Marc tried not to think about the rat on his head. Looking around, there was only one source of light. Well, source may be saying too much. It was one of his tablets, as out of place as they’d ever been.

  SURVIVALIST - 102% -> ADEPT SURVIVALIST 2%

  The bare elements are gentle toward the wanderer. Day or night, snow or shine, the wanderer’s place is ever the road.

  Greatly reduces the effects of all natural damage.

  Reduces natural hindrances on all senses.

  Significantly increases stability on non-magical terrain.

  Able to loot [25%] of monster valuables.

  Increases Wanderlust

  > ACCEPT

  Marc looked at it, absentmindedly hitting the accept button before fully internalizing that Wanderlust may not be a good thing. The rat squeaked atop his head and he realized that, despite him not feeling chilled from being plunged into water, he was still in water. His axe, thankfully, was harnessed to his pack, which didn’t seem to be filling with gallons of water quite yet.

  Looking around in the dark, he could see just about nothing. His eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness, but if the boon’s upgrade applied instantly, he couldn’t notice anything.

  “Berk?!” He called out, only for an echo to ring through the large chamber.

  “O’er here!” was the response, and Marc saw the light spell’s shine in the distance. He must have swum quickly to get over there, and his clothing was more torn. Marc swam to the light as quickly as he could, and was helped up onto the smooth stone by the older man.

  “Thanks. What was that?”

  “Could be anythin'. But it's been followin’ us since the first rat king. We should get out quick, before it can find us again.” He replied.

  The rat stayed atop Marc’s head as they continued further in the tunnels, seemingly enjoying its new height. Berk’s light spell, now hovering above his open palm, gave them light in all directions. Berk shivered in his wet clothes, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

  “Any more rats this way?” Marc asked, but Berk shook his head.

  “Can’t be sure one way or the other.”

  After a few minutes, thankfully drying off in the process more and more, Berk coughed, bringing them to a slower walk forward. Marc began feeling the scratching at the back of his throat. Another king was nearby.

  Berk grabbed his shoulder, “Hey, you’ve seen me do it twice, your turn now. I’ll keep whatever’s been turning off our lights away.” Marc nodded, drawing his axe and moving forward carefully.

  Then, he saw it. A tangled mess of vermin, tails knotted so tightly that he doubted a sailor could free them.

  Marc drew back, and as the king noticed him in full, he charged forward.

  He scored first blood, slicing through the first rat. Each individual “piece” of the king was no tougher than normal, their hide not thicker, fur no more resilient. Their defenses were probably worse than if they were just a swarm of rabid rats. They more than made up for it with their offensive abilities. Even injured, the first rat was trying to sink its fangs into him, and the aura only made fighting more difficult. Pressure was mounting in Marc’s sinuses, and the urge to cough kept creeping up. The fact that they didn’t care about pain (or rather, they only grew angrier when it was inflicted) made them terrifyingly ferocious compared even compared to the undead he’d fought.

  Swinging away at the horde, Marc was using all of his training to keep just out of range. Thankfully his axe gave him reach against them. One Rat from the king managed to bite him, barely grazing his arm before being bashed into a nearby wall. Marc realized that, if one latched onto him, it would be very, very bad. A sneeze was building as well, only adding to the difficulty.

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  He really wished he’d gotten armor beforehand now.

  One, two, three more killed, and still there were over a dozen more alive. As one bit his ankle, the light went out again, and Marc gave a startled shout. This time, it latched on. Marc felt a series of bites and claw slashes against him, digging into his flesh. Remembering his boon at the right time, he pulled on the invisible limb that was Estrange, and sneezed at the same time.

  The blue light pulsed out, and would be invisible if it weren’t for the pitch darkness around them. Marc was given a moment of relief from the pain and sinus pressure, but unlike before Estrange was not nearly as powerful. He felt as his blood dripped down his leg and arms where bitten, and a tablet appeared

  EFFECT RESISTED - {VERMINOUS PLAGUE} (Natural)

  Successfully resisted effect of Rat King’s Bite.

  Whatever it was, he couldn’t imagine it was good. The light still out, Marc had to use his ears to try and find where the rat king was. He focused on the noises around him, only to hear Berk struggling behind.

  He swung wildly at the clack of claws on stone. He caught something, but it continued. Another cleaving swing, and another, and another. When he heard the clatter move away, he stopped swinging, only to realize that the sounds of Berk were also gone.

  Lost in the dark, with only the normal rat atop his head, Marc was fully alone.

  He stood in darkness for a short while, waiting for any kind of light to appear. If his eyes had adjusted to the light, it wasn’t enough to make a difference now. Thankfully, at least the pressure in his head was going down. Each rat king so far had made him feel a different kind of sick, but this last one was the worst so far.

  “Berk?” he called out, voice echoing down the tunnels. There was no response. Berk had either left him or was incapacitated, hopefully not dead, to whatever it was that kept countering the light spell.

  Not knowing where the ground was, Marc used the one tool he had. Using his axe like a makeshift cane for the blind, he felt along the ground. He knew his goal was to go uphill, at least in general, though he had no idea how far down they had been even before the fall into the pool. As long as he was going up, he should be going the right direction. . . probably.

  Slowly but surely, Marc moved forward.

  It took hours. His method of “just go uphill” didn’t last too long. He reached a point where everywhere was downhill from there, and there was still no light. Even still, he knew that he could very well be traveling in the wrong direction, right to a dead end. The rat squeaked and even hissed at one point during the travel, which Marc hoped meant something. The animals in this world were smarter than normal, so it might be helping him out.

  That’s what he told himself, at least.

  With the overall goal of getting out, Marc relied on squeaks, the direction of uphill, and a general avoidance of the sick feelings caused by the Rat Kings to guide his path.

  The Paragon had cast a darksight spell on her, which required almost as much trust in him as reaching out in the first place. Still, it meant that she could see in the abyssal darkness without much hindrance. She was in charge of filling in the map, and the exploration had taken hours so far. Thankfully, no one was expecting either of them. “Perks of being a thief, I guess,” she thought.

  One of the passageways had a loud grinding sound, like someone was using a grindstone all the way down here. With the other passageways either dead ends or going in completely wrong directions, they had to go that way.

  The most bizarre part of the tunnels was the number of freshly killed rats. Their blood made the Sharoaa’s nose wrinkle in disgust, and the elf was thankful she didn’t yet have that level of perception. She wondered what would have killed them, until the grinding grew louder still. The Paragon grabbed her arm, and put his finger to his mouth. The two stood off to the side of a tunnel, and saw him.

  A human with an axe, rat atop his head. This one was alive at least. His axe was propped out in front of him, grinding against the stone. The rat locked eyes with her, then her mentor. The human’s axe caught against a wall, and he turned, walking straight towards them. He was covered in dark liquid, arms, legs, even his axe. Without any light to give color meaning, she couldn’t be sure what it was, but she had an idea.

  His eyes reflected no light, they focused on nowhere, but he marched towards them in a steady, terrifying gait. Her mentor disappeared from her sight, stealth boon fully activated. She felt around only to realize that her daggers were still sitting in her pack. He was only a few feet away now, and smelled of blood. It was like his eyes were looking into her soul.

  The rat hissed.

  The human stopped.

  “Alright. . .” he mumbled, though the noise alone was nearly inaudible over the pounding of her heartbeat.

  He turned and walked the way they came, a threat for another time. After her mentor’s stealth had receded, they both stood stock still for minutes. Looking to her mentor, she gave him a quizzical look. After the grinding faded down a bit, he said, “No need to fight the local lunatic. Lets keep going.”

  She pulled one of her daggers from her pack and tucked it into her belt, hoping to never encounter him again.