Section 5 didn't give me time to think.
The moment I stepped through—
everything moved.
Skittering from the left.
A low, familiar growl from ahead.
And above—
that thin, slicing sound.
All at once.
I stepped back instinctively—
Too slow.
A Scuttler hit the ground where my foot had been a second earlier.
A Hound was already charging.
And something cut the air above me.
"Right," I muttered, breath already tightening.
"Not taking turns anymore."
This wasn't like the other sections.
No separation.
No patterns I could isolate one at a time.
Everything overlapped.
I moved sideways.
Not back.
Back meant getting pinned.
The Hound closed distance fast.
Quills rippling—
I ducked.
Felt one graze past my shoulder.
Didn't stop.
A Scuttler lunged from the side.
I kicked.
Hard.
It didn't kill it.
But it threw it off balance long enough—
The Hound hit it mid-charge.
Both went down.
I stepped in.
One strike for the Scuttler.
Then shifted immediately—
The Hound was already getting back up.
I drove the quill into its throat.
Held.
Let its own momentum work against it.
It struggled.
Claws tearing at my arm.
I didn't let go.
"Stay down," I muttered.
It did.
Eventually.
No time to breathe.
The sound above shifted.
Bat.
I moved before it committed.
Swung upward.
Connected.
It dropped.
HP: 49 / 530
I exhaled once.
Short.
Controlled.
Three down.
Not even close to done.
More movement.
Every direction.
"Too many," I muttered.
Fighting them straight wasn't going to work.
Not like this.
I moved.
Not toward them.
Through them.
Positioning.
A Scuttler lunged.
I stepped aside.
Let it pass.
A Hound followed—
straight into it.
Collision.
Good.
I used that.
Moved again.
Pulled them into each other.
Forced overlap.
Forced mistakes.
Not strategy.
Not clean.
But effective.
A Bat dove—
I ducked.
It clipped a Hound instead.
The Hound snapped upward instinctively.
Caught it.
One less problem.
"Good," I breathed.
This worked.
Not fighting them.
Using them.
A Scuttler came from behind—
I didn't turn.
Stepped forward instead.
It missed.
Another Hound closed from the front—
I shifted left—
They collided.
I stepped in.
Finished both.
HP: 42 / 530
Dropping too fast.
Still too messy.
I needed to clean it up.
I slowed.
Forced it.
Not faster.
Better.
One target at a time.
Even in chaos.
A Bat shifted overhead.
I tracked the sound.
Waited.
It committed—
I swung.
Hit.
Reset.
A Hound came next.
I stepped inside the charge.
Closer.
Safer.
Pinned.
Held.
Killed.
Repeat.
The Scuttlers were easier now.
Almost automatic.
Dodge.
Strike.
Finish.
The Bats—
Predictable.
The Hounds—
manageable.
Not easy.
Never easy.
But manageable.
Time blurred.
Not minutes.
Just—
actions.
Move.
Strike.
Adapt.
At some point—
it stopped.
Silence.
I stood still.
Breathing hard.
Listening.
Nothing moved.
"Clear," I said quietly.
HP: 31 / 530
Too close.
Again.
I crouched where I stood.
Hands shaking slightly.
Not from fear.
From exhaustion.
I pulled the cores.
Ate them.
One by one.
+0.5
+0.3
+0.2
Diminishing.
Expected.
HP: 68 / 530
Better.
Not good.
I leaned back slightly.
Just for a second.
That had been different.
Not just harder.
Messier.
Unpredictable.
I looked around the section.
This wasn't a tutorial anymore.
Or if it was—
it wasn't designed for people like me.
That thought stayed.
Didn't go away.
I stood.
Slowly.
Checked my weapon.
The quill was cracking near the base.
Hairline fractures running through it.
"Not lasting much longer," I muttered.
I tightened my grip anyway.
The door to the next section stood ahead.
Same as before.
Waiting.
But something about it felt heavier.
Like a line.
I stepped closer.
The panel lit up.
FLOOR 1 — BOSS ANTEROOM
PROCEED?
I stared at it.
Boss.
I looked down at my hands.
At the blood.
At the cracks in the weapon I was holding.
HP: 68 / 530
Not enough.
Not even close.
I exhaled slowly.
"…figures."
There was no other option.
There never had been.
I pressed the panel.
The door opened.
And somewhere far above—
where the floors were no longer quiet—
the notification appeared.
ANOMALY #0001
FLOOR 1 BOSS ANTEROOM REACHED
A pause.
Then another line.
ESTIMATED SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 3%
Silence followed.
Then—
laughter.
Not loud.
Not mocking.
Interested.
"No one's betting on him," someone said.
Another voice.
Calm.
Observing.
"…I might."
And far below—
on Floor 1—
Kai stepped forward.