Rana swiped with a broken spear, the impact fractured the skull as the handle without its edge ate into the zombie head and sent it slamming against the wall. The contents inside the rotting bag of flesh smeared the wall as the undead body slumped still towards the ground. She couldn’t tell how long the zombie was cursed to shamble, but the body could finally rest in peace. The soul, however, would never be able to find a moment of rest. That was the curse the dead bore.

Rana sighed and dumped the spear to the ground.

Humans were fragile, even a defective weapon was able to overcome the hardest part of the body like it was clay. Without the mark, there was only desecration under the violence wielded by monsters. The power of a Class was not available to everyone, but it was the reason humanity survived.

Rana knelt down beside the body and pried its hand open. The fingers tore off the wooden handle it clutched as she pulled the staff away from its previous owner. She closed her eyes and let mana flow through the smooth surface and searched for its essence. The essence responded and Rana smiled. It was a magic item.

Magic items were items imbued with a magical essence extracted from crystallized runes. Unlike normal items, magic items granted the wearer special abilities as long as mana was supplied. They were rare, expensive, and virtually useless in daily life for the common-folk. However, they were indispensable for a marked one, someone who would constantly find themselves in a state-of-combat. Most adventurers were too poor to equip a full set, but a party having one or two items were much more common.

Rana brushed off the dirt on the staff and tapped into the essence once more. She did not have an identifying orb and couldn’t get the exact details of the magic within the staff but she felt its essence evoked mana generation and fire spell damage. She was surprised by how sure she was but she decided against it. Even if she knew, without confirmation there was a chance she would be operating under false pretenses.

Still, the staff was a better weapon than all the other ones she previously found. Rana did not expect much from zombies on the upper levels of the Dungeon. They were adventurers, or simply lost travelers, who lost their lives early in their journey. She should be content being able to acquire a magic item already. Her goal lied deeper within, hunting zombies was her main concern at the moment, not acquiring loot.

Rot Eaters instinctively seek out rotting flesh and within a dungeon where the Rot Mother prowled, the little fanged worms were their mother’s eyes. The result of the mine shifting its structure was that many lesser monsters caught within change perished. This included the monsters burrowed within the crushing dirt. This gave her time to kill the zombies that would no doubt attract Rot Eaters.

When zombies died they disintegrated into the earth. The same would happen to Rana if she did not hurry.

Rana continued forward towards another crowd of shambling zombies. She was nearing one of the floor entrances. She decided against testing out the staff. She needed to conserve mana in case of an emergency. With the Rot Mother hunting her, every resource spent increased the risk of defeat. Luckily, she was also a zombie and other undead paid her no attention unless provoked. Normally, she would be swarmed. Now, she could pick them off one by one.

Rana raised her staff and slammed the handle onto their heads. Zombies had no physical critical weakness but their feeble body shattered at the impact. Even though she was a mage-class, she still had the blessing of a Class. It gave her strength no normal mortal body could match, let alone one that was already dead. Limbs were torn and body parts fell out of where they were normally held. She stamped onto the head of a crawling upper torso, ending the undead wake of the last zombie within the corridor.

Rana winced at the sound of skull crunching beneath her foot. She knew in the past she would’ve never cared, but now she wasn't so sure of what to feel.

She looked at the scene of slaughter. There were no other descriptions more apt. They were monsters, but also opponents who cannot fight back. Rana began inspecting the bodies before her. They were wearing non-uniform attires and wielded makeshift weapons of smashed steel and carved wood looted from monster soldiers. These zombies were once mercenaries, expendable ones. Never provided for and could only scavenge for loot. They must’ve wanted to try their luck in an easier Dungeon. They were foolish. There were no easy Dungeons and all of them were graves for the overconfident and ill-prepared.

Rana walked towards a pair of boots and took them off of the rotting feet. She examined the sturdy brown leather and placed its sole against her own. They were a loose fit. It was usually difficult to find wearable boots from zombies as most would be worn and torn due to the constant shambling. These pair, however, had an owner that crawled with both arms instead. The lower half was hacked off. She wondered why the legs couldn’t move on their own. Her own undead body demonstrated that she did not require a fully functioning anatomy for movement. It was a mystery she needed to solve at a later date.

She put on the boots and smirked at her apathy towards wearing something belonging to the dead. Rana was initially hesitant during her earlier kills, but now she was fully clothed and the only clothing she had not taken off dead flesh was the jacket given to her by the captain. Now, even the jacket was tainted.

Still, the increased defense properties she acquired from the clothes outweighed whatever displeasure she might have with its source. That was not to say she didn’t need new ones. If she were to blend in with human settlements and gather information, she would need them eventually. For now, it was enough.

Rana continued onward and found the room she was looking for. She was at a floor entrance. Unlike other parts of the shifting Dungeons, it was an unchanging room that marked the entrance towards a deeper, more dangerous part of the Dungeon. Once she passed the challenge presented in the room, she would be closer to her goal.

Floor entrance was the obstacle preventing intruders from going deeper, the guardian of the Dungeon’s core. The guardian could be powerful monsters, deceitful puzzles, or roundabout mazes. However, The Mines Without Blood had the purest form of floor entrances among all the Dungeons. The room only had one purpose. There were only four recorded floor entrances for these mines and all of them involved traps. It was a room made to kill whoever dared cross to the other side.

The room was a hallowed out hall littered with broken walls and shattered pillars. The walls were the same dugout earth tunnels but the floor below were giant tiles of weathered stone. The giant orange light above pulsated and colored the room in dimness and then darkness. The heart of the mines beat and searched. The Dungeon knew Rana was there.

The floor beneath her rumbled and dust began falling from the ceiling above. The floor tiles rose as the walls and pillars sunk into the dirt, swallowed by the earth they laid on. The quaking hall thundered and the ceiling above cracked. The scraps of broken structures began to rain down.

Rana steeled her posture and began to run. There was no retreat and the only path towards victory was forward.