Plagueborn Omega

Kaden exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

The Broodmother Beta's massive corpse sagged in on itself, her torn flesh collapsing like rotting leather, the last vestiges of her unnatural vitality draining away. The chamber was eerily silent now, the only sound the occasional squelch of ruptured brood sacs leaking their half-formed contents into the stagnant filth.

He hurried out of the chamber not wanting to stay one extra minute in this stink. The dungeon was not yet over and he was already feeling suffocated. Maybe it was because of his class, it was torturous to stay in this kind of environment.

Kaden moved quickly, weaving through the tunnels as the dungeon shifted around him.

A series of rusted metal gates slammed shut in his wake, cutting off the paths he had already taken, forcing him forward—deeper, closer to the next battle. The dungeon was funneling him toward the last confrontation.

He didn't resist. This was expected. The next rat bastard waiting for him was a different kind of beast. This one could use magic and was the one Kaden had the most trouble dealing with in his last life.

And not just any magic.

Plague Magic.

The Plagueborn Omega.

A foul, diseased monstrosity born from centuries of accumulated filth, cursed mana, and death. It had once been an ordinary rat, but through exposure to the dungeon's decay, it had become something far worse.

A spellcaster. Unlike the previous enemies, the Plagueborn Omega didn't rely on brute strength. It didn't fight fair.

It poisoned. It rotted. It cursed.

Kaden tightened his fists as he rounded the final bend, stepping into a cavernous, half-flooded chamber. There, waiting for him—was the Plagueborn Omega.

It stood hunched over on the far side of the chamber, perched on a mound of half-rotted bones, skulls, and corpses fused together by some sickly green mana.

The creature was taller than the others, its body stretched and elongated, a nightmarish mockery of a rat. Its limbs were thin and bony, yet its fingers were long and clawed, twitching erratically as green sparks danced along them.

But the worst part—was its face.

Or rather, its lack of one.

The entire front of its skull was missing, replaced by a single, gaping maw lined with jagged, mismatched teeth. It pulsed with sickly green light, its breath leaking toxic mist into the air. The moment it sensed Kaden's presence—it moved.

Its clawed fingers twitched. A pulse of mana spread outward, and the filthy water at Kaden's feet began to bubble. Kaden's instincts screamed. Without hesitation, he jumped and the next second the water exploded.

Thick, green tendrils of corrosive bile shot upward like venomous fangs, seeking his flesh, sizzling against the stone where he had just stood. Kaden flipped midair, twisting away from the attack.

But the Omega wasn't done. It raised its clawed hands, and the air itself twisted. Kaden gritted his teeth. Of course, it had to be like this. The Plagueborn Omega wasn't just a spellcaster. It was a battlefield manipulator.

It was so strong because of its fortified chamber. It turned the entire room against its opponent. Kaden's health was already starting to tick down. Slowly, but consistently. The longer he stayed in this chamber, the more he would rot.

He had to end this fast. He landed on a half-submerged platform and launched forward. The Plagueborn hissed, its mouth unhinging wider than should be possible. It raised one thin, bony arm, and a dark green glyph spun into existence around its fingers.

Kaden recognized the spell instantly.

Rotting Bolt.

"Not happening." He twisted his hand and Thorn Whip lashed forward. The spellcaster hissed in surprise as the barbed whip struck, wrapping around its emaciated arm. Kaden yanked. The creature was ripped from its perch, its grotesque body hurtling toward him.

Kaden met it mid-air. His fist, wrapped in dense, crushing mana, slammed directly into its torso.

CRACK. The Plagueborn Omega howled, its frail body contorting from the sheer force of the impact. Bones splintered, black ichor splattering into the foul water below.

But Kaden wasn't done. He grabbed its skull and slammed it down onto a jagged stone.

CRACK.

Again.

CRACK.

Again.

CRACK.

Again.

The sickly green glow in its body flickered—then died. The spellcaster's limp form sagged, the last remnants of its cursed mana dissipating into the air.

[Ding! You have killed the Plagueborn Omega]

Kaden stood over the broken corpse, breathing evenly. His health was still slowly ticking down, but now that the caster was dead, he could finally recover. He flexed his fingers, shaking off the last remnants of corruption.

Now only one more fight was left.

He turned toward the far end of the chamber—where a massive rusted gate had begun to rise, revealing the entrance to the dungeon's final battle. This was it.

The Maw of the Sewers was waiting.