BOOM.
The mutated rodent slammed headfirst into the thick stone wall, sending cracks splintering across its surface. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
Arlen had barely managed to roll to the side, his back scraping against the slimy wall.
In the dark, the only thing visible was those two eerie green eyes, glowing with a sickly light.
"Fuck!! Why on earth is a Plague Mutant here?!" He barked, gripping his rusted pickaxe like a lifeline, the tip pointed at the beast.
Arlen's mouth went dry. "Are you kidding me?!"
The rodent hissed, hunched low, its ribs visible through its diseased flesh.
Plague Mutants were considered low-level mob enemies in the world of Kraust.
But that was in the game.
And the worst part?
'I don't even have my skill tree unlocked yet. No spells. Nothing.'
Arlen gritted his teeth and swung his pickaxe in a wide arc, the rusty metal whistling through the air. The mutant rat twisted mid-lunge, narrowly avoiding the strike.
'Can't see... can't think...'
He forced himself to focus, tracking the gleam of those green eyes. The creature skittered along the ceiling and lunged again.
With a grunt, Arlen raised his pickaxe sideways
CLACK
The wooden handle jammed between the monster's gaping jaws just inches from his throat.
"Get off me!" He growled, shoving forward with everything he had.
The beast tumbled backward into the sludge with a wet splash.
Arlen staggered back, panting. His arms trembled, his lungs were on fire, and his legs felt like they'd give out any second.
'I can't kill it... not like this. I just need time. I just have to survive until the Melrose soldiers reach Marshwood'.
But the beast shrieked and lunged again.
He didn't wait.
Arlen ran.
The tunnel echoed with the beast's screeches behind him.
"Give me a break, you damned thing!"
The mutated rodent gave chase, its movements erratic and wild. It slammed into walls, rebounded, and came harder, faster—driven by rage or hunger, Arlen couldn't tell.
The tunnel twisted in different directions, and now, in the real world, he couldn't just pan the camera to see what was coming.
'Wait… there is a way.'
A memory struck him—one of the hundred desperate runs he made through this same passage in the game. Once, just out of boredom, he'd timed his sprint through the entire sewer.
Every turn. Every bend. He remembered the rhythm like a beat burned into muscle memory.
He forced his legs to move faster.
'One… two… three… four—TURN RIGHT!'
He pivoted sharply on the fourth step and darted right.
'Yes!'
A corridor opened up just as he remembered. The rodent behind him hissed, the sudden turn throwing it off balance.
Arlen didn't stop.
The screech echoed again—closer.
But in the distance… he could see something. A sliver of light filtering through a crack in the ceiling.
His heartbeat spiked.
'That's it! I just need to reach that spot—just need a little more—'
SPLASH.
His foot sank into something. Sticky. Soft.
He looked down—
The ground was moving.
"Fuck. Fuck—!" Arlen thrashed wildly, his legs trapped in the writhing sludge.
He struggled harder, but it was like sinking in a pit of living mud.
Then came the screech.
Ear-splitting and wet, the mutated rodent lunged from the darkness and slammed its skull into his spine with a sickening crunch.
WHAM.
Arlen was flung across the tunnel like a ragdoll, crashing into the stone wall with a heavy thud. Blood splattered from his lips.
But the hit had thrown him clear of the living floor.
Gasping, his fingers scrambled until they found the familiar, splintered handle of the pickaxe.
He stood, staggering, legs trembling. His head was spinning. Vision doubled.
The rodent was already closing in, low and growling.
And just behind it—a crack in the ceiling. Pale silver moonlight filtered down like salvation.
He had no choice now.
No more running.
'That's the way out... and that bastard's in the way.'
Arlen tightened his grip on the pickaxe, knuckles white.
"No choice…"
He gritted his teeth—and charged.
"RAHHHH!"
The point of the pickaxe came down hard, aimed straight for the creature's skull.
The rodent slipped to the side too fast.
But Arlen didn't stop.
"I'm not dying here, you overgrown sewer rat!"
He swung again—and again—driving the beast back, forcing it into a corner. Each wild strike of his pickaxe sent grime spraying into the dark.
The mutated rodent shrieked and leapt, bounding from wall to wall with unnatural agility. Before he could react, claws sank into his flesh—tearing into his side and upper arm.
"AAARGH!" Arlen staggered, nearly losing grip of his weapon.
A searing pain shot across his body. His blood felt like it was boiling.
'Plague poison… damn it…' He clutched his side. The curse in his veins amplified the toxin. His vision blurred. He could barely breathe.
But he stood his ground.
'I've played this game. I know this… and it won't be with me in the dirt.'
But he wasn't in a game anymore. And he refused to die.
He wasn't strong.
He wasn't fast.
But he was desperate.
"FUCK THIS!" He roared, eyes flaring red, driven by instinct alone.
The rodent lunged again, claws out.
He feinted left, then twisted violently, hooking the rusted pickaxe sideways. The iron edge sank deep into the beast's flank.
The creature screeched—a raw cry—and writhed.
Now. Now!
"DIE!" Arlen screamed, lifting the weapon overhead with trembling arms.
Time seemed to slow.
He brought the axe down with everything he had.
CRACK.
The pickaxe drove straight through the monster's skull, splitting it clean. The rodent twitched, spasmed… then stilled.
Silence.
Arlen stood over the corpse, every breath agonizing. Blood soaked his raggedy underwear. His skin burned. His vision began to blur.
But he was alive.
He looked up.
"…Time to get out of this hellhole." He mumbled weakly,
He limped forward, dragging himself toward the exit, one trembling step at a time. He reached the wall and began to climb.
Each pull drained him. The poison in his blood was fire. His heart pounded.
But he climbed.
At last, with a final gasp, he hauled himself up and out of the tunnel.
The night air hit him like ice. He collapsed onto the wet grass.
Behind him, the village still burned.
His body convulsed. His hands curled into fists. The poison was faster now—racing through his veins.
He crawled forward.
One hand.
Then the other.
Just a little farther…
He reached for the tree.
Boots thundered nearby.
"Over here!"
"I've got someone—he's alive!"
Rough hands turned him over. A gasp.
"He's been poisoned. Badly."
A warm glow flickered above him.
"Hold on,"
Then came the soothing sensation washing over him—cool and sharp. A chant echoed faintly.
Before the light swallowed him whole.
'…Still alive… bastards…'
Then darkness took him.
[Quest Completed Successfully]
[Rewards : System Initialization]
[Hidden Scenario Completion Reward : +2 SP]