A great pain.
No.
Every cell in my body screams like it's on a premium torture subscription.
Unlimited option. No right of withdrawal.
I blink. Once. Blink twice.
Slow. Laborious.
My brain is slower than a Windows 98 computer in the middle of a crash.
"Nghhh..."
A pathetic moan.
Not glamorous at all.
I try to move.
I make a mistake.
I stay glued to the floor.
A weight crushes me.
Something hard. Dry. Cold.
I turn my head with difficulty.
And there it is.
The carcass.
The fucking Baladorado.
Or rather... what's left of it.
A pile of bleached bones, collapsed in on themselves, like a mouldy Halloween decoration.
I freeze.
My heart is pounding in my temples.
My brain is totally buggy.
And then...
A short, dry laugh escapes me.
"You're dead."
I laugh again.
Harder.
Almost hysterically.
He's dead.
I've killed him.
I've won.
I didn't even realise it at the time.
Too busy... surviving.
Realisation hits me right in the face.
Not in divine revelation mode.
No.
It's like a truck hurtling across my face at 200 km/h with no brakes.
"I've won..."
My voice trembles.
My eyes too.
I feel something dirty rising inside me.
Warm. Wet.
Weakness.
No. No no no. Not now. Not now.
I grit my teeth.
I clench my fists.
But despite everything...
A tear escapes.
Just one.
I crush it fiercely with the back of my hand.
"Tch... Dirty traitor. Even my tears want me dead."
I growl.
I'm not going to fall apart.
Not after surviving this.
I take a deep breath.
I spit on the ground, right on the carcass.
Dignity? Buried six feet under.
I stare at the cracked skull of the Baladorado.
"You thought you could take me, didn't you? Dirty little bugger..."
I try to move.
My knee gives out.
I stagger.
And I understand.
I'm stuck.
I look down.
Revelation: the pile of bones is still crushing me.
"Oh fuck..."
I struggle.
Pathetically.
"Even dead, you're still pissing me off..." I push with my shoulder.
I push with my shoulder.
I grunt like a pig in agony.
The skeleton crunches against the stone.
No soft flesh.
No slimy muscles.
Just hard. Dry.
I finally free myself, half-crawling.
I collapse onto my back, panting.
I stare at the ceiling of the Labyrinth.
An ugly laugh escapes me.
"Stuck under a skeleton... Fucking hell. If that isn't world class."
I roll onto my side, coughing like an old fag.
I finally stare at what's left.
No flesh.
No blood.
Hardly any guts.
Just a bleached skeleton.
Spine. Ribs. Huge fangs.
A fucking skeleton.
I squint.
"Tch... solid, eh?"
I chuckle.
My brain, fried as it is, picks up on the value of this thing.
Then a disgusting idea hits me.
I frown.
Wait a minute...
"That's not normal..."
I struggle to my feet.
"He shouldn't be reduced to bone so quickly.
A shiver goes through me.
"I'm not a living encyclopaedia like in the isekai... So knowing how long I've been asleep, no idea!"
I stand there, dumbfounded, staring at this pile of skeletons, my stomach twisted.
"Whether it's been a day or thirty for decomposition... I'd have to go back to class."
My voice is a broken breath.
I blink, searching the cracks in the ceiling for an answer.
But nothing.
The Labyrinth doesn't care.
I clench my fists.
"Dammit..."
I laugh.
A musty, humourless little laugh.
"I didn't sleep for a few minutes... huh, motherfucker..."
I slam my fist limply against a rib.
"I must have been sleeping for days... maybe weeks..."
This is no time to panic.
Not here.
Not right now.
I shake my head.
"Just I really won just by luck, didn't I?"
I stop, my heart pounding too hard in my chest.
If it wasn't for that bloody temporary regeneration the System threw at me...
I'd be dead.
Full stop.
No miracle.
No badass epilogue.
I growl.
"Fuck!"
I clench my fists, my claws scraping against my palm.
"I've got to find a way to learn how to fight seriously... Otherwise next time I'll really end up in carpaccio."
I look down at my hands.
My claws.
Useful for scratching faces in a duel of desperation.
Completely useless if I have to keep the monsters at bay.
I scan the carcass of the Baladorado, my gaze stopping on the bleached bones.
They're still holding.
Dry, but solid.
Usable.
A twisted smile contorts my face.
I reach for the spine, displayed like a mouldy trophy in the filthy light of the Labyrinth.
"And you... You're going to be my plan B, you bastard."
It's cold. Solid. A bit dirty, but who cares?
I pull on it. Nothing.
"Seriously? Is it going to hold up, you bastard?"
I kick the pile of bones, snarling like a rabid mutt.
I try again. I pull with both hands.
A sharp CRACK almost knocks me backwards.
The spine comes with me, rigid, filthy, dripping with dust.
I fall on my arse, my spine in my arms.
I stare at it.
"Good. First... I've got a handle. Now... I need spikes."
I turn my head towards what's left of the Baladorado's mouth.
I approach it on all fours, like a zombie in need of caffeine.
I grab a huge fang. I pull on it.
It doesn't move.
I pull harder.
Still nothing.
I squint.
"Tch... Come on, let go, you bastard..."
I brace my foot against the skull.
I push and pull. And I do it again.
CRAC.
The hook snaps and nearly rips my arms off.
I end up on the floor with the hook stuck in my shoulder.
Not deep. Just enough to hurt like hell.
"AAAAAH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!"
I roll around on the floor, swearing like a carter. I pull the fang out with a scream worthy of a duck whose throat has been slit.
I stare at it.
Long. Sharp. Perfect.
I giggle, still out of breath.
"A fang, check. Three litres of pain, check.
I grimace.
I look at the spine and the fang.
"How am I going to get that in there?
I look for a crack between the vertebrae.
I force it with my fingers.
I grabbed a stone from the ground and started banging on the spine like a moron, until a crack opened up.
I wedge the hook in.
Eventually, the hook sinks into the bone at an angle.
Not straight. Not pretty.
But it holds.
"HA! YOU SEE, ASSHOLE!"
I brandish my makeshift stake like an Olympic trophy.
I repeat the operation just in case.
Second hook and a third hook.
Each time, a monumental nightmare. Each time, a bit more swearing.
When I've finished, I've got a ramshackle weapon. Something between a Halloween broom and a psychopathic bum's weapon of war.
"Perfect."
I raise my improvised weapon in front of me.
A stake bristling with fangs, crude, brutal, magnificent in its ugliness.
But armed.
A tired smile stretches across my cracked lips.
"Who wants a taste of my toothpick from hell, eh?
No answer.
"Well... time to go. It's too dangerous here!
With my makeshift weapon clutched tightly to me, I enter the tunnel.
Black rocks with lots of cracked walls and the smell...
Oh God, the smell.
A smell of rotting damp.
A corridor made to suffocate any clueless idiot.
Good thing I'm here.
"Wait, did I just call myself stupid?
Anyway, you don't want to know!
Oh, the tunnel's climbing slowly.
That's a good sign.
But hey, it's not a golden staircase, is it?
It's just a dirty slope and the ground is bloody hot!
"No monsters? Perfect. I've had enough of fighting for one day."
The air is changing too.
It's getting hotter all over.
I raise an eyebrow.
Not pleasant.
Not really any better.
Just... different.
A bit more liveable, maybe.
"Brilliant. I've gone from dying instantly to dying in slow motion.
What fucking progress."
I giggle to myself.
And yeah, I like it.
The tunnel continues to climb.
With each step, the air gets heavier.
The heat, meanwhile, is increasing rapidly.
"Bloody hell, why is it so hot!?"
I frown.
The rock around me has changed without me realising it.
The sticky black of the walls has given way to a dark red, veined with glowing cracks.
The floor has hardened and cracked, as if an invisible furnace is eating away at it from the inside.
I place one bare foot on a crack.
The burn makes me wince.
"Seriously? What is this closed oven?"
My voice echoes faintly in the tunnel, muffled by the suffocating thickness of the air.
The heat is not normal.
"Nah swear, Sherlock, I hadn't noticed."
Not just heavy as a summer's day.
Not just sweaty like a gym after a sumo tournament.
No.
It's a living heat.
Something that crawls over your skin.
Something that wants to eat you slowly, cook you from the inside out, without the slightest mercy.
I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, but the sweat just flows harder, unstoppable.
The tunnel suddenly widens in front of me.
I stop for a moment at the edge of the opening abyss.
A hellish landscape stretches out before me.
Glowing walls, distorted by waves of heat.
The cracked ground exhales wisps of burning mist.
The air itself seems to dance and undulate like a living mirage.
And fucking lava.
"Lava? No wonder it's hot... "
Even without a map.
Even without any fucking indications from the System.
I knew it.
"This is shit..."
A shiver runs slowly up my spine.
Not fear.
Not really.
Just... primal instinct screaming that I've just stepped into territory where the slightest mistake means my death warrant.
"Er, System, weren't you supposed to send me somewhere less dangerous?"
[Current position: The Great Labyrinth of Elroe (Middle Stratum)]
I cough, swearing under my breath.
"Great... I've climbed up a few flights of hell and this is the reward..."
I tighten my grip on my makeshift weapon, the grating column of bone creaking under my sweaty fingers.
I plant a foot in the Middle Stratum.
Instantly, the air hits me like a molten slap.
I leap back, arms flailing like a moron.
"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF FURNACE IS THIS?
I stand at the edge of the abyss, panting, my heart pounding in my ears.
The heat licks at my skin, even from this distance.
I run a trembling hand over my sweat-soaked forehead.
"On the one hand, literal hell, and on the other, a place full of monsters... Right!"
Calm down.
Think about it.
"Well... if I just move forward a little... maybe it'll pass, right?"
Crappy idea?
Yeah, it is.
Totally.
But it's not like I've got anything better.
I take a breath - bad idea, it burns - and move forward a metre.
The heat crushes me.
My stomach churns.
My legs are screaming.
I turn straight back, spitting out some not very academic insults.
Back into the tunnel.
"Okay... okay... second try."
I grit my teeth.
I hold on for ten seconds.
Then strategic escape to the rear.
"For fuck's sake, the heat's too much!"
And on and on and on...
Playing leapfrog with death,
I'm starting to feel my body adapt.
Very slightly.
As if my muscles stopped screaming straight away.
As if the air burned a little less violently.
Not really better, but... bearable.
And suddenly.
[The skill has reached the required level. Skill acquired [LV1 Fire Resistance]. ]
I blink.
Then I raise my arms to the sky.
"FINALLY, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
My voice is lost in the furnace.
I giggle like a moron.
"Fuck... I nearly roasted fifty times for a lousy level 1... Seriously, System? Seriously?"
I raise my improvised weapon like a mouldy sceptre.
"It doesn't matter! I'm barbecue-proof now, you bastards!
A mocking laugh escapes me.
I plant one foot firmly in the Middle Stratum.
And this time I keep going.
I grit my teeth.
There's no going back now.
In the distance, silhouettes are moving.
"This is not a good start.
Creatures.
Huge. Glowing red. Pulsating heat.
I squint.
A gigantic thing, covered in scales as black as soot, sinks into a crevasse, raising sprays of lava.
Some sort of catfish I think I saw or something.
"Oh fuck... This isn't a dungeon, it's an open-air cremation."
I spit on the floor. The saliva evaporates before it even touches the rock.
The heat is hellish.
And yet... I can feel my body adapting. Just a little.
[The skill has reached the required level. The skill [Fire Resistance LV1] has become [Fire Resistance LV2].
I blink.
"I blink. Even my body doesn't want to die as quickly as it should, that's beautiful."
I half chuckle, my throat rasping.
I keep moving.
Further on, another massive creature slowly crosses a sea of lava.
"I don't want to know what you know".
I crash to the ground, hiding behind a cracked rock.
"It's official. If I get spotted here, I'm a fucking marshmallow."
I crawl in silence. The rock is hot under my hands
One more sound.
[The skill has reached the required level. The skill [Fire Resistance LV2] has become [Fire Resistance LV3].
I grit my teeth.
"Yeah, yeah, keep grilling me, we'll see who cracks first, motherfuckers..."
I sit up slowly.
The heat is still there.
But I'm coping a little better.
I start walking again.
I'm not going to die here.
I'm not going to be used as a Sunday roast for these things.
"Soon I'll be the Queen of the Barbecue!
A nervous laugh escapes me as I move on.
I slump down in a sort of empty mini-cave.
In the shade, or rather... in a corner just a little less burnt out.
I drop my makeshift weapon against the stone.
It feels like my skin is still smoking in places.
I stare into the emptiness in front of me.
And for once, I think.
Not just "survive".
Not just "going blind".
I clench my fists.
"How the fuck am I supposed to get stronger?"
Not just struggle.
I'm supposed to be able to slap the shit out of this rotten world.
I swallow, my throat dry.
"System.
Tell me something.
How do I get stronger?"
Silence.
Then.
[The main possibilities for progress are as follows.]
I squint.
"Wait, since when have you been helping me?"
[As said before, you've become a creature categorised as significant potential.]
I raise an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah? And that gets me some cool perks, at least."
[Here's a list of possibilities:]
[→ Increase physical skills and resistance to extreme conditions]
[→ Develop the use of elemental magic.]
[→ Evolve into higher life forms adapted to the environment.]
[→ Master special techniques through experience and training.]
I blink.
"Huh."
I stare at the floating lines, brain slowly reconnecting its melted neurons.
"Elemental magic... Seriously? Me? A magician?"