The cracked passage dumped into a cavern that used to be a subway hub. Pillars bowed under roots fat as tree trunks. Benches lay crushed, tiles lifted into ridges. Blue crap leaked out of every seam. The air had weight. It pressed on my skin, on my lungs, until my knees bent like I was auditioning for prayer.
The Guardian didn’t roar. It... sighed. Like the whole dungeon had asthma. The walls flexed with it. My knees bent on their own like they were auditioning for prayer.
[Warning: Mana pressure elevated. Symptoms may include epistaxis, dizziness, impaired coordination.]
The thing stepped once—tiles cracked. Twice—my teeth buzzed. Third step and I was already thinking, cool, the obituary can say Ethan Cross, survived twenty-two years, got pancaked in under twenty-two seconds.
It was huge. Plates like black pavent, fur that moved like smoke, horns that didn’t even line up right. My bent locker plate looked like a cafeteria tray. The chain looped at my wrist jingled like it wanted a transfer request.
Maybe i could politely ask Godzilla if it takes bribes.
The first swing telegraphed like a semi truck with a blinker on. I did the only thing I know how to do: ran straight at it.
The arm ca down. Not a club. Not a hamr. Just weight. I jamd the plate up and slid under. It still clipped across the ribs—like a car mirror at highway speed. Skin peeled open. The spin tossed end over end.
[Absolute Regeneration Activated]
[Major trauma detected: deep lacerations (torso), rib contusion. Temporary cooldown: 5s.]
Five seconds. I rolled sideways, bleeding like soone had popped a Capri Sun. Tail clipped my calf—my leg went dead. Then i smacked the floor, when i tried to stand, i collapsed again.
"Not yet, not yet, co on, hurry up," I begged, staring at the glowing little countdown in the corner.
Then heat flared through my ribs. Bones slid back into place like bad Jenga.
[Absolute Regeneration Restored]
[Injury recovered: deep lacerations (torso), rib contusion.]
"Great genes," I lied, because that’s my favorite joke now.
The Guardian didn’t laugh. It didn’t do anything except breathe. And its breathe hit like a jet engine turning on. Pressure shoved flat and skidded ten ters down the tiles like a hockey puck. My arms scraped raw, my left shoulder bulged sideways.
[Absolute Regeneration Activated]
[Major trauma detected: dermal abrasion (extensive), shoulder dislocation (L). Temporary cooldown: 5s.]
I clawed at the ground like that would slow physics. My shoulder is useless. My Palms are cooked. My brain offered: Mara’s bed squeaks. You’ll never squeak it again. Thanks, brain.
The thing’s claw slamd where my head had been. Dust showered . The bent locker handle was under my hand. I jabbed it up at its chest seam like that would matter. The tal bent into a U-shaped joke.
"Perfect. Now I own the world’s worst horseshoe."
[Absolute Regeneration Restored]
[Injury recovered: dermal abrasion (extensive), shoulder dislocation (L).]
I tossed it. Ping. Might as well have thrown a spoon at a tank.
The Guardian exhaled again and the room pulsed. Pressure. My ears popped like cheap balloons. I coughed blood. The taste was pennies and sha.
[Absolute Regeneration Activated]
[Major trauma detected: pulmonary contusion, tympanic damage. Temporary cooldown: 6s.]
"Six seconds," I wheezed. "Aweso. I’ll just... not die for six whole seconds. Easy."
I fished in Inventory, desperate. Broken flare tube. Bent ring. Useless coins. Chain. None of it would impress a monster that looked like it ate guild squads for breakfast.
Still, I scraped the flare. Orange spark. Weak light. I shoved it into the thing’s face. For half a second I thought I’d blinded it. Then it squinted. That was it. It squinted.
I burned my own thumb and scread. It backhanded into the floor like it was teaching manners.
Not yet. Cooldown still crawling.
I lay there panting, chest rattling. Thought about boobs for no reason, because apparently death = horny slideshow for . This ti it was in HD so thats sothing. Which was stupid, but also? Thanks, biology.
[Absolute Regeneration Restored]
[Injury recovered: pulmonary contusion, tympanic damage.]
Air blasted into . My shoulder popped back in. I staggered upright on legs that felt like free trials. The Guardian didn’t even look tired.
The tail snapped out and caught my stomach. Armor? Nope. Jacket? Ripped. My abs folded like a wet napkin.
[Absolute Regeneration Activated]
[Major trauma detected: abdominal trauma, internal bleeding. Temporary cooldown: 7s.]
Seven seconds. Longest seven seconds of my life. I curled on the floor, blood leaking hot, ribs screaming. The tail rose for the second strike—the "stay down" strike.
I thought: Be boring, sexy. I thought: Pancakes. I thought: God, I’m pathetic.
Cooldown ticking. Not yet. Not yet.
The tail stabbed. I half-rolled and it shredded my back instead of nailing to tile. Skin tore. Pain lit fireworks in my vision.
[Absolute Regeneration Restored]
[Injury recovered: abdominal trauma, internal bleeding, back trauma.]
I staggered up. No knife. No plate. No chain. No nothing. Just and my hands. Shaking, bloody, useless hands.
"Okay," I muttered, "new plan: survive on personality."
I ran at it because running away wasn’t even an option anymore. It swung. I didn’t dodge. there was no chance. The hit made my ribs collapse like a bad tent.
[Absolute Regeneration Activated]
[Major trauma detected: multiple rib fractures, scapular fracture. Temporary cooldown: 8s.]
Eight seconds. A new personal record. Yay . Bones creaked like an old ship. My arms trembled holding myself half-upright.
Yesterday a ratwolf almost ate my leg. Then armored mutts chewed like a squeaky toy. The Warden nearly turned into soup. And now this thing? This thing makes all that look like tutorial mode.
"I don’t wanna die here," I whispered. "Not for glory. For rent. For pancakes. For stupid pancakes."
Not yet. Countdown still crawling.
The Guardian lifted his arm for the kill. Tail coiled. Breath drew in. Triple combo special.
The system chid, polite as a waiter:
[Warning: Critical condition.]
[Survival odds:
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