Not because he didn’t want to—because he couldn’t.
His limbs had given up. His muscles were done negotiating. Every step had been a war crime against his body, and now? He was paying for it.
Frank let his head thud against the cold rock wall behind him. “Yeah. No shit.”
His stamina bar was bone-dry. He was officially grounded. No running, no dodging, no last-second bursts of energy. Just dead weight waiting to get eaten.
A lesser man might have panicked. Frank just sighed.
The system had yeeted him into hell mode, and now it was locking him in starvation mode. Not exactly a shocking development.
One problem at a time.
- Find a place to collapse.
- Find water.
- Find food.
- Avoid being eaten.
Simple list. Horrible execution.
Frank shoved himself off the wall, legs wobbling under him like a freshly born deer that regretted everything. Each step scraped against stone, his boots dragging more than walking.
The air changed.
It wasn’t just the damp, stagnant weight of the dungeon anymore. Something else seeped in.
Moisture.
The scent of old water, deep and still. Not fresh. Not clean. But something.
Frank followed it.
The tunnel widened.
And then?
A cavern.
Wide. Deep. The kind that swallowed sound.
A faint, unnatural glow from fungi clung to the ceiling like sickly blue stars. But Frank’s attention wasn’t on them.
His gaze locked onto the pond.
Massive.
Dark. Brackish.
Too still.
No ripples. No bubbles. No insects or signs of life. Just a glass-still surface reflecting the cave’s dim glow.
Frank exhaled.
Water.
A lifeline.
Or a trap.
Frank crouched near the edge, every muscle screaming in protest. His fingers dipped into the liquid, swirling it gently before pulling back.
No immediate burning. No acid reaction. So far, so good.
His throat begged for a drink. But his instincts? Screaming.
Nothing in this dungeon had been easy.
And the one thing he desperately needed?
Wouldn’t be free.
So, he tested it.
He grabbed a loose chunk of stone and hurled it into the center of the pond.
Plop.
Ripples spread outward.
The water shifted.
Frank held his breath.
Nothing.
Then, he noticed.
The ripples weren’t fading.
They were lingering.
Moving in slow, rhythmic pulses.
Like… breathing.
Frank’s gut knotted.
Not. Alone.
His fingers curled into fists. Instincts shrieking at full volume.
His body might be failing, but his survival instincts?
Alive and screaming.
Something down there was watching.
And it was big.
Frank exhaled through his teeth. Fine.
If this was a territory, he needed a fallback position.
Because if whatever was down there decided to crawl out and say hi?
He’d rather not be the closest available snack.
Frank moved slowly.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he had no other choice.
His stamina bar was on empty, his limbs were striking for better work conditions, and the system had hard-nerfed his movement speed into oblivion.
But that pond?
That was bad news.
He needed distance.
His eyes flicked across the cavern, scanning for anything resembling higher ground. Somewhere out of reach if the massive, unseen abyss nightmare in the water decided to come looking.
The cavern walls were uneven, ridged with jagged erosion marks—some of them climbable.
A slow, careful retreat. That was the plan.
Then, the pond moved.
Frank stopped breathing.
A ripple.
Not like the one he made.
Not like a lazy roll of displaced water.
This one was heavy.
Something big.
Something solid.
Something shifting below the surface.
Frank’s muscles locked, every nerve firing an internal OH SHIT alarm.
He forced himself not to move.
Not yet.
Maybe it was just—
The water broke.
Something rose from the depths.
For a brief, horrifying moment, Frank saw it.
Not a monster lunging at him.
Not some unseen horror striking from the abyss.
Just a glimpse.
A shape.
A massive, scaled head.
It lifted just above the surface, slow and deliberate, water rolling off in thick sheets.
A ridge of bony protrusions ran along its crown, its monolithic form breaking the silence like an ancient god stirring from sleep.
Then, just as effortlessly as it emerged…
It lowered again.
The surface sealed shut behind it.
Like nothing had ever been there.
Frank didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
The only sound was the last whisper of disturbed water settling into eerie stillness.
Frank’s fingers curled into fists.
“Oh, well that’s comforting.”
He didn’t need a classification.
He didn’t need a species breakdown.
He needed one fact:
That thing was way too goddamn big.
Frank wasn’t dealing with some overgrown fish.
That thing had weight.
That thing had mass.
The kind of size that said,
"You are not the predator here."
Frank exhaled slowly, his body finally processing the past ten seconds of pure survival panic.
His mind rattled through the facts:
- It wasn’t hunting him. Yet.
- It came up to drink. Meaning it was probably more concerned with something deeper.
- It didn’t care about his presence. …For now.
Which meant he had a very, very narrow window to get the hell away from this pond before that changed.
His gaze snapped back to the cavern walls.
Higher ground.
That was the next move.
He needed a safe vantage point, somewhere he could watch and assess.
Because one thing was crystal clear.
This wasn’t just a body of water.
It was a territory.
And Frank had just walked into something else’s home.
Frank didn’t stick around for an encore performance.
He moved.
As fast as a stamina-crippled body allowed, anyway.
His boots dragged against the stone, muscles screaming, but he wasn’t about to collapse next to the giant, unclassified water dragon that had just surfaced like an ancient god deciding whether or not to be bothered.
He needed high ground.
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Something climbable.
Something defendable.
Something far, far away from the water.
His gaze snapped to the far side of the cavern.
Jagged rock formations jutted out from the walls, rough and uneven. Some of them looked just climbable enough.
Frank pushed forward, cursing under his breath.
His stamina bar still hadn’t moved—no passive regeneration, no second wind.
Then—
Frank sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m dying. Real helpful.”
The climb wasn’t going to be easy, but it was doable.
His Earth Magic had grown enough that he could carve footholds.
Frank placed a hand against the nearest rock face and focused.
The stone responded.
The wall shifted subtly, handholds pushing outward beneath his grip.
Good.
Less climbing. More controlled movement.
Frank gritted his teeth and hauled himself up.
His limbs burned, his body desperate for fuel, but inch by inch, he made it.
The ledge wasn’t much—a slanted alcove about fifteen feet above the cavern floor.
Just high enough that he wasn’t in immediate reach of anything ground-based.
It would work.
Now, reinforcement.
Frank pressed both palms against the rock, focusing his dwindling energy.
The stone reacted, shifting and hardening, the walls sealing into something more stable.
A small, enclosed space—a natural bunker, just big enough to hunker down in.
A safe haven.
Barely.
Frank slumped against the wall, exhaustion pressing in.
His body was running on fumes.
But he had shelter.
And more importantly?
He had a view of the pond.
Now, all he had to do was not die while figuring out his next move.
Frank was on the verge of passing out.
Slumped against the reinforced alcove wall, his body demanded rest, but the system?
The system had other ideas.
Frank’s head lolled back against the stone.
“Oh, great. Now you tell me I have a magic meter? What else are you hiding, you glorified auto-patcher?”
His interface blinked, adjusting itself as new stats popped up.
Frank blinked slowly at the update.
“So… my brain stat determines how much glowy juice I have?”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
“That would’ve been real useful to know about ten near-death experiences ago.”
His eyes flicked to the Mana bar.
Half-full.
215 points already burned reinforcing his alcove.
The system had never shown Mana before.
Either because he hadn’t used it, or because it hadn’t been unlocked.
Now that he knew it existed?
That changed everything.
Frank ran the numbers.
43 Intelligence.
The mana formula had to be INT-based, likely something like—
Mana = Intelligence × 10
Which meant increasing Intelligence = bigger spells.
Frank exhaled. This was huge.
If stamina governed physical survival, then mana was his new tool for reshaping the battlefield.
And with Earth Magic?
That meant control.
But… there was a catch.
Frank narrowed his eyes.
“So, I can’t just swap mana into stamina. Got it.”
That meant magic **wouldn’t help him move faster—**not directly.
If he couldn’t balance both stamina and mana?
He was still screwed in a fight.
At least now he had one more resource to break.
Frank cracked his knuckles, already planning.
If the system wanted to give him an extra stat to abuse,
he was absolutely going to abuse it.
But first?
He needed to rest.
Frank lay against the reinforced alcove wall, mind racing but body refusing to move.
His stamina was shot.
His mana had taken a hit from his impromptu construction project.
And hunger?
That was starting to feel like a problem.
At least he had one win today.
Mana was officially a thing.
Another number to break.
Frank allowed himself a few minutes of stillness, just watching.
For the first time since stumbling into this dungeon from hell, he wasn’t actively running for his life.
No screeching monsters.
No surprise deathtraps.
Just the soft drip of water from the cavern ceiling, the dim glow of fungi, and the eerily still brackish pond.
At first glance, the pond looked lifeless.
But then—
A ripple.
Not like the big bastard that had surfaced earlier.
This one was smaller, controlled.
A subtle break in the water near the pond’s edge, where thin, reed-like plants pushed up from the silt.
Frank narrowed his eyes.
Something was moving.
A flicker of shadows beneath the water, tiny disturbances along the banks.
Not just water shifts—actual creatures.
That was… interesting.
He adjusted his position slightly, painfully aware of how much effort it took just to lean forward.
His eyes scanned the shoreline, looking for signs of movement.
There.
Something darted between the reeds—a fish? Too small to tell. A few other disturbances followed, barely noticeable ripples.
The pond wasn’t empty.
It had an ecosystem.
For the first time since finding this place, Frank felt an odd sense of normalcy.
If fish were here, that meant a food chain.
If there was a food chain, then maybe he wasn’t completely screwed.
Then he felt it.
A faint tingling.
Not on his skin—in the air.
It was subtle, barely noticeable, but as he focused, it became obvious.
A slow, creeping pulse radiating outward from him.
Frank froze.
His Aura.
It was active.
His passive damage field—the thing that had been **wrecking monsters left and right—**was still running, leaking out like background radiation.
And these small creatures?
They were right inside his radius.
Frank felt a slow, creeping dread settle into his gut.
He didn’t know how much damage his Aura did over time, but he knew one thing:
It was enough to kill.
Frank’s stomach twisted.
Long-term impact?
That meant one thing:
His presence alone was changing the pond.
And he had no idea what that would mean.
Frank’s stomach had officially moved from complaining to outright protest.
The hunger had started as an annoyance. Now?
It was a problem.
He could ignore fatigue, pain, and system bullshit, but hunger?
That was biological.
He needed fuel.
His eyes flicked back to the pond, specifically the smaller creatures moving near the reeds. The system hadn’t tagged them as hostile, which meant one of two things:
- They were non-combatants.
- They were too weak to register.
Either way?
They were food.
Frank shifted, wincing at the strain of movement. He had no weapons, no stamina, and no idea if these things were safe to eat.
But he wasn’t picky.
First step? Water.
His throat was dry, his body screaming for hydration. If he passed out from dehydration before hunger killed him, that would be peak irony.
Frank eyed the dark, brackish water.
Everything in his instincts screamed "bad idea."
But he didn’t have a sterilization option.
"Alright, bottom-tier survival instincts, don’t fail me now."
Cupping his hands, he scooped up a handful of water and took a tentative sip.
Instantly, his tongue recoiled.
Metallic.
Not salty, not outright poisonous—just… wrong.
His stomach clenched.
"Yeah, I don’t love that."
Frank spat out what little he had swallowed, rubbing the back of his hand across his lips. It wasn’t killing him instantly, but if the system was throwing up caution flags, that was not a good sign.
Okay. Water source? Questionable.
That meant food was next.
His gaze returned to the small, darting creatures near the reeds. Maybe if he could grab one, he could test if it was edible. He reached out toward the nearest disturbance—
And then… they stopped moving.
Frank’s brow furrowed.
The small ripples ceased.
No flickers of movement. No darting shadows.
Just… stillness.
A sick feeling crawled up his spine.
Slowly, his eyes flicked toward the surface of the water.
The creatures—whatever they had been—were floating.
Lifeless.
Frank stared.
His Aura had killed them.
Not in a dramatic, explosive way. Not like the monsters that charged at him and burned to ash.
These things had just… died.
Like their bodies had simply given up.
Frank’s stomach clenched for an entirely different reason.
Long-term consequences.
Frank slowly sat back against the stone wall, his hunger momentarily forgotten.
His Aura wasn’t just a combat mechanic.
It was a force of nature.
And right now?
It was wiping out everything around him.
Frank sat still, staring at the floating corpses in the water.
A minute ago, they were fine.
Now?
They were just another casualty of his existence.
Something about that bothered him.
Not in an oh no, poor fishies kind of way. He’d killed plenty of things since waking up here. Hell, the system had practically thrown a parade every time he leveled up from vaporizing some new abomination.
But this?
This was passive. Unintentional.
He hadn’t swung a weapon. Hadn’t attacked. Hadn’t done anything except exist.
And that had been enough to kill them.
Frank exhaled, rubbing his temples.
"Alright. Existential crisis later. Not dying now."
The important takeaway here was simple:
His Aura wasn’t just a combat skill. It was a walking hazard zone.
And the longer he stayed in one place, the more things were going to die.
His eyes flicked toward the cavern’s entrance.
How long until something bigger noticed?
Frank forced himself upright, legs shaky from zero stamina and a growing sense of unease.
If he was going to survive here, he needed to reinforce his position.
More stone. More defense.
His fingers flexed against the rock.
Time to put this new Mana stat to work.
The rock responded immediately, shifting beneath his will.
Walls hardened.
Cracks sealed.
What had once been a bare alcove now felt more like a fortified outpost.
His Mana dropped slightly, but it wasn’t hitting as hard as Stamina loss.
That was good to know.
Frank leaned back, satisfied.
He had shelter.
A vantage point.
A defensible position.
But none of that changed the problem.
Frank stared at the notification.
"…I don’t like how that’s phrased."
Evolutionary responses?
What the hell did that mean?
Frank’s gut told him he wasn’t going to like the answer.
His Aura was killing things. The system was registering the impact.
But what if not everything died?
What if some things adapted?
Frank exhaled slowly, repositioning himself against the fortified wall.
He had no idea what was coming next.
But if the dungeon was shifting because of him?
He needed to be ready.
Frank wasn’t the paranoid type.
…Okay, that was a lie.
He was paranoid as hell.
And right now?
The system was giving him every reason to be.
Frank stared at the notification.
"Updating?"
Like patch notes?
He wasn’t an expert, but he’d seen enough survival games to know that when the world starts reacting to you, it’s never a good thing.
His Aura had wiped out small creatures. That was bad enough.
But what if it wasn’t just killing things?
What if it was forcing change?
His stomach twisted.
"Right. Fantastic. I’m not just breaking the system. I’m breaking the ecosystem."
The dungeon wasn’t static.
It was adaptive.
And if it couldn’t kill him?
It was going to compensate.
A faint noise echoed from the tunnel behind him.
A sound that hadn’t been there before.
Distant. Low.
Not quite a growl.
Not quite… anything.
Frank’s muscles tensed.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Listened.
The dungeon was changing.
And something was coming.