With the pup’s warmth in my arms as my only comfort, I turn and take in my surroundings.

  As for the little wolf, my feelings are… complicated. On one hand, it’s the offspring of the she-wolf that dragged me into this nightmare. On the other, it’s just a baby—clueless, innocent, and painfully adorable. That contradiction is probably why, despite everything, a gentle warmth spreads through my chest as I hold it.

  And as for my surroundings... behind me stands a solid stone wall where the spiral staircase used to be. Turning fully, I realize I’ve arrived in a vast cavern. Unlike the corridor on the dungeon’s previous level, this place isn’t empty, and it definitely isn’t welcoming.

  The space resembles a Roman amphitheater, the kind where gladiators fought to the death. I’m standing in what would be the arena: a wide floor of reddish packed earth that contrasts sharply with the dark brown stone walls and ceiling of the cavern. I don’t move.

  Several dozen meters ahead rises the cavea. The stands curve in a wide C-shape, enclosing more than half of the arena. The steps are tall enough to serve as stone seats, and in the upper central section, several private boxes are draped with decorative fabrics. For a moment, it feels like I’ve stepped onto the set of an ancient Rome epic.

  Fortunately, they’re empty.

  Moving carefully, I listen for sounds, watching for any sign of movement. Nothing. At the base of the stands, elevated a couple of meters above the arena floor, stand three thick iron gates. Heavy bolts—far too complex for me to figure out—keep them shut. I can’t see what lies beyond.

  Three levers sit nearby, one beside each gate.

  I keep my distance.

  Somewhat calmer, suspecting that nothing will attack as long as I don’t pull them, curiosity gets the better of me. I climb the stands with care. At the top, I find two wooden doors, both closed. One likely leads to the common seating area, the other—hidden behind the boxes—must be for nobles or wealthy spectators. No levers. No switches.

  Perfect.

  I start looking for a spot to get comfortable and sleep.

  Warning. You have one minute to activate a lever. Otherwise, one will be activated at random.

  The popup message before my eyes makes me jump.

  So much for resting.

  I rush back down into the arena, heart racing as I scan the three levers. Which one is safer? No idea. The countdown ticks down relentlessly. With seconds left, I grab the central lever—the closest one—and yank it down.

  It resists. Not because it’s stuck, but because whatever it’s activating is heavy.

  The countdown vanishes at four.

  Metal grinds and clanks echo through the chamber. More than one gate is opening. I retreat toward the center of the arena just as figures begin emerging into the stands.

  Skeleton mages, each carrying a staff.

  Then something worse.

  From the private boxes step three figures clad in ornate robes, their bones hidden beneath fabric threaded with gold, and their staves are decorated with gems. I sharpen my vision to be able to see the labels above their heads, and my stomach drops.

  Skeleton Archmage, Level 5.

  Three of them.

  The others are level 5 skeleton mages.

  Seriously?, I think.

  That’s too much.

  The will to fight drains out of me all at once. I have no mana. It took everything I had to barely survive level 3 skeleton warriors and archers back on the first level.

  And now this?

  Stolen story; please report.

  Let them burn me alive. I don’t even feel like trying to dodge.

  What’s the point?

  Yet, despite my total surrender—short of collapsing onto the ground—they don’t attack. The skeletons simply watch me, blue embers flickering in their eye sockets.

  Then I hear footsteps.

  Heavy. Powerful. Like some massive animal.

  I glance toward the tunnel beneath the stands, now no longer blocked by the iron gate. Something is coming.

  A small flame of hope shakes me.

  Maybe I won’t have to fight the mages.

  The pup barks.

  A massive bear bursts into the arena and lunges at me.

  Zombie Bear, Level 5.

  Unlike the skeletons, this thing stinks. Rotting flesh clings to its bones and muscles beneath patches of dirty brown fur. Instinct takes over—I dive aside just as a claw sweeps through the air where my head was a moment ago.

  The next swipe is even faster.

  I barely manage to block it with my sword.

  The impact hurls me backward. My skull slams into the ground, and a sharp pain tells me I’ve lost a health point. Consciousness barely holds.

  The pup—who’d been tucked under my arm—must have fallen when I raised my sword. It now stands between me and the bear, barking furiously.

  Time seems to slow, maybe because it’s the end.

  The zombie bear rears back, saliva dripping from its rotting jaws. The little wolf snaps and growls, hopelessly trying to drive it away.

  The warmth in my chest flares.

  It’s so cute, but also absurd. It’s tiny. It can’t do anything.

  “Run,” I try to say.

  The words don’t come out. Maybe because only fractions of a second are actually passing.

  I should close my eyes. Maybe it would hurt less if I don’t see it coming.

  I can’t do that either.

  Then time snaps back into motion.

  The pup begins to glow—dark, intense, like a star about to collapse in on itself.

  The bear hesitates. Confusion flickers in its dead eyes.

  My heart pounds.

  “Little pup?” this time I manage to whisper.

  I don’t know if it hears me. It doesn’t answer.

  It’s growing.

  I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, but the sight doesn’t change. The creature that once fit in my palms expands rapidly, shadow warping around it.

  In all my time playing the otome game, I’ve never seen anything like this. I don’t know if alchemists made gigantism potions but, certainly, no creature did this.

  The system called it a seed of darkness.

  Now it’s becoming something else entirely.

  A shadow wolf.

  Before me stands a beast over two meters tall—three if you count its head. Bigger than the bear.

  The Seed of Darkness has evolved into a Shadow Wolf.

  What?

  The zombie doesn’t even get time to react. The wolf launches forward.

  Bites land in a blur—fast, brutal, relentless. Rotting flesh tears free and hits the ground as the stench intensifies. The wolf moves so quickly I can’t track it, only glimpses of a dark shape striking from every angle while the bear’s attacks look clumsy and slow by comparison.

  Seconds later, it’s over.

  What remains of the bear collapses lifelessly onto the arena floor. The wolf turns toward the stands, fur bristling. I force myself to stand and move beside it.

  Its teeth are long and razor-sharp, pristine white stained with filthy brown fluids.

  I shudder.

  Movement draws my gaze upward. The skeletons have stood up and are chanting. Are they going to flood the arena with fireballs?

  Before panic can take hold, the shadow wolf swiftly lunges at the occupants of the stands. It gives them no time to finish even a single spell.

  Skulls are crushed beneath massive paws. Heads are ripped free and hurled with force into the stone seats, shattering like ceramic.

  At the back stand the three archmages, their more powerful spells apparently requiring longer casting times. Several magical shields stop the wolf’s first attacks, only to shatter beneath its claws before they can finish their spell chants.

  One by one, they fall as well. The blue light fades from their eye sockets and their bones fall lifeless.

  Silence returns to the arena.

  I shiver.

  What I just witnessed, the seed of evil fighting, was… glorious. I would’ve never survived this.

  At best, I might have managed to slay one or two mage skeletons out of the hundreds in the stands before the others’ spells hit me. I don’t even want to imagine what they would have done to me.

  But I do. Fireballs charring my flesh. Orbs of darkness. Chasms opening beneath my feet, burying me and crushing my bones before I could even suffocate. Curses that weaken the body, poison the spirit, and leave you helpless—ready to be sacrificed on some dark altar.

  The wolf’s howl snaps me out of it.

  It turns toward me, massive and imposing, radiating a dark, majestic presence.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  Then, louder, “Thank you.”

  The wolf inclines its head and begins to glow again, a dark light blooming around it and swallowing the torchlight that fills the arena. It starts to shrink—smaller and smaller—until it’s a pup once more, small enough to fit in my hands. It spits out a chunk of zombie flesh that had nearly filled its mouth.

  It jumps up, and I catch it.

  “Ugh. You stink,” I laugh as it tries to lick my face.

  It may have saved me, but I don’t let it.

  “Let’s get you some water from the backpack first.”

  It squirms in protest. It’s adorable, but at the same time I can’t forget the terrifying creature it transformed into.

  This world’s game system called it a seed of darkness. If it can become something like that powerful wolf, maybe saving it was a mistake. Darkness usually means demons. Evil.

  I shake my head at the thought.

  It was just a pup. Letting adult wolves tear it apart would’ve been the real cruelty.

  I give it water, rinsing its mouth before finally allowing the licks. Then I glance back at the levers. Two remain.

  As if on cue, another popup appears.

  You have twenty minutes to activate a lever. Otherwise, one will be activated at random.

  Figures.

  I lift the pup so its little head is level with mine.

  “Can you do that again?”

  It responds with a bark and a lick. I hope that means yes.

  Another message appears.

  The seed of darkness wishes to bind with you.