Chapter 70: No Matter The Cost

Kael kept a look on the map as he began descending into the cavern. The shift from station to dungeon was immediate, the smooth concrete became rough stone, the air grew wetter, and the sound of his footsteps changed from sharp echoes to dull crunches on gravel and mineral dust.

Thankfully, at the highest of the cavern itself there was some form of fluorescent moss that lit the cave. It wasn’t bright, not even close, but it gave everything a faint sickly glow, enough to see the outline of a ledge, enough to avoid stepping into a hole and breaking his own neck.

It wasn’t much but it was enough for him to see where he is standing and where he should step. Kael moved like a man climbing down a cliff with his life tied to his fingers. He kept his center low, used his free hand to steady himself against the wall, and let the crowbar hang ready at his side.

The path was slippery probably from how many times the Basilisk went in and out of this place. The stone felt polished in places, smoothed by scale and mass and repetition. There were streaks along the walls where something had brushed past hard enough to leave scratches. The ground had depressions where weight settled. It was a road built by a monster’s body.

But he could still latch himself well using his feet and hand to come down. He tested each foothold before committing, breathing through his nose, careful not to let the sound of his breath turn into panting. Sound carried down here. Sound called things.

There was one grayed dot at the entrance of the dungeon. That dot sat alone at first, almost innocently, like a guard on duty. Kael’s stomach tightened. A lone dot could be a scout, a sentinel, or a monster waiting for him to set foot inside so he can turn Kael to his next meal.

It was probably dormant, Kael was thinking that if it’s the mate of the basilisk then the moment it woke up he’ll be turned to food. The thought made his mouth go dry, because he could imagine it too easily: a second basilisk, bigger, faster, waking to find him in its home. But the idea soon disappeared as he noticed small prints on the ground.

They looked like claw marks, much smaller than the ones the Basilisk left when it left. That detail eased the tightness in his chest by a fraction. Smaller. Lighter. Not the main body. Not the nightmare itself.

Taking a quick peak he saw what it was, a curled up mini-basilisk, only this one’s color was a dark deep green instead of pitch black. It was coiled like a reptile trying to conserve heat, tail wrapped around its body, head tucked near its forelimbs. The shape was wrong for a snake, too bulky, too armored.

It almost resembled a crocodile. The snout was shorter, the jaw heavy even in sleep, and the scales looked softer than the obsidian ones he’d seen before, more like thick leathery plates. Its breathing was slow, steady, a faint rise and fall that made Kael’s fingers itch around the crowbar.

By extending his sight a bit, he noticed that there were no other creatures nearby, only the red dot here, and a few more deeper inside. The deeper dots were grayed too, clustered further down the cavern’s throat. A couple of young basilisks. Maybe more. The map didn’t tell him what

they were, only that they existed. But existence was enough.

Without wasting time, Kael approached slowly. He didn’t rush. He didn’t assume. He made each step a choice. He could see despite the dim light from the moss, he noticed the creature breathing. It wasn’t dead. It wasn’t a statue. It was alive and sleeping, and sleeping things could wake.

[Inspect]

Juvenile Basilisk of Getava.

Level 15

Dormant

Class D

Lore: Newly born hatchling that has yet to start feeding by itself. They are yet to fully develop sight and can barely survive by themselves. They would need constant care and attention from their mother before they start terrorizing the world. Albite sightless they are still a dangerous foe for an unknowing climber.

Kael’s eyes widened, this was good news. Level 15 was high for him, ridiculous even, but the lore mattered more than the number. If they didn’t have sight, he could use this to his advantage. A blind creature was a creature you could approach like a shadow, if you managed your scent, if you managed your sound.

He got closer to the creature, and it had yet to notice him, it was still dozing off. Kael’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, loud in his own ears, and he forced his breathing into slow, controlled pulls. He raised his crowbar bit by bit, careful not to let metal scrape stone. He could feel sweat at his hairline, not from heat, but from stress.

Just as Kael got closer and raised his crowbar high up, the creature sniffed the air, audible and deliberately as if he smelled something that wasn’t right. The sound was small but sharp, an inhale that made Kael’s spine tighten. Even blind things could smell. Even blind things could sense. And this was the confirmation of the last part of its lore. This is probably how it killed careless climbers.

Kael didn’t hesitate. Fear wasn’t useful here. He struck with every ounce of his being, and all the power behind the stats he currently have right atop the basilisk’s head. The motion was brutal and direct, a downward swing that carried years of construction muscle and the Tower’s forced growth behind it.

The crowbar struck true, a single thud, a powerful one, and at the same time a result even he didn’t expect showed up in front of him.

[Mortal Hit!]

[You landed a critical hit into a deadly area of the enemy’s body.]

[Instant Kill]

[You have obtained 5 soul cores.]

[You have obtained soft basilisk leather.]

[You have obtained 22 malleable Basilisk Scales.]

[You have obtained, Sharp Basilisk Claws]

[You have obtained Sharp Basilisk Fangs.]

The drop was immense. And the aftermath was even better, the blow landed directly into the brain of the young basilisk, it couldn’t even yell or shout or howl nor cause a scene.

It simply died. Its body twitched once, a reflex more than resistance, then went still, heavy and suddenly lifeless. No alarm. No echoing shriek down the cavern. Kael let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, hands still tight around the crowbar.

However, Kael learned a few good things.

The first thing, the bonus from him discovering the dungeon was still applicable as he got a lot of loot from one kill. The Tower loved “firsts,” and it loved rewarding anyone bold, or stupid, enough to claim them. This kill wasn’t just survival. It was profit.

The second, was the fact he almost lost his life to a simple thing. Not the basilisk. Not the level. Not the class. The smell.

He stank. The smell of burnt clothes and goblin blood was on him. He had to get rid of it. The realization hit him like a slap. Down here, scent mattered more than sight. Down here, the wrong smell could turn dormant into awake.

And the best way to do it, was next to him. There was what looked like a puddle of water near the entrance. It sat in a shallow depression, dark and still, reflecting the moss’s glow in ugly ripples.

He didn’t hesitate into getting closer and began grabbing the mud from the puddle. The texture was thick, gritty, and cold, squishing between his fingers. The smell rose immediately.

“Stinks,” Kael cursed inwardly as he noticed the smell was awfully close to piss than water. It wasn’t clean water. It was stagnant, tainted, probably used by creatures passing through. But he couldn’t stop, this might mean the difference between life and death if he were to walk deeper into the den. Where even more of these hatchlings were. Better to smell like filth than like food.

Without hesitation, though with a grimace on his face, Kael wiped his entire body with the mixture of mud, water, and probably piss. He smeared it over his arms, his neck, his clothes, forcing himself not to gag as the stench clung to him. The cold sludge seeped into fabric and made it heavier, clammy against skin. It was disgusting. It was humiliating. It was smart. Covering his smell completely.

“Alright, one down… let’s take out the rest then,” he muttered and began moving up ahead.

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