Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

As he reached the back of the building, he noticed a door with a faded sign that read, "Do Not Enter." The door was slightly ajar, and from within, a dark staircase led down into the depths of the church.

'Yep, this is a bad idea,' Don thought, staring into the abyss below. The darkness seemed to swallow the light, and he could feel the temperature drop as he stood at the top of the stairs.

But with a deep breath, he steeled himself and began his descent, the old wooden steps creaking ominously under his weight.

"I hope this training is worth it," Don whispered to himself as he disappeared into the darkness.

As he finished his descent into the catacombs, the atmosphere grew even colder, and the oppressive darkness seemed to close in around him. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, his senses heightened as he took in his surroundings.

He pulled out his phone, holding it up to check the signal, but as expected, it was abysmal. The faintest bar flickered before disappearing entirely. Not a single source of light was present, and the silence was deafening.

"Gary, track my steps and turns," Don whispered, knowing that even the slightest sound could carry far in the confined space.

"Won't be a problem," Gary Assist replied, the AI's voice barely audible.

Don nodded to himself, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He then tightened his grip on the crowbar and began to walk forward. His footsteps were muffled against the dirt and loose stones that made up the floor of the catacombs.

The catacombs were a complex maze of tunnels and chambers, their walls rough and crumbling. The air was thick with the stench of decay and stagnant water, the odor assaulting his enhanced senses. The sensory overload training he was here for was designed to test his limits, pushing him to refine his superhuman abilities under the most challenging conditions.

As he moved deeper into the tunnels, the sounds began to shift. The distant echo of dripping water mixed with the scuttling of unseen creatures in the dark. The noise grew louder, more chaotic, as he pressed on.

His superhuman hearing picked up the faintest movements, the smallest breaths of life in the otherwise silent tomb.

"Just another walk in the park," Don muttered to himself, though he knew better.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him shifted. A low rumble reverberated through the catacombs, causing loose rocks and debris to tumble from the ceiling. Don's reflexes kicked in, and he leaped to the side just as a large stone crashed down where he'd been standing moments before. **Crash!** The impact sent dust and dirt flying, obscuring his vision even further.

'Great,' Don thought, wiping the dirt from his face. He strained his eyes to see through the murk, but the darkness was absolute. Instead, he closed his eyes, focusing on his other senses.

The smell of the catacombs grew stronger, the odor of rotting flesh and mold nearly overwhelming. But beneath it, Don detected something else—a musky, foul scent that didn't belong to the environment.

His nose twitched as he honed in on it, and then he heard it. The skittering of claws, faint but growing louder by the second.

Don opened his eyes, holding his breath as he pinpointed the source of the sound. From the shadows ahead, several pairs of glowing eyes emerged, reflecting what little light there was.

The creatures were giant mutant rats, their bodies grotesquely swollen and covered in matted fur. Their sharp teeth glistened as they hissed, advancing toward him with murderous intent.

"Shit," Don muttered under his breath, raising the crowbar in a defensive stance.

The first rat lunged at him, its powerful jaws snapping inches from his face. Don sidestepped and swung the crowbar with all his strength, **thwack!** The metal connected with the creature's skull, the force of the blow cracking bone and sending the rat crashing to the ground, twitching as it died.

But there was no time to celebrate. Two more rats charged at him from the sides.

Don spun, bringing the crowbar down on one, smashing its back with a sickening **crunch!** He quickly reversed his grip and drove the pointed end into the other rat's eye, eliciting a high-pitched squeal as it convulsed and died.

However, more were coming, their numbers seemingly endless.

Don realized he couldn't stay in one place or risk getting overwhelmed. He needed to keep moving.

Using his enhanced hearing, he tracked their movements in the dark, anticipating their attacks.

He ducked under a swipe from a rat's claw, spinning around and delivering a powerful kick to its chest, sending it flying into the wall with a **thud**.

Another rat lunged at his legs, but Don jumped back, swinging the crowbar in an upward arc, the metal biting deep into the creature's throat. It gurgled and fell to the ground, blood pooling around it.

As he fought, Don could feel his superhuman senses working overtime. Every movement, every sound, every scent was heightened, allowing him to react with precision.

He could hear the rapid breathing of the rats, smell the blood and fear in the air. He was in the zone, his body moving on instinct as he continued to fight off the horde.

But it wasn't without cost. One of the rats managed to get close enough to sink its teeth into his arm. **Crunch!**

Don gritted his teeth against the pain, swinging the crowbar down with all his might, crushing the rat's skull and prying its jaws open with the metal bar. Blood trickled from the wound, but he didn't stop. He couldn't afford to.

More rats came at him, but Don's movements became more fluid, more precise. He ducked, dodged, and countered every attack, his crowbar a blur as it swung through the air.

He killed another rat with a brutal blow to the spine, then kicked another into the crumbling wall, where it fell lifeless.

The tide began to turn as Don's relentless assault took its toll on the rats. Their numbers dwindled, and the remaining ones hesitated, their glowing eyes filled with fear. Don could sense their uncertainty, and with a final, savage swing of the crowbar, he killed the last rat that dared to challenge him.

The surviving rats squealed and scattered, retreating back into the darkness from where they came. Don stood there, breathing heavily, his arm throbbing with pain.

He wiped the sweat and blood from his brow, surveying the carnage around him. The floor was littered with the bodies of the mutant rats, their blood seeping into the cracks in the stone.

"Guess they didn't like the welcome party," Don muttered, wincing as he inspected his arm. The bite was deep, but not life-threatening. He'd have to tend to it later.

For now, he had to keep moving.