The Final Level of Life

—

Based on existing intel and “bold guesses,” Shuna and Will concluded that his “death in this world” wasn’t simply due to a slime. It might be an unexpected dungeon anomaly, an out-of-place monster, with a slime as the final blow. Or, it could be a meticulously planned trap, designed to lure Will in, culminating in a slime-attributed death.

Either way…

Entering the dungeon meant facing “monsters.” Monsters meant “combat.”

If he could win, he would conquer death.

Shuna and Will listed countless monsters they thought might appear on the first floor—creatures capable of a one-shot kill. They even included the Dustbone Corridor’s Elite monsters, and even its Empress—a dark-skinned figure resembling an Egyptian queen.

“So, Little Will~ your logic doesn’t need to be complicated. Forget the ‘fate’ you once knew. You’ve already avoided all ‘coincidences’ and ‘accidents’.”

Shuna lay on the bed, speaking to him in the dim hotel light.

“Treat this as a challenge—you know, that word you always use?”

“Level.”

“Exactly! A level—as you’d say, clear this level, get a reward, move on to a new story… right?”

“Mm, right. That’s it.”

“So—”

She lightly bumped her forehead against his, whispering a blessing into his ear:

“Go clear the final level of your life.”

…

But stepping into that “final level of life”—the “first floor of Dustbone Corridor” that defined his death in the original story—he found it wasn’t so simple.

For instance, all the possibilities Shuna and he had listed were immediately disproven.

“The monster isn’t a slime. And it’s not anything we predicted.”

Will’s heavy boots sank into the desert sand. Unlike beach sand, this was an endless expanse of loose particles. He felt no solid ground beneath him. If he stood still, he would simply sink.

And it was cold.

That’s why he’d done a full warm-up before entering, to avoid a first-strike kill by the sheer temperature. Even so, standing in the desert, he felt the biting wind sweep across the vast expanse.

Dustbone Corridor was experiencing “winter” underground, and as a desert, its day-night temperature fluctuations were even more extreme. The pre-dawn hours were the coldest.

“I cranked my ‘Demon Alert’ to maximum for nothing. Didn’t expect the enemy to be… completely unconcealed.”

He muttered to himself, his breath instantly fogging the air.

He gripped his staff tighter, his knuckles white.

The moment he stepped in, he realized he was already eclipsed by something.

Shuna had said the first layer had no “monsters,” just an endless expanse of sand you could walk through to clear.

But, as expected, it wasn’t an empty desert.

He stood in a colossal, sky-blotting shadow, slowly tilting his head back—only then could he grasp the full scale of that thing.

From the soft sand, a gigantic…

Worm.

Its tail and half its body were still buried, but its upper half rose, staring at Will—

It possessed the disgusting, massive compound eyes of an insect, a segmented, worm-like body, and furry legs.

But unlike a tiny insect, the part rearing up now was roughly three stories tall.

The larger the “monster,” the more likely it was an “elite.” But this size dwarfed even typical elite monsters. Will thought it could easily be a BOSS-level creature.

“Demanding elegance from a monster’s appearance is a bit much, but… could it at least be a little… prettier?”

Screeeeeech!

The worm’s unique, eerie shriek echoed through the first floor of Dustbone Corridor.

Then, the seemingly motionless creature plummeted, falling with enough force to flatten Will.

“Too slow—for me!”

Will slid his foot back, his left eye flashing violet. The worm’s movements slowed by half a beat.

This was “Demon Power,” a result of his incomplete contract with Treya. It allowed his eyes to capture more “information,” to discern every detail, to see the exact impact point and the scattering dust.

And…

It allowed his otherwise sluggish body to react in ways it couldn’t before.

It was with this power that Will finally understood Treya’s sometimes bizarre “Entark Swordsmanship.” “Entark Swordsmanship” didn’t truly exist—or, at least, it didn’t exist for “humans.” It was, in fact, the act of surrendering one’s body to a “demon” to perform extreme maneuvers, moving like a puppet on strings.

—Grotesque.

Will slid across the sand, reaching the worm’s side. The kicked-up dust was almost invisible to his enhanced left eye. Here, he finally saw its grotesque details.

The colossal worm resembled an incomplete larval stage. But even at a glance, its body didn’t look like a “living insect.” It was riddled with holes, leaking not “insect blood,” but copious amounts of viscous, dark brown…

Human blood.

This blood wasn’t “fresh.” Its color was like dried, congealed blood from a corpse that had lain for days. Yet, it still “flowed,” as if mixed with an anticoagulant and heated.

And that wasn’t all…

Will felt a strange sensation underfoot and looked down…

As the giant worm landed and writhed, it shed…

Skulls. Leg bones. Ribs. Hip bones.

All appeared to be human bones, some bleached white, others still clinging to decaying flesh.

The blood oozing from its pores, upon contact with the cold desert sand, even produced a mist.

“…”

Will fought down the urge to vomit, dodging another tail swipe.

—This monster was never in the Adventurer’s Guild’s bestiary!

—It’s beyond “inelegant.” It’s a disgusting construct of… corpses, perhaps, frozen in their final moments.

“Never appeared in the original novel. Never appeared in the game I developed either.”

And even more unsettling:

It wasn’t just too powerful for a mere first-floor dungeon monster; it was entirely unknown to Will.

Dustbone Corridor’s theme, besides “desert,” also included “dust” and “bones.” But the “bones” in the lore were described as ancient, bleached skeletons—dusty remnants of history.

But this worm—let’s call it a “Death-Eater Worm” for now—its contents were far more gruesome, directly evoking fresh death, fresh corpses.

Thud.

“Luckily… its attacks are clumsy.”

Will dodged a clumsy lunge, sidestepping like a bullfighter, and the sluggish creature slammed its head straight into the sand.

His boots carved another long line as he watched its head sink into the desert.

“Next, a tail whip.”

Will flicked his staff, casting a temporary levitation spell. He spun a few times in the air, dodging the whip, then gently landed.

“It’ll search for me for about thirty seconds, then try another headbutt.”

He used its head as a springboard, launching himself sideways.

He landed hard, his boots sinking into the sand, leaving deep imprints.

“Just two or three rounds of attacks, and I’ve got its patterns down. It’s slow, and shows no intelligence. Dumb as a rock.”

This was what truly puzzled Will.

If someone had placed this clearly out-of-place worm here—(a hypothesis he’d formed beforehand)—

They shouldn’t have chosen a monster so easily “kited” by a mage.

“Unless… the things it leaves behind, or the induced effects of my attacks, are lethal?”

Will didn’t attack immediately, instead circling the worm. Monsters associated with “death” or “decay” often had “death effects” or “toxic” hits.

“Three layers of Goddess’s Blessing—especially against corrosive and death curses.”

As he moved, Will, leveraging his former role as a “Priest” in the party, stacked resistance buffs on himself.

BANG!

Then, he unleashed a Blazing Inferno at the worm’s most vulnerable spot.

SPLAT!

Blood erupted. The worm convulsed, writhing and thrashing on the ground like a crushed insect. It bounced, kicking up clouds of sand, and expelled large chunks of “blood” and “corpses” from its ruptured abdomen.

“Good. No effective damage. The toxins can’t penetrate my resistances.”

He held his breath, darting through the viscera. Before the worm could recover, he found his optimal “sniping point.”

“Next…”

Will paused, pulling three vials of Bloodmint Essence from his ring.

“…It’s time for the real—”

“—clearing of the final level of my life!”

—