Days had passed since we first ventured into the Damp Abyss, the lowest depths of Deepnest Tunnel.

  Down here, darkness wasn’t merely the absence of light. It was a presence. Heavy. Suffocating. It pressed against my eyes until they ached, against my chest until every breath felt measured and deliberate.

  There were no glowing crystals. No bioluminescent fungi. Nothing.

  Only Illumne.

  Darwyn’s light spell cast a faint, sickly yellow halo around us, barely strong enough to keep the darkness at bay. Beyond its reach, the abyss swallowed everything whole. Sound died quickly here. Even our footsteps felt muted, as though the tunnel itself were listening.

  We’d fought countless monsters on the way down. Each layer stripped away whatever mercy the upper floors still pretended to have. The deeper we went, the more the Abyss demanded blood in exchange for passage.

  But one creature eclipsed all the rest.

  Dreadlurker.

  A deadlier variant of the Grimlurker, if that word even applied anymore. This thing was not merely born in the abyss. It belonged to it.

  Its exoskeleton devoured light. Not reflected it. Not dulled it. Devoured it. In Illumne’s glow, its body didn’t cast a shadow.

  It was the shadow.

  Its pincers were grotesquely overgrown. Jagged, serrated, uneven, as though they had never stopped growing. Thick venom clung to their edges, sizzling faintly as droplets struck the stone.

  But none of that was the worst part.

  The webs.

  They layered the tunnels like a grotesque tapestry, nearly invisible strands stretched between rocks, embedded in ceiling cracks, woven so subtly they blended into the dark. Miss one step. Tug even slightly.

  And it would come.

  Not charging.

  Not roaring.

  Just… there.

  “Hold position,” Darwyn whispered. His voice barely carried past the light. “Don’t move unless I say so.”

  We froze.

  I strained my ears, heart hammering loud enough I was certain it would give us away.

  Click.

  A sound so soft I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it.

  Skitter.

  My scalp prickled. Something bloomed behind my eyes, like fingers pressing inward. The darkness felt closer now. Thicker.

  SNAP.

  Muradin’s boot caught a strand.

  The sound was barely audible. A whisper of tension snapping free.

  “Oh no…” Orin breathed.

  The pressure surged.

  Something shifted in the dark.

  Illumne’s light recoiled.

  A shrill screech tore through the tunnel, piercing straight through my skull. Pain lanced behind my eyes as panic flooded my thoughts.

  The shadow peeled itself from the wall.

  It didn’t rush.

  It slithered.

  Its limbs unfolded at impossible angles as it crawled along stone and ceiling alike, moving without sound, without urgency. Like it knew there was nowhere to run.

  “NOOOO!” Muradin screamed.

  He spun wildly, Storm Breaker whistling through empty air. “GET AWAY! I swear I won’t drink again! Just don’t take me!”

  His voice cracked, dissolving into something raw and terrified.

  Beside him, Elena stood rigid, her bow slipping from numb fingers. It clattered against stone, echoing far too loudly.

  “Brother…” she whimpered, tears streaming unchecked. “Help me… please… I won’t steal your food again…”

  My stomach dropped.

  “Hypnosis!” I shouted. “It's in their heads!”

  The Dreadlurker crept closer, pincers parting with a wet, venomous hiss.

  One step more…

  “Not on my watch!” Orin snapped.

  She lunged forward, uncorking two vials mid-stride and splashing the concoctions across Muradin and Elena’s skin. The liquid sizzled violently, acrid fumes filling the tunnel.

  Muradin screamed as the trance shattered. “Agh—what the hell?!”

  Elena collapsed to her knees, gasping. “I-I was… crying?”

  “No time!” Darwyn barked. “It’s charging!”

  Galestride surged through him.

  Darwyn vanished.

  Three arrows sang through the air.

  THUNK.

  THUNK.

  THUNK.

  Perfect. Merciless.

  Each shaft buried itself deep, between the pincers, through the eye ridge, and straight into the core. The Dreadlurker shrieked, thrashing violently as its shadowy form collapsed inward.

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  Cracks spiderwebbed across its exoskeleton.

  Its body twitched once. Twice.

  Then went still.

  Dead.

  Silence reclaimed the tunnel.

  Muradin’s hands trembled violently. Elena hugged herself, eyes unfocused. They shared a glance, then immediately looked away, shame flushing their faces.

  “Uh…” Muradin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s… not talk about that.”

  Elena nodded stiffly. “Y-yeah. Never happened.”

  We moved on.

  Not long after, the tunnels opened into a vast cavern.

  The space felt wrong. Too open, too quiet. The air was drier here, almost clean. It felt like stepping into a forgotten world buried beneath the abyss itself.

  I tightened my grip on my weapon.

  “Alright,” I muttered. “Time to hunt Diggles.”

  ***

  Diggles were rare. Valuable. Elusive.

  Even here, Darwyn couldn’t sense them at first. We scattered Lumincrumbs across the cavern before retreating into silence.

  Ten minutes.

  Twenty.

  Thirty.

  Then, a twitching snout emerged.

  Small. Rodent-like. Curious.

  [Galestride cast]

  Elena burst forward.

  The Diggle bolted, but the glowing crumbs betrayed it, leaving a faint trail straight to its den.

  “Don’t kill it yet,” I ordered.

  She didn’t answer, but I knew she understood.

  We burst forward through the vast cavern, sprinting across a floor littered with loose gravel as our breaths grew heavier. When we finally caught up, she had driven the creature into its den: a small, dark recess carved into the cavern wall.

  Inside, a family huddled together, their small bodies pressed close, trembling at the sudden intrusion.

  Elena blocked the only escape and gently placed the smallest Diggle into my hands. It squeaked softly as I sealed it away in the containment pouch. My chest tightened.

  Orin immediately channeled her spell toward the largest one. A surge of energy coursed through its frail body.

  Darwyn loosed a precise shot.

  Swift. Merciless.

  Elena turned away, shoulders shaking. Orin shut her eyes, jaw clenched, unable to watch.

  The remaining Diggles squealed shrilly, whether from fear or grief, I couldn’t tell. I stepped back, putting distance between myself and the den, unable to face it either.

  I told myself what I already knew.

  They’ll reset when the Tower closes.

  By the time the next run began, these tunnels would be whole again, the dens repopulated, the Diggles alive and unaware.

  The thought was supposed to help.

  It didn’t.

  We waited for Mana Surge’s cooldown.

  Then we did it again.

  Lifeless bodies collapsed onto the cold stone, each one vanishing into a soft blue glow as Mana Stones clattered free, piling higher with every kill. The light pooled where warm bodies had been only moments before.

  It never got any easier.

  By the time only one Diggle remained, Darwyn’s hands trembled as he nocked his arrow. He tried to hide it, but I caught the shine in his eyes all the same.

  Even Muradin had fallen silent, without a single joke to offer.

  “We’re done,” Darwyn murmured.

  “At least we won’t have to worry about taxes this year,” Muradin said, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite land.

  Darwyn managed a thin smile. “We can drink the finest ale every day once we’re back in the city.”

  I forced myself to smile along with them.

  Though the thrill of our success was undeniable, the weight of what we had done pressed against my chest. This had been far more brutal than what I’d experienced in the game.

  Far more real.

  ***

  After that, we continued deeper into the Damp Abyss.

  We wandered through its winding corridors, scattering Lumincrumbs along the way, but no more Diggles appeared. A part of me felt disappointed, then immediately ashamed of the thought. Relief followed close behind.

  The guilt still clung to me, heavy and unyielding. I couldn’t shake the image of the last Diggle’s terrified eyes, or its final, desperate scream as the arrow took it.

  There wasn’t much else to find in these depths. A few insignificant monsters skittered out of our path, dispatched without ceremony. Then Darwyn froze.

  “Wait,” he said sharply. “I can sense something… off.”

  He pointed toward a dim passage where the light thinned instead of deepening. We hurried over, weapons half-raised.

  It sat motionless in the center of the path, shaped like a treasure chest, but wrong. Where a Mimic should gleam with polished gold, this one looked dull, its surface mottled and lifeless, as if the metal itself had grown tired of existing. A faint, oily darkness clung to it, seeping into the stone beneath.

  “Agh. Cursed Mimic.” Muradin grumbled. “Thought we’d gotten lucky again.”

  Mimics were supposed to reward greed.

  This one promised nothing worth taking.

  But Orin stepped forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

  “O-Orin, maybe we should just leave,” Elena said, grabbing her arm.

  Orin didn’t look back. “If I get something, it counts as an individual contribution, right?”

  Darwyn shuddered. “Sure. Just don’t share the curse with me.”

  I sighed. “Cursed Mimics don’t drop anything worthwhile. Best case, you get junk. Worst case…” I trailed off. She already knew.

  “I know.” Orin grinned. “I just want to test my luck.”

  We backed away without speaking.

  Orin didn’t.

  With a swift motion, she unleashed Mana Surge, following it with a rapid series of precise blows. The creature let out a shrill, distorted screech as its form collapsed inward, unraveling into thick black mist.

  The darkness didn’t disperse right away.

  It lingered, pressing against my senses, slipping under my skin like cold water. We retreated another step on instinct alone.

  Only Orin stayed.

  She clasped her hands together and shut her eyes. “Come on,” she murmured. “Give me something good.”

  No one breathed.

  I cast every buff I had on her, layering protections with shaking precision.

  Then, within the fading blackness, something flickered.

  A faint glow.

  ***

  I had fought Cursed Mimics countless times in Dreadspire, and they never gave anything of value. At best, a handful of Mana Stones. At worst, a string of permanent curses. Even with my highest Luck stat character, the best I’d ever managed was ten Mana Stones, and that had felt like a miracle.

  But Orin didn’t even flinch as the thick black smoke coiled around her.

  The air grew heavy, carrying the scent of something burnt and ancient. The mist brushed against her skin, crawled up her arms, clung to her hair, yet she stood perfectly still, expression calm, almost expectant.

  Then the darkness began to thin.

  Something solid struck stone with a soft clink.

  Orin bent down and snatched it up, holding it aloft before anyone else could react.

  Muradin’s jaw dropped. I felt my own breath catch.

  This is impossible.

  A Soul Fragment.

  A transparent orb swirled in her palm, threaded through with two distinct hues: radiant gold and deep, abyssal black. At its core, something moved. The shadowy outline of the Cursed Mimic itself, writhing faintly, as though trapped and very much alive.

  Orin beamed. “Yippee! Thank you, my incredible luck!”

  I stared at the fragment, my mind racing. I knew what a Mimic’s Soul Fragment meant.

  Luck.

  An absurd amount of it. Enough to bend probabilities, to twist drop tables, to turn long odds into inevitabilities. Rare even among treasures. Coveted even by veterans.

  But this…

  A Soul Fragment from a Cursed Mimic?

  That wasn’t just rare. It wasn’t even supposed to exist. I had never seen it in the game. Never read about it in any guide or record in this world.

  Orin didn’t hesitate.

  She popped the orb into her mouth and swallowed.

  Golden-black light erupted from her body, washing over the cavern walls in violent waves. The air screamed. I threw an arm up to shield my eyes as power surged outward, thick and suffocating.

  Then the light vanished.

  [Cursed Mimic Soul Fragment has been consumed. +15 Luck]

  [Luck exceeds 35. Passive skill Rainbow’s Fluke unlocked]

  [Active Skill cannot be used. The requirements have not been met yet]