God's Ultimate Cheat Console

by underrated Drake

G.U.C.C. Ch. 6 Floor 16 "Descent to Hell"

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After what felt like hours of walking, the trio arrived at what seemed like a courtyard of sorts, not sensing any immediate threats, they decided to take a breather.

The dimly lit courtyard offered a much-needed respite for Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac. Exhausted from the relentless battles and the stress of navigating the dungeon's treacherous depths, they welcomed the chance to rest. The courtyard, with its moss-covered stones and faintly glowing flora, felt almost serene compared to the chaos they had faced.

As they settled down, Braeburn and Big Mac began to review their stats, a routine check to assess their condition and progress. Sherman, however, hesitated. He was acutely aware of the cheat console hidden just beneath the surface of his actions, a secret he was desperate to keep.

"Spike, aren't you gonna check your stats too?" Braeburn asked, noticing Sherman's reluctance.

Sherman feigned ignorance. "I don't really know how," he lied, hoping to deflect their attention.

Braeburn, ever helpful, didn't think twice about Sherman's response. "Here, let me show you. It's pretty straightforward," he said, walking Sherman through the process as if he were explaining it to a novice.

When the stats screen appeared, revealing Sherman's level as 59 with a significant number of unspent skill points, the reaction from Braeburn and Big Mac was one of shock. "Holy... Spike, you're level 59? And look at all those skill points!" Braeburn exclaimed, his voice a mixture of astonishment and envy.

Sherman's heart raced. He quickly glanced at his cheat console, which still showed him at level 20. The discrepancy was startling, and he scrambled for an explanation that wouldn't reveal his secret. "I... I don't know how this happened," he stammered, feigning confusion.

Big Mac, usually quiet, couldn't hide his surprise. "That's... impressive. But why haven't you used any of those skill points?"

Sherman knew he had to tread carefully. "I guess I was just... saving them? I wasn't sure what skills to choose," he lied, hoping they would buy his explanation.

Braeburn looked at Sherman with a mix of skepticism and concern. "Spike, those skill points could make a huge difference for us down here. We should look at spending some of them now. It could be the edge we need."

Sherman nodded, agreeing reluctantly. "You're right. Let's see what we can do."

Together, they began to strategize, discussing which skills would be most beneficial for their journey. Sherman played along, making selections that aligned with his apparent stats, all the while aware of the delicate balance he was trying to maintain.

As they allocated the skill points, Sherman couldn't help but feel a growing sense of guilt for deceiving his friends. But the fear of revealing the cheat console and the potential consequences kept him silent.

The discrepancy in his stats remained a mystery to his companions, a curious anomaly in the depths of the dungeon. For Sherman, however, it was a stark reminder of the secret world he navigated alongside the reality of their dire situation.

As they agreed to let Sherman, or Spike as they knew him, spend some time alone to adjust his stats and distribute his skill points, Braeburn and Big Mac stepped away to give him some privacy. They found a quieter corner of the courtyard, their backs against the ancient, moss-covered stone, the soft glow of bioluminescent plants casting eerie shadows around them.

"I gotta say, Mac," Braeburn began, his voice low, "Spike's been holding his own pretty well for someone who's apparently been running on default settings this whole time."

Big Mac nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yup. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How much of it is about the skills you have, and how much of it is about the person using them."

Braeburn leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "True. I've seen plenty of adventurers with top-tier skills who didn't last a day because they lacked heart. Spike... he's got heart. And guts. More than most, I'd say."

There was a moment of silence as they both considered this. The dungeon, with all its dangers and mysteries, had a way of stripping away pretenses, revealing the true mettle of those who dared to traverse its depths.

"Remember when we got ambushed by those goblins on the third floor?" Big Mac asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Spike didn't hesitate. Jumped right in, even though he was outmatched."

Braeburn chuckled, the memory clear in his mind. "Yeah, and when that trap was about to spring on us near the underground river. Spike spotted it just in time. Saved our hides."

They fell silent again, their thoughts on the journey they had shared so far. It was clear to both of them now that Spike's value as a member of their team went far beyond what any skill or stat could measure. His quick thinking, bravery, and willingness to put himself in harm's way for his friends had earned him a place of respect and gratitude in their hearts.

"You think he knows?" Braeburn finally asked, glancing in the direction they had left Spike.

"Knows what?" Big Mac replied.

"How much he's proven himself. That he's not just a tag-along. He's one of us, through and through."

Big Mac looked towards Spike's direction, his gaze softening. "He will. We'll make sure of it."

Meanwhile, Spike was looking over his skills like crazy, trying to make sense of everything, especially his skills, some of them were amazing, but they all held something that

Physical Combat Skills - Rank A+ (Maximum potential Blocked)

(Current allowed potential) (C-)

Magical Skills - Rank ?? (Maximum potential Blocked/Unknown)

Gun-Related Skills - Rank S+ (Maximum potential Blocked)

(Current allowed potential) (B-)

Survival Skills - Rank S (Maximum potential Blocked)

(Current allowed potential) (B-)

Support Skills - Rank S++

Specialized Skills - Rank Unknown (Maximum potential Blocked)

Sherman sat alone, the glow from his console illuminating his perplexed expression. As he scrolled through his stats and skills, the disparity between what his friends saw and what he could access gnawed at him. "Level 59," he whispered to himself, a mixture of awe and confusion in his voice. Yet, here on his own console, he was only level 20, and many of the skills that should have been available to him at such a high level were inexplicably locked, only a fraction accessible.

"Why is this happening?" he pondered aloud, his mind racing with theories. "Is the console limiting me for some reason? Or is it protecting me from something I'm not ready to handle?"

He considered the unspent skill points, an abundance that was both a blessing and a curse. The possibilities these points represented were vast, yet the limitations imposed on him felt like invisible shackles, holding him back from his true potential.

"It doesn't make any sense. If I have these abilities, why can't I use them?" Sherman's frustration grew as he delved deeper into the console's mechanics, searching for any clue that might explain the discrepancy.

The realization that his journey and growth had been, in some way, manipulated or restricted by the console left Sherman feeling conflicted. On one hand, the console had been his lifeline, offering him abilities and opportunities he never would have had otherwise. On the other, the revelation that not all was as it seemed cast a shadow over his achievements.

"Is my strength really my own, or is it just the result of some... game?" The question lingered in his mind, a bitter taste in his mouth. The pride he had felt in his accomplishments now seemed tainted, his victories less his own.

Yet, as he stewed in his confusion and doubt, Sherman remembered the moments when his actions, his decisions, had made a real difference. Saving the little girl from the accident, standing by Braeburn and Big Mac against insurmountable odds, making the choice to protect and fight alongside his friends—these were not the results of stats or skills. They were the manifestations of his character, his will.

"Maybe it's not about the numbers or the abilities," Sherman concluded, a sense of resolve cutting through the fog of his doubts. "It's about what I choose to do with them. It's about who I am when the chips are down."

With a renewed sense of purpose, Sherman decided to focus on what he could control. He carefully selected skills that complemented his natural strengths and the needs of his team, investing his available points where they would make the most difference. The locked abilities remained a mystery, but Sherman chose to view them as goals, not limitations—a reminder that there was still room to grow, still challenges to overcome.

In the quiet corner of the courtyard, Sherman, now more composed but still brimming with questions, opened his cheat console once more. This time, he navigated to a feature he seldom used: the "chat" option. He hesitated for a moment before typing his message.

"Spike: What's going on with my stats and abilities? Why are there two different stat screens?"

After a brief pause, a response appeared, the words materializing on the screen as if by magic.

"God: Spike, it's good that you're asking questions. The blue stat screen you see represents your true level and abilities as they naturally develop. The red screen, however, shows what I've come to call your 'God Level.' It's a potentiality, a measure of what you could achieve with divine intervention."

Spike's fingers hovered over the console, his mind racing to process the information.

"Spike: Why are so many abilities locked? And what's the difference between the skills on the blue screen and the stat multipliers on the red screen?"

"God: The abilities are locked to protect you, Spike. Your body and mind must adapt gradually to the powers granted to you. It would be both dangerous and irresponsible to unlock them all at once. As for the screens, the blue screen shows actual skills and abilities you've earned or can potentially learn through experience and training. The red screen, on the other hand, offers stat multipliers, enhancing your natural capabilities beyond the normal limits."

"Spike: So, the red screen boosts my stats to what you call 'God Level'? But I can't just use those boosts without consequences?"

"God: Precisely. The 'God Level' represents a ceiling of potential. However, reaching for that ceiling without preparation could have... undesirable effects. It's not just about physical or magical strength; it's about understanding and responsibility. You're being shaped to handle these gifts with care."

"Spike: And the others? Can they see this 'God Level'? Why did it show up when Braeburn and Big Mac checked my stats?"

"God: They saw a glimpse because I allowed it, a nudge for you to start exploring these questions. But normally, no. This level of insight is for you alone. It's part of your journey, Spike, understanding the balance between power and restraint, potential and realization."

Sherman leaned back, absorbing the weight of God's words. The revelation of the "God Level" and the distinction between the screens added layers of complexity to his journey he hadn't anticipated. Yet, it also clarified the path he needed to take.

"Spike: I understand. Or at least, I'm starting to. I'll be careful with how I use these abilities. And the locked skills... I'll work towards unlocking them responsibly."

"God: That's all I ask, Spike. You're on a unique path, one that holds great promise but also significant challenges. Remember, the strength you seek should be matched by the wisdom to wield it."

The conversation ended, leaving Sherman with much to ponder. He realized his adventure was not just about survival or proving himself. It was a test of character, a journey of growth that demanded not just physical strength but wisdom, responsibility, and a deep understanding of the true nature of power.

With that Spike turned to look at all the potential perks that he could learn as an adventurer, somewhere really eye catching, however, he knew that for the most part they were off-limits:

Tier C - Common Perks (Level 10 skill perk required for full mastery)

Tier B - Uncommon Perks (Level 10 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier C full mastery)

Tier A - Rare Perks (Level 10 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier B full mastery)

Tier S - Superior Perks (Level 100 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier A full mastery)

Tier L - Legendary Perks (Level 1000 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier S full mastery or Divine Blessing granted)

Spike quickly used up all his skill points to fully master the Tier C skills, and just like that his level bumped up from 59 to 65, the other skill points he spent on Tier B skills, but then he realized that he still had a long way to go.

It was here when Spike looked at the Perks in the cheat console and noticed that most of the skills were blocked or locked, however, there was something that caught his attention even more… One of the branches of the skill tree was completely unlocked and with the words “IN EFFECT” next to them:

Basic Cheat Perks

Intermediate Cheat Perks

Advanced Cheat Perks

Master Cheat Perks

God-Tier Cheat Perks

Puzzled and concerned about the implications, he decided to reach out to God once more through the chat feature.

"Spike: I noticed the XP Multipliers are active. Did you enable this? It seems like it could unbalance things."

After a brief moment, God's response appeared on the screen, carrying a tone of surprise and confusion.

"God: That wasn't my doing, Spike. It sounds like a glitch. The system wasn't designed to activate those multipliers without direct intervention."

"Spike: A glitch? Is that... bad? Can it be fixed?"

"God: In the grand scheme, it's not catastrophic, but it's not supposed to happen. Fixing it, however, is beyond my current capabilities. The system is complex, and without understanding the root cause of the glitch, tampering could make things worse."

"Spike: So, what should I do? Just leave it?"

"God: For now, yes. Use this anomaly to your advantage. I trust you to remain responsible with the power it grants you. Remember, the essence of your journey is not in the speed of your progression but in the experiences and growth along the way."

"Spike: Understood. I'll be careful. But, if it's a glitch, could there be more?"

"God: It's possible. Keep an eye out for anything else unusual. This could be an indicator of deeper issues within the system. Notify me if you find anything."

"Spike: Will do. Thanks."

The conversation ended, leaving Sherman with mixed feelings. The unintentional boost in his progression could be beneficial, but the revelation that the system was not infallible added a new layer of uncertainty to his journey. It was a reminder that even divine designs could have flaws.

As he rejoined Braeburn and Big Mac, Sherman decided not to mention the glitch. There was no need to burden them with the complexities of his unique situation. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, using his newfound advantage to strengthen their chances of survival and success.

As the trio made their way through the sprawling expanse of the courtyard, the sense of calm was pierced by Big Mac's observation. "We're down to our last magazines and shells," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of their precarious situation. The moonlight cast long shadows over the group, highlighting the seriousness of their ammunition shortage.

Braeburn, always quick to assess and adapt, responded with a decisive tone. "Then we change our approach. Stealth or run, but no fighting unless we're left with no other choice." His eyes scanned the courtyard, already mapping out potential paths that utilized cover and shadows to their advantage.

Sherman nodded in agreement. The revelation about the XP multiplier glitch still fresh in his mind, he understood the importance of conserving their resources, now more than ever. "Stealth sounds like our best bet. We've managed to get this far; let's not get reckless now."

The three of them took a moment to redistribute the remaining ammunition, ensuring that each had an equal share, albeit meager. They checked their weapons, securing them to avoid any unnecessary noise, and agreed on hand signals to communicate silently as they moved.

Big Mac, usually the man of few words, added, "Keep an eye out for anything we can use—traps, environmental hazards. Anything that can give us an edge without having to fire a shot."

Sherman felt a surge of appreciation for his companions' adaptability and resolve. The challenges they faced seemed to only strengthen their determination and unity. "Let's keep close," he suggested. "If we run into trouble, we'll need to rely on more than just firepower to get out of it."

As they set off, moving with deliberate caution, the courtyard transformed from a serene, if eerie, vista into a landscape fraught with potential danger. Every shadow could conceal a threat, every rustle of the wind might herald an ambush. Yet, amidst this tension, there was also a sense of exhilaration—the thrill of relying on their wits and each other to navigate the dangers that lay ahead.

Their journey through the courtyard became a testament to their growth as adventurers. No longer were they solely dependent on brute force or magical prowess. They had become a cohesive unit, capable of adapting to the challenges they faced with a combination of stealth, strategy, and mutual trust.

The night wore on, the moon tracing its path across the sky, as Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac made their way through the darkened landscape.

The trio had been walking for what felt like an eternity, the monotony of the courtyard blending each moment into the next, their senses dulled by fatigue and the unchanging landscape. Braeburn's complaints about their seemingly endless trek only served to amplify the sense of disorientation gripping them.

"It feels like we're walking in circles," Braeburn grumbled, his frustration evident. "This place is playing tricks on us."

It was then that Spike spotted something unusual—a small hut off to the right of their path, its silhouette barely discernible in the moonlight. "Look over there," he said, pointing towards the mysterious structure. "Maybe we can find some supplies or at least get a moment's respite."

Braeburn immediately tensed, his instincts on high alert. "Hold up, Spike. That could be a trap. This dungeon has been full of surprises, and not the good kind."

Despite Braeburn's warning, Sherman felt an inexplicable pull towards the hut. "We need to check it out. We can't pass up the chance of finding something useful." His voice carried a mix of curiosity and determination.

Big Mac, who had been quietly scanning their surroundings, finally spoke up. "Let's approach with caution. If it feels off, we back out. Agreed?"

Sherman nodded, grateful for the support. "Agreed. Let's be careful."

The trio advanced towards the hut, their senses heightened and weapons ready. As they neared, the details of the structure became clearer—it was modest, made of old, weathered wood, with a thatched roof. There was no sign of movement or light from within.

Reaching the door, Sherman paused, listening for any sounds from inside. Silence. He glanced back at Braeburn and Big Mac, receiving a nod from both, before gently pushing the door open.

The interior was surprisingly mundane—a single room with a small table, a couple of chairs, and a fireplace, cold and unused. Dust motes danced in the sliver of moonlight filtering through a small window. It was devoid of occupants, seeming to have been abandoned for some time.

Braeburn entered behind Sherman, his earlier apprehension giving way to curiosity. "Doesn't look like much. But it doesn't feel like a trap either."

Big Mac surveyed the room, his eyes landing on a small shelf with a few items. "Let's see if there's anything we can use. But stay alert."

As they searched the hut, the tension began to ebb away, replaced by a cautious optimism. The hut offered a brief respite from the constant vigilance required outside its walls.

"Found some dried herbs and a couple of water skins," Big Mac announced, holding up his findings.

Braeburn, rummaging through a small chest, added, "And here are some candles and matches. Might come in handy."

Sherman felt a sense of relief wash over him. The hut, rather than a trap, had become a small sanctuary, providing them with minor but essential supplies. "Looks like our detour paid off," he said, allowing himself a small smile.

As they prepared to leave, Braeburn clapped Sherman on the back. "Good call, Spike. I'm glad we checked it out."

The moment before their departure from the hut was marked by an unexpected turn of events. Big Mac, drawn by curiosity, had wandered over to a seemingly innocuous bookshelf. He reached out to examine one of the books, his movements sluggish with the weight of exhaustion that had crept upon him during their prolonged exploration. As his hand sought support against the wall, it pressed against a hidden mechanism, and with a surprising ease, a section of the wall gave way, sending him stumbling forward into the darkness beyond.

Sherman rushed over, concern etched on his face, only to find Big Mac picking himself up off the floor of a hidden chamber. "You okay, Mac?" Sherman asked, peering into the newly revealed space.

"Nothing hurt but my pride," Big Mac replied, dusting himself off as he took stock of his surroundings.

Braeburn joined them, his eyes widening at the sight before them. The chamber was filled with shelves lined with ancient tomes, vials of mysterious liquids, and an assortment of strange artifacts. At the center stood a large, ornate table, its surface cluttered with parchments and arcane instruments.

"A Warlock's den," Sherman murmured, the realization dawning on him as he stepped into the chamber. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and herbs, a tangible sense of magic permeating the space.

Big Mac and Braeburn looked around, awe mingling with a cautious curiosity. "This place is incredible," Braeburn whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Think of the knowledge contained here."

They moved deeper into the chamber, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they explored the warlock's den. Sherman picked up a parchment, the script on it unfamiliar but unmistakably magical. Big Mac examined a series of vials, their contents shimmering in the dim light.

"This could be the break we've been looking for," Sherman said, excitement creeping into his voice. "There might be something here that can help us."

Braeburn nodded, carefully leafing through an ancient tome. "Or something that could give us an edge against the dungeon's challenges."

As they searched, the realization that they had stumbled upon something truly extraordinary began to sink in. This hidden chamber, this warlock's den, was a treasure trove of magical knowledge and artifacts, untouched and waiting to be explored.

"We need to be careful," Big Mac cautioned, his gaze lingering on a particularly ominous-looking artifact. "Places like this are usually protected."

Acknowledging the wisdom in Big Mac's words, they proceeded with caution, aware that their discovery could come with its own set of dangers. Yet, the potential rewards—the secrets of magic and power that lay within the warlock's den—were too enticing to ignore.

Their initial plan to push forward through the dungeon was momentarily set aside as they delved into the mysteries of the chamber. For Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac, the warlock's den offered not just a respite from their journey but a new path, one that could lead them to answers and abilities beyond their imagination. The night's unexpected detour had turned into an opportunity, and they were determined to make the most of it.

he discovery was unexpected, a secret chamber hidden within the mundane.

Braeburn, ever the cautious one, eyed the various spell books and vials filled with swirling, mysterious liquids. "Let's not touch anything we don't understand. This place... it feels like it's been untouched for ages."

As they explored, their attention was drawn to the myriad of artifacts and tomes scattered throughout the room, each item whispering tales of forgotten lore and dark arts. Despite the allure, they heeded Braeburn's warning, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of the room.

Big Mac, however, driven by the gnawing hunger that had been their constant companion, stumbled upon a box that seemed out of place among the ancient relics. It was a small, somewhat modern-looking container that appeared to function like a refrigerator, chilling its contents—a collection of strange-looking "candies."

"Just one won't hurt, right?" Big Mac mused aloud, his hunger momentarily overshadowing his judgment. He reached for one of the candies, eyeing it as a much-needed reprieve from their exhaustive journey.

Before he could reconsider, a loose photoframe tumbled from a shelf, its sudden crash startling Big Mac. The candy, propelled by his startled reaction, launched directly towards Sherman, who had just turned at the sound, his mouth open in surprise.

"What was that?" Spike managed, just as the candy flew into his mouth, causing him to choke momentarily.

Braeburn and Big Mac rushed to his aid, thumping him on the back as Spike coughed, the candy finally dislodging, swallowing it and allowing him to breathe normally again.

"Are you okay, Spike?" Braeburn asked, concern etched on his face as he watched Sherman catch his breath.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Spike assured them, though still recovering from the shock. "Of all the ways I thought I might go in this dungeon, choking on a warlock's candy wasn't one of them."

Big Mac, relief washing over him as Spike seemed alright, couldn't help but chuckle. "Guess we found out the hard way that even food in here can be a hazard."

The trio shared a moment of light-hearted relief amidst the tense atmosphere of the warlock's den, the incident with the candy serving as a bizarre but effective reminder of the unpredictability of their surroundings.

"Let's stick to the plan—no touching, and definitely no eating anything else we find in here," Braeburn stated, the levity fading as he returned to his role as the cautious voice of reason.

Agreeing, they continued their exploration of the den, now more wary of the potential dangers hidden within the seemingly innocuous objects around them.

After their unexpected detour into the warlock's den, the trio found a secluded corner of the lab, a spot seemingly untouched by time and decay, offering a semblance of safety in the otherwise ominous environment. Exhaustion weighed heavily on them, their bodies and minds pushed to the brink after the day's trials.

Sherman, feeling the effects of their relentless journey more acutely, began to experience unsettling symptoms as he tried to settle down. A wave of dizziness washed over him, accompanied by an unexplained sweat that drenched his brow. Initially attributing it to sheer fatigue, he resolved to sleep, hoping rest would alleviate his condition.

However, hours into their uneasy slumber, Sherman's body underwent a startling reaction. His temperature soared as if his very blood were boiling, causing him to convulse briefly under the strain of incredible, searing pain. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a transformative agony that gripped him to his core.

When the pain subsided as suddenly as it had arrived, Sherman sat up, gasping for air, his heart pounding in his chest. The first thing he noticed was the change in his skin—it looked tougher, almost like it had been infused with a new resilience. Touching his arm, he felt the heat radiating from his body, an unnatural warmth that seemed to emanate from within.

Despite the alarming changes, exhaustion and a newfound sense of calm urged him to dismiss the incident for the moment. "Probably just a weird side effect of that candy," he reasoned, though in the back of his mind, he knew it was something far more significant.

Choosing to address the mystery in the morning, Sherman lay back down, his body still radiating an unusual heat, and drifted back into a restless sleep. The night passed without further incident, and by the time dawn's first light began to filter into the lab, Sherman awoke feeling different—stronger, somehow, and more vital than before, though the reason behind these changes eluded him.

As Braeburn and Big Mac stirred awake, Sherman contemplated whether to share the night's events with them. Deciding against it for the time being, not wanting to add to their burdens, he kept the experience to himself.

"Morning," he greeted his companions, his voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil that had gripped him hours before.

"You okay, Spike? You look... different," Braeburn noted, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Just a rough night," Sherman replied, offering a reassuring smile. "Let's focus on finding a way out of here."

As they prepared to leave the warlock's den behind, Sherman couldn't shake the feeling that the transformation he had undergone was just the beginning. The path ahead was fraught with unknowns, but with his newfound resilience, he felt an ember of hope that they might just overcome whatever challenges lay in wait.

The journey through the dungeon continued, the trio bound by a shared determination to survive and a growing sense of kinship that no darkness could diminish. Unbeknownst to his companions, Spike now carried within him a secret, a change that could alter the course of their adventure in ways none of them could foresee.

Emerging from the warlock's den, the trio barely had a moment to enjoy their newfound freedom before a thunderous rumbling filled the air. They froze, turning towards the source of the noise, only to witness a sight that sent a chill down their spines—a massive stampede of creatures, a chaotic flurry of claws, fur, and fangs, barreling towards them with terrifying speed.

Instinctively, their hands went to their weapons, ready to stand their ground, when Sherman's sharp eyes caught sight of a familiar figure orchestrating the madness. It was the tall, maniacally smiling entity they had encountered before—the Goliath that had nearly spelled their doom in the dungeon's depths.

"RUN!" Sherman's voice cut through the panic, sharp and commanding. Without a second thought, the trio turned on their heels and sprinted away, their hearts pounding in their chests as they fled the oncoming horde.

The Goliath, upon noticing their escape, let out a blood-curdling scream, a sound so filled with rage and malice it seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. The creatures in the stampede, spurred on by the Goliath's fury, increased their pace, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac pushed their bodies to the limit, dodging obstacles and leaping over chasms in the rugged terrain. Their lungs burned with the effort, and their muscles screamed in protest, but the fear of being caught by the stampede—or worse, the Goliath—drove them forward.

As they ran, Sherman could feel the changes in his body responding to the crisis. His legs pumped with more power than before, his stamina seemingly bottomless despite the grueling pace. Glancing at Braeburn and Big Mac, he saw determination etched on their faces, their own survival instincts kicking in to outrun the nightmare behind them.

The chase seemed to stretch on forever, the sounds of the stampede a constant threat at their backs. Just when it seemed they might be overtaken, the terrain ahead opened up, revealing a narrow canyon that funneled into a tight passage.

"This way!" Sherman yelled, veering towards the canyon. It was a risk—the passage could be a dead end—but it was a chance they had to take.

The canyon walls rose high on either side, the passage narrowing until it was just wide enough for them to pass through single file. The sound of the stampede dimmed as they navigated the tight space, the creatures unable to follow them into the narrow confines.

Behind them, they could hear the beasts screeching in pain as they were either trampled on by their own kin, squashed by the goliath or thrown into the air by him.

Spike and the guys kept running, Big Mac and Braeburn getting further and further away from Spike as they kept running for their lives down the canyon.

Then, up ahead, they all noticed that the canyon closed off, a massive doorway being the only thing that showed that the trail kept going.

Braeburn was the first one to rush through the doorway, but immediately fell to the floor to stop dead in his tracks as the pathway before him ended, showing a nothing but a deep fall

“STOP!” he yelled as Spike and Big Mac crossed the doorway

“OVER THERE!” Spike said as he pointed at the side, showing the start of what seemed to be a ramp or spiral walkway down into the abyss.

Braeburn and Big Mac immediately started to run down the pathway as Spike turned around and opened fire against the approaching Stampede and goliath, killing many creatures and hitting the goliath in on of it’s eyes before starting to run down the pathway, sprinting faster than he had ever sprinted, catching up to Big Mac who was only a few milliseconds faster than him, while Braeburn had become the definition of “Booking it!” as he was almost 50 ft in front of them.

As they continued to run they started to see many of the creatures plummeting down the abyss, letting out screeches of fear as they did, but it wasn’t long before the creatures took notice and started to rush down the same pathway the trio were on.

That is when Big Mac made a terrible mistake, trying to look back and see if some of the beasts were catching up, he got disoriented and lost his footing over the edge of the pathway.

Time slowed down as he began to accept his fate when he felt someone grab him by the arm and hoist him up, throwing him forwards a couple of feet.

It was Spike, who was running right behind him, he noticed he was about to fall over and caught him before it was too late.

“WHAT DRUGS ARE YOU ON SPIKE?!!” Braeburn yelled from in front of them, noticing how, once again, Spike had saved their ass from certain death

“Thank you!” Big Mac said as he calmed down

“KEEP RUNNING!!!” Spike yelled as he ran past Big Mac

Big Mac took a few more breaths, just as he got up, he noticed the creatures getting closer, and so he opened fire, killing several of them with his shotgun, even bringing down a pillar on top creating a new obstacle; with that he started to run as fast as he could, quickly catching up to Spike.

“DO YOU SEE THE END?!!” Spike yelled at Braeburn

“NO!, IT’S PITCH BLACK!!!” he yelled back

Just then, they heard the wall above them crumble as the goliath came crashing straight through the doorway, however, due to the clutter of corpses and the injury to one of its eyes thanks to Spike, the goliath’s was having trouble running, and was unable to notice the abrupt end to the walkway, and so, it plummeted over the edge.

Time slowed down as the massive goliath fell down the dark abyss, just as it was passing by Spike and the group, it’s eye moved and made contact with Spike’s, his maniacal smile crept into a diabolical smirk as it fell.

“What the fuck?!” Spike thought as the goliath disappeared into the darkness.

Seconds later, the ground below them started to shake uncontrollably, causing a massive gust of wind that demolished the pillar of the walkway, causing it to collapse.

Seconds later, Spike, Big Mac and Braeburn were all sent flying when the gust of wind blew away the part of the pathway they were on.

The screams of fear and desperation being all that could be heard as they fell into the darkness below.

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