar.
He gathered what was left of the creature's body—bones, scraps, skin—and tossed it into a pile near the back wall. It stank. But it was the only source of nourishment, however poisoned, that he had found so far. He would need more soon.
Maybe worse.
His hands shook once, but only once. Then he turned back toward the deeper tunnel.
No more light guided him.
No veins of glowing moss. No roots. Just stone, shadows, and silence.
He walked slowly.
One step at a time.
Every sound was a threat. Every breath a warning.
But there was something else here... something he hadn't noticed before.
A feeling.
A presence.
It wasn't the beasts. It wasn't the dungeon stone, or the air, or even his own fear.
It was pressure.
Like something was watching.
Not from above.
From around.
He slowed, hand pressed to the cold wall. He didn't hear anything. But his skin prickled. The hair on his arms lifted.
Then, somewhere deep ahead... a flicker of movement.
Not a monster.
Not an animal.
A figure.
Humanoid. Thin. Still.
It stood just beyond the curve of the tunnel, barely visible. Almost... waiting.
Thane didn't move.
The figure didn't either.
He blinked once.
It was gone.
His throat dried.
Was it hunger? Poison? Madness?
He summoned the screen, expecting to see something broken. A new debuff. A status effect.
Nothing.
Only himself.
But the pressure remained.
He wasn't alone in this dungeon.
Not anymore.