Prologue: I Got Reincarnated as a Lizard Dog in a at Grinder Dungeon and All I Got Was Existential Terror
Okay. Don't panic.
Nope, wait. Reverse that. Panic. Panic a lot.
Panic is the correct response when you wake up underground, wedged in a hole that slls like burnt mushrooms and trauma, and your first thought is why are my knees bending backwards. Followed quickly by why do I have fur. And then why is everything screaming.
Because everything is screaming.
I hear roars. Screeches. Stone cracking under sothing heavy. And the weirdest part? I hear . I'm making a sound. Like a high-pitched yipping whine that I cannot stop. My throat is doing it automatically.
Cool. Cool cool cool. New body, new instincts, sa old existential dread.
Right. Focus. Situation report.
Tiny limbs? Check. Janky claws? Check. Pointy ears twitching like radar dishes during an earthquake? Check checkity check. There's also a tail, which I'm choosing not to think about too hard because I've already got enough identity crises going on.
mory?
Fuzzy. There was... pain? Cold tal? A truck? Flash of sothing? Then this.
And now I'm a kobold.
[System Notification]
Race: Kobold (Runtscale Variant)
Trait Acquired: Civilization Mimicry (Sealed)
Condition: Malnourished | Threat Imminent | Mind Fraying (Mild)
Kobold.
As in, bottom-tier dungeon mascot. Weakest of the weak. The thing adventurers farm in the tutorial zone for practice.
Fantastic. I got isekai'd as a at-based experience point dispenser.
Oh, and my special trait? Civilization Mimicry. Which sounds cool until you notice it's sealed, which ans it's about as useful right now as a microwave in the Stone Age.
Sothing slams into a wall nearby. The whole cave jumps. So does my soul. Floor rattles. Ceiling dust cos down in a sad little death-shower.
Yay. It's raining debris. Just what I needed for my trauma collection.
I do the only thing that makes sense. I run.
No plan. No thought. Just legs. Go legs go. I am speed. I am terror. I am screaming internally and possibly externally. Everything echoes. Everything.
I sound like a squeaky dog toy in a blender.
Every step is yelling "Free snacks!" to whatever apex predator is currently eating my new species like popcorn. Real subtle. Love that for .
Voices up ahead.
Not human. Not words. Just wet, awful noise. Snarls. Clicks. Sothing that wants to bite and maybe chew.
Nope nope nope nope.
Hard turn. There. Stalagmites. Crack between them. I jam myself through like toothpaste. Rocks scrape fur off my sides and I make a noise. Not sure if it's a hiss or a sob. Why not both?
Sothing behind .
Big.
Dragging.
No footsteps. Just... slither-thump-grind.
Then a sound. Wet. Slappy. Like raw at doing a belly flop. Followed by a claw scrape. Then—
Inhale.
It's sniffing .
Excuse ??? No. No sniffing. No sniff-based murder, please.
I wedge deeper. Go full cave gremlin. Tiny body. Tiny crevice. Beco rock. Don't move. Don't breathe. Definitely don't fart.
It passes.
Barely.
I peek.
Regret imdiately.
It's huge. Scaled. Hulking. Spines. Too many limbs, all of them wrong. Its eyes are like raisins soone dropped in acid.
My brain goes ping.
Gorrak.
Excuse ???
Where did that co from?! I don't know that. Except—I do. Like soone shoved a biology flashcard into my soul.
Gorrak. Tunnel predator. Apex tier. Brutal. Loud. Super murdery. Known for eating kobolds.
Guess what I am?
Yeah.
Aweso.
[mory Thread Accessed: Subconscious Species Fear — Gorrak Classification Confird]
Terrific. My new racial mories co with a built-in phobia.
A new noise—different this ti. Lighter. Faster. Feet scampering past the crevice I'm hiding in. Small feet. Clawed, like mine. A group of little bodies rush past, yipping in panic.
Other kobolds. Smaller than . Wait—kids?
The last one stumbles. Looks back.
Our eyes et.
Gold-flecked pupils. Wide with terror. Dirty fur. Scraped limbs. His mouth opens—but nothing cos out.
Just a look.
Like he's asking to move. To help. To do sothing.
I don't.
I can't.
My muscles are locked. Frozen. My claws scrape against the stone but I don't move.
And then he's gone.
And I'm still there.
Still useless.
Still frozen in the dark while children die around .
Then—
The wall behind detonates.
I'm airborne. Sort of. More like thrown across the floor by jagged stone and raw force. A howl drowns out my scream.
Sothing is coming through.
Big. Bigger than the first one.
No ti to look. No ti to think.
My body moves before my brain catches up.
I run again.
Everything is a blur. My heart's trying to claw out of my chest. My limbs ache. My breathing is shallow, fast, panicked. The tunnel splits. One path glows faintly, red light bleeding around the bend.
And like an idiot?
I run straight into it.
---
So now I'm running toward the glowing tunnel. Because I'm brave?
Ha. No. Because I'm desperate. And cornered. And very possibly concussed. But mostly desperate.
The tunnel opens up and—
Oh. It's... quiet.
That's not a good sign, right? Quiet in a murder dungeon ans one of two things: either everything already died, or I've stepped into a boss arena and the cutscene hasn't triggered yet.
Still. No teeth. No screaming. No gorrak trying to wear like a backpack.
So... progress?
The room's large. Old. Like, "abandoned ancient subway station turned ancient kobold cult lair" old. The air slls like dust and bone marrow. The stone is cracked but there's a weird symtry to the layout—pillars, shapes, sothing that might've once been furniture or ritual junk. And at the center of the far wall?
A mural.
And it's glowing.
Like a slow pulse. Like a fire pretending to be a heartbeat.
Which is fine. Totally fine. Completely not haunted.
I should leave. I should absolutely leave.
Instead I walk up to it.
Because I'm very smart and definitely not the kind of person who pokes unknown magical artifacts after almost dying.
The mural shows kobold-like figures. Or maybe proto-kobolds? They're upright. Cloaked. One's holding a staff. So kind of ceremonial scene. Others are bowing. Circles of fire. Spiral patterns. A central figure crowned with sothing jagged.
It's faded and chipped in places, but the aning clings like moss to stone.
Sothing sacred happened here.
And I have no business being in it.
Still...
I reach out.
Just to touch it.
Just to know.
Which is apparently enough to trip a magical landmine.
[System Alert: Civilization Mimicry Reactivated]
Source: Obsolete Ritual Site — Dog-Queens of Cycle Three
Cultural Data Fragnt Detected
Assimilating...
Ow.
OW.
My head implodes. Not literally, but the ntal version of soone pouring boiling soup into my brain and telling to drink it with a fork.
Images flash. Feelings. Concepts. Rites. Burial rites. Clan structure. A language I don't understand, but sohow recognize. Fire as a sacred act. Stone as mory.
And just like that—
I know sothing.
Not everything.
But sothing.
[Prototype Available: Symbolic Burial (Fragnt)]
[Thread Unstable — No Construct Present]
[Anchor Required]
I collapse to my knees.
Not from exhaustion.
From the weight of aning.
Sothing in this place wants to be rembered.
My ears twitch again. Movent in the tunnel.
I turn.
It's the kid.
The one from earlier.
He's alone. Blood on one side. Breathing hard. But he's still standing.
He walks in, sees by the mural, and hesitates.
Then he reaches into his ragged cloth-sling and pulls out a stone.
A token.
Rough-cut. Fla symbol carved in the middle. Not elegant, but deliberate.
He tosses it to the ground between us and runs again.
Doesn't say a word.
[Item Acquired: Burial Token – Torchline Initiate]
[Thread Reconnected: morial Rite]
[Prototype Construct Ready]
I look down at the token.
Then at the mural.
Then at my hands.
I could run.
I could hide.
But sothing deep in my bones tells to build.
I arrange a ring of stones.
Place the token at the center.
My claws shake, but I do it anyway.
One breath.
Two.
Then—
[Construct Initiated: Burial Rite (Symbolic – Primitive)]
[Prototype Instinct Thread Locked]
[mory Binding — Weak]
A soft glow lights the stones.
It's not strong.
It's not even stable.
But it's mine.
A grave.
A mory.
Sothing real in a world of fangs and fire and blood.
I stare at it and feel sothing settle inside .
I'm still a kobold.
Still weak.
Still in danger.
But I'm not nothing.
Not anymore.
And if I'm going to die?
Then I'll die not just as prey.
But as soone to be rembered.
Soone who built.
Soone who ant sothing.
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