Zeke crept through the crevasse as stealthily as he could. His eyes were wide, his head cocked to the side as he strained for any indication that he was about to be attacked. While he could barely make out the outlines of the cave’s uneven walls, the gloom quickly swallowed any detail, and after only a few feet, there was only a wall of impenetrable darkness. So, he trailed his fingers along the wall as he gingerly stepped through the cave, hardly noticing the sharp rocks scraping against his bare feet.

Thankfully, there weren’t any branching paths yet. If there had been, he had no idea how he would choose which way to go. Even more fortuitously, he found himself climbing a slight incline. It was hardly noticeable, at first, but with each step, he grew a little more optimistic about escaping the cave. However, when he saw no change even after what he thought was a few hours, he was forced to reassess his optimistic prediction. But he trudged along, mostly because he had no idea what else to do.

One thing he did know, however, was that his enhanced stats definitely helped with fatigue. Before he’d died, he had been an athlete – and not just a casual one, either. Rather, from the time he was five years old until he’d mangled his arm, he’d spent nearly every day either preparing for or playing baseball. It had been his passion, his entire world. He hadn’t simply liked the game; it had been everything to him. So, unlike some of his peers, he’d never once considered slacking off or giving anything less than his best effort. And the results had spoken for themselves when he’d become a top-tier catching prospect who, before his injury, was expected to be drafted into the major leagues.

But then disaster had struck in the form of that car accident, and he’d been cast adrift. One memory, in particular, had stuck with him. It had been about six months after the car wreck, and he’d actually been feeling pretty good. He didn’t have full range of motion or anything, but he thought he could at least take some batting practice. So, full of the exuberance and ignorance of youth, he’d gone down to the batting cages with one of his teammates.

The first swing hadn’t been terrible. He’d even made weak contact. After all, the hand-eye coordination he’d built over more than a decade of manic practice hadn’t dissolved during his recovery. With that swing, he’d dared to hope. The next one mercilessly smothered that spark. The moment the bat solidly connected with the ball, a shooting pain had erupted up and down his arm, bringing tears to his eyes.

It wasn’t just the physical agony of it. Just like any serious athlete, he knew how to deal with pain. Rather, it was the emotional toll of suddenly realizing that he couldn’t do the one thing he’d always wanted that had done him in.

Before, when the doctors had told him that he was lucky he hadn’t lost the arm altogether, he’d thought of it as just one more bump in his road to the major leagues. He’d been hurt before. He could get through it again. He’d imagined himself triumphantly defying the doctors’ predictions and making it where he knew he belonged. It would make for a good story, once everything was said and done. And all it took was willpower to go that extra mile. After all, until the moment, his body had never let him down before.

But with that one swing, his confidence had shattered. After that, he only gave a token effort during his ongoing physical therapy sessions. Finally, he believed his doctors’ predictions that he’d never play again, and with that belief, he had lost his drive. Even once he was healthy, he’d stopped working out. He’d stopped watching what he ate. He had stopped taking care of himself altogether. It was only when his brother’s condition worsened and he saw a chance to be the hero that his mindset even marginally improved.

In a lot of ways, Zeke was grateful for his death. Not only had it served a purpose and, according to Oberon, given his little brother a new lease on life, but it had also given him the chance to start over, albeit in a hellish cave where a monster attack was around every corner. His confidence had started to return, though, and he was beginning to see the opportunity before him. After all, he was stronger than he’d ever been in his life, and in better condition, too. And so long as he kept moving forward, he would only grow more powerful.

The evidence of that was staring him in the face as the hours stretched on, and his energy level didn’t even begin to lag. In fact, he felt better with each passing second, no doubt because of the effect of his investment in vitality. Already, the soreness in his hands had faded into nothing. The various cuts and scrapes and contusions had healed as well. The only physical reminder of his desperate battle with the croco-rats was the pain in his thigh, but even that was getting better by the minute. Within a day, maybe two, he’d be back to pristine condition – a cause for positivity if he’d ever seen one.

His optimism hit a brick wall when he heard a scraping sound up ahead. He’d been walking in silence for hours, so even the slightest of sounds was like a blaring horn. More, it was easy to recognize it for what it was – a claw scratching against rock. Clearly, he wasn’t done with the croco-rats.

Briefly, he considered retracing his steps. Perhaps he’d missed a branch somewhere, and he could avoid conflict with the local wildlife. However, he quickly dismissed that thought based on one simple fact. His quest had implied that he was within a nest of the creatures. Even if he found an alternate route, he’d probably run into more of the same.

And besides, his increased stats had come with a surge of confidence. He’d already killed four of the monsters. What was one more? Maybe he’d even gain another level. Adrenaline and excitement mingled within him, pushing him forward. With a thought, he activated his [Leech Strike], which enveloped his hands in a red cloud. Looking down, he marveled at the ability. It was magic, just like in stories. He shook his head in bemusement; his world had changed.

Just before he was about to start forward, he noticed something, though. Beneath the red cloud of energy, he saw an intricate pattern along the backs of his hands. It was barely noticeable, glowing only slightly more than the cloud itself, but to him, it was as clear as day. On the surface, it almost looked like a Celtic circle, but his instincts told him that it went far deeper than any mere pattern. It was three-dimensional, and he could only just make out more patterns along its surface. It was dizzyingly complex, and Zeke got a headache just looking at one of the runes.

He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs as he looked away. As much as he wanted to study the runes – and he very much did – he knew this was neither the time nor the place. The croco-rat hadn’t noticed him yet, as evidenced by the fact that it wasn’t currently trying to shred him to pieces, but it wouldn’t be long before his presence was discovered. He desperately wanted to dictate the fight, and to do that, he needed to get the jump on the creature. So, as silently as he could, he inched forward. Careful step by careful step, he made his way down the long crevasse until he saw it open into a huge gallery.

Most of it was swallowed by the pervasive darkness, but even with that limitation, Zeke was awe-struck. Stalactites, glittering with crystals, jutted from the cave’s ceiling while a forest of pillar-like stalagmites grew upward, blocking his view of the rest of the cave. In addition to the slight scratching sound emanating from nearby, there was the telltale sound of running water coming from somewhere within the cavern. Between the stalagmites grew moss and mushrooms, though in the dark, Zeke couldn’t really tell the colors. But he did see hints of movement, here and there. Usually, it was just a brief break in the lines of a stalagmite, but he could tell that the cavern was crawling with caracoa.

He squatted at the entrance, which was about three or four feet above the cavern floor, wondering what he should do. He couldn’t just run in, proverbial guns blazing. Judging by what he’d seen so far, there were at least a dozen of the creatures in the cavern. Maybe more. Luckily, none of them seemed to have noticed him yet, which gave him plenty of opportunity to search for an opening. He wasn’t certain how long he sat there, watching the cavern’s denizens, but eventually, he noticed a few things.

First, they weren’t wandering aimlessly. Instead, the creatures were feeding on the mushrooms that sprouted between the stalagmites. However, it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see a pair of the caracoa facing off against one another as they fought for what Zeke guessed was a particularly delectable mushroom. Usually, there were no deaths resulting from these confrontations, but there were wounds aplenty. The monsters were equipped with sharp teeth and even sharper claws, after all. And though their scales were tough, they didn’t prove a match for the croco-rats’ natural weapons.

Another strange thing he noticed was that some of the creatures seemed capable of walking on two legs, albeit for only a short time. They reminded Zeke of long-torsoed toddlers learning how to walk, awkward and unbalanced. But the few capable of bipedal ambulation were the biggest and most vicious-looking of the creatures.

Finally, he saw the detail that he fully intended to exploit. Because fights were so common, or maybe because they weren’t particularly social creatures, none of the uninvolved croco-rats seemed to care when a battle broke out. They didn’t look up. They didn’t respond in any way. And Zeke figured that one more fight wasn’t going to draw any more notice than any of the others had. So, he settled down to wait for his moment to strike.

It took almost an hour for one of the croco-rats to separate itself enough that Zeke felt confident that his ambush wouldn’t be noticed. But as soon as it did, he slowly crept forward, crouching low while using the stalagmites and deep shadows for cover. The closer he came, the faster his heart beat. Outwardly, though, he was calm. During his baseball career, he’d learned how to deal with pressure, how to focus on the task at hand, and most importantly, how to keep his cool and block unnecessary distractions out. He used that same strategy with his impending fight against the caracoa. If he could deliver a game-winning homerun in the bottom of the ninth in the championship game of the state playoffs, he could successfully jump a creature half his size. That established, Zeke continued his approach until he was only a few feet away. Happily munching on some mushrooms – and getting a fair few rocks with each bite – the thing still hadn’t noticed him.

He pounced, springing forward like a hunting cat. He raised his fists in a double-handed strike, bringing them down with thunderous force. The croco-rat never had a chance, and in one blow, he could feel the crunch of the thing’s skull. However, he wasn’t going to make the mistake of letting it wriggle away with only a fractured skull. So, he punched once again, each blow yanking a bit of the thing’s lifeforce away. However, because Zeke had already recovered, it quickly dissipated, only adding a bit of damage to his punches. It didn’t matter, though – within seconds, the monster’s head had been reduced to a scaley, bloody mush.

Zeke panted, not from exertion, but from excitement – especially when he felt the familiar energy rush through his pathways and to that ball in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t enough to gain another level. Not even close, really. But it still felt good, having that energy sitting inside him, evidence of his victory.

He glanced down at his hands, pleased to see that they hadn’t broken like before. They didn’t feel good, though. In fact, he could feel that they had barely held up. However, it was a vast improvement over his first battle.

He had spent almost an entire day trekking through the cave system, but it felt like much, much more. And that feeling was only enhanced by the clear differences his body had already undergone, and that was just from one level. What would it feel like in two? Or ten? How strong would he be when he finally reached level twenty-five and obtained a class? A million thoughts rampaged through his mind, distracting him to the point that he was completely caught off guard when one of the bigger, occasionally-bipedal croco-rats barreled into him, its jaws clamping down on his shoulder.

Zeke let out a cry of mingled surprise and pain, but though he was certain that the thing had a bite force rivaling that of a real crocodile, its teeth barely pierced his skin. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t a couple of cracked bones, though. It seemed that his insides hadn’t quite caught up to the outside, in terms of sheer durability.

He crashed against a stalagmite with enough force that it sent a cascade of rocks crumbling down its sides. A spiderweb of cracks spread from the point of impact, and the croco-rat’s screeches filled the cave, bouncing off the walls with a wholly disturbing echo. However, Zeke found himself reacting on instinct, reaching up to grab the creature stubbornly trying to rip into his shoulder. It was awkward, trying to get a grip on the thing, but eventually, Zeke managed to dig his fingers into the monster’s thick, scaly hide. With a wrench, he ripped the croco-rat away and, with a mighty heave, tossed it into the nearby cave wall. It might’ve been bigger than the other caracoa so far, but it was still little bigger than a child. And with his increased strength, he was able to throw it with truly impressive force – so much that he could audibly hear its bones breaking.

But it wasn’t dead. Not even close, so far as Zeke could tell, and it sprang to its feet in an instant. Its right foreleg hung limp, but that didn’t seem to slow it down much as it quickly launched itself at Zeke once again. Just as he was wondering if the thing was really stupid enough to try the same thing twice, he felt another set of jaws clamp down on his hamstring. Then another missile-like impact on his back. And another set of claws raking against his ribs. He almost collapsed as a swarm of caracoa – at least a dozen of the things – piled onto him, biting, clawing, and scratching.

He’d planned it out so carefully, but he’d obviously made the mistake of thinking he knew more than he really did. The croco-rats didn’t react to infighting, but an intruder? That was different. He didn’t know if it was the smell, if they saw him, or if the alpha croco-rat had warned them with its piercing screech, but every caracoa in the cavern had responded to its call.

For the briefest of moments, Zeke felt a sense of deep dejection, not unlike how he’d felt that day when he realized that his dreams of playing big league baseball were over. He’d already survived one life-or-death encounter, and he’d all but beaten another. But still, he was being overwhelmed by a dozen monsters that all wanted to kill him. So what if he somehow survived this? There’d just be another monster. Another scrape with death. That was the world he’d entered, after all. He almost succumbed, his story cut short before it even started.

But then he remembered the level he’d gotten. That sense of power. The sensation of victory he’d felt upon defeating the first group of croco-rats. Not only did he want to feel that again, but if he kept going, things would get better. He would get stronger. And soon, nothing would be able to stop him.

And if there was one thing Zeke was good at, it was progressing towards a goal. He’d done it his whole life, sacrificing all the things other kids took for granted as he spent hour after hour, day by day, training to reach the pinnacle of what he could achieve. And while that goal had been derailed, it felt like the perfect training for the world in which he’d found himself.

So, sure – the bites hurt. The claws creasing his skin were agonizing. But they couldn’t kill him. He wouldn’t let them. In fact, they were no different than all the thousands of baseballs he’d hit over the years. Just a training tool. He bent his mind to the task, pushing his doubts aside as he roared his defiance.

His first kill came when he stomped down with all the force he could muster, his foot collapsing the entirety of an unlucky croco-rat’s ribcage. The next came when he lashed out with a punch that hit the previously-injured croco-rat alpha in the side of its oblong head, completely caving in his skull. This time, his [Leech Strike] did its job, seizing a bit of the creature’s waning vitality and feeding it to Zeke’s injuries. One after another, Zeke felled the monsters, taking almost as many injuries as his enemies. However, the combination of his high vitality and the work of the [Leech Strike] made all the difference, and soon, there was only one of the monsters left.

The last monster was one of the croco-rat alphas, and it was easily the biggest of the bunch. When it stood on its hind legs, it came all the way to Zeke’s chest, its form thicker and more heavily muscled, with slightly longer limbs in proportion to the rest of its body. After having seen the other caracoa fall, it was also enraged to the point that it kept launching itself at Zeke with a reckless abandon that produced ferocious, lightning quick strikes. More than once, its claws had raked across Zeke’s chest, creating long, deep wounds. Not to be outdone, Zeke’s fist found the creature each time as well, mitigating the damage while calling down plenty of his own. But this creature was different. Stronger. Faster. Cleverer. And because of its clear superiority to its brethren, the fight had devolved into a battle of attrition.

Luckily, Zeke was built for just that kind of fight. Training as an elite athlete had conditioned him toward persistence, pushing him to keep going, to ignore pain and fatigue. He’d forgotten that after his injury, but with his rebirth, his willpower had returned in force. The fight with the caracoa had further sharpened it, and soon, he recognized the croco-rat alpha’s waning strength for what it was. Its strikes slowed, the power dissipating, and after a few more attempts, its weakened attacks couldn’t even break Zeke’s skin. His own strength hadn’t abated, though, and it wasn’t long before he caught the croco-rat’s snapping jaws, forcing them apart. Then, with a mighty roar, he tore them apart, nearly ripping the creature in two. It was dead in an instant.

The battle had only lasted a handful of minutes, but to Zeke, it had felt like an eternal war. All around him, the carcasses of his enemies, still warm and fresh, lay. Some, like the last croco-rat alpha, had been ripped apart. Others had had their bodies pummeled into submission. But they were all dead, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, silence rained throughout the cavern.

Breathing hard, Zeke could only smile. Not at the slaughter itself. He was curiously ambivalent about that. Rather, he relished the feeling of power. The sensation of victory. But most of all, he couldn’t help but grin at the notification that had just flashed across his eyes.

Congratulations! You have reached level three!

Given how many croco-rats he’d killed, that wasn’t all that surprising. Besides, Zeke had felt the ball of energy within him straining to its limit, so he knew he was close. However, what he hadn’t expected was the addition of another message.

You have earned a skill [Inspection]!