The change didn’t announce itself.

  It slipped in quietly, like the Tower had learned to smile.

  Monster parts that once took days or even weeks of relentless grinding began appearing with unsettling ease.

  “Just three more,” Darwyn said, staring down at the bundle in his hands. Thirty Burrowbane Guts lay neatly wrapped, every one of them intact. “Three more, and the quest’s done.”

  He let out a breathy laugh. “I honestly thought this one was never going to end.”

  At first, I told myself it was coincidence.

  Then it kept happening.

  My gaze drifted to Orin as she skipped ahead, humming softly to herself.

  No doubt about it.

  It had to be Rainbow’s Fluke.

  The passive skill hadn’t come with numbers. No percentages. No neat, comforting formulas. Just a vague description about favorable deviations in probabilistic outcomes.

  The same blessing that had turned Mimics into the most relentlessly hunted creatures in the Tower.

  Luck, sharpened into a weapon.

  And by the tenth day after defeating the Cursed Mimic, we hit the real jackpot.

  Darwyn crouched and picked up the orb.

  It pulsed erratically in his hand, reactive and aggressive, nothing like the others we’d seen. The moment he swallowed it, the shell collapsing into raw energy, he gasped sharply and staggered back as power surged through his body.

  For a moment, I thought he might collapse.

  Then it passed.

  He straightened slowly. His eyes were sharper now, posture taut, like a bowstring drawn and locked into place. If the power thrilled him, it didn’t quite reach his expression.

  It didn’t take long for us to see it in action.

  “Shit, they’re everywhere.” Muradin stopped short and raised his shield.

  A pack of Gloomers ambushed us in a collapsed junction, pouring from the shadows in greater numbers than expected. Their claws scraped against stone as they swarmed, screeching and scrambling over one another.

  Darwyn didn’t look afraid.

  Not even a little.

  He loosed three arrows in rapid succession, each one burying itself deep into a different target. The shafts sank in and stayed there, faint motes of unstable energy clinging to the wounds.

  Then he waited.

  [Detonate cast]

  The battlefield erupted.

  The embedded charges detonated almost simultaneously, violent bursts of force tearing through flesh and stone alike. Bodies were thrown aside like broken dolls, the cavern briefly lit by fire and flying debris.

  When the dust settled, nothing moved.

  Elena stared at the carnage, eyes wide. “That was… amazing.”

  Darwyn lowered his bow slowly, blinking as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just done. “I didn’t expect it to be that strong.”

  Sticky Bomb.

  A skill perfectly suited to his fighting style. By embedding volatile charges into his arrows, he could turn precision into devastation.

  The Tower had given us too much. Too easily.

  And I couldn’t shake the feeling that luck like this wasn’t a gift.

  It was a loan.

  ***

  We spent days moving through the upper veins of Deepnest Tunnel, harvesting drops and clearing lingering quests, but the rhythm had changed. Luck smoothed the rough edges, shortened the grind, made every success come too easily. The deeper we went, the heavier that feeling became.

  Eventually, the tunnels widened.

  “We’re here,” I said, slowing as the passage opened. “Gloomspire Hollow.”

  The cavern walls and ceiling were lined with grotesque, circular membranes, their fleshy surfaces pulsing in slow, uneven rhythms. Dim, unnatural light reflected off their slick sheen, making the entire chamber feel like the inside of something alive. A deep, labored breathing echoed through the hollow, not loud but constant, pressing against the ears until it became impossible to ignore.

  And the smell.

  Rot and decay, layered with something sickly sweet.

  Muradin gagged first, dropping to one knee. Darwyn followed, turning away as he retched against the wall.

  “I was not prepared for that,” Darwyn muttered, wiping his mouth.

  Orin activated Aroma Veil without a word. The stench dulled just enough to breathe.

  But the smell wasn’t the worst part.

  Gloomspire Hollow was a maze in the cruelest sense of the word. Paths twisted back on themselves. Corridors split, merged, and subtly shifted when you weren’t looking. The membranes lining the walls absorbed sound and light, erasing landmarks almost as soon as you passed them.

  Even by Deepnest Tunnel’s standards, this place was a nightmare.

  In the game, I’d tried memorizing its layout once, treating it like Minos’ Labyrinth: counting turns, marking visual cues, mapping it piece by piece.

  It hadn’t worked.

  Gloomspire Hollow changed every Tower cycle. Sometimes subtly. Sometimes completely. Within a few runs, I’d given up on mental mapping altogether.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Fortunately, I wasn’t relying on memory this time.

  Once we were ready, I reached into my pack and released the Diggle we’d captured earlier. The small, mole-like creature sniffed the air nervously, claws scraping against stone.

  “Don’t let it die,” Elena said quietly. “Or we’re lost.”

  “I know,” I replied.

  I crushed a Lumincrumb and held it out. The Diggle hesitated for half a second, then snatched it up and bolted forward, its body glowing faintly as it locked onto a distant Mana source. As it ran, it left behind a thin, flickering trail of light.

  “Go!” I shouted.

  Elena sprinted after it, the rest of us close behind.

  The tunnels shifted as we ran. Passages narrowed, then widened. A junction we passed twisted behind us, sealing itself with a wet, organic sound.

  The glowing trail flickered. Dimmed. Nearly vanished.

  “It’s fading,” Muradin growled.

  “Faster,” I said, lungs already burning.

  We pushed harder. The light flared again, then sputtered as the Diggle skidded across slick stone and nearly tumbled into a side passage that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  Seconds stretched into minutes.

  My legs screamed. My breath came in ragged gasps. Even Muradin had stopped complaining.

  We had to be close.

  Shrieeek!

  A high-pitched, agonized cry tore through the tunnels ahead, sharp enough to make my teeth ache.

  Orin doubled over, hands on her knees. “That… that has to be it.”

  Muradin wheezed beside her. “After this… I’m training. Or dying. Preferably the first.”

  We pushed forward and regrouped near Elena, who stood frozen at the edge of a massive cavern.

  Above the yawning entrance, carved directly into the membrane-lined stone, an ominous glyph pulsed with dense, oppressive Mana.

  A spider.

  Its legs splayed wide, pincers grotesquely oversized, carved with deliberate precision.

  “I can feel an incredible amount of Mana,” Orin whispered, fingers digging into Elena’s arm. “Can we just go back?”

  "There’s no way back," Muradin stated firmly. “Not unless you want to wait here until the final day.”

  I met Orin’s gaze and held it. “We follow the plan. Stay sharp. We get through this.”

  Darwyn forced a thin smile, though the tension in his hands gave him away. “You’ve seen what my arrows can do. If it shows itself, we end it fast.”

  "Less talking, more preparing," I reminded them. "Make sure you’ve got the item ready."

  We drank our potions in silence. The bitterness lingered on my tongue. Then we stepped forward together.

  [You have been afflicted with Grave’s Whisper – Consciousness reduced by 1%]

  [Mindshard Potion activated. Grave’s Whisper progression delayed]

  The moment we crossed the threshold, an oppressive presence pressed down on me.

  The chamber reeked of decay. Cobwebs draped the walls like a funereal veil, tangled around half-eaten corpses left where they had fallen. Even with Aroma Veil active, the stench clawed at my senses, heavy enough to make my vision swim.

  At the far end of the cavern, something massive shifted.

  A monstrous spider nearly five meters long crouched over a fresh kill, mandibles working methodically as it fed.

  Its exoskeleton was a deep, vibrant purple, gleaming dully beneath the warped light. Jagged pincers flexed as it tore through bone and armor alike. Eight violet eyes lifted in unison, glowing with predatory intent as they locked onto us.

  Gravelurker.

  The hidden boss of Gloomspire Hollow.

  The sound it made as it rose was like stone grinding against stone, low and chilling. Without warning, it lunged.

  The ground shook as its spiked legs hammered forward, its bulk moving with terrifying speed. Halfway through the charge, its body blurred, fading into the surroundings until only distortion remained.

  “Orin!” I said sharply.

  “I’m on it.”

  She didn’t hesitate. An Enhanced Glowink Flask left her hand and shattered against the creature’s form, coating it in glowing green ink. The light clung stubbornly to its now-translucent body, dragging it back into view.

  “Muradin,” Darwyn said. “Now.”

  Muradin was already moving.

  A crack of thunder split the chamber as Storm Breaker slammed into Gravelurker’s side. The impact staggered it, legs skidding across stone as its momentum faltered.

  “Take the opening.”

  Elena and Darwyn loosed their arrows in perfect sync, aiming for eyes, joints, the softer seams beneath its armor. Gravelurker shrieked, pincers snapping as it thrashed toward Muradin.

  The blow came fast.

  I stepped in without thinking.

  Tempest Shield flared to life just as its strike landed.

  CLANG.

  Gravelurker recoiled, momentarily thrown off balance.

  Orin followed up, hurling an Electroflask.

  Electricity crawled across the monster’s shell, sparks dancing along its exoskeleton as its body convulsed violently.

  “Good,” Darwyn muttered. “Keep the pressure.”

  I sent Wind Cutter slicing into its flank, the spell carving shallow but precise wounds. Gravelurker skittered back, legs scraping against stone, watching us.

  We kept moving. Rotating. Covering each other’s blind spots.

  But as the battle dragged on, the strain began to show.

  Muradin’s stance wavered between impacts. Elena’s breathing grew sharp and uneven. Even Darwyn’s shots, still deadly, took a fraction longer to line up.

  [Grave’s Whisper progress increased – Consciousness reduced by 9%]

  A dull pressure throbbed behind my eyes. Thoughts came a heartbeat slower than they should have.

  If not for the Mindshard Potion, the progression would have already passed twenty percent.

  Time was our enemy.

  I forced more Mana through my scepter, ignoring the ache.

  Wind spiraled tighter, faster.

  [Wind Cutter: Max Stacks Reached]

  [Hidden Effect Unlocked — Tornado Slash]

  A violent vortex tore free, ripping debris from the ground and dragging Gravelurker into its pull. The monster howled as its legs struggled against the crushing winds.

  Orin reacted instantly. Quick Enhance flashed, and Electroflask vanished into the heart of the storm.

  Wind and electricity fused into a roaring tempest, tearing through the chamber with relentless force. Gravelurker shrieked, its body battered and scorched as the vortex tore at it from every angle.

  The monster broke free.

  Even the Thunderstorm Vortex couldn’t hold it long.

  It retreated, vanishing into the shadows beyond the storm.

  Orin exhaled sharply. “Does it escape?”

  Muradin didn’t lower his shield. “No. It’s changing tactics.”

  Darwyn’s eyes narrowed. “Get ready.”

  The air shifted.

  A sharp whip cut through the chamber.

  Before any of us could react, thick webbing shot from the darkness and slammed into Muradin’s chest. The strands wrapped tight, binding his arms and torso in an instant.

  “What—?!”

  My heart lurched.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen yet.

  In the game, web attacks came later. Much later.

  Gravelurker didn’t wait.

  Instead of pressing Muradin, it pivoted, lunging straight for Orin.

  “Move!” Darwyn shouted.

  He collided with her, shoving her aside just as a massive pincer came down.

  The impact split the stone.

  Orin screamed.

  She hit the ground hard, rolling once before coming to a stop.

  For half a second, the world narrowed to the sound of her breath. Short, broken, and wet.

  Then I saw the blood.

  It soaked through her clothes almost immediately, dark and spreading as she clutched her side with shaking hands.

  “Orin!” Elena’s voice cracked as she sprinted toward her.

  The spider was already turning back toward us.

  And it wasn’t finished.

  actually most worried about in that last paragraph?