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  **Chapter 23:A Desperate Hunt**

  Ray tightened the crude straps of his leather armor, rolling his shoulder to test the pain. A sharp sting shot through his side, but it was manageable. It had been a week since the fight, and while his wounds weren’t fully healed, he could move well enough.

  Alkan wasn’t so lucky.

  He lay against the shelter’s wall, his breathing steady but shallow. His remaining eye had turned completely blind, leaving him in total darkness. Even if his injuries weren’t as fresh, the blood loss had left him too weak to move far on his own.

  "You sure you’re up for this?" Alkan’s voice was rough, barely more than a whisper.

  Ray exhaled. "We’re out of food. We don’t have a choice."

  Alkan let out a weak chuckle. "Guess you’re finally earning your keep."

  Ray smirked, but the expression faded quickly. He adjusted his grip on the chokutō, checking the blade’s edge. It was as sharp as ever—the only advantage of a relic weapon. He glanced at Alkan once more before slipping through the barricaded entrance.

  The labyrinth was as he remembered—cold, damp, and filled with a perpetual hum. He moved carefully, keeping his footsteps light, his senses sharp. The beasts that roamed these halls were unpredictable, and in his current condition, a mistake would mean death.

  He moved along familiar paths, searching for signs of prey. The problem wasn’t just finding something to hunt—it was making sure he wasn’t the one being hunted.

  A faint scuttling noise made him freeze.

  He pressed his back against the wall, listening. The sound came from further ahead—a series of clicking steps, moving in an erratic pattern. Something was searching. Stalking.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ray stayed still, heart pounding. He had seen this kind of behavior before. It wasn’t just some dormant beast wandering aimlessly. This was a predator.

  Slowly, he edged backward, taking a different route. He couldn’t afford to fight right now. He needed to be smart.

  Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last, but he finally found what he was looking for—a lone dormant beast, its form barely visible in the dim glow of the labyrinth’s walls. It was hunched over, gnawing on something unrecognizable.

  Ray gripped his blade tighter, lowering his stance. His injuries would slow him down, but he had fought these things before. He just needed to be precise.

  He took a slow breath.

  Then, he struck.

  The chokutō sliced through the air, but the moment it met the beast’s flesh, something went wrong. His movements were slower than usual, his injuries dragging him down. The blade failed to cut deep enough.

  The beast hissed, reacting instantly. Before Ray could adjust, it lashed out. He barely twisted away, but its claws raked against his shoulder, tearing through his armor and drawing blood. A sharp, burning pain flared up his arm.

  Ray grit his teeth, forcing himself to move. He had lost his chance. He couldn’t afford to drag this fight out in his condition. Without hesitation, he leaped back, retreating into the shadows before the beast could lunge again.

  His breathing was ragged as he pressed himself against the cold stone, listening for any signs of pursuit. The beast sniffed the air, its glowing eyes scanning the darkness, but after a few moments, it turned back to its meal, losing interest.

  Ray cursed under his breath. His body wasn’t fully recovered yet—he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough. Fighting like this was reckless. He needed another way.

  That was when he made the discovery.

  As he moved deeper into the labyrinth, seeking another opportunity, his path took him near the wide hall where the fallen warriors’ names had been etched into the walls. A place of remembrance.

  But it wasn’t safe anymore.

  Ray’s stomach clenched as he saw it—the towering form of the Fallen Outer hunched over a mangled corpse, its massive claws tearing through flesh with slow, deliberate movements.

  The creature had made its home here.

  He pressed himself into the shadows, barely breathing. The air was thick with the stench of death. Bones littered the floor, remnants of the beast’s recent meals. It didn’t just kill for survival—it was feeding, growing stronger.

  And then he saw it.

  A half-eaten carcass, fresher than the others, abandoned near the edge of the hall. The Fallen Outer had left its meal unfinished.

  Ray’s mind raced. This was dangerous—stupid, even. But fresh meat was hard to come by, and he didn’t have the luxury of being picky.

  Gritting his teeth, he made his decision.

  He moved like a shadow, careful to keep his steps silent. Every moment felt like an eternity as he edged closer to the discarded remains. His heart pounded against his ribs as he crouched down, gripping the corpse. The meat was still warm.

  The Fallen Outer didn’t react.

  Ray didn’t wait. He turned and slipped back the way he came, forcing himself not to run. Every instinct screamed at him to move faster, but he knew better. Sudden movements would draw attention. He had to stay in control.

  Only when he was safely away did he let out a slow, shaky breath.

  He had done it. He had stolen from the beast.

  But as he hurried back to the shelter, carrying the stolen prize, a single thought gnawed at the back of his mind.

  'What happens when it notices?'

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