The air in the stairwell grew heavier with every step, a suffocating blanket of moisture and ancient dust.
The only light came from the chemical glow-stick in Silas's hand, casting long, dancing shadows against the spiral brickwork. The green light made everything look diseased.
Arthur descended cautiously, the [Sharpened Butcher's Cleaver] resting on his shoulder. It felt good there—heavy, reassuring. A promise of violence.
"Don't touch the walls," Silas whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the tight space.
"Why? Traps?"
"Mold," Silas replied, not looking back. "Black Vein Mold. It eats organic matter. Skin, leather, bone. If it gets on you, you have to cut it out before it reaches the blood."
Arthur pulled his arm closer to his body, shrinking away from the slick, dark patches on the bricks.
"Charming place," Arthur muttered.
"It keeps the tourists out," Silas said. "And the Hollow Men. Spirits hate the deep earth. They can't phase through dense stone."
They reached the bottom of the spiral after what felt like an eternity. The stairs opened up into a vaulted corridor, lined with alcoves. In each alcove sat a stone sarcophagus, the lids carved with the likenesses of long-dead priests.
The silence here was different. It wasn't empty. It was waiting.
Scritch. Scritch.
Arthur stopped. "I hear it again. Like rats."
Silas raised the glow-stick. The green light washed over the corridor.
"Not rats," Silas said, his muscles tensing. "Ghouls."
As if on cue, the shadows in the alcoves shifted.
Pale, hairless creatures uncoiled themselves from behind the sarcophagi. They were humanoid, but distorted—limbs too long, spines hunched, skin tight against their ribs. Their eyes were milky white, blind to the light but sensitive to movement.
[Monster Identified: Corpse Eater (Ghoul)] [Level: 4] [Type: Beast/Undead] [Abilities: Paralytic Scratch, Feast] [Weakness: Fire, Decapitation]
"Five of them," Arthur counted, his grip tightening on the cleaver handle. "Level 4."
"They're blind," Silas hissed. "But they smell the blood on you. On your weapon."
One of the Ghouls lifted its head, sniffing the air. It let out a high, chittering shriek, exposing a maw of jagged, yellow teeth.
"Here they come!" Arthur yelled.
The Ghouls scrambled across the floor on all fours, moving with the terrifying speed of spiders.
"Choke point!" Silas commanded. "Hold the stairs!"
Arthur stepped back onto the bottom step, blocking the narrow entrance. Silas stood on the step above him, drawing his bow.
The first Ghoul leaped.
It was aiming for Arthur's face.
Arthur didn't dodge. He had the high ground, and he had a big weapon.
He swung the cleaver in a brutal downward arc.
SQUELCH.
The heavy blade caught the Ghoul mid-air, splitting its skull down to the neck. Black blood sprayed across Arthur's boots.
[Target Neutralized.] [Critical Hit!]
"Next!" Arthur roared.
The second and third Ghouls scrambled over the body of the first, their claws scrabbling on the stone.
Arthur kicked the dead Ghoul down the stairs, tripping the second one.
Silas fired over Arthur's shoulder.
Thwip!
The arrow struck the tripped Ghoul in the spine, pinning it to the floor. It thrashed, shrieking.
But the third one was fast. It ran along the wall, defying gravity, and lunged at Arthur from the side.
Arthur tried to bring the cleaver around, but the weapon was heavy; the momentum was wrong.
The Ghoul slammed into him. Its claws raked across his left forearm.
Slash!
[Warning: Paralytic Poison Detected.] [Agility Reduced by 20% for 30 seconds.]
A numbness spread instantly from the wound, making his fingers tingle.
"Get off!" Arthur grunted, smashing the pommel of the cleaver into the Ghoul's face.
It reeled back, stunned.
Silas dropped his bow and drew his short sword. He leaped over Arthur's head, landing on the Ghoul. He drove the sword into its chest, twisting the blade.
The Ghoul went limp.
"Two left!" Silas shouted, kicking the corpse away.
The remaining two Ghouls hesitated. They sensed the death of their pack.
Arthur shook his left arm, trying to get the feeling back. "They're smart."
"They're hungry," Silas corrected. "And we look like trouble."
The Ghouls turned and fled, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor.
"Let them go," Silas said, sheathing his sword. "We don't chase in the dark."
Arthur leaned against the wall—the clean part—and checked his arm. The scratches were shallow, but the skin around them was turning a bruised purple.
[Status: Poisoned (Minor). Speed decreased.]
"Do you have an antidote?" Arthur asked.
Silas shook his head. "Not for ghoul venom. It wears off in a few minutes. Just don't let them bite you. The bite turns you."
"Turns me?"
"Into one of them," Silas said casually, picking up his glow-stick. "Game over. Character deleted. New mob spawned."
Arthur swallowed hard. "Right. No biting."
He looked at the dead Ghouls. Even in pain, his instinct was to loot.
He knelt by the first one he had killed.
[System: Harvesting...]
[Item Acquired: Ghoul Claw x2] [Item Acquired: Rotten Flesh] [Item Acquired: Ring of the Rat]
Arthur paused. A ring?
He pulled a rusted iron band from the Ghoul's finger. It looked like it had been gnawed on.
[Item: Ring of the Rat] [Type: Accessory] [Rarity: Uncommon] [Effect: Stamina Regeneration +10%] [Remark: Scavengers never stop moving.]
"Jackpot," Arthur whispered.
He slid the ring onto his left pinky. It resized instantly to fit.
He felt a subtle shift in his body. His breath came a little easier. The fatigue in his muscles seemed to drain away faster.
"Found something?" Silas asked, eyeing the ring.
"Just a trinket," Arthur lied smoothly. Information was currency, and he wasn't rich enough to be generous yet.
Silas didn't press him. "We need to move. The noise will attract the big ones."
"Big ones?"
"Grave Lords. You don't want to meet them."
They moved down the corridor, stepping over the Ghoul corpses. The numbness in Arthur's arm faded slowly, leaving behind a dull ache.
At the end of the hall, they found a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands. It was ancient, the wood petrified by time.
There was no keyhole.
Arthur pushed against it. It didn't budge.
"It's barred from the other side," Arthur said.
"This is the basement entrance to the Cathedral," Silas said. "They've locked it down."
Arthur put his ear to the wood.
He heard voices. Muffled, angry voices.
"...can't take anymore... supplies are low..." "...the fog is breaching the upper wards..." "...Outlanders bring trouble..."
"They're in there," Arthur whispered. " Survivors."
He pounded on the door with the hilt of his cleaver.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Open up!" Arthur shouted. "We're human! We're not infected!"
The voices stopped abruptly.
Silence.
Then, a small viewing slot in the door slid open. A pair of fearful eyes stared out into the green gloom.
"Go away," a man's voice hissed. "The Sanctuary is sealed."
"We have a Compass," Arthur said quickly. "We came from the Graveyard."
The eyes widened slightly. "Through the Crypts? You survived the Eaters?"
"We killed them," Silas said, stepping into the light. He looked dangerous, covered in grime, his wolf-hood shadowed. "And if you don't open this door, we'll start chopping through it. The noise will bring every monster in the catacombs right to your doorstep."
It was a bluff. Chopping through this door would take hours. But the man on the other side didn't know that.
The eyes darted between Arthur's massive cleaver and Silas's cold expression.
Click. Clack. Thud.
The sound of a heavy bar being lifted.
The door creaked open, just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
"Quickly," the man urged. "Before IT smells you."
Arthur and Silas slipped inside.
The man slammed the door shut and dropped a massive timber bar back into place.
Arthur looked around.
They were in a low-ceilinged wine cellar converted into a bunker. Barrels of wine had been smashed to make room for bedrolls. Dozens of people—NPCs and Players alike—were huddled together in the flickering light of torches.
The smell was overwhelming. Unwashed bodies, fear, and incense.
[Zone Entered: Cathedral Undercroft (Temporary Safe Zone)] [Health Regeneration: Active.]
Arthur let out a breath he had been holding. Safe.
"Welcome to the Hilton," Silas muttered dryly.
The man who opened the door turned to them. He was wearing the tattered robes of a monk, but he held a crossbow in his hands.
[NPC Identified: Brother Thomas] [Level: 10] [Role: Keeper of the Door]
"You have the mark of death on you," Brother Thomas said, pointing at the blood on Arthur's clothes. "Go to the cleansing font. Then find a corner. Do not cause trouble, or we will throw you back to the worms."
Arthur nodded. "Understood."
He walked over to a stone basin filled with water. He washed the black ghoul blood from his hands and face. The water turned dark instantly.
He looked at his reflection in the basin.
His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow. He looked older than twenty-one. He looked like a killer.
"Status," he whispered.
[Name: Arthur] [Level: 3 (EXP: 50/400)] [Time Remaining: 4 Days, 20 Hours.]
He had made it to the Safe Zone.
But looking at the huddled masses, the wounded players, and the grim-faced monks, Arthur realized something.
This wasn't the end of the danger.
The players here were eyeing his gear. They were eyeing Silas's bow.
In a room full of starving dogs, the one with the bone is the enemy.
Arthur walked over to a dark corner where Silas was already sitting, sharpening his sword.
"Rest," Silas said quietly. "Sleep with one eye open. The monsters outside are bad. The ones inside are worse."
Arthur sat down, leaning his back against a wine barrel. He gripped the handle of his cleaver.
"I know," Arthur replied.
He closed his eyes, but his hand never left his weapon.
The game had just changed. Survival was no longer just about fighting the dead. It was about surviving the living.