They sprinted down the corridor, Bearded Leo’s warning echoing behind them.
“LEFT! ALWAYS LEFT!”
Leo led the charge now, notebook tucked away, determination replacing panic.
Harlada was right behind him, staff ready.
Bert brought up the rear, glancing back once at Bearded Leo’s silhouette before they vanished around the corner.
They reached the first fork.
“LEFT!” Leo shouted.
“LEFT!” Bert echoed, skidding as he turned.
They dashed into the new corridor—
And Harlada slammed to a halt so hard that Leo crashed into her and Bert crashed into Leo.
Because directly ahead of them—
Were the Rat People.
All three.
Hunched.
Twitching.
Claws clicking eagerly against the floor.
Red eyes gleaming with predatory hunger.
One sniffed the air.
Another hissed.
The third smiled — an expression that absolutely did not belong on a rat creature.
Leo whispered, horrified, “…How are they HERE?!”
Harlada’s grip tightened on her staff. “They shouldn’t be. They should be on the right. This—this doesn’t make sense.”
Bert swallowed loudly, eyes wide.
“Bearded Leo…” he whispered.
Leo glanced back. “What about him?”
“He betrayed us,” Bert said, nodding very seriously.
“What?!” Leo yelped.
“He BETRAYED us,” Bert repeated, as if it were the only logical conclusion. “He SENT us here. He lured us into Rat Town!”
Harlada grabbed his arm. “Bert, he literally saved our rear.”
“Exactly,” Bert said, nodding with grim certainty. “So he could stab our front!”
Leo slapped his forehead. “That makes NO sense!”
Bert opened his mouth to argue —
—but the Rat People stood up straighter, shoulders rolling, claws flexing.
All three bared their long, needle-like teeth.
Harlada’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“…We can’t run. They’ll catch us.”
Leo nodded. “We can’t go back. They’ll corner us.”
Bert squeaked. “So what do we do!?”
The Rat People crouched.
Ready to pounce.
No escape.
No shortcuts.
No tricks.
Just teeth.
Lots and lots of teeth.
Leo inhaled sharply.
“We fight.”
And the Rat People lunged.
***
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The Rat People launched themselves at the trio with horrifying speed.
Not running — zig-zagging, twisting, darting like shadows with muscle and teeth.
Leo barely raised his arms before the first rat-person vanished from sight—
—then reappeared right next to him.
“HOW ARE THEY THIS FAST?!” Leo shrieked.
Harlada struck with her staff.
Missed.
The rat-person wasn’t there anymore.
Bert swung wildly with his sword.
Also missed.
By a meter.
“They’re dodging everything!” Bert cried. “Everything! They’re dodging air!”
Leo tried to reposition himself, but one of the Rat People darted low, coiled, and—
BITE.
Leo screamed as razor teeth sank into his thigh.
Harlada spun, eyes wide. “LEO!”
He staggered back, clutching his leg.
The rat-person leaped away with a delighted hiss.
Leo collapsed to the floor, face pale.
“Okay—okay—I’m fine—except I’m not—definitely not—please kill them—”
Another Rat Person lunged at Harlada.
She blocked with her staff, sparks jumping from the impact.
She followed with a clean strike—
—except the Rat Person dodged so fast Harlada hit only air again.
“This is IMPOSSIBLE!” she shouted.
Bert tried to flank one, but the Rat People were already circling him, claws scraping the stone rhythmically.
“WHY ARE THEY FASTER THAN ME?!” Bert yelled, panicked. “I PUT A POINT IN DEXTERITY!”
“YOU NEEDED TEN!” Harlada snapped.
One Rat Person darted under Harlada’s arm.
She swung her staff downward in a frantic arc—
And the staff slipped from her grip.
It flew across the corridor.
It bonked one Rat Person on the back of the head.
A perfect, comedic, luck-based knockout.
The Rat Person crumpled like someone unplugged their brain.
Harlada stared. “…That was on purpose.”
Leo, wheezing on the floor: “Absolutely not.”
Bert: “AT LEAST ONE IS DOWN!”
The remaining Rat People hissed in fury, crouching low, muscles rippling—
Ready for the next strike.
And Leo, pale and sweating, gritted his teeth.
“Please tell me this gets better.”
***
The remaining two Rat People darted in, claws flashing, teeth bared.
Harlada stepped forward to protect Leo—
—but one Rat Person twisted low, spun behind her, and sank its teeth into her shoulder.
She screamed, the sound sharp enough to crack the air.
“HARLADA!” Leo croaked from the floor.
Bert’s eyes went wide.
Something snapped in him.
He swung his sword with wild, terrified fury—
no finesse, no technique, just raw panic—
—and by sheer accident, pure adrenaline, and the gods’ own pity, he decapitated the rat biting Harlada.
It collapsed in a twitching heap.
Harlada staggered away, clutching her shoulder, teeth clenched.
But she didn’t get a moment to breathe.
The third Rat Person leaped onto Bert’s back like a demonic backpack and bit straight into Bert’s neck.
Bert screamed.
Leo screamed.
Harlada screamed.
The Rat Person cackled.
A horrible, wet, gleeful laugh.
“Yesss… yesss… rat poison for the rat king… yesssss…”
But Bert didn’t fall.
He stood there.
Shaking.
Sweating.
Face frozen in shock.
Still standing.
The Rat Person paused mid-bite.
“…why… aren’t you … collapssssing?”
Bert screamed back, voice cracking with equal parts pain and triumph:
“I HAVE THE POISON SKIIIIILL!”
The Rat Person blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“…the … what?”
Bert flailed wildly, grabbing the Rat Person by the snout and smashing it against the wall.
The creature crumpled instantly.
Dead.
Bert panted, chest heaving.
Harlada stared at him in disbelief. “The poison skill… actually saved your life?”
Bert, dizzy with victory: “YES. Finally! A skill that DOES SOMETHING!”
The dying Rat Person’s eyes twitched open for one last confused moment.
“But… that’ssss normally … a ussseless ssskill…”
And then it died.
Bert pointed down at the corpse triumphantly.
“NOT TODAY!”
Leo, pale on the floor, lifted his hand weakly. “Bert… that… was genuinely impressive.”
Harlada forced a pained smile. “We may… actually… survive this run.”
Bert stood in the middle of the carnage, panting with pride, blood, and bite marks.
And for once—
He really looked like a rogue.
