Forty-six. A world of survival of the fittest, one might think…

Slinking forward in stealth.

Observing the chaotic fights among other monsters, yet fleeing hastily—better to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Ugh, the lower levels are unbearable.

That mantis I thought was incredibly strong? Here it’s only mid-tier at best.

A veritable treasure trove of monstrous anomalies—giant spiders that devour mantises, lions with wings, enormous serpents resembling evolved snakes, and countless other abominations.

No way.

I kept moving in hiding, careful not to be seen by such creatures. So far, no detection. Managed to slip through.

Still, if caught, it’s over.

I endured sleeplessness, kept moving without pause. After sustained nonstop travel, even the red total stamina gauge—once seemingly unyielding—began to deplete.

The reason the depletion stopped remained unclear. But eventually, the time limit appeared.

I had to eat before the number 38 ran out.

Still, there was no target I could be caught by, so I decided to sleep that day.

To be blunt.

I barely slept at all.

Of course.

Normally, I’d only sleep after securing safety—building a makeshift home and sleeping inside it.

But sleeping safely in a monster house like this? A makeshift home wasn’t enough.

I’d have to build a full home. But doing that would draw attention, and I really didn’t want that.

What I’m trying to say is—Earth Dragon is terrifying.

If I built a proper nest, the Earth Dragon might come after me.

Eh, paranoid?

Whatever. I don’t care.

Earth Dragon is terrifying. Seriously terrifying.

No, no.

Thus, I slept without constructing a proper home for the first time in my life.

Extremely anxious.

Never realized sleeping outside a home could feel so vulnerable. Only discovered that by trying it.

Dozing off, startled by a sound, jolted awake again, then dozing off once more.

That cycle repeated all night. No proper rest.

Perhaps I should build a makeshift home next time, even if just for comfort.

Can endure this for now, but prolonged sleep deprivation might eventually lead to mistakes.

Still, in my previous life, average sleep duration was four hours. So I should be fine, more or less.

Sleep was that way, but the real issue was food.

I must obtain food within this monster house somehow.

I resolved to do so, but food seemed surprisingly easy to manage.

The reason is, there’s quite a bit of food available here, surprisingly easily.

I found it strange, though.

The strength of the monsters in this place is inconsistent.

Yet among those unusually strong monsters, there are also weaker ones—similar to the ones seen in the upper levels.

Snakes are among them.

I never thought the day would come when I’d call a snake weak.

Anyway, that led me to wonder: what do these weak monsters eat?

They can’t hunt if they’re weak.

In a world of predator and prey, that’s the natural order.

That’s precisely how the dungeon’s previous pattern worked.

Yet these weak monsters are surprisingly numerous.

Bees target these weak creatures as their primary prey.

Observing them, I discovered a common trait.

All of them carried poison.

That’s what they mean by “a fish out of water.”

I’ve had Poison Resistance since birth, so I’ve eaten these things without a second thought. But normally, people don’t eat toxic creatures.

These weak monsters are weak, but they carry poison. Only monsters with Poison Resistance would dare consume them. Others avoid them entirely.

So if I were discovered, I might be overlooked for that reason alone.

Still, it’s best not to be found. I’ll keep sneaking along, then.

As for what these weak monsters eat—two primary sources were identified.

One is other weak monsters.

That’s the main source.

The weak fight among themselves.

If I’m alone and find a chance, I’ll attempt a surprise attack.

The other… this is what weak monsters are ultimately forced to consume, no matter what.

[Identification of Elroge Rayshu LV3 Status Failed]

The creature’s form was a flat, black insect.

More accurately, it resembled a snail.

It adhered to the labyrinth walls and moved slowly, inching forward.

Its appearance was distinctly snail-like.

Call it a Snail Insect.

Numerous Snail Insects inhabited this lower level.

A single one appeared in view whenever scanning the walls.

They were that numerous.

I had thought, naively, why do the monsters never eat these?—since I had never consumed one myself.

Yes, I was naive.

I should have prepared myself fully before confronting this creature.

Regret is infinite.

Only after consuming it did I understand: this was truly a last resort.

Yes, I consumed it.

I consumed it.

I had been pulled from the wall by threads and easily stopped by its venomous fangs—thus, I did not understand its true danger.

I would reprimand my past self, who casually declared "Itadakimasu."

It was impossibly foul.

No, that taste did not belong to this world.

Since being reborn as a spider, I have eaten many abominations—but nothing like that.

The sheer foulness caused HP depletion.

That was unequivocally not food.

For some reason, Corrosion Resistance increased. That defied common sense.

I would not have finished it without the conviction to leave no remainder.

Thus, food is obtainable whenever desired.

Though it comes with unbearable suffering.

Either way, dying of hunger or eating something so repulsive it causes agony—actually, death is worse.

If things get dire, I’ll eat the snail worms again.

…Still, I pray I won’t have to.