Chapter 12—Hunting in the Dungeon

The dungeon's cold, damp air clung to her fur, a constant reminder of the tomb-like atmosphere of this underground world. She padded silently, ears perked, senses keenly attuned to the subtle shifts in the air around her. She had always been a hunter, a creature of instinct and predatory cunning, but her current state was different.

Her death, the feeling of being crushed by that spore-manticore and being consumed from inside by her master… It had not just ended her life; it had transformed it into an eternal existence of servitude to her new god, her master.

She had died. And now, she walked the halls of the dungeon as an undead being, a shadow of her former self.

As a young wolf, Luna had grown up in a world filled with vibrant colors and sounds, where the thrill of the chase and the taste of hot, living flesh had been her sustenance and her joy. She was born into the Warm Dark with a sense of freedom, of wild abandon, and the strength of her pack behind her—or so it felt in her memory.

Her life in the wilderness was one of survival and strength, of chasing down prey and asserting dominance in her pack. It was a world of simple pleasures—the joy of a successful hunt, the warmth of a packmate’s fur against hers in the cold nights, and the exhilarating rush of running through the untamed lands of the Warm Dark with the wind in her fur.

Luna wandered through the dungeon, her claws clicking against the cold stone floor, her senses dulled. It wasn't the same. Nothing was.

In the Warm Dark, her every instinct had been tuned to the natural rhythms of the world, to the ebb and flow of life and death, of predators and prey. But down here, in the depths of this unnatural place, those instincts seemed muted, distorted.

There was no sun or moon, no stars to guide her.

No fresh air to fill her lungs or cool breeze to ruffle her fur.

Only the constant, oppressive weight of the stone all around her and the distant echoes of unknown creatures in the darkness.

It was like living in a tomb, a vast, unyielding sarcophagus of stone and shadow.

The world of the dungeon was not a place she knew. It was a place she feared. But her master would protect her, she was certain. After all, he was a god. He had promised her a place at his side, a chance to be more than she had ever been.

Flesh. That’s what her master craved. That’s what she would bring him. She would prove herself.

So Luna kept moving, kept searching. Her eyes scanned the darkness, looking for something—anything—that could sate her master's insatiable appetite.

But there is no such thing as flesh in the Den of Wraiths and Ghosts; it is filled with bones and ghosts.

There were no signs of life in the corridors, no warmth or scent to track. Only the lingering presence of death and decay.

“Why is it called the Den of Wraiths and Ghosts if there are only skeletons?” Luna wondered, her ears twitching.

She flicked a bit of bone away from her path, watching as it skittered across the floor and came to rest against a far wall.

Suddenly, her ears perked up as a sound echoed through the darkness.

Click, clack.

The sound of bones rattling against stone.

“Another skeleton?” She muttered.

In the darkness, she saw the flicker of movement—a pale flash of bone and tattered flesh. She froze, crouching low, the hairs on the back of her neck bristling. Her nostrils flared, trying to catch any scent, any hint of her quarry.

The skeleton moved closer, its bones clicking and clacking with every step, the sound reverberating off the stone walls of the dungeon.

Her muscles tensed, ready to spring.

“Now,” a whisper echoed in her mind.

With a snarl, she leapt, jaws open wide.

She collided with the skeletal creature, knocking it to the ground in a clatter of bones. Her teeth sank into the skeleton's arm, cracking through ancient bone and grinding against the dry, desiccated marrow within.

“Bite.”

She jerked back as the skeletal hand shot up, its bony fingers reaching for her throat.

With a twist of her body, she dodged the grasping hand and sank her teeth into its shoulder, shaking her head violently.

“Claw!”

With a burst of strength, she pulled back, wrenching the skeleton's arm from its socket with a sickening crunch. It clattered to the floor, twitching.

The skeletal creature staggered backward, off-balance. Luna pressed the attack, lashing out with her powerful front paws, claws tearing through brittle bone and rotted cloth.

“Bite. Claw. Claw.”

With every bite, she felt a surge of satisfaction. Each shattered bone and torn scrap of flesh brought her closer to fulfilling her master’s desire for flesh, closer to proving herself worthy of her new life and purpose.

Her jaws snapped, her claws tore—but were those her instincts or the commands whispered in her skull? She no longer knew.

—“Devour,” the voice whispered in her mind. She wasn't sure if the voice was hers, her master’s, or someone else’s entirely.

She obeyed.

Her teeth tore into the remains, ripping and shredding, until all that was left was a scattered pile of bones and fragments of cloth. The skeleton's skull stared up at her, empty sockets seeming to watch as she feasted.

“I live for you,” she whispered, but she could not determine whether she spoke aloud or only in her mind.

The bones were old and brittle, but she devoured them all the same.

When she finished, there was nothing recognizable left of her foe.

Only scattered shards of bone and a few tattered scraps of cloth remained.

She paused, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surveyed the carnage she had wrought.

“Why?” Luna wondered. “What was the point?”

She looked around the dungeon, its walls stretching up around her like the jaws of a giant beast ready to swallow her whole.

“Where am I going?” She muttered. “I could have been a mother in the forest. Now, what am I?”

Luna's memories were hazy, like a half-remembered dream. There had been a forest, a home, and a life before the dungeon.

“Mother…” she muttered.

Her master's hunger was a powerful force that pushed her forward. She wasn't alive, but she was still a part of him. It was part of his never-ending need to eat. It was the only thing that made her feel better that she understood this. She had always known this need, this hunger, even in a past life.

And in the depths of her dead heart, she knew she would serve him.

[Skill Level Up]

Bite (Lv.4) → Bite (Lv.5)

You are devouring an enemy. Your mouth becomes stronger and wider.

“Mother…” she whispered.

Luna’s memory flashed: a forest of dark trees, her own eyes looking up at a black-furred wolf with white specks in the dark fur.

A memory, or a dream?

The wolf bent down, licking her muzzle, her breath warm against her face.

Then, the image changed.

She was in a cave, the air damp and heavy. Around her, a dozen young wolves huddled close, their coats soft and downy.

She was one of them.

They were safe.

She was home.

Then, she heard it. The sound of heavy buzzing is approaching, slow and deliberate.

The air grew thick with a scent that made her fur stand on end—a mix of death and rot.

She whimpered, pressing close to her siblings.

Her mother's growl filled the den, a low, menacing rumble.

“Stay back,” she snarled, her eyes fixed on the entrance of the cave. Her fur bristled, and her muscles tensed, ready to defend her young.

Luna trembled, huddled with her siblings. She watched as her mother squared off against the threat, her teeth bared in a vicious snarl. The buzzing grew louder, filling the cave with its incessant drone.

A monstrous insectoid creature entered, a thing with six spindly legs and a long, bulbous abdomen. Its compound eyes glinted in the dim light, reflecting the terrified faces of the wolf pups.

“Stay back!” her mother repeated. The insect buzzed, mandibles clicking in a grotesque mockery of language.

Her mother lunged forward, her powerful jaws snapping shut around the creature's neck, but the only thing that snapped was her mother’s jaw, as the insect was covered in thick carapace, far stronger than any wolf’s bite.

Luna's mother staggered backward, her broken jaw hanging open, blood dripping from her mouth. Her pups whimpered, cowering in fear. Luna stood frozen, unable to tear her gaze away from the horrifying sight of her mother's injury.

“Mo-mother...?”

Her mother's eyes, once so fierce and protective, were now filled with pain and desperation. She looked at Luna, a silent plea for forgiveness in her eyes, as if apologizing for failing to protect them.

Luna wanted to run to her, to lick her wound, to make it all better.

But the creature towered over them, its segmented body pulsating with alien energy. Its antennae quivered as it scanned the cave, searching for its next target.

“No,” Luna’s mother growled through her pain. “No!”

The monster lunged again, and Luna watched in horror as its sharp mandibles pierced her mother's flesh.

Her mother's cry echoed through the cave, a desperate howl of pain and anguish. She thrashed violently, trying to break free, but the insect held her tightly. It buzzed triumphantly, its mandibles clicking as it began to consume her flesh, bit by bit. The other pups wailed in terror, but Luna’s tiny frame stood in front of her siblings.

Luna, barely a pup, stood between the creature and her remaining siblings. She bared her small, sharp teeth, a growl building in her throat.

The insect hesitated, its alien eyes regarding her coldly. It seemed to weigh her offer before its mandibles clicked again in a cruel parody of laughter. The message was clear: it was amused by her attempt at bravery, at sacrifice.

And without hesitation, it struck, and her memories went black.

When she awoke, she was alone. Her body felt wrong—cold and heavy. Her vision was tinged with gray. She stumbled through the cave, searching for her mother, for her siblings. But there was nothing. Nothing but the lingering smell of blood and decay. And in her dead heart, a spark of hatred flared. Hatred for the insect that had destroyed her home and her family.

—Do you seek revenge, Luna?

Nemesis had seen through her memories; her master had read her like a book.

He knew everything, even things Luna herself didn’t understand.

—Do you want revenge?

The thought was tantalizing. She envisioned sinking her fangs into the insect's neck and tearing it apart limb by limb. She wanted to inflict the same pain on the insect as her family had endured.

“I…am your tool. My desires are not needed,” she answered.

Her master didn’t seem satisfied with her answer.

—Luna. I want your true desires.

Desires.

Luna thought about that.

She had no idea what desire was. Prior to becoming an instrument for her master, her life consisted of going about her daily routine. To stay alive, she went hunting. Wolves acted in that way.

“I have no desires,” she said.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t true.

Desire. What was it?

She knew that, as a tool, she shouldn’t have any desires.

She shouldn't want to kill or destroy, not on her own, not if it was not her master's desire. But she was more than just a tool; she was also an instrument of destruction. And she would fulfill her master’s desires, whatever they may be.

But even so, her mind wandered back to that day in the forest when her family was taken from her, and her heart burned with anger and hatred.

—What do you want?

She heard her master's voice in her mind again.

—What is it that you truly desire?

“Can I...really desire?” She wondered aloud. Was that allowed? Could a being like her, a servant of a higher entity, have her wishes and desires? It was a foreign concept, something she had never considered.

She looked at her paws, flexing her claws. She was a wolf, or at least had been.

What did a wolf want? To hunt and survive. They sought to safeguard their pack. But what did a tool want? To fulfill its purpose. To serve its master.

Was she a tool?

Or was she something else, something more?

Was she Luna?

Was she a wolf? Or was she just a voice that echoed her master's?

Was she the same creature who had run wild and free through the forest?

She didn’t know.

—Desires are not something that one can choose or decide. They simply are.

And she had desires, she realized.

—Despite your death, despite everything...your soul burns with fire, Luna.

The words of her master resonated in her mind.

He was right.

Her soul was aflame with anger and grief, hatred, and determination.

—Do not pray anymore; the sky is deaf. However, I have not abandoned you, for you have me.

Her master's voice resonated through her mind. She felt his presence, like a comforting warmth. It wasn't a warmth like the sun. No. It was different.

It was a warmth that emanated power rather than comfort. It was a warmth that burned with the same anger and hatred she felt in her heart.

“Yes...I want it. I want to destroy the creature that killed my mother and my family. But…” She hesitated. “If I am your tool...can I desire this?”

—Yes. I will give you the opportunity. You have a desire. And you are more than just my voice. You are a Thrall. And I want you to have your own will. It'll be more captivating that way. I have given you life; it’s yours to live. You may not have the same desires as me, and that's fine. 

Luna bowed her head, her breath ragged. She had been prey. She had been a daughter, a sister, and a corpse. But now… presently she was something else.

A spark ignited in her chest—not warmth, but a burning brand that seared through her flesh and bone. She gasped, claws digging into the stone floor as black veins crawled up her legs, pulsing in rhythm with the Hive.

Her Master’s presence wrapped around her like a shroud.

—Then burn, Luna. Burn with me.

A snarl tore from her throat, a sound half-wolf, half-something else. Her eyes flickered with faint threads of sickly light. The dungeon walls trembled with the echo of her howl.

She no longer wondered if her voice was hers or his. It didn’t matter.
Her desires were his gift, her hunger his command.

And she would hunt until the world bled.

Author Note:

[Skill Progression—Puppet Strings Lv. 4 → 8]

•Lvl. 5: Puppet Strings range increased.

•Lvl. 6: Biomass cost reduced.

•Lvl. 7: Increased sensory perception.

•Lvl. 8: The force and precision exerted by a single puppet string increase.