"Wow, I leveled up... Level 3. That was pretty easy. If I keep this up, I might reach Level 4 in no time," Raito muttered, staring at his glowing stats window.
He clenched his fists. Should I keep going deeper? His jaw tightened. Yeah. This should be good. I need to get stronger... no matter what.
He walked further into the dungeon, footsteps echoing against the cold stone. Then, a sound, low and guttural. A growl.
Raito froze. His daggers tightened in his grip as his heart raced. "Did something... sense me?" he whispered, scanning the dark corridor. Shadows shifted. His arms tensed, body ready to spring.
I thought I was finally stronger... but look at me. I’m still weak. What if the next monster is something I can’t handle?
A figure stepped from the darkness.
Not just any wolf, a white wolf. Its pale fur shimmered faintly under the dungeon light, its eyes glowing with quiet malice. Raito’s breath caught in his throat.
"What... A white wolf? In a rank E dungeon?" he whispered, disbelief lacing his voice.
He remembered the books he used to bury himself in back when he wasn’t a hunter. White wolves weren’t supposed to appear here. Rank E dungeons only spawned goblins, slimes, maybe a stray kobold... never this.
And yet, the creature advanced slowly toward him, each step deliberate, predatory.
Raito’s grip tightened. His stomach sank when more shadows slid into view. Not one wolf. Not two.
A pack of white wolves.
"I’m getting faster... but they’re not like the goblins. I have to be ready," Raito muttered as he lowered himself, slipping into a fighting stance.
The wolves mirrored him, shoulders hunched, their glowing eyes locked on his every movement. Their paws scraped against the stone floor as they crept forward, muscles coiled, waiting for the perfect moment.
Suddenly, two of them lunged.
Raito reacted instantly, springing backward as snapping jaws missed his throat by inches. He barely had time to breathe before the second wolf leapt.
He ducked low, his body twisting at the last possible second. The wolf soared over him, its fur brushing against his cheek as it landed behind him with a snarl.
Raito exhaled sharply, daggers raised. "Close one..."
The other five white wolves hung back, watching while two of them lunged forward again. This time Raito didn’t dodge. He shifted his hands out of the strike path and, as the wolves landed, drove his daggers into each of their eyes. Both hit home. They collapsed, blood blurring their pale faces.
The remaining five didn’t hesitate. They sprang at him.
Raito ran along the dungeon wall, launching himself with a single, explosive push. Midair, he drove a blade into one wolf’s ribs. Another wolf landed on his back—he twisted, the dagger biting through vertebrae with a sick crack. The beast folded.
They all leapt at once. Raito danced between them, sidestepping and darting, blades flashing. These wolves were smart; the two attackers had been bait, and the pack had circled to finish him. He felt that shift—how their strategy snapped into place—and used it against them.
He planted his foot, shoved off the stone, and moved faster than he had any right to. One dagger found an eye. He yanked it free and drove the second into another wolf’s skull as it lunged. A third he met under the jaw and pushed upward, cracking its neck. A fourth threw itself at his back; he spun, slamming both blades down through its skull. The one with both eyes pierced staggered blindly and fell, whimpering, before collapsing.
For a beat everything went silent except his own breathing. The white wolves were on the floor, blood soaking the stones. Raito dropped to his knees, chest pounding, blades slick in his hands.
He wanted to fall apart, to collapse, but the system’s cold voice cut through the haze with a flood of screens and numbers.
[White Wolf Pack defeated] Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡⚑𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚⚑𝙣𝙚𝙩
[Physical Ability +5]
Raito stared at the notifications, feeling the strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. He touched his stained clothes, tasted iron on his tongue, and a small, fierce smile broke through.
I actually did it. This was way scarier than the goblins. Just that little battle pushed me further than fighting a dozen of them. I feel stronger—like I’ve leveled up in more ways than one.
Still... they were tough. Really tough.
"Should I take their cores?" Raito muttered, wiping sweat and blood from his brow. The grid system hadn’t absorbed their bodies like it did with weaker monsters. "Guess I’ll have to do it myself. Cores sell well anyway."
He bent down, dagger in hand, and began carving. The blade split fur and flesh; hot blood sprayed across his face and hands. His stomach churned, but he forced himself to keep going. One wolf, then another, until he had all seven cores glowing faintly in his palm.
"Inventory... how do I put these inside?" Raito wondered aloud.
He straightened, still breathing hard, and whispered, "Status open." A screen appeared before him, glowing faintly in the dim dungeon light. He scrolled until he found [Inventory].
The panel expanded. He raised his blood-soaked hand and pressed each core against the glowing screen. One by one, the gems dissolved into light and vanished into storage.
Raito blinked in disbelief. "It actually worked... This is going to come in handy."
He looked at his trembling hands, the blood drying on his skin, then let out a shaky laugh.