??? POV

  It came into being.

  Thus, it craves.

  As it consumes, it extends.

  Not in mass, but in influence.

  It will taint the dark places.

  All will yield or face demise.

  Narrator

  Somewhere deep in the labyrinthine tunnels of the underworld, five figures made their way through the oppressive darkness, guided only by the flickering flame of a solitary torch. This motley crew, self-styled as "Five Fingers and One Guide," found their numbers diminished, now reduced to four fingers, as one of their own was missing. The stout dwarf, Jenkins, led the way, his presence commanding despite his stature. The tunnel was wide enough to allow for some spacing, yet they maintained a cautious distance of about a meter between each other.

  “Just admit it, Jenkins, we’re lost!” Enrik, the pale-skinned assassin, broke the silence with a sharp observation.

  “Nay! We’re simply taking the safest routes. It’s been a long journey, no doubt.” Jenkins retorted, his voice a gruff rumble.

  “Enrik, arguing with a dwarf about directions is futile,” Brute, the towering warrior, chimed in. “If you think you can do better, feel free to lead.”

  Enrik considered the offer for a fleeting moment but wisely chose silence, knowing the futility of the challenge.

  “Is it always this lively with you lot?” Mat, the young tracker and recent recruit of the group, asked, glancing back at the others, curious about the dynamics at play. He had quickly bonded with them, particularly with Enrik, forming a strange camaraderie based on mutual respect rather than friendship. Yet, their leader remained an enigma, shrouded in silence as they ventured deeper into the shadows.

  “Don’t bother. Our leader has taken a vow of silence. You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Jenkins said, his tone almost jovial, lightening the mood amidst their tension.

  The group pressed on, the oppressive weight of the cavern closing in as they navigated the seemingly endless maze of rock and darkness. Rations were dwindling, and they were acutely aware of the ticking clock of survival.

  “Yesterday, we picked up a lead on the mage,” Jenkins continued, his tone shifting. “A stampede of creatures ran past us, fleeing something... or someone. Unnatural for beasts of any size. Something’s wrong in these tunnels.”

  Jenkins had sensed the tremors in the ground and led them into a crevice, allowing the swarm to pass unscathed. The group felt the earth quake with the creatures’ desperate flight.

  “Finally, we’ve found the trail again!” Jenkins exclaimed, his voice breaking through the haze of anxiety.

  “So, I was right, Jenkins! We were lost!” Enrik shot back.

  “Nay, just a wee bit confused. Dwarves don’t think well without their mead. Sigh, what I wouldn’t give for a mug right now,” Jenkins lamented, his bitterness palpable.

  “Look there! That’s our path!” Jenkins pointed down a tunnel to the left.

  “Where? It looks like every other tunnel!” Mat protested, squinting into the murky darkness.

  “Wait just a moment,” Jenkins instructed, producing a damp cloth to snuff out their torch’s light. In the sudden darkness, an unexpected sight emerged. The mundane fungus that clung to the walls began to glow—a soft, eerie blue punctuated by occasional hints of green, illuminating a path leading deeper into the unknown.

  “Bioluminescent cave fungi. Nearly invisible to the naked eye. Dwarven wisdom for navigating the labyrinth,” Jenkins explained, his eyes gleaming with pride.

  The young tracker was taken aback, awed by the ingenuity of nature. “This mage certainly knows how to cover his tracks. Spooked cave creatures aren’t a good sign. What if these mushrooms are leading us into a trap?”

  Mat’s words hung heavy in the air, tension creeping back into the group.

  “Oi!” Brute barked, having caught a glimpse of the leader’s subtle gestures. “Boss says you’re not in charge here. Jenkins, light it up again! I can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Ye wee humans and your terrible eyesight,” Jenkins grumbled as he set to work.

  With deft movements, he doused the torch in oil and struck sparks from flint against tinder. Flames leapt to life once more, illuminating the tunnel. The glowing fungi reverted to their ordinary appearance, and the warm light expanded their visibility, revealing a stretch of the cavern but still leaving the deeper shadows unexplored.

  Then, from beyond the reach of their newfound light, something shifted in the darkness.

  Mat, lingering at the rear, caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. “Did you see that?! Something's back there!” Panic edged his voice.

  The group tensed, instinctively falling into their roles as thieves, alert and prepared for the unknown.

  “I don’t see anything—maybe it’s a slime?” Jenkins shrugged, his indifference slightly calming their nerves. As a dwarf, he could see well in the dim light, but the shadows still cloaked whatever lurked beyond their sight.

  “Let’s not let our guard down,” Enrik advised, his instincts sharp. “We’re not out of danger yet.”

  The group waited, scrutinizing the tunnel with wary eyes, but nothing happened. Reluctantly, they resumed their cautious trek, ensuring every precaution was taken.

  From the depths of the cave's inky shadows, a presence lurked, its unseen eyes fixated on the five intruders as they cautiously navigated its domain. The air grew thick with tension, crackling like static, as a simmering rage pulsed through its dark essence. It was a palpable force, heavy and forbidding, as it silently watched the trespassers inch closer to its lair, each footstep echoing ominously in the stillness. Even the cave itself seemed to hold its breath.

  The young tracker felt a creeping unease settle over him, a nagging sensation that something unseen was watching their every move. No matter how often he glanced back into the suffocating darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling, as the shadows seemed to swirl and dance, obscuring any potential threat lurking just beyond his sight.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Noticing Mat’s distress, Brute attempted to ease his worries by reminiscing about his past adventures.

  “You know, this reminds me of my adventuring days,” Brute said, his voice echoing softly in the tunnel.

  “You were an adventurer?” Mat's curiosity piqued, his anxiety momentarily forgotten.

  “Why yes, D-rank, and it was glorious! Treasures, meat, booze, and bosoms—well, that’s when I wasn’t adventuring,” Brute chuckled, the sound echoing through the cave.

  Mat furrowed his brow, incredulous. “How does this remind you of women and booze?”

  Brute paused, collecting his thoughts. “Mat, do you know why an adventurer stays an adventurer?”

  Mat pondered, considering the myriad of reasons that might drive someone to a life of danger. Some sought fame and glory; others wanted to support their families. He settled on a reasonable answer. “Because of the fame?”

  “The fame? Ha! You’re funny! No, it’s all about gluttony and greed. The more you earn, the more you spend. The more you spend, the more you need to earn.” Brute’s expression turned serious, and his words carried the weight of experience.

  It was a logical perspective. The more one indulged in the finer things in life, the harder it became to return to the mundane.

  “Think about it. How many adventurers actually retire? Most die on the job. The so-called famous ones? They end up as dragon snacks.”

  “What about Reginald? The man who actually slew a dragon?” Mat countered, seeking examples of success.

  “Reginald is a bit...” Brute began, but Enrik interjected, eager to add his two cents.

  “You don’t mean Prince Reginald by any chance?”

  “Is there anyone else?” Mat replied, his interest now fully engaged.

  “I met him once,” Enrik smirked. “He’s a poser. All his power comes from his father, the king. Legendary items, legions of soldiers—strip that away, and he’s just a child begging for his life. He even offered me money to spare him.”

  Mat and Brute exchanged incredulous glances, disbelief evident on their faces. “What!?” they exclaimed in unison.

  “I didn’t kill him, alas. I didn’t want a whole country after me. Besides, it was a hefty sum,” Enrik said, a creepy grin spreading across his face.

  Brute cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Anyway, there are still some real idiots in the world. Money won’t make you strong; only muscles and a sharp mind will. Money is for booze and food. I remember this one guy who betrayed his entire party over a measly bounty. Just goes to show you should never trust an adventurer.”

  Enrik raised an eyebrow, ready to challenge Brute. “Hmm, I remember it differently. Wasn’t it you who betrayed them and got away with the treasure? You even bought me a round of beer that day, bragging about it.”

  “Can ye stop talkin’ about mead?” Jenkins snapped from the front, frustration creeping into his voice.

  “Like I said, never trust an adventurer around treasure. Bwa ha ha ha!” Brute laughed heartily, his voice echoing eerily through the tunnel.

  “I guess it’s good that you’re not an—” Mat started, but he suddenly froze, a shadow creeping across his face.

  “Something wrong?” Brute asked, his mirth fading.

  “I heard something!” Mat’s voice was barely a whisper, tension gripping the air around them.

  It had been a faint sound, as quiet as a pin dropping, yet somehow amplified in the silence of the cave. As a tracker, Mat relied on his heightened senses, but here in the shadows, uncertainty gnawed at him.

  “Oh, hush! You’re just paranoid. It’s probably just another slime, right, dwarf?” Enrik laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

  “I never said it was a slime,” Jenkins grumbled, squinting into the darkness. “I said it might possibly be. But I still can’t see anything.”

  “Bloody hell!” Mat exclaimed, suddenly filled with resolve. He picked up a loose rock slightly smaller than his fist, his instincts kicking in. If there was something lurking, it would react to confrontation. He hurled the rock into the void.

  The stone struck something with a metallic clang, and the sound echoed ominously through the cave.

  Then came a screech, followed by the thud of something heavy hitting the ground and rolling toward them.

  “Is that...?” Mat began, eyes wide with fear.

  “Ruuuuun!” Jenkins shouted, panic evident in his voice.

  “!!?” Mat, Enrik, and Brute responded in unison, adrenaline surging as they turned to flee.

  The creature—a ball-shaped mass—charged at them with terrifying speed, its weight thundering against the stone floor.

  The group sprinted with all their might, the echoes of their footsteps mingling with the ominous rumble of the creature behind them. As they ran, they could hear the sound of rocks breaking beneath its immense weight, the proximity of danger closing in on them.

  “In here!” Jenkins yelled, spotting a left turn just in time. They ducked into the side passage as the creature passed, the ground vibrating as it turned to pursue them once more.

  “What was that? It looked like a giant—” Mat began to ask, but Jenkins cut him off.

  “A PILLBUG! It’s coming again!” Jenkins shouted, urgency creeping into his voice.

  The sound of the giant pillbug’s numerous legs skittered against the stone floor, closing in fast as the group raced down the tunnel, the echoes of their frantic escape blending with the relentless pursuit behind them.

  Pillbug. A creature from the vermin family, typically inhabiting forested areas or underground. Looks like I know which environment this one prefers.

  I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart sank as I saw the boulder-like form of the giant pillbug rapidly closing the distance between us.

  “Shit, shit, shit!”

  What do I know about these creatures? They usually live beneath large rocks—ironic, considering its current state. They feed on fallen trees, fungi, and various decomposing matter...

  “Huh, that’s odd...”

  Pillbugs have some peculiar feeding habits; they’re known to consume their own feces, as well as that of other animals. Urgh. Additionally, they sometimes feed on decomposing animal flesh.

  I recalled that giant pillbugs are known for curling up into a tight ball to protect their delicate underbellies with their chitinous segmented shells. They roll their bodies over anything in their path. Creatures in the giant family can grow up to four meters—by the seven curses, this one looks way larger!

  I stole another glance back.

  Fuck! It is!

  Think, think—how do we escape or defeat it? Unless we can find a way through its armor…

  “Arrg! Damn it!”

  “Watch out! Get your head in the fight!” Brute shouted, slamming into me as we turned into another cave corridor. I stumbled and fell flat on my face, feeling blood trickle from a cut on my brow. No time to care about it; the pillbug was still on our tails. I scrambled to my feet, noticing that the rest of the group had already dashed past me.

  My vision swayed slightly, but I could see the corridor narrowing ahead. The flickering light from Jenkins’ torch revealed a bottleneck up ahead. If we could reach it before the bug crushed us…

  “Guys! Up ahead! That’s our escape! It won’t fit!”

  “It’s too far! We won’t make it!” Enrik shouted, his voice tinged with panic.

  “Enrik, stop being so pessimistic! Would you really let yourself be outrun by a dwarf?” Jenkins chimed in, somehow sprinting faster than any dwarf I’d ever seen.

  “Dwarf, get back here!” Enrik protested.

  “Keep breathing! That’s the key. Breathe!” Jenkins replied, though it was clear the effort was taking its toll on him.

  The rumble of the pillbug and the sound of stones being crushed beneath it grew louder as we got closer to the bottleneck. I didn’t dare look back again; the last side corridor was already far behind. There was only one way out:

  Run!

  Run as if the slavers were on my heels! Sweat poured down my body, mingling with fear and exhaustion. My limbs felt heavier with each passing second. How long could the rest of the group keep this up?

  “Almost there, almost there…”

  A weak thud caught my attention. I pinpointed the sound and saw Boss, the leader of the Five Fingers, sprawled on the ground. He must have—

  “JENN!” Brute shouted, panic lacing his voice.

  “!?” I reacted, startled.

  Brute, who had been in the lead, suddenly pivoted and sprinted back, racing toward his boss with the instinctive loyalty of a trained dog.

  “You idiot! You’ll both be crushed!” Enrik yelled, but there were no words exchanged between Brute and me.

  I saw it in his eyes: determination. No words could stop him now.

  “Move, goddamn it!” Brute shouted, urgency pushing him forward.

  I could only watch, paralyzed as I realized we might lose our berserker to that rolling menace.

  The leader stumbled on the uneven ground, her foot wedged painfully between two rocks. A quick examination revealed it wasn’t broken, but she knew it was unlikely to be of any use again. Death was just seconds away, ready to flatten her beneath its relentless weight.

  In those fleeting moments, a million memories flooded her mind, as time seemed to slow. She envisioned her parents, long gone, the vibrant garden bursting with flowers, her guild master, her drill sergeant, the five fingers, and the little boy she had loved so dearly. A tear slipped down her cheek, unseen beneath her mask.

  “Thank you, I’m sorry,” Jenn whispered, her voice sweet as honey, but drowned out by the thunderous rumble of the approaching Pillbug.

  Then, amidst the chaos, a familiar war cry pierced the air, overpowering the ominous rumbling. Brute, the self-proclaimed second-in-command, launched himself past her, eyes locked on the colossal creature. He gripped the Pillbug’s sides, summoning every ounce of strength to halt its advance. Blood dripped from his hands, torn by the chitinous shell.

  “oooOOO!” he roared, though it was impossible to tell if it was a cry of pain or a desperate rallying call against the relentless beast.

  Despite his efforts, the Pillbug’s weight pressed down on him, muscles straining, veins bulging, bones creaking... But then he felt a tap on his shoulder—an ordinary tap from someone.

  “It’s stuck!” Enrik shouted.

  Brute glanced sideways, still crouched under the weight of the bug. The Pillbug had wedged itself between the cave walls.

  He released his grip and turned to see Jenn just a few centimeters behind him. Jenkins was at her side, working to free her foot from the rocks.

  Once freed, Jenn strode towards Brute, dagger in hand. With a swift motion, she struck the butt of it against his forehead.

  “What was that for?” Brute exclaimed, shielding his head with his injured hands.

  Jenn seized one of his hands, pulling out a bandage from her bag, and began wrapping it around his wound. Silence enveloped them.

  Knock, knock screech.

  Jenkins took the moment to examine the Pillbug's shell, employing an ancient dwarven skill to assess its mass and secrets. He crawled out from beneath the bug.

  “It weighs more than five tons,” he said, awed. “Impressive feat for a giant bug. Its shell is impenetrable, save for a good hammer or pickaxe. Well, we’re not going back the same way we came!”

  The Pillbug was jammed tight, trapped to the point of starving alone. But hunger was a shared fate for them all if they stayed.

  “Well, only one way to go then,” Jenkins declared.

  The group gazed down the narrow tunnel ahead, only wide enough for one to pass at a time.

  “Hey, Jenkins, something’s bothering me. Pillbugs aren’t carnivores. Why would it stalk us?” Mat asked, curiosity etched on his face.

  “It didn’t. You set it off!” Jenkins replied.

  “Yeah, sorry! I might have annoyed it,” Mat admitted sheepishly.

  “That’s not what I meant. It was a trap... an organic one at that!” Jenkins said, urgency creeping into his voice.

  “Organic trap? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Mat said, brows furrowing in confusion.

  “Oh, Dwarf, don’t tell me…” Enrik began, dread seeping into his tone.

  “Ay, we’re in a natural-born dungeon!” Jenkins confirmed.

  An unnatural chill swept through the cave, an immense pressure rising from deeper within.