Creation system
Chapter 41: Doe

Chapter 41: Doe

The slaughter had been almost routine by now.

By the end of that first day, they had carved through nearly a third of the chamber’s monstrous inhabitants.

What had once been terrifying encounters had transformed into calculated engagements. They understood the creatures’ attack patterns, their weaknesses, and the telltale signs that preceded each assault.

Their efforts yielded substantial rewards: pouches heavy with crafting materials that gleamed with potential, and over 150 mid-tier cores that pulsed with contained energy.

Mitch had spent the evening hours hunched over his workbench, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his hammer ringing through their temporary camp as he forged several additional throwing knives, each blade balanced to perfection.

Dawn brought more of the same systematic clearing, their coordination now seamless.

They had pushed halfway through this verdant maze when Mitch’s enhanced senses suddenly sharpened.

His mana perception detected something that made him pause mid-step, a faint but unmistakable tier-one presence, so weak it barely registered above the ambient magical energy of the dungeon itself.

"Wait," he whispered, raising his hand to halt Leya’s advance.

The signature emanated from a dense cluster of bushes pressed against the chamber’s moss-covered wall.

The location was masterfully concealed; a traveler could pass within arm’s reach and never notice the hidden alcove behind the interwoven branches. Even now, peering through the gaps in the foliage, Mitch almost missed it.

"What is it?" Leya asked, her hand instinctively moving to her weapon’s hilt.

"There," Mitch pointed, his voice filled with wonder. "Look."

Nestled in the shadows lay a small deer, its coat a rich brown that would have been magnificent if not for the creature’s obvious distress.

A twisted rabbit horn had pierced completely through its back leg. Dark blood had pooled beneath the wound, and the deer’s labored breathing spoke of hours, perhaps days, of suffering.

"Do we kill it?" Leya asked pragmatically, though her voice carried a note of sympathy she tried to suppress.

Mitch studied the creature more intently, his gaming instincts, sending up urgent signals.

This felt deliberate, orchestrated. In a dungeon where every encounter served a purpose, finding a helpless, injured animal in such a specific location couldn’t be a mere coincidence.

"I think we should heal it," he said slowly, the certainty growing in his voice despite the apparent madness of the suggestion.

"Why would we heal a monster in the dungeon?" Leya’s exasperation was palpable as she stared at him as if he’d proposed something crazy. "It’s still a creature of this place, Mitch. The moment it recovers, it could.."

"Trust me," Mitch interrupted, his tone gaining confidence. "It’s only tier one, look at it, Leya. It can barely lift its head. Even at full strength, it couldn’t even scratch us."

Leya’s expression cycled through doubt, concern, and finally resignation. "Fine."

Mitch approached slowly, each step deliberate and non-threatening. The deer’s large, dark eyes tracked his movement, pupils dilated with pain and fear.

As he drew closer, the creature tried to scramble away, but the cruel horn kept it anchored in place, each movement sending fresh waves of agony through its trembling form.

"Easy there," Mitch murmured, dropping to one knee just outside the deer’s reach. "I’m going to help you."

The extraction was delicate work. Mitch gripped the horn firmly, then pulled with one swift, decisive motion. The deer’s cry of pain cut through the chamber’s ambient sounds like a blade, but the horn came free cleanly.

Blood flowed freely from the puncture wound, dark and concerning.

Without hesitation, Mitch placed his hands over the injury and began channeling his holy mana.

The energy flowed through him, gathering at his palms before sinking into the deer’s torn flesh.

He watched in fascination as muscle fibers knitted themselves back together, as blood vessels sealed.

Within minutes, the healing was complete, not just functional, but perfect, as if the injury had never existed.

The deer sprang to its feet with fluid grace, no longer the broken creature they’d discovered.

It approached Mitch without fear now, its rough tongue rasping across his cheek in what could only be interpreted as gratitude.

The simple gesture of trust and thanks warmed something in Mitch’s chest that he’d forgotten existed after days of nothing but violence.

Terror.

It crashed over them like a physical force, primal and overwhelming.

Every instinct screamed at them to run, to hide, to make themselves as small as possible in the presence of something so far beyond their capabilities that resistance was not just futile, it was inconceivable.

Behind them, mana began to coalesce with an intensity that made their previous encounters feel like candle flames compared to a raging inferno.

The very air grew thick and oppressive, charged with power that made their skin crawl and their hearts race with panicked rhythm.

The creature that emerged from the deeper shadows of the chamber defied their understanding of dungeon hierarchies.

The stag stood nearly twice its height of themselves, its hide emanating a soft emerald luminescence that pulsed in rhythm with its heartbeat.

Its antlers were not mere bone but something approaching art, each tine perfectly sculpted, each curve radiating an authority that spoke of ancient magic and terrible power.

This was a being at least one full tier above them, possibly more, the kind of creature that could erase them from existence with a casual thought.

The small deer bounded toward the magnificent stag with obvious joy, and the family resemblance became unmistakable.

This was a parent reuniting with its child, and Mitch suddenly understood the true weight of what they had stumbled into.

After a brief moment of reunion, the great stag nuzzling its offspring with surprising gentleness, the powerful creature turned its attention to them.

Mana began gathering between its antlers, building to levels that made the air itself vibrate with barely contained energy.

Mitch and Leya stood frozen, not by choice but by the sheer presence radiating from the stag.

Every fiber of their being recognized a predator so far above them on the food chain that even breathing felt like an act of defiance.

The stag showed no hostility, its posture spoke of calm authority rather than aggression, but its mere existence in their vicinity was enough to reduce them to trembling prey animals.

The beam of concentrated mana that erupted from the stag’s antlers was beautiful in its terrible power, pure green energy that hummed with life force and elemental might.

It struck the chamber wall, and stone that had withstood centuries of dungeon magic crumbled like sand before a tide.

Where solid rock had stood moments before, a perfectly formed archway now opened into darkness beyond.