How to Get Girls, Get Rich, and Rule the World (Even If You're Ugly)-Chapter 58: How to NOT get in home after a long night in a manhole (2)

Chapter 58: How to NOT get in home after a long night in a manhole (2)

The tunnel felt like it was breathing.

Not in an organic way — but with that muffled air oscillation that slowly shifts between one living wall and another.

Moisture dripped like sweat from the pores of the stone, and the stench had moved past nausea into something more like presence — as if the very stink was an entity watching us crawl through its guts.

The sparks between my fingers cast crooked shadows dancing on the tunnel walls, stretching imaginary rats around every bend. But they weren’t imaginary anymore.

The sound was getting sharper.

Paws.

Claws.

Sniffing noses.

And then, up ahead, standing right in the middle of the path — the creature. A deformed mass of dark fur, front legs thick like human hands, teeth shaped like ancient chisels.

The rat stared at us with that look only the too-smart animals know how to wear: the one that says it’s already decided what to do with you.

The light flickered.

The rat didn’t.

[CREATURE SHEET: DEMONIC TUNNEL RAT]

→ Type: Aberrant Creature / Predator

→ Size: Medium (pig-sized)

→ Environment: Damp, dark tunnels; confined spaces

[MAIN ATTRIBUTES]

→ Strength: Medium-high — capable of pushing and throwing the victim against walls.

→ Agility: High — fast and precise movements in tight spaces.

→ Endurance: Medium — withstands prolonged fights without tiring, breathes heavily but not easily fatigued.

→ Perception: Very high — sharp eyes, senses fear, reacts to slightest sounds and movements.

→ Intelligence: Above average for an animal — assesses enemies, hesitates, and reacts strategically.

[ABILITIES]

→ Bite Attack: Bites with sharp teeth causing deep and painful wounds. Locks onto the prey to make escape difficult.

→ Cutting Claws: Thick, sharp claws capable of slashing and unbalancing opponents, leaving marks on the ground.

→ Ambush and Assessment: Moves silently and observes before attacking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

→ Resistance to Low Light: Barely affected by dim lights or quick sparks; illumination does not intimidate it fully. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

→ Fear Sensitivity: Detects panic and nervousness, which encourages more aggressive attacks.

→ Rising Fury: The more it is pushed back or prevented, the more violent and aggressive it becomes, increasing the risk of destructive attacks.

[WEAKNESSES]

→ Fear and Hesitation: Despite aggressiveness, it feels fear and hesitates momentarily when facing a confident and dangerous opponent.

→ Restricted Space (low ceiling): Mobility can be limited if the environment is too narrow to attack with full force.

→ Vulnerable to Flames: Sparks and fire temporarily drive it away, causing pain and discomfort.

→ Focus on Bite: After biting, it may become stuck on the victim, allowing counterattacks if the enemy acts quickly.

→ Strong Odors: Intense and acidic smells can disorient it or make it retreat momentarily.

"Dante..." Thalia whispered, panic clinging to every syllable. "That... that’s not normal. That’s not a rat. That’s a demon with whiskers."

"Big rat. That’s all."

"There’s no such thing as ’that’s all’!" she snapped, her voice jumping to a desperate high-pitch that didn’t match her usually composed demeanor. "That thing has claws bigger than my hand, and it’s looking at us like we’re leftover dinner."

"Keep your voice down," I muttered, keeping my tone in check, eyes still locked on the beast. "It’s still evaluating. You give it the full show, then yeah — it comes."

"I’m not putting on a show, Dante. I’m having a nervous breakdown, crawling through a filthy tunnel about to get skinned by a rat the size of a pig."

I heard her choke again. It wasn’t just fear. It was phobia. Her eyes shook, bouncing from the rat to me to the darkness around us, as if every shadow might be another threat waiting to join the first.

"I need to get out of here. I need to get out now."

"If you run, it attacks. If you scream, it attacks. Blink wrong — maybe it attacks."

"So what do we do then?! Pray?!"

"No. We breathe. One second at a time."

She started trembling. Her fingers scratched at the wall, trying to find a way out that wasn’t there. Panic is a sneaky beast — it pretends to be movement, but it traps you. And she was already trapped from the inside out.

And the rat knew.

It could smell that.

It liked that.

And then, with a dry sound, it moved.

One step.

Then another.

The front paw scraped against the stone with surgical slowness. Like it had all the time in the world. Its tongue stretched out, grotesque, sliding across its teeth. The eyes — two black stones with sharp dots of hunger.

"Stay behind me," I whispered.

But she was already frozen.

And the rat... lunged.

The sound was an explosion of paws on stone, a wet thunderstorm charging at us with claws bared, teeth wide, and no growl.

Just hunger.

The rat rushed like a bolt of rotten meat, paws clawing at the floor with enough force to leave gashes in the muck.

Its bulk was unreal — heavier than it looked, faster than it should be. The narrow tunnel turned into a reversed trap: in there, it had the advantage.

I stood up as much as I could, but it wasn’t enough. The ceiling left no room to use the pickaxe on my back — there was barely space to stretch out my arm.

He came straight at me.

I instinctively sparked a flame with my fingers, a short blaze that burned the air ahead. The creature stepped back for half a second — the hairs on its forehead singed, and a hiss came from its throat like steam of anger.

I took the chance. I kicked the side, but it was like trying to push a wet sofa: it just slid sideways and came back twice as strong.

I cut the air with another spark. Lit up quickly.

He was still there.

Stuck to the wall, like a living shadow.

And ready to try again.

The second attack was more accurate.

The claws hit my arm and threw me off balance — I slammed my shoulder against the tunnel wall and slipped in the mud, feeling the texture of something alive under my palm. Then I felt the teeth.

They dug into my left forearm.

Fast. Deep. Burning.

"Shit!" I shouted, unable to hold it back.

My mind shot the phrase before I even thought:

"Shit, this damn thing’s gonna give me leptospirosis."

I tried to pull my arm, but it wouldn’t let go. The rat seemed born for this — to bite and lock on. And every second, I felt like it was trying to drag me down with it.

That’s when Thalia screamed.

Loud.

"DANTE!"

Her voice echoed off the walls, vibrating like a useless panic signal. I saw her move sideways, slipping in the mud, trying to reach something, anything. A branch, a rock, a piece of the world that made sense.

"Do something!" she yelled.

"I’m trying!"

She tried to kick the rat but missed. She hit my ankle hard.

"Fuck...!" I snarled.

The rat let go for half a second. It was enough time to pull my arm, tearing what was left of my sleeve. Warm blood ran down my hand.

The tunnel seemed to grow narrower.

The smell was more acidic.

Thalia was crying. Or sweating. Or both. She trembled like a candle in a storm, clinging to the wall, eyes fixed on the beast in pure terror.

And the rat...

It hadn’t given up yet.

Its breathing was loud.

Hot.

Panting.

But not tired.

Anxious.

It stared at me. Again.

Only this time, I stared back.

Right in the eye.

The next spark that flew from my fingertips wasn’t to attack. It was to illuminate. And the light fell on its face like a confession.

The rat’s eye was dark, yes...

But inside there was something.

A strange glow. Almost... understanding.

Like it knew what it was doing.

Like it was enjoying itself.

And it was right there, in that still moment, that I saw:

It feared me. Just a little. But enough to hesitate.

"Yeah..." I murmured, panting. "I’ve got teeth too."

It stepped back two paces, body still tense.

But its look changed.

Now it wasn’t just hunger.

It was anger.

Anger that I made it retreat.

Anger that we were still alive.

And this time, if it attacked again...

It wouldn’t just be to bite.

It would be to tear apart.