The next two days were a blur of meticulous preparation. I didn't rush back down to the cellar. The nest, and the two crawlers guarding it, represented a significant step up in difficulty. My first kill had been a desperate, reactive victory born of panic and luck. This time, I would be the predator. This would be a hunt, and I needed a plan.
My days were spent in the steamy heat of the kitchen, my hands raw from lye soap and scalding water, but my mind was a thousand feet away, in the cold, dark tunnels beneath the tavern. Every pot I scrubbed, every plate I stacked, earned me a tiny mote of XP, a drop of fuel for the fire I was building inside me. The work was mindless, which was perfect. It allowed me to strategize.
My primary limitations were mana and physical squishiness. The two crawlers, especially the Level 3, would be more aggressive and likely hit harder. I couldn't afford to get cornered or take a direct hit. My advantage was range and intelligence, both the attribute and the regular kind. And fire. Always fire.
My plan began to form, built around the weaknesses the System had so kindly pointed out. *Disoriented by bright flashes of light.* *Vulnerable ventral plating.*
During my breaks, I didn't rest. I went to my attic room and practiced. But my practice had a new focus. I wasn't just throwing [Firebolt]'s at a wall anymore. I was working on two specific techniques.
The first was what I mentally dubbed the [Flashbang]. It was a modified [Ignite] spell, the same one I'd used in my first fight. The goal was to dump a significant amount of mana into a non-projectile, concussive burst of light and heat. The trick was efficiency. I needed to produce the brightest possible flash for the least amount of mana. I spent hours modulating the output, learning the exact feel of the spell, finding the sweet spot between a blinding flash and just wasting my precious mana pool.
The second technique was a modification of [Firebolt] I needed a way to hit the crawlers' underbellies, even if they weren't conveniently rearing up for me. The solution was a ricochet. The cellar tunnels were stone. If I could angle a shot just right, I could bounce a firebolt off the floor and have it strike upwards into their soft parts. This was infinitely more difficult. It required a grasp of angles and timing that I simply didn't have. My first dozen attempts were pathetic failures. The bolts would either fizzle out on impact with the floor or bounce off in completely random directions. But slowly, through sheer trial and error, I started to get a feel for it. I learned that by putting a slight 'spin' on the bolt with my will as I released it, I could influence its trajectory after impact. It was clumsy and unreliable, but it was a start.
On the evening of the third day, I was ready. I'd reached the halfway point to Level 5 just from my chores. My mana pool was full, a deep, comforting well of power. My mind was sharp, the lingering effects of Mana Depletion Sickness long gone. I had my plan.
After my shift, I gave Elara a brief, respectful nod. She saw the lantern in my hand and the determination in my eyes. She simply nodded back, a silent, weighty acknowledgment. *Don't burn my tavern down.* I wouldn't, not on purpose anyway.
I descended into the familiar cold and dark, the heavy trapdoor thudding shut behind me. The silence of the cellar was no longer eerie, it was the quiet of my arena. I lit the lantern and placed it near the entrance of the main cavern, providing a fixed point of dim light. I wouldn't be taking it with me since I needed my hands free, and its steady glow would be a liability, revealing my position.
I relied on my new skill, [SenseHeat]
The world resolved itself into a landscape of cold blues and greys. The distant lantern was a warm yellow beacon. And ahead, down the tunnel leading to the nest, were the two distinct, mobile signatures of my targets. They were moving, patrolling the nesting chamber in slow, predictable patterns. Perfect.
I crept forward, my soft-soled boots making barely a whisper on the packed earth. The darkness was absolute, but to my new sense, the layout of the tunnel was clear. I could feel the cold of the walls, the shape of the space around me. It was like having sonar.
I reached the entrance to the nesting chamber and peered around the corner. My heat sense gave me their exact positions. The Level 2 Crawler was near the nest, its head bowed as if inspecting the eggs. The Level 3 was circling the perimeter of the small cavern. It was larger, its heat signature a brighter, more intense orange.
My heart was a steady drum against my ribs. There was no panic this time, only a cold, focused calm.
Phaseone: Shock and Awe.
I took a deep breath, pulling a large chunk of mana from my core, about a third of my total pool. I held it in my palm, shaping it not into a bolt, but into a compressed, unstable ball of pure light. I leaned out from behind the corner, my eyes already squeezed shut.
*Ignite.*
*FWOOM!*
The [Flashbang] erupted. For a split second, the entire cavern was bathed in a light more brilliant than the sun, a silent, overwhelming explosion of pure white. Even with my eyes closed, the intensity of it was a physical blow, a pressure against my eyelids.
The crawlers shrieked in unison, a symphony of agony and confusion. My heat sense showed them reeling, stumbling blindly, their patrol patterns shattered.
PhaseTwo: Isolate and Eliminate.
My eyes snapped open. The cavern was plunged back into darkness, but the afterimage of the flash was burned onto my retinas. I ignored it, relying entirely on my heat sense. The Level 2 crawler was closer, disoriented and flailing near the entrance. The Level 3 was further back, near the nest, shaking its featureless head.
I had my target.
I unleashed my first prepared [Firebolt]. It was a standard shot, aimed center mass. I didn't have time for trick shots yet. The bolt flew true, a streak of orange in the dark, and slammed into the Level 2's carapace
*CLANG!*
The sound was like a hammer striking an anvil. The bolt shattered against the thick armor, showering the creature in sparks but doing no real damage. It only served to further enrage it. It let out another shriek and charged blindly in my general direction.
This was what I had counted on.
I didn't retreat. I stood my ground. As it charged, I dropped into a low crouch, my left hand touching the stone floor. This was the moment. The trick shot.
I channeled a smaller, faster firebolt, pouring my will into that subtle 'spin' I'd practiced. I didn't aim at the crawler. I aimed at the floor about three feet in front of it.
I released the bolt. It struck the stone floor with a sharp *crack*. Instead of shattering, it deflected, spinning like a deadly top. It shot upwards at a forty-five-degree angle, a blur of fiery death.
It caught the charging crawler perfectly in its soft, exposed underbelly.
There was no clang this time. Only a wet, tearing sound, followed by a gurgling screech that was cut short. The Level 2's heat signature flared violently for a second, then winked out as it collapsed into a heap, smoke pouring from the massive wound.
[Enemy Defeated: Cellar Crawler (Level 2)!]
[ You have earned 100 XP! ]
One down.
But the fight wasn't over. The Level 3 crawler had recovered from the flash. The death-shriek of its companion had given it a direction. Its heat signature blazed with rage as it pinpointed my location and charged.
It was faster than the other one. Much faster.
I didn't have time for another ricochet shot. I backpedaled, throwing another standard [Firebolt] at its head. Again, it glanced off the thick carapace with a loud ringing sound. The thing was a walking tank.
It was closing the distance, its heavy footfalls shaking the ground, its mandibles clicking with furious intent. I needed to create distance, to get it to expose its weakness.
I switched tactics. I used [Ignite], but in a new way. I didn't create a flash or a bolt. I aimed at the ground in front of the charging beast and created a sustained, horizontal jet of flame, like a flamethrower.
*FSHHHHHHH!*
A wall of fire erupted between us. It was a massive mana drain, but it worked. The Level 3 crawler, despite its armored hide, was not immune to being cooked. It shrieked and recoiled from the sudden wall of heat, its antennae catching fire and shriveling into ash.
It was enough. It bought me the two seconds I needed.
The creature was momentarily stunned, rearing back from the flames. Its underbelly was exposed.
I dropped the flamethrower, my mana pool now dangerously low. I had maybe one good shot left. I couldn't miss.
I gathered the last of my power, compressing it into the most stable, most potent [Firebolt] I had ever created. It glowed with an almost white-hot intensity in my palm. The world seemed to slow down. I could see the target, the pale, vulnerable flesh. I saw the trajectory. I saw the victory.
I fired.
The bolt crossed the ten feet between us in an instant. It struck home with the force of a battering ram. The impact lifted the heavy creature off its front legs. It stood frozen for a single, silent second, impaled on a spear of pure heat. Then, its heat signature exploded in my senses before vanishing completely. It crashed to the ground with a shuddering, final thud.
[Enemy Defeated: Cellar Crawler (Level 3)!]
[ You have earned 150 XP!]
[ You have reached Level 5!]
[You have gained 5 Attribute Points and 1 Skill Point.]
[LootGained: [Crawler Chitin Fragment] x4, [Crawler Mandible] x2, [Crawler Venom Sac] x1.]
Silence.
The only sound was my own ragged breathing. The smell of ozone and cooked monster filled the air. I stood there in the total darkness, my body trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion, and I let a slow, triumphant grin spread across my face.
I had done it. I had faced a superior force, made a plan, and executed it perfectly.
My mana was completely gone, the familiar throb of depletion already starting. But I wasn't finished. There was one last task.
I waited for what felt like an eternity, leaning against the cold stone wall, letting a tiny sliver of mana regenerate. Just enough for one more spell.
When I had enough, I walked over to the pulsating, disgusting nest. The eggs within it glowed with a faint, sickly warmth. I didn't know what would happen if they hatched, and I had no intention of finding out.
I placed my hand directly on the slimy surface of the nest. I channeled the last of my energy, not into a violent burst, but into a slow, steady, intense heat. I wasn't trying to explode it. I was trying to cook it.
The nest began to steam. A foul, sulfurous smell filled the air. The leathery eggs blackened, split, and sizzled. I held the spell, pouring every last drop of my will and power into it until the entire nest was reduced to a cracked, carbonized husk.
Objectivecomplete.
The walk back to the main cellar felt like a victory lap. I was spent, aching, and my head was pounding, but I had never felt more powerful. I had cleared my first dungeon. I had protected my sanctuary.
I retrieved my lantern, its steady glow a comforting sight. Before I went upstairs, I took a moment to do a quick post-battle analysis. I used [Observe] on my new piece of loot.
[Crawler Venom Sac]
Type: Alchemical Reagent
Quality: Uncommon
Description: A gland containing a potent paralytic neurotoxin from a Cellar Crawler. Highly corrosive. If handled improperly, can cause temporary paralysis and skin damage. Can be refined by a skilled alchemist into a powerful poison or a muscle relaxant.
Another piece of the puzzle. Alchemy. It was a skill I would have to look into.
I climbed the stairs, leaving the darkness and the dead behind me. I emerged into the quiet, sleeping tavern, the familiar smells of ale and woodsmoke a welcome comfort.
As I secured the trapdoor, a figure detached itself from the shadows near the bar. It was Elara, holding a single candle. She hadn't been asleep. She had been waiting.
She looked me over. I was covered in grime, my clothes were singed, and I probably smelled like a nightmare. Her sharp eyes missed nothing. She glanced at the trapdoor, then back at me.
"Is it done?" she asked, her voice low.
I was too tired for lies or games. "It's done," I said, my voice raspy. "The nest is gone. They won't be a problem anymore."
She studied my face for a long, silent moment. I could see a dozen questions in her eyes, but she didn't ask any of them. Instead, she gave a single, sharp nod.
"Good," she said. She turned and walked toward the kitchen. "There's a pot of stew on the hearth. You look like you've earned it."
I watched her go, a wave of profound gratitude washing over me. I wasn't just an employee here. I wasn't just a secret pyromaniac hiding in the attic. In that moment, I felt something else. I felt like I was home.