Chương 10: Neon Hunting

Squelching sounds of meat being butchered filled the hallowed cave, thick with stalagmites and stalactites. The luminous blue glow of Nero's lantern flickered left and right as he dodged the Neon rats. On the floor lay a flattened Neon rat, wet acidic green liquid streaming down its tail. The poison mixed with the blood pooling from the hole in its stomach. Nero made sure not to step in its blood, shifting positions frequently.

"Tsk, this is going nowhere." He muttered, irritation gnawing at him.

"I've been dodging these shits for several minutes now." He hopped in place as one of the four remaining Neon rats lunged at his feet, while simultaneously punching the face of the rat shooting at his own—flinging it down.

"Ouch!" He yelped from the splash of poison. This one had poison streaming literally from its eyes, like tears. On landing, he immediately ran toward the stalagmites, putting distance between himself and the swarm. He could still hear other rats coming from behind those rock formations, but he had no choice but to head that way—the Neon rats were closing in from the wall's direction. The stinging in his hands from punching the poison-covered rat began to spread.

He quickly unholstered the last of his two antidote bottles and splashed some over the burn.

"These things are relentless, and for whatever reason, they're not showing any pattern at all." Last time, he'd seen these things running in circles, attacking one at a time. But this time there was no such order—they came from all angles, like rabid dogs.

"There has to be some pattern to their attack. If not, why—" He turned toward the stalagmites to his left. For some reason, the rest of the rats weren't coming at him from behind those rocks.

"Why…" he asked himself again, running backward, swinging his short spear now and then to ward off attacks.

"This can't keep going." He batted two more rats aside with the blade of his spear. It cut in slightly, and warm blood splattered across his face. He wiped it away with his sleeve while kicking another rat sideways. A stinging sensation rose from his feet next. He looked down. The small amounts of poison that had struck him over the long fight had eaten through a good chunk of his leather boots' thickness, making each new splash hit harder.

"And just when my hand was feeling better." He almost laughed at his own situation—if only the rats gave him the chance. The two he'd stabbed moments ago came barreling forward again, blood streaming from their wounds, more poison dripping from their faces and claws. They were trying to slather him with it, even if it killed them.

"Damned suicidal bastards!" he yelled, swinging his spear in a wide arc to build momentum. The blade slammed into their hides and the flesh beneath, and both rats crumpled, blood spilling from their mouths. Nero stepped on their wounded bellies as they tried to skitter away again. His blue eyes shone, and with a sharp downward strike, with all his weight behind it, he drove the tip of his spear through both their eyes. The rats shuddered and went still. But Nero suddenly felt a searing, heavy pain on his back.

His eyes widened in terror—a rat had somehow latched on, chewed through his leather armor, and was tearing at the last threads of his corsair, its poison hitting his shirt directly. While he'd been immersed in fight with the others.

"For fuck's sake!" he cursed, lifting his spear and jabbing its tip back over his shoulder. Facing the point, the rat let go and jumped back. Rage overtook his irritation. He broke into a run, skidding, nearly stumbling, as the last Neon rat came into range. He slashed sideways. The sound of blade cutting air, then hide and flesh, echoed as the rat fell. Hopefully the last of its kind here, he prayed. He slumped back, took another potion—this one for healing—and poured it over his back.

Nearly half his back burned, an itch settling in alongside the pain.

"Shit, I've lost my boots, and now my corsair's ruined too." He punched the patch of moss beside him in irritation, then looked ahead toward the stalagmites. The sounds from there had gone completely silent. A thin beam of light shot down from the stalactite above. The Safezone, he recalled. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The dungeons weren't all doom and gloom—he used to imagine otherwise.

There was some order to it, like the unspoken rule granting adventurers ten minutes of rest during a raid, a stretch where all spawns went quiet and no attacks began. The beam of light hit the stalactite overhead, crisscrossing with several others, forming a circle around him as he was bathed in a soft, cozy green glow. The breadth of that green light marked his "safezone." Step beyond it, and every spawn in the dungeon—and their mother—would come for him without exception.

"The safezone forming means the clock's already started." He noted—ten minutes of rest, not a second more.

"What a farce." He snorted. The safezone was a joke—sure, seventy percent of the time the dungeon's spawns didn't break the truce. But that meant the other thirty percent of the time, they did. Each dungeon was run by a dungeon core—a thing hidden deep beneath the earth that decided whether the dungeon's beasts should attack invaders or not. And more often than people liked to admit, they did. It depended on the core's judgment: did it see you as an existential threat, or a heavy cost to its own growth?

"In that case, the odds of an attack during the safezone become a hundred percent guaranteed." He still remembered the time he'd pulled out his lunch during a safezone, back when he was new to adventuring with the Red Rats. He'd gotten an hour-long lecture for it from the former captain of their party, drilling into him the truth behind a dungeon's so-called safezone. So Nero didn't relax much during it. He kept a firm grip on his short spear, eyes fixed on the cluster of stalagmites ahead.

Time ticked by, and soon the green light faded, leaving him with an idea. As the light receded fully, Nero sprang to his feet and moved straight into the stalagmite cluster, just as the sounds of rat activity erupted around him. He didn't stop moving, pushing deeper until he stood at the very center of the cluster. The rattling of rats scrambling over stone came from every direction, their chaotic skittering slowly settling into something more rhythmic.

He kept his ears sharp, tracking footsteps, until he caught one approaching from his right. He swung his spear the moment the creature came into view, piercing it through the midsection before flinging it aside—just as another rat, having finished its three laps around him, rushed in from behind. As he turned to strike it, he heard footsteps closing in fast from both sides.

"Shit, two at once!" He abandoned the first kill, too costly in time, and instead kicked it away, turned left, and punched the rat lunging for his face straight down. It slammed to the ground with a squeak of pain. He brought the blade of his spear down across its neck, then braced for the next double charge. Inwardly, he felt a flicker of relief at the return of a familiar pattern.

Earlier, the rats had attacked erratically because he hadn't given them room to encircle him—forcing them into chaotic maneuvers just to find space. It had been a gamble, moving to the center of the stone cluster. But the alternative—facing ten-plus rats in that same chaotic style—would've been far worse. Four Neon rats attacking erratically had already been brutal; more than ten would've been unthinkable, even if these weren't the poisonous kind.

"Still, it's rough dealing with multiple charges at once," he muttered through gritted teeth, kicking one rat away while running his spear through another. Through repetition, Nero fell into rhythm—stabs, swings, and swipes flowing out in steady succession, thinning the swarm minute by minute. But they wasn't the only one bleeding; his hands, legs, and the sides of his face grew more torn and bloodied by the moment. After what felt like an eternity, Nero stomped the skull of the last grey essence rat flat.

Around him, the chaos of skittering claws fell silent, plunging the cave into an eerie hush. He slumped back into the blood and gore of the dozens of rats surrounding him and uncorked his second healing potion—only a sip remained. He drank it and tossed the bottle aside.

"Hah, finally done…" He looked up as another beam of green light shot out from deeper in the cave, striking the stalactites and forming a wide circle around him.

"Or not." The formation of a new safezone meant the dungeon still wasn't clear, and he remained barred from the boss chamber.

"Then again, it was arrogant to think I'd clear a whole E-grade dungeon this fast." Usually, a dungeon raid unfolded in three to ten stages, with the rest periods between each growing longer as the raid progressed. The first safezone typically lasted ten minutes, the second stretched to thirty, and so on—up to a maximum of five hours. That scale didn't apply to E-rank dungeons, though; it was more common in D-rank and above. For now, he had no intention of spending half an hour staring into the darkness ahead.

He rose, stretched his limbs, and took another sip of the healing potion for comfort. Ahead, he heard the rats stirring again.

"Smart dungeon core—it's already caught on to my plan," he said with a smile, breaking into a run.

"First, my five Neon rats!" He sprinted toward the wall where he'd stashed the bodies, scooping up several grey rats along the way. By the time he reached the Neons, a swarm of essence rats surged behind him like a rising tide. He gave a pained smile.

"At least fifteen normal rats, and five more Neons. Great." He didn't wait—he bolted for the dungeon entrance with his spoils. The corpses would dissolve back into mana if he didn't get them out in time. He had to move fast, or his profits would shrink. Light appeared at the end of the tunnel as he burst out of the dungeon, still running. He dumped the rat corpses under a tree and scrambled up it.

"Phew, finally!" He sighed in relief. Behind him, deep in the dark cave, he could see glowing eyes—Neon green, red, flickers of white from the black-eyed rats—watching him with an eerie, unmoving contempt. After a long moment, they melted back into the dark.

"Next raid's gonna be a lot harder… well, that is, if I don't cash in these gains first." He smirked down at the pile of corpses below.