The dungeon corridor was narrow and damp, the stone walls breathing out a cold smell of moss and iron. A girl with white, silky hair moved through it with steady steps, her golden eyes sharp even in the dim torchlight. She wore simple clothes meant for movement, a dark tunic tied at the waist, light leather armor protecting her chest and shoulders, fitted pants, and worn boots. A small bag hung from her waist, heavy with coins and dried rations, and in her right hand she held a short knife, its edge nicked but reliable.
A goblin rushed at her from the side passage, screeching as it raised its rusted blade.
She didn't hesitate. One clean step forward, a twist of her wrist, and the knife slid under its chin. The goblin collapsed with a wet sound, its body twitching once before going still.
She exhaled slowly.
'This really sucks,' she thought, wiping the blade against the goblin's ragged clothes.
'Dark, smelly, and full of things that want me dead. Not exactly how I imagined my life.'
Another goblin charged, then another. She moved between them with practiced motions, cutting low, turning her shoulder, never wasting strength. When the last one fell there was only silence.
She leaned against the wall for a moment, closing her eyes.
'Mom… Dad…'
Her grip on the knife tightened.
The dungeon faded, replaced by the memory of a quiet night and trembling arms holding something warm and small.
She remembered opening the door to her parent's house, her clothes still dirty from the streets, a newborn baby wrapped tightly against her chest. The red lanterns of the district were still burning in her eyes back then, their glow clinging to her skin.
"I found him," she had said, voice shaking. "Someone threw him away."
Her parents faces had gone pale, then hard.
"You can't bring that thing here," her father had snapped.
"Do you know what kind of place you picked him up from?"
Her mother had looked torn, but fear won in the end.
"You're not taking responsibility for someone else's mistake," her mother said.
"We can barely manage as it is."
She remembered hugging the baby closer, feeling his tiny fingers curl around her clothes.
"I can't leave him," she replied.
"Didn't you always say you wanted me to have a child one day? To make you grandparents? What's wrong with this?"
Her mother's voice had risen then, sharp with panic.
"No! You're too young Femi!. Raising a child isn't a joke. And this baby...this is someone else's mistake. We don't have enough money to feed everyone."
The memory shattered as a heavy hiss echoed through the dungeon.
A lizard monster lunged from the shadows, scales scraping stone as it swung its claws. She ducked under the attack, rolled, and came up behind it. The knife plunged into the soft gap beneath its jaw. The creature thrashed, then fell.
Breathing hard, she stood over it, blood dripping from her blade.
'It was never about my age,' she thought bitterly.
'Or the child.'
She wiped her knife again, movements slower now.
'They just wanted me to marry someone rich. Get knocked up by him. Live comfortably and smile like a good daughter.'
She scoffed softly.
'As if I could do that.'
Turning away from the corpse, she continued down the corridor.
'I left. Took him with me. Lived alone. Learned how to fight, how to earn, how to survive.'
Her hand brushed the small bag at her waist, as if reassuring herself it was still there.
'I'll raise him myself.'
'I'll watch my son grow. Make him handsome. Strong. Kind.'
A faint smile touched her lips.
'I'll become a better parent than they ever could be.'
She went deeper without rushing, her steps measured as she scanned the walls and floor. The dungeon narrowed here, the ceiling low enough that moisture dripped steadily onto the stone. She adjusted the small bag on her waist and glanced down at the corpses behind her.
"Goblin ears… I'll collect them on the way back," she muttered.
"No point carrying extra weight right now."
Her golden eyes swept the ground again, habit drilled into her bones by too many close calls. Broken stones, claw marks, dried blood. Nothing unusual.
Then her foot pressed down.
Click.
Her body reacted before her mind caught up.
She heard the sharp twang of a mechanism and the hiss of air. She twisted sideways, pushing off the wall as an arrow flew past where her head had been a second ago, embedding itself deep into the stone.
She landed lightly—
and froze.
Something cold brushed her neck.
Too late.
A thin spider string snapped tight.
Pain flashed white as the nearly invisible thread sliced into her skin. Not deep, but enough. Warm blood spilled down her collarbone. She staggered back, coughing as her breath hitched.
"—kh!"
Her hand flew to her waist. She yanked out a small green potion, fingers already slick with blood.
'Calm down. It's shallow. Just drink it.'
Before she could lift the bottle—
Thud.
Something struck her wrist.
The potion flew from her hand, shattered against the stone, green liquid soaking uselessly into the dungeon floor.
She stared for a split second, shock freezing her in place.
Then she slowly lifted her gaze.
From the darkness above, something descended.
It clung to the wall with long, jointed legs, its body as large as a carriage wheel. Its shell was a dull black mixed with dark crimson veins that pulsed faintly. Multiple eyes lined its head, glassy and uneven, reflecting torchlight in distorted fragments. Its fangs clicked together, dripping thick, pale venom that sizzled faintly where it hit the floor.
A spider monster.
Her breath caught.
'No way…'
Her grip tightened on her knife.
'That's an A-5 rank monster.'
Her mind raced as she backed away slowly, ignoring the sting at her neck.
'I'm on the third floor.'
Her eyes flicked around the chamber, panic creeping in despite her effort to suppress it.
'This floor is supposed to have C-1 to C-8 monsters.'
The spider shifted, its legs scraping stone as it lowered itself, blocking the path behind her with layered webs she hadn't noticed before.
Her chest tightened.
She remembered the guards at the dungeon entrance, their careless warning that they gave her.
"This is a new, fresh dungeon. Be careful inside."
At the time, she had barely listened.
'Fresh dungeon… unstable spawn tables…'
She clenched her jaw.
'I didn't care.'
Money had been all she'd seen. Faster clears. Better drops. Enough to buy food, medicine, clothes small enough for a growing child.
She had walked in thinking only of that.
The spider tilted its head, as if amused.
Blood slid further down her neck.
She raised her knife anyway, stance low and ready.
'Fine,' she thought grimly.
'If this dungeon wants to punish me for being greedy…'
Her lips curved into a thin, humorless smile.
'It'll have to do better than this.'