Not letting go, he redirected the motion and slammed the axe—still lodged in the snake’s mouth—downward. The blade met the hard-packed earth, bisecting the snake’s lower jaw. A wet, sickening crunch followed. The creature recoiled, retreating with its jaw split grotesquely in two.

  Ben took a step forward—and froze.

  High above, crouched on a thick branch, another panther watched the scene unfold. Its black fur rippled like shadow. It was the same size as the one he had fought earlier. It had clearly been waiting for the victor to emerge before pouncing.

  Ben’s stomach dropped. His breath caught.

  Two on one?

  He stepped back, shifting his stance to keep both enemies in view. The movement caught the snake’s attention, and it hissed again—but instead of lunging, it turned and slithered into the underbrush, vanishing.

  The panther didn’t pounce immediately. It moved with fluid confidence along the branch until it was nearly above Ben’s head. Then, with a sudden growl, it leapt—not at him, but toward the tree trunk behind him, using it as a springboard to attack from above.

  Ben spun to intercept it—just as he’d feared. But this time, he was ready.

  A sharp horizontal slash met the panther mid-air. The axe bit into the side of its neck, cutting deep. The blow struck the spine, and the cat collapsed against him, dead weight slamming into his body. They crashed to the ground together.

  Ben shoved the carcass off and staggered to his feet, eyes scanning for the snake—but it hadn’t returned.

  “That hit… that was my best so far,” he muttered aloud.

  He took deep breaths, trying to slow his pounding heart. His arms and legs trembled with fatigue. After retrieving his water bottle, he took a drink and dumped the rest over his head to cool down.

  But he wasn’t done yet.

  Following the trail the snake had left was easy—even for someone with no tracking experience. It had carved a bloody path through the brush, snapping branches and crushing leaves.

  Ben moved slowly. Carefully. Prioritizing safety over speed.

  After several hundred meters, he found it.

  The snake was curled in a small clearing, barely moving. It raised its head as Ben approached, but the aggression was gone. It was hurt. Badly.

  This is my chance, Ben thought.

  He pressed forward. Not recklessly—but confidently. His feints became shallow cuts, each drawing blood. The snake’s sluggish responses made it clear: the fight was over.

  With one final, decisive blow, Ben brought his axe down onto the snake’s wounded head. The blade sank deep, ending the battle.

  He sat down a few meters away, catching his breath.

  How many more fights like this will I have before this dungeon ends?

  Despite his exhaustion and the tension still lingering in his body, Ben didn’t doubt his decision. He would see this through.

  After several minutes of rest, he stood again and checked the snake for a core. Just behind the neck, nestled in a small cavity, he found it—a golden pearl, identical to the others. He carefully cleaned it and stowed it away.

  Ben was back on the path leading through the dungeon. Over the past few minutes, the trees had grown farther apart, allowing shafts of sunlight to reach the forest floor. He continued his routine of focused walking interspersed with short, deliberate breaks.

  It had been about fifteen to twenty minutes since he’d defeated the panther and the snake. Now, he saw the path ahead beginning to end, maybe 150 meters in the distance. He slowed his pace even further, scanning the environment—left, right, up, down, and even behind him.

  As he drew closer, he saw what marked the path’s conclusion: a massive tree. Not taller than the others, but immensely wide, its thick branches stretched in every direction for dozens of meters. Some extended skyward, others dipped low, nearly brushing the forest floor, weighed down by age and dense foliage. Ben eyed the shadows beneath the canopy warily, cursing the limited visibility. The oppressive gloom cast by the tree seemed only deepened by the brightness surrounding it.

  This seems to be the end of the road. I hope this doesn't turn into a game of hide and seek.

  At least initially, it looked like he wouldn’t have to worry. As he drew closer, he spotted another panther—this one truly massive, easily twice the size of the two younger ones he had fought earlier. It lounged lazily on a low branch near the trunk, yellow eyes locked onto him, tail flicking slowly from side to side.

  A true predator. Calm. Confident. Completely at home.

  As Ben took the final steps into the tree’s gloom, the beast rose. With a few effortless leaps, it vanished into the shadows of the upper branches. Ben turned slowly, axe at the ready, his whole body alert, thoughts racing.

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  Please let this be the last one. Just one final test.

  If this was the dungeon’s final challenge, he hoped the big cat was alone. He knew, even with his exoskeleton, that climbing the tree to fight it among the branches would be suicide.

  Trying to chase it down would be a losing game. He’d need to draw it to him. But standing exposed beneath all those branches—open to attacks from every direction—wasn’t an option either. He moved at a steady pace toward the trunk, trying to limit the panther’s angles of approach.

  Halfway there, movement flickered in the corner of his eye.

  Too late.

  Pain exploded through his side as sharp, hooked claws tore into his flesh. Before he could turn or raise his weapon, the panther had vanished back into the shadows.

  Blood poured down his hip. But Ben didn’t stop. Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward the last few meters to the tree trunk. Axe ready, he bunched up his shirt, shoved it under his belt, and pressed it into the wound to stanch the bleeding—no time to dress it properly.

  He stood with his back to the tree, refusing to falter. He knew if he let his attention waver for even a second, the predator would finish him.

  To his right, a low branch hung at chest height. Sweat—cold and sticky—gathered on his brow. He was getting weaker.

  I won’t get many chances to do this.

  He positioned himself between the trunk and the low branch, forming two sides of a triangle. He raised his axe high and held it slightly twisted—blade angled sideways rather than forward.

  And then he waited.

  And waited.

  Praying the panther wouldn’t simply let him bleed out. Hoping it would lose patience and strike.

  Minutes crawled by. His arms trembled from the strain. His vision began to blur.

  Then—movement. Not above. Not ahead.

  In the polished steel of his axe head, he saw it: the big cat creeping low, slinking toward him from the right, on the low-hanging branch.

  He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

  Instead, he took a long, calming breath.

  Come on. Just like the last kittykat…

  The moment came.

  The cat leapt.

  Ben forgot the pain, the fatigue, the fear. He spun and heaved the axe in an upward arc, adjusting his grip mid-motion. The blade met the beast’s chest—hard—mere centimeters from his throat. Blood sprayed, and the impact knocked the cat off course, but it wasn’t enough.

  Claws tore into his thighs. Fangs raked deep, bloody grooves across his bicep.

  Snarling through the pain, Ben yanked the axe free, shifted his grip near the head, and began hacking like a madman. Blows rained down—into the panther’s side, its legs, its chest—and finally, its neck.

  Blood drenched him. Some his own. Most the cat’s.

  At last, the beast collapsed. Still. Silent.

  Ben sank to his knees.

  And the world went black.

  Ben slowly came to.

  He blinked a few times and wriggled himself into a sitting position. A glance at his watch told him he’d been out for nearly four hours.

  Carefully, he took stock of his injuries. His leg wounds and the damage to his shoulder had mostly healed—only faint scars remained, quiet reminders of the pain he’d endured. The deep cuts on his side, however, were a different matter.

  Though the bleeding had long since stopped, the wounds still looked raw, barely scabbed over. But the pain was mild, and he could move freely. He looked around and spotted, just beneath the shadowy boughs of the enormous tree he had fought under, a replica of the dungeon portal—the same type that had brought him here.

  Two icons blinked persistently in his vision, but before engaging with those, he searched the remains of the panther he had defeated for a core and found it nestled near the chest cavity. He placed it carefully into his pack and focused on the first icon in his vision. A blue-translucent screen appeared.

  Congratulations, you have cleared the dungeon. It will be reset within six to twelve hours.

  Exit possible via provided portal or original dungeon entrance.

  Ben felt a wave of relief. He wouldn’t have to trek all the way back—he could leave directly. As he dismissed the message, another screen appeared—this one framed in glowing gold.

  Congratulations on clearing a dungeon and becoming the first human globally to do so.

  You are awarded two perks. Please choose from the following:

  [General]

  [Survival: Forest] – Grants the ability to live off the land and survive in forest environments.

  [Body]

  [Strong Body] – Enhances efficient exertion of physical strength. Common

  [Agile Body] – Enables smoother movement and improved dodging ability. Common

  [Mind]

  [Breathing] – Accelerates recovery from physical and mental exertion. Common

  [Calm] – Improves composure in high-stress situations. Common

  Ben was stunned—both by the range of choices and the fact that he had a choice at all. It confirmed something he had suspected: taking risks and pushing beyond limits could lead to real, tangible rewards. But the excitement was tempered by a growing anxiety.

  Not everyone would be running through forests swinging axes and fighting for their lives. Take, Adam, his best friend, for instance—brilliant and brave in his own right. Who else would quit a lucrative city job with a top accounting firm and move into the middle of nowhere to help a friend recovering from a life-altering accident?

  He had so much to offer—but it wasn’t going to be in battle.

  And while Ben’s latest fights had been inside the dungeon, the wolf and that massive boar hadn’t been. Those had been real. And they were becoming the new normal on the outside.

  Ben’s stomach twisted. He could almost see the future they might be forced into: abandoning their home and community, retreating into the city where his sister lived—somewhere with higher population density and, supposedly, more safety.

  The thought made his chest ache.

  He looked back at the perk options. They were clearly based on his recent actions—survival, strength, movement, mental focus. All useful. All relevant.

  Still, it didn’t feel like enough.

  "Mesa, can you hear me?" he asked silently.

  After just a few seconds, he heard that familiar, energetic voice in his head.

  Oh, it’s you again. Congratulations on your first dungeon. That’s quite an achievement—especially this early on.

  There was amusement in her voice as she added,

  Are you going to complain about your perks? I told you not to expect rare ones every time.

  "No, no, not at all," Ben replied quickly. "I’m incredibly grateful. I'd be happy with any of them.

  "But I was wondering... are there other options? Something that could help not just me, but my friends and family? Something to move Energy away from us, or protect the area around our home?"

  Mesa’s tone softened.

  I understand your desire. It’s admirable, really. But I’m afraid a safe zone isn’t an option. For Meta to shift Energy in that way would leave her weakened—and that would risk even more dungeon rifts appearing elsewhere. I’m sorry, there’s not much that I—

  She didn’t finish.

  A new, blue screen appeared

  Given Earthling’s growth trajectory, Protector Protocol approved. Obligations non-negotiable.