The Survivor Becomes a Dungeon

____ POV

"-me on! What do you think you're doing sitting on your ass? Get up and try again."

Byron was telling me off again; where did dad find this guy? He's been beating me up with a punching bag for the last few hours, and it's getting annoying.

"Well, excuse me, you're not the one getting smashed into by a punching bag launched on a motorized track." I snapped with frustration, pushing myself up on shaky knees and scraped up hands and arms.

"No excuses, ya little turd. Your pops asked me to make sure you fix up that sloppy-as-shit excuse of stance you got there." Byron retorted with a booming voice, though a smirk was on his face.

Oh, haha, he's having fun at my expense. I can't help but sigh as I dust off my pants before picking up the staff, which is serving as my weapon in this exercise. "I'm a kid; what do you expect? I can't stop this thing that's two times heavier than me."

Byron laughed, like a full-out belly laugh, as he shook his head. "Then you're going to be here all day, kid. Now then, deal with the problem." With that, he pushed a button, and suddenly the punching bag was launched. I dug in my heels and held out my staff to block once more, but I couldn't help but wince as it quickly approached.

In the next moment, I'm sprawled out on the ground. My face is just throbbing as I'm pretty sure I felt and heard something crack a moment ago. "Oww… I think my nose is broken." I say with resigned annoyance. It's not like it's my first time, but it always sucked when it did happen. Byron doesn't approach to help me up or deal with my injury, and I don't expect him to as I grit my teeth and snap my nose back into place using both hands. 'That sucked…'

"How long are you planning on lying there? This ain't no time for a break, boyo." Byron barked out, which meant that was enough slacking for me as I pushed myself to my feet. "Again!" He called out, barely leaving me with enough time to blow some blood out my nose when I took my place once more.

I huffed and retook my stance, holding out my staff as I dug in. With a push of a button, Byron launched the bag at me again. But you know what? I'm done with this. At the last second, I defiantly dodged the bag and swung my staff so hard at it that the staff snapped upon impact, and my already scraped-up hands were now shaky and numb on top of the pain I was in.

Turning to look, I see Byron stomping over to me, his black tactical boots kicking up dirt with each step while I hold my ground and stare up at him. He had a stern expression on his face, his built figure towering over me and casting a shadow.

Though after a moment, he flashed his pearly whites and clapped my shoulder, nearly knocking me off my already unsteady legs. "Finally, you're getting the right idea. You got stupid orders from a stupid person with instructions that would have screwed you over had you followed them. You would have never stopped that bag; hell, even I have a hard time with it. But look at you, it may have taken a few dozen times of getting your ass kicked, but you learned the lesson on your own."

I.. I was confused, and the expression on my little face certainly said it all as Byron chuckled and continued.

"Learn to think for yourself, kiddo, and find solutions to issues that you can do. Don't blindly follow orders. But most importantly, always get back up again; if you're still moving, you can make a difference." He patted my shoulder again and stepped back. "Now go on, get those wounds patched up. Your mom wants you to finish your homework before dinner." He teased as he walked off to start putting away his equipment.

I was a bit dazed by the lesson I was supposed to be learning, but I couldn't help but smile at the fact I managed to earn his approval in the end.

Zasutir POV

'To think I could learn how to be a warrior of all things at my age, these days are odd indeed.' Zasutir couldn't help but smile; the chance to learn a skill like this had not been available to him all his life, yet here he was, getting to learn from a mighty being from another world.

Descending the steps from the Core chamber, Zasutir was guided by Vitmori to a simple-looking cave entrance. Ducking inside, he was surprised to find that the interior was made to be taller than the entrance itself. As he walked further inside, small little orbs that glimmered like starlight formed a path above him and illuminated the way.

As his claws clacked against the stone, he could hear the woosh and swish of a blade swing cutting through the air. 'That's right; I'm supposed to meet someone here.' He remembered all too suddenly as he wondered who he could be meeting here.

Finally, Zasutir stepped into an open rectangular room with neatly smoothed and carved walls, floor, and ceiling. Three orbs of faintly glimmering light formed along the top, illuminating the room.

Inside was an ashen-skinned man wearing what looked to be simple leather armor. However, for whatever reason, he had tiles of stone strapped to specific points around his arms, legs, chest, and shoulders.

'Zasutir, meet Dread. Dread, this is Zasutir.' Vitmori's voice echoed out in their minds.

Dread finished following through with a simple vertical strike, followed by a horizontal slash when he slowed to a stop. Correcting his posture, he stood and sheathed his blade before looking over and flashing a surprisingly warm smile. "You must be the Shepherd, Zasutir, yes? Vitmori has told me about you." He was excited to meet someone new. Since he first came into existence not so long ago, the experience of meeting new people was relatively novel, his voice still carrying a pleasing cadence and smoothness.

Zasutir, for one, was taken aback. He couldn't be sure, but this man before him had to be some kind of undead; the signs were there, especially with those glowing eyes. Yet Dread was intelligent and very coordinated. Not only that, he was sweating and displaying the bodily functions of a living person. It took a couple of moments before Zasutir remembered where he was and responded with a smile. "Ah, yes, it is a pleasure to meet you, Dread. Do you happen to know why I'm meeting you?" He asked curiously.

Before Dread could think of an answer, Vitmori called out into their minds. 'Zasutir, I want you first to start training with Dread here. He's still learning the muscle memory of his body, but he's already got the fundamentals down. Since my style is rather unorthodox, I want you to learn what your body can do first and get a firm foundation in your skills before learning anything special.'

Zasutir felt… Well, he felt just a little disappointed. However, he was by no means a fighter, and he's old enough to appreciate wisdom when handed it.

Vitmori continued, speaking to Dread even though the two of them could hear him at once. 'Dread, it is said that by teaching others, you can reinforce your skills and knowledge. So teach Zasutir when he comes around, and further establish the foundation of your skills.'

Dread knelt to one knee, lowering his head before looking where the core would be. "It will be done, Creator Vitmori; I shall do my best."

Zasutir also knelt to one knee to show his thanks, something that Dread had noticed, which brought a smile to his face.

At that point, they heard the clattering of weapons; turning to look, there was a small assortment by the room's wall. There was another longsword and shield, two maces, and a spear. Though even as the two of them looked over the weapons, a weapon rack of sorts seemed to grow out from the stone wall when Vitmori echoed in their minds once again. 'I want the both of you to familiarize yourselves with these weapons. Start with just the sword, then sword and shield, mace, mace with shield, then the spear, and spear with shield. Find what best suits your body and your style. I'll leave you two to it.'

With that, they could both feel the connection wane. Dread grinned eagerly as he stood upright and began properly hanging and storing the equipment on the new weapon rack before looking at Zasutir as he had passed over a sheathed sword. "Alright, let's see what you got."

Basti POV

'There is danger below my home, to my cubs, to Vitmori, and to the people in that camp Vitmori took in. How could she not have noticed? As the right hand of Vitmori, how could she let an oversight like this escape her notice?' Basti growls to nobody in particular, the rumbling in her throat audible to any who cared to listen.

Before long, she was standing before the cave entrance, where the danger was hiding. She goes deeper inside as her eyes adjust to the darkness and shadows. It is a comforting sensation to be enveloped in them, it feels like a soothing blanket, yet it is as familiar to her as a second skin.

She cleared through the first passageway and cavern with no issues. Though, the moment she stepped into the second passageway, she could feel the shift in the air. It was like being in Vitmori's 'bubble,' as he called it. However, the sensation was as alien as it could be despite the familiarity.

She can feel a presence watching her, and even as she crosses the passageway, she can hear clattering in the distance. The presence knows she's here, so there's no point hiding.

With that thought, a barrier blocking something in her mind was released. Her manaheart and ring start pulsing and shuddering. She can't see it, but she can feel her body begin to shift and grow. The shadows around her are seemingly being pulled around her like a shroud as she steps forth, her paws landing with heavy thuds as she's become something more than she was before.

As the clattering grew louder, she couldn't help but call back in response, bellowing out a roar of challenge. At that, she sprinted forward, her paws making heavy impacts with every step as she flew into the next open cavern. Only to be greeted by a sea of off-white and rotted flesh as she crashes into it.