Reborn as an Adventurer: I Gain a Skill From Every Monster I Eat

Chapter 153: Chapter 153 — Alone on the Floors

The checkpoint guard barely glanced at his badge this time, waving him through with the same brisk efficiency she gave everyone else in the morning queue.

Arlen paused just past the archway, letting the familiar cool, mineral-scented air settle over him.

No Ilyana setting the pace ahead. No Grennig anchoring a choke point. No Kess slipping ahead to scout.

Just him.

He found the quiet strange at first — not unsettling, just unfamiliar, the particular silence of a passage he’d only ever walked with five other sets of footsteps for company. He stood there a moment longer than necessary, adjusting to it, before finally moving forward at his own pace.

Floor One’s wide corridor looked exactly as it had the first time — well-lit, busy with the comings and goings of other parties, a few curious glances thrown his way at a lone adventurer moving with clear purpose rather than the usual first-timer’s hesitation.

He didn’t linger there. Floor One held nothing he hadn’t already seen.

The descent to Floor Two came easier alone than it had with a party — no need to match anyone’s pace, no waiting on Osric’s careful notation of some mineral vein or Kess’s habit of pausing to check every shadowed alcove. He simply moved, steady and unhurried, letting Hawk’s Eye sweep the passage ahead in long, clean strokes.

A Blindfang Lizard surged from a crevice partway through, and Arlen met it without breaking stride — a clean strike, precisely placed, the kind of unremarkable kill that would have barely registered as noteworthy with a party around him and felt, alone, like a small private confirmation that he didn’t actually need anyone standing beside him to handle it.

Different, doing this without someone else’s rhythm to fall into, he thought, wiping his blade clean. Have to build my own instead.

He found that instinct sharpening the further he went — without Kess ranging ahead, he leaned harder on Shadow Sense to catch what waited in the pockets of darkness between lightstones. Without Osric’s steady ward work, he paid closer attention to his own footing, his own angles of retreat, the particular geometry of a fight where nobody else would catch what he missed.

A Stone Slime oozed across his path near the base of the descent to Floor Three, and he simply stepped around it, the same unbothered dismissal Rurik had shown days earlier. Not everything needed killing. Some things weren’t worth the effort either way.

Floor Three greeted him with the low, layered murmur he remembered — more monsters, more variety, the natural cavern’s uneven ceiling forcing him to duck in the same low stretch that had troubled Grennig on his first pass through.

He moved carefully here, more deliberately than he had on the floors above, aware that whatever waited in this deeper, busier terrain deserved more respect solo than it had with five capable fighters at his back.

A cluster of Hollow Ants scattered from his path, harmless and unbothered by his presence. A Sporeback Toad watched him pass with slow, sluggish indifference. He caught the telltale disturbed patch of ground that Kess had once flagged as a Corpsecap Mimic’s likely hiding spot and gave it a wide, deliberate berth rather than risk the surprise alone.

Good instinct, that, he thought, continuing past it. No Kess to bail me out if I misjudge it this time.

His first real test came nearly an hour in — a Cave Wolf, considerably bolder alone than it had been fleeing from a full party, emerging from a side passage with its hackles raised and a low, steady growl building in its throat.

Arlen didn’t retreat. He planted his feet, drew on Enduring Vitality’s familiar steady warmth, and waited for it to commit.

It lunged low, going for his legs rather than his throat, and he caught the motion clean through Hawk’s Eye’s sharpened clarity — sidestepping rather than meeting it head-on, driving Edgeline Strike into its exposed flank as it passed. The wolf yelped, staggered, and turned to press a second attack with the same wild, uncoordinated fury.

He met that one with Aura Ward, absorbing the worst of its bite along his forearm guard, and finished it with a clean, economical strike that ended the fight before it could properly develop into anything more dangerous.

He stood over it a moment, breathing steady, and found himself genuinely satisfied by the shape of the whole exchange — no wasted motion, no panic, nothing that would have looked out of place if Ilyana had been standing there watching.

That’s the difference a year and more of proper training actually buys you, he thought, sheathing his blade. Not that the danger disappears. Just that you stop needing luck to survive it.

He harvested nothing from the wolf — common hide, common bone, exactly the kind of material Bellwyn wouldn’t bother giving him more than a passing glance for — and continued deeper into the floor’s winding passages, curious now rather than cautious, testing the edges of how far he could comfortably push before the terrain itself demanded he turn back.

He passed the goblin colony’s old territory a while later, the chamber considerably quieter now than it had been days earlier, scattered evidence of the fight still visible in the churned earth and the cold remains of abandoned cookfires. A handful of goblins had already begun trickling back in, rebuilding in the slow, stubborn way colonies apparently did, and Arlen gave the chamber a wide berth rather than provoke a fight that wasn’t strictly necessary today.

Osric’s report was right to flag it, he thought, studying the rebuilding activity from a careful distance. Something’s feeding this colony’s growth. Not my business to solve today, but worth remembering.

He turned back toward the surface a while after that, satisfied with the day’s modest, unglamorous progress — no new ability, no genuine crisis, simply the quiet, deliberate work of learning to read three floors of dungeon on his own terms rather than borrowed from someone else’s formation.

The climb back through Floor Two and Floor One passed without incident, and Arlen found himself, emerging into the late afternoon light beyond the checkpoint archway, genuinely pleased with the shape the day had taken.

”Solo?” the checkpoint guard asked, glancing at his badge and then at the empty space around him where a party might otherwise have stood.

”Solo,” Arlen confirmed.

”Floors one through three’s a fine place to start building that habit,” she said, unbothered, already turning her attention toward the next adventurer in line. ”Come back in one piece next time too.”

He walked back toward the Foxglove with the low sun stretching long shadows across Aurenholt’s crowded streets, turning over the day’s accumulated small lessons with the same careful, methodical satisfaction he gave everything now — not the dramatic growth of a new ability or a hard-won fight, but something quieter and no less valuable: the simple, steady confidence of a floor properly learned on his own two feet.

Tomorrow, he thought, I’ll push further. Floor four, maybe, if three stays this manageable.

He found Rilla behind the Foxglove’s counter when he arrived, and she glanced up at him with her usual quiet, observant attention, taking in the dust still clinging to his boots and the faint, satisfied set of his shoulders.

”Good dive?” she asked.

”Quiet one,” Arlen said. ”Exactly what I needed, honestly.”

She studied him a moment longer than the question strictly required, then nodded and went back to her work, and Arlen made his way toward the stairs, already looking forward to a proper meal and an early night before whatever the next day’s deeper floor decided to offer him.