《Shattered Realms: The Origin’s Rebirth - a Litrpg》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


    All good things eventually come to an end...


    At least, that was roughly the thought Avan had as he sat late at night in the office, which already smelled of slightly stale air. A day that was supposed to proceed just like any other: harmless, quick, and without any issues.


    Avan was someone who never held back from telling others directly what he expected from himself as an IT specialist: an efficient laziness.


    In IT, if you wanted to be lazy at the end of the day, you first had to put in the effort. Automate whatever could be automated. Implement AI wherever possible, in the sense that ¡°the work does itself.¡± Only when all colleagues could work seamlessly and efficiently without having to bother IT could you really kick back and relax every now and then.


    And today was precisely the kind of day where absolutely NOTHING was going right. First, some of the email programs crashed on other employees'' computers, then someone reported that their laptop was too slow, and now, due to yet ANOTHER air conditioning failure in the server room, something had burnt out.


    Avan sighed and turned his gaze away from the window to refocus on the server interface in front of him on the laptop. Some configurations had been corrupted, and now he had to figure out which ones and whether he could reconstruct them.


    ¡°This is definitely not the same as sitting comfortably in my home office or, even better, already having called it a day,¡± he muttered, typing away. Under normal circumstances, Avan would have stayed home and worked from there, relaxed and at ease. But one single issue had forced him to check in at the office, and from there, it only went from bad to worse, from one problem to an even bigger one. Literally, if you listened to the autumn rain outside.


    Another sigh.


    I do sound a bit like I¡¯m already sixty years old with all my sighing and grumbling, instead of just thirty-three. If I had told my younger self that, I never would have believed it. Back then, those ¡®old guys¡¯ always walked around sighing, acting like life was exhausting. And now I¡¯m doing the exact same thing!


    Avan chuckled and laughed at the thought. How times change, and you suddenly find yourself in the very position you once couldn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°Damn config file...¡± he grumbled the next moment, ¡°This one¡¯s broken too!¡±


    With yet another sigh, aware of the irony, Avan leaned back in his office chair, crossing his arms behind his head. A sidelong glance outside revealed the same sight as before: the wind fluctuating in strength, alternating between drizzle and a torrential downpour, as if the heavens had flung open their gates and someone up there was dumping water over this spot on earth.


    A sudden loud bang jolted Avan from his daydream, and he almost fell off the wobbly office chair, somehow tipping it over.


    ¡°WHAT the HELL...?!¡± he swore, flailing his arms and straightening up in his chair. The sound was almost as if a lightning bolt had just struck right next to him, blowing off a steel door and hurling it a kilometer into the middle of nowhere.


    With wide, alarmed eyes, Avan looked around nervously, just to make sure that the supposed lightning bolt hadn¡¯t hit the building wall directly in front of him. His heart pounding and a bead of sweat forming on his forehead, he only noticed that it had suddenly become significantly darker outside. ¡°But in just an instant?¡± he whispered, perplexed.


    But where there would have been a relatively normal dark shade of gray in a storm front, an ominous, eerie glow shimmered down from the clouds above in front of the office building.


    Feeling a bit uneasy, Avan stood up and pressed his face closer to the glass window to get a better view upward.


    The clouds themselves still looked normal. But what Avan saw above them made him freeze.


    Cracks in the sky, emitting a supernatural, purple glow, tore out from reality. It almost looked like a stunning aurora borealis, if not for the literal CRACKS spread across the sky, stretching as far as the eye could see, across the entire horizon.


    Avan¡¯s breathing grew faster. ¡°Breathe, Avan! Take deep breaths...¡± he whispered as he stared out the window, likely witnessing the apocalypse of human history firsthand.


    He let his gaze roam across the entire scene, just to make sure he wasn¡¯t dreaming. Or that he hadn¡¯t dozed off in frustration over the IT problem.


    But a heavy gulp brought him back to the here and now, as all the accumulated spit from stress seemed to leave him once more.


    On the horizon of Frankfurt am Main, usually barely visible from his office, but highlighted by the apocalyptic scene before him, machines began to emerge from the clouds. Airplanes, some just taking off, others still waiting for landing clearance, and yet others already on final approach ¨C all of them without exception were hurtling toward the ground.


    While some were visibly trying to glide, others spiraled uncontrollably toward the earth. One plane, probably one waiting for landing clearance in the sky, plummeted straight down, where even from this distance, a small fireball was visible upon impact.


    Avan took a shocked step backward, as if the mere act of stepping back could undo everything he had just witnessed with his own eyes. As if the simple distance of one more step would be enough to escape the sight in front of him.


    And indeed, something happened. But it wasn¡¯t the kind of distance Avan had hoped for. Instead, the ground gave way beneath his feet, and the ceiling crashed down on him with a force that seemed to obliterate any hope for tomorrow.


    The last thing Avan saw as the darkness of unconsciousness took hold was a series of intricate golden symbols, flickering for a fraction of a second before his inner eye, spiraling and unfolding in a whirlwind of gold and silver.


    <hr>


    Avan¡¯s POV


    The darkness didn¡¯t last. Avan came to with a groan, his head throbbing like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Dust clogged his throat, and the air tasted of ash and metal. He coughed, blinking against the grit in his eyes, and slowly registered the weight pressing down on his chest¡ªa slab of concrete, jagged and cold, pinning him to the floor.


    ¡°Great,¡± he muttered, voice hoarse. ¡°Just what I needed to cap off this disaster of a day.¡±


    He shifted, testing his body. Pain lanced through his right leg, sharp and insistent, but his arms seemed functional. With a grimace, he braced his hands against the debris and pushed. It didn¡¯t budge. He tried again, harder, ignoring the way his muscles screamed in protest. Nothing.


    ¡°Come on, you bastard,¡± he growled, slamming his palm against the concrete in frustration. As his hand made contact, a faint warmth pulsed through his fingers¡ªunfamiliar, tingling, like static crawling under his skin. He froze, staring at his hand. A dim golden glow flickered around it, then faded.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± He squinted, half-expecting it to happen again, but the glow didn¡¯t return. Still, that sensation lingered, stirring something instinctive in him. He focused on it, willing it to do something, anything. The warmth surged again, stronger this time, and the concrete shifted¡ªjust an inch, but enough for him to wriggle his torso free.


    Panting, he dragged himself out from under the slab, collapsing onto his back amidst the rubble. His leg throbbed, bruised and possibly fractured, but he could move it. That was enough for now. He lay there a moment, staring up at the jagged hole where the ceiling used to be. Beyond it, the sky still shimmered with those unnatural purple cracks, though the glow had dimmed slightly, as if the world were settling into its new, broken state.


    The memory of the golden symbols flashed in his mind¡ªspiraling, intricate, almost alive. And that message: ¡°Seed of Origin Protocol¡± initiated¡­ Please wait¡­ It had felt personal, directed at him alone, unlike a generic system announcement. He didn¡¯t know what it meant, but it nagged at him, a puzzle he couldn¡¯t ignore.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Status,¡± he said aloud, testing the word from the system message. Nothing appeared¡ªno glowing screen, no robotic voice. He frowned, then closed his eyes and focused inward, like he had with the concrete. This time, it worked. A vague impression flooded his mind, not a neat display but a raw, instinctive understanding:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 1


    Class: None


    Skills: Identification (Lv. 1), Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 1)


    Stats: Strength average, agility decent, intelligence above average, vitality stubborn, luck questionable


    He snorted. ¡°Questionable luck? Yeah, that tracks.¡± It wasn¡¯t a precise readout like in a game, more a gut feeling about himself. Still, it was something. And those skills¡ªIdentification and Origin Energy Manipulation¡ªmust¡¯ve been what let him move the debris. He filed that away, pragmatic as ever. If this was the new reality, he¡¯d use whatever tools he had.


    The distant sound of screams snapped him out of his thoughts. Pushing himself up, he limped toward the shattered window, leaning heavily on a tilted desk for support. Outside, chaos reigned. Fires burned in the distance where planes had crashed, their smoke curling into the fractured sky. Closer, figures staggered through the streets¡ªsome human, some¡­ not. He squinted, a chill running down his spine as he spotted a black, dog-like shape prowling near the office parking lot. His head throbbed faintly as Identification kicked in instinctively. He didn¡¯t see words, but he felt it: the thing was stronger than him, faster, and ravenous¡ªan emaciated hound, tall as a shepherd dog, its oily black hide gleaming under the purple cracks, red eyes glowing like embers, sickle-like claws scraping the asphalt, jagged teeth peeking from a twisted maw.


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± he muttered. ¡°And here I am, half-crippled with no weapons.¡± He scanned the room for anything useful¡ªa chair leg, a shard of glass, anything¡ªbut the office was a mess of broken tech and paper. His gaze landed on his laptop, miraculously intact on the floor. He hobbled over, grabbed it, and tucked it under his arm. If nothing else, he could chuck it at something¡¯s head.


    The building groaned, a low rumble that vibrated through the floor. ¡°Time to go,¡± he decided, limping toward the stairwell. The elevators were out¡ªpower was long gone¡ªand the hallway was a maze of debris, but he picked his way through, cursing every step as his leg protested.


    Halfway down the stairs, that same pressure hit him again, sharper this time. He froze, gripping the railing. Something was close. He strained his ears and caught it¡ªa low growl, echoing up from below. Peering over the edge, he saw it: one of those black dogs, sniffing the air at the bottom of the stairwell. Its head snapped up, red eyes meeting his, and Identification flared again, confirming what he already knew: stronger, faster, starving¡ªa skeletal beast with an oily sheen, its crimson gaze promising death.


    ¡°Shit.¡± Avan backed up a step, heart pounding. Running wasn¡¯t an option¡ªnot with his leg. Fighting didn¡¯t thrill him either, but he wasn¡¯t about to roll over and die. He focused on that warm sensation again, the Origin Energy Manipulation, and willed it into his hands. The glow returned, faint and unsteady, shaping into a crude, shimmering spike about the length of his forearm.


    The monster charged up the stairs, claws scrabbling on concrete. Avan braced himself, adrenaline drowning out the pain in his leg. As it leaped, he swung the energy spike with all he had. It struck the creature¡¯s shoulder, piercing through with a wet crunch. The dog yelped, black ichor splattering the wall, but it didn¡¯t stop. Its claws raked across his chest, tearing through his shirt and drawing blood.


    Avan stumbled back, pain flaring, but he tightened his grip on the spike and stabbed again, aiming for its neck. This time, the glow pulsed brighter, and the weapon sank deep. The monster thrashed, then went limp, collapsing at his feet.


    He stood there, chest heaving, staring at the corpse. The energy spike flickered out, leaving his hands empty. A faint warmth spread through him¡ªnot just from the blood trickling down his shirt, but something deeper, like a spark igniting in his core. He didn¡¯t know what it was, but it felt¡­ good. Stronger.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he panted, wiping sweat from his brow. ¡°One down. Probably a million to go.¡± He glanced at his torn shirt and the shallow gashes beneath. They stung, but he¡¯d live. His leg was the bigger problem¡ªhe needed to find somewhere safe to rest, figure out what was happening, and maybe patch himself up.


    The stairwell exit loomed ahead, a cracked glass door leading outside. Beyond it, the world was a nightmare of fire, screams, and those damn purple cracks. Avan took a deep breath, steeling himself. He wasn¡¯t a hero, never had been. But he was stubborn, and he¡¯d be damned if he let this new hell take him out on day one.


    With a final glance at the dead monster, he limped through the door, stepping into the chaos. The air hit him like a slap¡ªsharp with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. The office building sat on the edge of an industrial district, and the parking lot stretched out before him, littered with abandoned cars and flickering flames. A few bodies lay sprawled near a overturned van, their limbs bent at wrong angles. Avan grimaced but didn¡¯t linger. Dead people weren¡¯t his problem.


    He hobbled toward the nearest car¡ªa dented sedan with its driver¡¯s door ajar¡ªand peeked inside. Empty. No keys either. ¡°Figures,¡± he muttered. He wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to think he could drive out of this mess anyway; the streets were clogged with wrecks and worse. Still, he rummaged through the glove compartment, hoping for something useful. A half-empty pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a cheap penknife. He pocketed them all. Not much, but better than nothing.


    A shriek pierced the air, close enough to make him flinch. He ducked behind the car, peering over the hood. Across the lot, a woman sprinted toward a cluster of shipping containers, her coat flapping behind her. Two of those black dogs pursued her, their claws sparking on the asphalt. Avan¡¯s jaw tightened. He could intervene¡ªmaybe¡ªbut why risk it? She wasn¡¯t his family, not his responsibility. He had enough problems keeping himself alive.


    Still, curiosity¡ªor maybe stupidity¡ªkept him watching. The woman reached the containers and scrambled up a rusted ladder, barely pulling herself onto the roof as the dogs leaped after her. One missed, crashing into the metal with a clang, but the other caught the edge, hauling itself up. She screamed again, kicking at its snout, and for a moment, Avan thought she might make it.


    Then a new shadow loomed. Something bigger emerged from between the containers¡ªa hulking, humanoid figure, its skin gray and cracked like old stone, red eyes glowing in the dim light. Avan¡¯s head pulsed as Identification flared: this thing was far stronger than the dogs, slower but relentless, its jagged limbs built to crush rather than chase¡ªa lumbering brute, eight feet tall, with fissures in its flesh leaking a faint purple mist.


    The woman didn¡¯t stand a chance. The brute swung an arm like a battering ram, catching her mid-scream. She flew off the container, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. The dogs pounced, tearing into her before she could even twitch. Avan looked away, stomach turning. ¡°Not my fight,¡± he told himself, though the words felt hollow.


    He needed to move. The parking lot was a death trap, and that brute might spot him next. Clutching his laptop tighter, he scanned for an escape route. To his left, a narrow alley led toward the warehouse district¡ªdark, cluttered, but maybe defensible. To his right, the main road stretched into the city, alive with distant gunfire and roars. Neither option screamed ¡°safe,¡± but the alley felt less suicidal.


    He limped toward it, sticking to the shadows of the parked cars. Every step sent a jolt of pain up his leg, and the gashes on his chest burned with every breath. He gritted his teeth, pushing through. Pain was just noise¡ªhe¡¯d dealt with worse migraines debugging code at 3 a.m.


    The alley swallowed him in gloom, its walls lined with rusted dumpsters and broken crates. The air was thick with the stench of rot and damp metal, but it was quiet¡ªtoo quiet, maybe. Avan paused, leaning against a dumpster to catch his breath. His hand brushed the lighter in his pocket, and an idea sparked. Fire might work against those things. He wasn¡¯t sure how much juice his Origin Energy Manipulation had left, but mundane tools could stretch it further.


    A skittering sound snapped him alert. He tensed, peering into the shadows ahead. Something moved¡ªsmall, fast, low to the ground. His vision blurred briefly as Identification kicked in: weaker than the dogs, quick and skittish¡ªa rat-like creature, no bigger than a housecat, its fur matted with black slime, eyes glinting yellow, tiny claws clicking like needles on the concrete.


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Avan muttered. It darted toward him, chittering, and he didn¡¯t hesitate. He flicked the lighter on and tossed it, aiming for a puddle of oil-slick runoff nearby. The flame caught with a whoosh, flaring up just as the rat-thing leaped. It screeched, engulfed in fire, and landed in a writhing heap at his feet. The stench of burnt hair and flesh made him gag, but he stomped it for good measure, wincing as his leg protested.


    ¡°Three for three,¡± he said dryly, though his hands shook. He retrieved the lighter¡ªstill flickering weakly¡ªand pocketed it again. The alley stretched deeper, and he limped onward, wary of every shadow. If rats were popping up now, what else was lurking?


    Halfway through, he spotted a side door on the warehouse wall¡ªcracked open, rusted, but promising shelter. He hobbled over and slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. The interior was vast and dim, filled with towering shelves and scattered crates. A faint hum vibrated through the floor, unnatural, like the building itself was alive.


    Avan slumped against a crate, breathing hard. His leg screamed for rest, and his chest felt like it was on fire. He tore a strip from his already-ruined shirt, wrapping it around the gashes as a makeshift bandage. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but it¡¯d hold. For now, he was alive, and that was more than he could say for most people out there.


    He pulled out his laptop, flipping it open. The battery glowed at 87%¡ªa small miracle. No Wi-Fi, no network, but the local files were intact. He opened a blank document and started typing: Day 1. World¡¯s gone to shit. Monsters everywhere. Some weird energy in me. Need to figure this out. Writing it down grounded him, gave him something to focus on besides the chaos.


    A low rumble shook the warehouse, dust trickling from the ceiling. Avan snapped the laptop shut, eyes darting around. The hum grew louder, and a faint purple glow seeped from a gap in the shelves ahead. His gut twisted¡ªwhatever that was, it wasn¡¯t good. But he was too tired to run, too stubborn to die.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he muttered, gripping the penknife. ¡°Let¡¯s see what¡¯s next.¡±

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2


    Avan slumped against a crate in the warehouse, the penknife clutched tightly in his hand, its blade barely longer than his thumb. His leg throbbed with every breath, a dull ache that threatened to buckle him, while the gashes on his chest burned beneath the makeshift bandage of torn fabric. The warehouse¡¯s vast interior loomed around him, shadowed and silent save for the faint, unnatural hum vibrating through the floor. That purple glow¡ªseeping from a gap between the towering shelves¡ªhad drawn him deeper, and now he regretted every step.


    ¡°Should¡¯ve stayed in the alley,¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. The air was thick with dust, the metallic tang of blood, and something else¡ªsomething ancient and electric, like the static before a storm. He wasn¡¯t sure what had pulled him here, but that warmth in his chest¡ªthe Origin Energy Manipulation¡ªhadn¡¯t let him ignore it. Now, here he was, bleeding and exhausted, in a place that felt more like a tomb than a refuge.


    He pushed himself up, grimacing as his leg protested, and limped toward the glow. The shelves loomed like sentinels, their shadows stretching across the concrete floor. As he neared, the hum grew louder, resonating in his bones, and the purple light pulsed brighter. Then he saw it: a swirling vortex of purple and gold, crackling with energy, embedded in the concrete like a tear in reality itself. The glow was hypnotic, drawing his gaze deeper, but it also set his nerves on edge.


    ¡°A portal?¡± Avan whispered, his voice tight. He¡¯d seen enough sci-fi movies to know a bad idea when he saw one, but that warmth in his core flared again, as if urging him forward. He glanced back at the warehouse exit, its rusted doors creaking in the wind. The screams and roars outside were distant but persistent, a reminder that the world out there was a slaughterhouse. Staying here wasn¡¯t an option either¡ªnot with those monsters sniffing around.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he growled, stepping closer. The vortex pulsed brighter, and a faint pressure built behind his eyes. Identification kicked in instinctively, but it wasn¡¯t a monster this time¡ªit was the portal itself. He felt it: ancient, powerful, alive, a gateway to something vast and dangerous¡ªa dungeon, born from those purple cracks in the sky, its energy humming with the same golden shimmer he¡¯d felt earlier.


    Avan¡¯s stomach churned. ¡°This is insane,¡± he muttered, but he wasn¡¯t about to turn back. If the portal led to safety¡ªor at least resources¡ªhe¡¯d take the risk. He crouched, inspecting the vortex. No visible threats, just that eerie glow. He extended a hand, and the warmth in his core surged, tendrils of gold and silver with purple sparkles¡ªhis Origin Energy¡ªreaching toward the portal. The energy connected, and the vortex stabilized, pulling him in like a vacuum.


    Darkness swallowed him, then light exploded around him. He landed hard on stone, skidding to a stop, his leg screaming in protest. The air was damp and musty, the walls of the cavernous room rough-hewn and glistening with moisture. Torches flickered along the walls, casting long shadows, their flames tinged with purple. He was inside a dungeon¡ªsome twisted, subterranean hellhole, and he had no idea how to get out.


    ¡°Great,¡± he said, pushing himself up with a groan. His leg buckled, and he slumped against the wall, panting. The gashes on his chest oozed blood through the bandage, sticky and warm. He needed to rest, but this place didn¡¯t feel safe. The hum of the dungeon vibrated through the stone, and a faint skittering sound echoed from deeper within.


    Avan gritted his teeth, focusing inward. ¡°Status,¡± he whispered, closing his eyes. The familiar impression flooded his mind:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 1


    Class: None


    Skills: Identification (Lv. 1), Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 1)


    Stats: Strength average, agility decent, intelligence above average, vitality stubborn, luck questionable


    ¡°Still a mess,¡± he muttered. His leg and chest needed attention, but he had no medical kit¡ªjust the penknife, lighter, and cigarettes from the car. He tore another strip from his shirt, wrapping it tighter around his leg, then pressed the fabric against his chest to stem the bleeding. It wasn¡¯t much, but it¡¯d have to do. Survival wasn¡¯t pretty, and he wasn¡¯t about to play hero.


    The skittering grew louder, and Avan¡¯s head throbbed as Identification flared. He peered into the shadows, spotting movement¡ªsmall, green figures, no taller than his waist, darting between the stalagmites. Goblins, he realized, their skin mottled and warty, eyes glinting yellow in the torchlight. Identification told him they were weaker than the hound outside, but quick and vicious¡ªthree-foot-tall creatures, hunched and wiry, with jagged claws and sneering faces, their teeth sharp like broken glass.


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± he said, gripping the penknife. ¡°Goblins.¡± He wasn¡¯t about to charge in¡ªtoo risky with his injuries¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t stay here either. The goblins chittered, their voices high-pitched and grating, as they closed in, brandishing crude spears made of bone and stone.


    Avan backed toward a narrow passage, his leg protesting with every step. He focused on the warmth in his chest, willing the Origin Energy Manipulation to steady his nerves, but he kept the penknife ready. No fancy blades today¡ªjust cold steel and desperation. The first goblin lunged, its spear thrusting toward his chest. Avan twisted, pain shooting through his leg as he stumbled, but he slashed out with the penknife, catching the creature¡¯s arm. Black ichor sprayed, and the goblin shrieked, dropping its spear. Avan had a short mind to grab the new weapon, but he was too focused on the fight.


    The others hesitated, their yellow eyes narrowing, but only for a moment. Two more charged, their spears jabbing at him in a chaotic flurry. Avan ducked behind a stalagmite, his leg buckling under the strain, and slashed at the nearest goblin¡¯s leg as it darted past. The blade bit deep, severing muscle, and the creature howled, collapsing in a writhing heap. But the second goblin¡¯s spear grazed his side, tearing through his shirt and drawing fresh blood. He grunted, rolling away, his movements sluggish from pain and exhaustion.


    Panting, Avan pressed himself against the stone, the penknife trembling in his hand. The remaining goblin¡ªthe first one he¡¯d wounded¡ªsnarled, its claws flexing as it circled him. He lunged, driving the penknife into its chest, but the creature thrashed, knocking him back. He hit the ground hard, his leg screaming, and the goblin loomed over him, its jaws snapping inches from his face. With a desperate yell, Avan stabbed upward, plunging the blade into its throat. It gurgled, black ichor spilling over him, then went limp, collapsing atop him.


    Avan shoved the corpse off, gasping for air, his chest heaving. Blood soaked his shirt¡ªhis own and the goblin¡¯s¡ªand his leg felt like it was on fire. ¡°Three down,¡± he panted, clutching the penknife. ¡°And I¡¯m still alive¡ªbarely.¡± The fight had taken everything out of him, leaving him battered and bleeding, but he¡¯d survived. That was all that mattered.


    A moment later, the corpses suddenly started flaking - and turning to ash. Together with their weapons, equipment and everything else - they just vanished into thin air.


    Avan gave a long sigh. "And there goes my idea to loot these weapons..."


    With a last longing look back to the lost weapons, he dragged himself toward the narrow passage, his body protesting with every movement. The dungeon¡¯s hum grew softer, but the skittering persisted, faint but persistent. He needed rest, but this place wasn¡¯t safe¡ªnot yet. The passage widened into another cavern, its ceiling dripping with stalactites. A shallow pool of water shimmered in the center, its surface glowing faintly purple. Avan approached cautiously, dipping his fingers in. It was cool, clear¡ªdrinkable, maybe. He hesitated, then scooped a handful, gulping it down. It tasted metallic, but his throat was too dry to care. The glow pulsed brighter, and a warmth spread through him, soothing the ache in his leg slightly. Was this dungeon water infused with that energy?


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He settled against a boulder, pulling out the penknife and using its tip to scratch a few words into the stone: Day 1, still. Dungeon. Goblins. Purple water. Weird energy. Bleeding out. It wasn¡¯t much, but it grounded him, a tangible record of his survival. His injuries weighed on him¡ªhis leg felt swollen, his chest throbbed, and the new gash on his side stung¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t stop. Not yet.


    The skittering grew louder again, snapping him out of his thoughts. He gripped the penknife, its blade slick with goblin blood, and peered out of the alcove. The larger goblin emerged from the shadows, its axe raised, flanked by two smaller ones. Avan¡¯s head pulsed with Identification: the big one was stronger, more cunning, its scars telling of battles won¡ªa leader, three-and-a-half feet tall, with a hunchback bristling with bone spikes, its yellow eyes glinting with malice.


    ¡°Here we go again,¡± he muttered, rising unsteadily. His leg screamed, his chest burned, and his side throbbed, but he had no choice. The goblins charged, their movements synchronized, the leader barking orders in a guttural tongue. Avan ducked into the alcove¡¯s shadow, his heart pounding, and waited for the first attack.


    The smaller goblins struck first, their spears jabbing at the alcove¡¯s entrance. Avan lunged, slashing with the penknife, catching one across the wrist. It shrieked, dropping its spear, and Avan twisted, driving the blade into its chest. Black ichor sprayed, and the creature fell, but the second goblin¡¯s spear grazed his already-injured leg, reopening the wound. He grunted, stumbling, and the penknife slipped from his grasp, skittering across the stone.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Avan hissed, diving for the knife as the larger goblin roared, charging with its axe raised. He rolled, pain exploding in his leg, and grabbed the penknife just as the axe crashed into the boulder beside him, sending shards of stone flying. Avan slashed upward, catching the goblin¡¯s arm, but its thick skin blunted the blow. The creature snarled, swinging again, and Avan barely dodged, the axe grazing his shoulder and tearing his shirt.


    Blood dripped onto the stone, his and the goblin¡¯s mixing in a sickening pool. Avan gripped the penknife with both hands, his vision blurring from pain and exhaustion. The goblin lunged, and Avan ducked under the axe, driving the blade into its side. It howled, thrashing, but didn¡¯t fall. Avan stabbed again, targeting the neck, and the blade sank deep. The goblin gurgled, black ichor pouring out, and collapsed, its axe clattering to the ground.


    Panting, Avan staggered back, the penknife still embedded in the goblin¡¯s neck. He yanked it free, wiping the blood on his pants, and turned to the remaining smaller goblin. It hesitated, its yellow eyes wide, but Avan didn¡¯t give it a chance. He lunged, slashing wildly, and caught it across the throat. It fell, choking, and Avan collapsed beside it, trembling and soaked in blood¡ªhis own and theirs.


    ¡°Three down,¡± he gasped, clutching his leg, while watching with regret how his foes dissolved into thin air once again. His wound was worse now, bleeding freely, and his chest felt like it was on fire. He needed rest, but this dungeon wasn¡¯t safe¡ªnot yet. He dragged himself back to the alcove, his vision swimming, and collapsed against the stone. The purple glow from the pool seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, and that warmth¡ªthe Origin Energy¡ªflared again, weak but persistent.


    Maybe he could use it to heal, or at least dull the pain. He closed his eyes, focusing on the gold and silver sparkles, willing them to flow into his wounds. The energy pulsed, warm and tingly, but it didn¡¯t heal¡ªnot fully. The bleeding slowed, and the sharpest pain dulled, but his leg still ached, and his chest throbbed. ¡°Not perfect,¡± he said, opening his eyes, ¡°but better than nothing.¡±


    A faint surge coursed through him then, subtle but unmistakable¡ªa quiet whisper of strength, like a spark igniting deep within. He frowned, unsure what it meant, but it felt¡­ right, like the energy he¡¯d used to kill the goblins had left something behind, a residue of power sinking into his core. He didn¡¯t understand it, but he filed it away, pragmatic as ever. If it made him stronger, he¡¯d take it.


    The dungeon¡¯s hum grew softer, and Avan leaned back, exhaustion pulling at him. He needed sleep, but this alcove wasn¡¯t safe¡ªnot with more goblins lurking. Still, his body demanded rest, and the purple glow from the pool felt oddly calming. He scratched another note into the stone with the penknife: Survived. Hurt bad. Energy healing slow. Felt stronger after fight. Need rest. It wasn¡¯t much, but it kept him focused.


    His mind drifted, heavier now. What if this energy wasn¡¯t his to control¡ªwhat if it controlled him? He¡¯d always prided himself on being rational, on efficiency¡ªautomating problems away, staying out of drama. But this? Monsters, portals, glowing energy¡ªit defied everything he¡¯d ever known. Was this some cosmic joke, or had he stumbled into a nightmare he couldn¡¯t escape? And why him? That message¡ª¡°Seed of Origin Protocol¡±¡ªstill echoed in his mind, hauntingly personal. Did it mean he was special, or just unlucky?


    ¡°Special,¡± he scoffed, wincing as he shifted his leg. ¡°I¡¯m just a guy who wants to survive, not some chosen one.¡± But the thought lingered¡ªwhy did that energy feel so familiar, so right? It wasn¡¯t just power; it felt like a part of him, deeper than he could explain. Was he becoming something else, something he didn¡¯t understand? The idea terrified him, but it also intrigued him. If he could master this, maybe he could survive¡ªmaybe even thrive.


    ¡°But at what cost?¡± he whispered, staring at the purple glow. If he kept using this energy, would it change him, body and soul? Would he lose what made him¡­ him? And if he did, would he care, as long as he lived? He thought of his family¡ªhis parents in the U.S., his sister in Japan, thousands of kilometers away. He hadn¡¯t spoken to them in months, too busy with work, too focused on his own life. Now, they might be dead, torn apart by those black hounds or worse. The thought tightened his chest, but he pushed it down. ¡°No use crying over it,¡± he said aloud. ¡°Can¡¯t help them if I¡¯m dead.¡±


    But the guilt lingered, gnawing at him. Was it selfish to focus only on himself? He¡¯d always justified it¡ªfamily was important, sure, but they were far away, and he had his own problems. Yet, staring at the purple glow, he wondered: if he survived this, if he found a way to harness this energy, could he use it to reach them? Or was that just another pipe dream? And if he did find them, what then? Would they even recognize him, battered and changed by this hell?


    ¡°Moral questions,¡± he scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°Since when do I care?¡± But the dungeon¡¯s silence forced him to confront it. If he found others¡ªlike that woman in the parking lot, torn apart by monsters¡ªwould he help them, or leave them to die? He¡¯d walked away then, and he didn¡¯t regret it, but the weight of that decision felt heavier now. ¡°Survival first,¡± he told himself, but the words felt hollow. What if survival meant becoming someone he didn¡¯t recognize¡ªsomeone cold, ruthless, indifferent?


    The skittering returned, faint but persistent, and Avan tensed, gripping the penknife. This dungeon wasn¡¯t done with him yet, but for now, he let exhaustion pull him into a fitful sleep, the purple glow watching over him like a silent sentinel.


    When he woke, hours or minutes later¡ªhe couldn¡¯t tell¡ªthe pain had dulled, but his injuries still throbbed. The alcove was quiet, but the dungeon¡¯s hum persisted, a constant reminder of its presence. He sat up, wincing, and focused on the warmth in his chest. The Origin Energy pulsed, gold and silver with purple sparkles, and he willed it to flow into his wounds again. This time, he concentrated harder, imagining the energy knitting his flesh together. The warmth intensified, and the bleeding stopped, the pain easing to a manageable ache. But it drained him, leaving him dizzy and trembling.


    ¡°Not enough,¡± he muttered, leaning back. ¡°But I¡¯m learning.¡± He scratched another note into the stone: Energy heals, but slowly. Drains me. Felt stronger. Need to practice. The idea of experimenting more intrigued him, but he wasn¡¯t about to push himself now¡ªnot with goblins lurking. Still, the energy felt like a key to survival, a tool he couldn¡¯t ignore.


    He peered out of the alcove, scanning the cavern. The pool still glowed, and the shadows shifted with faint movements. He needed to move deeper, find a safer spot, but his body screamed for rest. ¡°One step at a time,¡± he told himself, gripping the penknife. The dungeon stretched before him, its mysteries and dangers waiting¡ªand Avan, battered but stubborn, stepped forward into the unknown.


    As he limped deeper, the cavern narrowed into a tunnel, its walls slick with moss and glowing faintly purple. The skittering grew louder, and Avan¡¯s head throbbed as Identification flared again. Another goblin appeared, smaller but quicker, its green skin patchy and scarred, eyes glinting with hunger¡ªa scout, two-and-a-half feet tall, with wiry limbs and a spear tipped with a jagged shard of bone.


    ¡°Persistent little bastards,¡± Avan muttered, raising the penknife. The goblin lunged, and he sidestepped, pain shooting through his leg, but he slashed out, catching its shoulder. It shrieked, but didn¡¯t fall, darting back and circling him. Avan gritted his teeth, focusing on the Origin Energy, willing it to bolster his strength. The warmth surged, and his movements felt sharper, if only for a moment. He lunged, driving the penknife into the goblin¡¯s side, and it collapsed, black ichor pooling on the stone.


    Another surge coursed through him, subtler than before but noticeable¡ªa quiet whisper of growth, like the energy from the kills was sinking deeper into his core. He paused, catching his breath, and scratched into the stone: Killed more. Felt stronger again. Energy growing. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was progress, and he clung to it.


    The tunnel stretched onward, its walls growing rougher, the purple glow intensifying. Avan¡¯s injuries weighed on him, but the energy kept him moving, a faint hope in this hellhole. He wondered, briefly, if this energy could change him permanently¡ªif it was tied to those golden symbols he¡¯d seen before the collapse. Was he becoming something more, or was he just deluding himself?


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he said aloud, shaking his head. ¡°As long as it keeps me alive.¡± But the question lingered, tugging at his mind as he pressed deeper into the dungeon, the shadows and skittering sounds his only companions.

 Chapter 3

    Chapter 3


    Avan limped deeper into the dungeon, his penknife¡¯s dulled blade slick with goblin blood, its weight a constant strain in his aching hand. Pain gnawed at his leg with every step, a deep, grinding ache threatening to buckle him, while the gashes on his chest and side throbbed beneath blood-stained, torn bandages. The tunnel stretched endlessly, its walls coated in shimmering purple moss, the air heavy with dampness and a low, persistent hum that vibrated through the stone. ¡°This hell will break me,¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, his breath shallow and uneven. The skittering of goblins had quieted, but the shadows flickered, and that hum¡ªa deep, unsettling pulse in his bones¡ªfelt like the dungeon itself was stalking him, waiting for weakness. He didn¡¯t trust it, but standing still wasn¡¯t an option; the portal had sealed behind him, trapping him in this nightmare, and the chaos outside promised death by monsters. He pressed forward, driven by cold necessity¡ªwaiting risked more goblins finding him, and his injuries wouldn¡¯t heal fast enough to gamble on safety here. Logic demanded movement, survival over rest, even as his body screamed in protest.


    A sharp sting pulsed behind his eyes, and Identification flared instinctively, probing the tunnel ahead. No immediate threats¡ªjust the dungeon¡¯s energy, ancient and alive, a heartbeat resonating through the stone. But he felt it too: a subtle, growing warmth in his chest, Origin Energy, gold and silver flecked with purple sparkles, building from the goblins he¡¯d killed. It wasn¡¯t much, a faint nudge of strength, but it kept his legs moving, a lifeline in this brutal place. He leaned against the wall, steadying himself, the pain in his leg a brutal reminder of his limits. Staying here, exposed, invited attack¡ªgoblins could swarm from any shadow, and his rational mind pushed him to advance, to harness this energy¡¯s potential before it faded. He moved, not out of bravery, but the cold calculation that stagnation meant death.


    ¡°Status,¡± he whispered, closing his eyes. The impression came, clearer, sharper:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 1 (nearing progression)


    Class: None


    Skills: Identification (Lv. 1), Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 1), Origin Healing (Lv. 1, nascent)


    Stats: Strength average, agility decent, intelligence above average, vitality stubborn, luck questionable


    ¡°Nearing progression,¡± he muttered, brow furrowing. He didn¡¯t understand it fully¡ªthe energy felt like a growing reserve drawn from each kill, each fight¡ªbut its presence fueled him. That healing, too¡ªhe¡¯d begun coaxing Origin Energy to mend his wounds, slow and draining, but it dulled pain, stopped bleeding. It wasn¡¯t enough to wait here, exposed; more goblins could come, and logic demanded he move, conserve strength, and grow stronger. If this energy could push him further, it might mean survival¡ªpragmatism over patience, survival over rest. He pressed on, driven by the rational need to secure safety or resources, not idle hope or past burdens.


    The tunnel widened into a cavern, its ceiling shrouded in darkness, stalactites dripping purple-tinged water that glowed faintly. Torches lined the walls, their purple flames casting jagged shadows, the air growing colder, heavier, pressing like a weight. Avan paused, scanning the space, the flickering light revealing a crumbling stone bridge arching over a chasm, its surface cracked and slick, leading to a shadowy passage beyond. Shadows writhed below, and a sharp skittering cut through the hum, urgent and threatening. He considered stopping, but the cavern¡¯s openness left him vulnerable¡ªgoblins could attack from any angle, and his injuries demanded cover, not exposure. Crossing the bridge, despite the risk, offered a chance at safety; logic pointed to progress, not paralysis, even as his leg burned with pain.


    Five goblins emerged from the shadows, their green skin mottled and warty, eyes glinting yellow in the torchlight. Identification surged: swifter than earlier foes, but weaker than the black hound¡ªthree-foot-tall scouts, lean and agile, armed with bone-tipped spears and razor claws, their twisted faces snarling with hunger, movements synchronized, predatory. Avan¡¯s gut tightened. He could turn back, but his leg wouldn¡¯t hold, and retreat meant death in the open tunnel. Fighting was his only option¡ªpragmatism over fear, survival over hesitation. He couldn¡¯t wait, not with injuries worsening; the energy¡¯s growth promised strength if he pressed on, a rational drive to secure safety or resources ahead, not a repeat of old doubts.


    ¡°Can¡¯t catch a break,¡± Avan muttered, gripping the penknife tighter. His injuries screamed, but he couldn¡¯t stop¡ªnot with death looming. The goblins charged, spears jabbing in a frenzied pattern, their chittering echoing off stone. Avan ducked, pain flaring in his leg as he stumbled, slashing at the nearest goblin¡¯s arm. The blade bit deep, black ichor spurting, but the creature twisted, its spear grazing his chest. He grunted, staggering, and the penknife slipped, skidding toward the bridge¡¯s edge.


    ¡°No!¡± Avan dove, agony searing his leg, and caught the knife just before it fell. But the goblins closed in, swift and coordinated, and a spear pierced his side¡ªshallow, but sharp, drawing a grunt from his throat. He rolled, slashing wildly, catching another goblin¡¯s thigh. It shrieked, collapsing, but the others flanked him, claws raking his back. Blood soaked his shirt, and Avan slipped on the slick stone, crashing onto the bridge. He could¡¯ve stayed down, let Origin Healing work, but more goblins would swarm¡ªlogic demanded he finish this now, or die. He forced himself up, driven by survival¡¯s urgency, not sentiment, but also by a rational fear of losing control, a need to maintain his edge in this chaos.


    The bridge trembled under his weight, cracks widening, and the stone he¡¯d carried¡ªmarked with old scratches¡ªslipped from his pocket, plunging into the chasm. ¡°Damn it,¡± he hissed, but there was no time for regret. The penknife was his lifeline; losing it meant death¡ªrationality over nostalgia, survival over sentiment. The goblins pressed closer, and Avan gripped the blade, channeling Origin Energy to steady his shaking hands. The warmth surged, gold and silver with purple sparkles, sharpening his focus. He lunged, driving the penknife into the second goblin¡¯s chest, then slashed at the third, catching its throat. Both fell, black ichor pooling, but the fourth and fifth¡ªquicker, smarter¡ªcircled, probing for weaknesses from either side of the bridge.


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    Avan¡¯s vision blurred, strength fading, but he pressed on, slashing at the fourth goblin. It dodged, its spear jabbing his leg, reopening the wound. He roared, pain and desperation mixing, and lunged, driving the blade deep into its neck. It choked, collapsing, and Avan pivoted, parrying the fifth goblin¡¯s spear with a desperate slash. The creature lunged, claws slashing his arm, but Avan twisted, plunging the penknife into its chest. It fell, black ichor spilling, and Avan staggered back, blood dripping, exhausted but alive. He didn¡¯t wash the penknife in the purple water¡ªits metallic glow and taste suggested risk, a potential to dull the blade, harbor infection, or react with ichor, weakening his weapon. Logic demanded he keep it functional, not gamble on unknown magic, survival over cleanliness, a pragmatic choice unclouded by emotion.


    ¡°Five down,¡± he gasped, clutching his side. Wounds bled freely¡ªleg, chest, side, back, arm¡ªvitality draining fast. But a surge hit, power solidifying in his core, pushing him past a threshold. He felt it: Level 2, a quiet surge of strength, his Origin Energy deepening, body sharper, tougher. His Origin Healing stabilized, reliable but draining. He stored the sensation mentally, progress in this nightmare, a rational boost to survive. Moving forward, not waiting to heal fully, made sense¡ªgoblins would return, and his energy offered an edge now, not later. Logic, not past guilt or hope, drove him; a fresh, rational fear of stagnation pushed him deeper, untainted by repetition.


    He dragged himself off the bridge, collapsing against the cavern wall. Origin Energy pulsed, and he focused on healing, warmth knitting flesh slowly. Bleeding stopped, pain dulled, but exhaustion overwhelmed him. ¡°Not enough,¡± he muttered, closing his eyes. The dungeon¡¯s hum pulsed, purple glow a strange comfort. Staying risked attack, but pushing deeper offered safety or resources¡ªlogic, not emotion, drove him. He moved because waiting meant death, energy promising strength if he progressed, a cold, rational choice.


    His mind churned, questions rising. What was this energy? ¡°Seed of Origin Protocol¡± echoed, personal, chilling. Was he tied to this place, these monsters? Not a philosopher, but logic pressed him: punishment, purpose, or luck? If luck, why this power, so intrinsic, like a forgotten instinct? Golden runes on the walls pulsed, unfamiliar but nagging¡ªcuriosity stirred, but survival came first. He moved deeper, not for destiny, but necessity¡ªenergy hinted at survival, answers, a rational drive, not old burdens. A new doubt surfaced: if this power grew, would it demand more than he¡¯d give? But he dismissed it¡ªspeculation wouldn¡¯t save him, only action would.


    ¡°Destiny¡¯s a myth,¡± he said, wincing as he shifted. ¡°I¡¯m just surviving.¡± But the energy¡¯s familiarity lingered¡ªancient, part of him? Becoming something else unsettled him, but mastering it could save him. If it twisted him cold, ruthless, would he care, alive? Logic pushed him forward, not heroism¡ªinjuries wouldn¡¯t heal fast enough to risk staying, energy promising strength. A rational curiosity about its source, not family guilt, drove him, fresh and untainted by repetition, a need to understand its origin, not dwell on past losses.


    ¡°But the cost?¡± he whispered, staring at the glow. Using this energy might erode his rationality, pragmatism¡ªwould he care, living? He shoved the thought aside¡ªsurvival meant action, progress, not doubt. He moved because staying meant death, energy offering life, truth¡ªa rational choice, not emotion¡¯s echo, a new drive to uncover its purpose, not revisit old pain.


    ¡°Morals,¡± he scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°Pointless here.¡± But silence forced a fresh question: others¡ªlike that woman he¡¯d seen fleeing outside, killed by hounds¡ªhelp or ignore? He¡¯d left her, no regret, but doubt grew, new and sharp¡ªsurvival first, but hardening into something he¡¯d despise gnawed at him. Aiding risked death, vulnerability to horrors¡ªlogic forbade it, but the ache lingered, born of isolation, not past, a rational weighing of risk versus gain, not repetition.


    Skittering returned, faint, persistent, and Avan tensed, gripping the penknife. He couldn¡¯t rest here¡ªgoblins lurked. He pushed up, wincing, limping deeper, penknife unwashed¡ªpurple water risked dulling it, infection, weakening his weapon. Logic, not sentiment, kept it functional. The tunnel narrowed, walls etched with golden runes pulsing with his energy. He traced one, shivering¡ªunfamiliar, but nagging¡ªcuriosity stirred, but survival came first. Logic drove progress, not delay, a fresh drive to understand, not repeat old questions.


    The passage opened into a cavern, colder, darker, bones scattered. A spiral staircase descended, steps slick with moss. Skittering grew louder, urging deeper. He gripped the penknife, injuries throbbing, stepping down, hum swelling, drawing him in. Air thickened, purple glow intensified¡ªOrigin Energy hummed within, matching the pulse. He moved, healing slow, enemies many¡ªenergy promised strength forward, not wait¡ªlogic, not hope, drove him, a rational fear of stagnation, not old guilt.


    Halfway down, skittering erupted. Goblins charged from below¡ªtwo scouts sprinting up the stairs, spears aimed at his legs; one warrior lunged from a side passage to his left, club swinging wide. Identification surged: warrior stronger, slower, brutal¡ªfour feet, bone club, armor-plated skin, red eyes menacing, hunger deliberate. Avan¡¯s gut clenched. Scouts attacked from below, thrusting upward at his shins; warrior swung from the left, club arcing horizontally. Retreat impossible¡ªleg wouldn¡¯t hold, stairs exposed¡ªlogic demanded fight, survival, growth. He slashed a scout¡¯s arm, blade biting deep, but the warrior¡¯s club grazed his shoulder, sending him sprawling down two steps. Pain exploded, and he rolled right, dodging a upwardward spear thrust from below, barely evading the club¡¯s next horizontal swing from the left. He stabbed upward, piercing the warrior¡¯s thigh, thick skin resisting, it roared, club arcing right again. He ducked, slashing its leg, but scouts flanked, spears jabbing upward from below, grazing his back. He twisted left, pain flaring, slashing a scout¡¯s throat from above¡ªit fell, ichor spraying down. The other¡¯s spear caught his arm from below, and he grunted, lunging left at the warrior, driving the penknife into its chest. It howled, thrashing, and Avan stabbed its neck from the side, blade sinking deep. It collapsed, club tumbling left. The scout fled upward, vanishing into shadow, and Avan collapsed, clutching his arm, blood soaking him, injuries mounting.


    A surge hit¡ªpower solidifying, Level 2, Origin Energy deepening, body sharper, tougher. Origin Healing stabilized, draining but reliable. He rested at the base, shadows promising threats, but another fight somehow survived.


    Closing his eyes, he focused on Origin Energy, experimenting. He willed it outward, shaping a faint shield around his hand¡ªgold, silver, purple crackling static. It flickered, unstable, draining fast, but held briefly, a potential defense. ¡°A shield,¡± he murmured, voice hoarse. ¡°Might save me next time.¡± The effort left him dizzy, but he saved strength¡ªlogic favored caution, not exhaustion, survival over risk. He moved deeper, driven by necessity, energy¡¯s promise, a rational curiosity about its source, not old shadows, a fresh start in this brutal descent.


    The dungeon¡¯s shadows shifted, and Avan tensed, penknife ready. But nothing jumped at him. A few moments later, his tensed shoulders loosened up and he took a deep, steadying breath.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4


    Avan slumped against the cool stone under the overhang at the bottom of the spiral staircase, his chest heaving, every breath a sharp jab from the gashes across his ribs and side. Blood trickled from his leg, back, and arm, soaking through his torn jacket and staining the bandages he¡¯d rigged from his shirt. The dungeon¡¯s low hum thrummed through the rock, a steady buzz that felt like the place was alive, its purple torchlight casting jagged shadows over his battered form. He gripped his dulled penknife, its handle slick with sweat and blood, its edge too worn from the goblin fight upstairs. His body screamed for a break, but the faint skittering from deeper in the cavern kept him on edge¡ªgoblins, or worse, were still out there.


    He wasn¡¯t stupid enough to push forward like this. The fight on the stairs had wrecked him¡ªleg bruised and bleeding, chest sliced open, back scratched raw, arm grazed by a spear. He could barely stand, let alone take on whatever that massive thing was ahead. Identification had buzzed in his head as he descended, a quick flash of something big, stronger than the goblins¡ªDungeon Guardian, armored, slow but deadly, with glowing red eyes and a bone club. No way he¡¯d survive it now, half-dead and exhausted. Survival meant playing smart, not tough, and his sharp, practical mind kicked in: retreat, heal, gear up. He glanced back at the staircase¡¯s moss-slick steps, spotting the narrow ledge under the overhang¡ªa hidden spot, safe enough to crash and recover. With a groan, he dragged himself deeper into the shadow, the stone¡¯s chill a relief against his feverish skin, penknife still in hand, ready for anything.


    Closing his eyes, Avan focused on the warm buzz in his chest¡ªthe Origin Energy, gold and silver with purple flickers, stronger since hitting Level 2. It felt like a battery charging up, and he needed every bit of it. He channeled it into his injuries, willing it to fix the mess¡ªleg first, then ribs, arm, back. Origin Healing kicked in, sharper now at Level 2, its glow threading through his skin, stitching cuts and soothing bruises. Pain dulled, replaced by a tingling heat as scars formed, thin and pale where blood had soaked. It sucked his energy dry, leaving him dizzy, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through, grabbing handfuls of metallic-tasting moss from the overhang¡¯s edge. The stuff tasted awful, like battery acid, but it gave him a tiny energy boost¡ªpractical, not desperate, just enough to keep going until his body felt solid again. The only problem would be water, even with the moss providing some, too. It wouldn¡ät be enough in the long term.


    Time blurred under the overhang, hours or minutes lost in the dungeon¡¯s endless buzz, its purple light a constant flicker on the stone. Origin Healing leveled up fully, faster and less draining, patching him up until his leg held steady, his ribs stopped stinging, and his arm moved without pain. Scars remained, faint reminders of the goblins, but he was back in one piece, though wiped out. Still, he couldn¡¯t stop there. That Dungeon Guardian loomed ahead, its red eyes and club a nightmare in his head, and he needed more than luck to take it down. He shifted, sitting up straighter, and zoned in on the Origin Energy again, remembering that shaky shield he¡¯d thrown up in a panic on the stairs¡ªa weak glow, but a start.


    He raised his hand, pushing the energy out, shaping it into a barrier over his forearm. Gold and silver swirled, speckled with purple, crackling as a translucent shield formed, shimmering like a thin layer of glass. He tapped it with the penknife¡ªthe blade bounced off, a faint hum echoing. ¡°Origin Energy Shield,¡± he muttered, half to himself, a tired grin tugging at his lips. It held better than before, solid enough to stop a hit, but holding it drained him fast. He tweaked it, tightening the shape, making it denser, driven by the need to block that Guardian¡¯s club¡ªnot out of some big dream, but the simple fact it¡¯d smash him otherwise. A quiet rush hit him, a practical satisfaction in figuring this out, no deep thoughts, just relief it worked.


    But a shield wouldn¡¯t win this fight¡ªthe Guardian was huge, its reach too long for close quarters. He needed to hit it from afar, stay out of its way. He focused again, picturing the energy as a weapon, a shot he could fire. He thrust his palm out, and a jagged bolt of gold and silver, laced with purple, shot out, slamming into the cavern wall with a crack. Dust puffed up, leaving a glowing mark that faded fast. ¡°Origin Energy Projectiles,¡± he said under his breath, wiped out but stoked. The first try wobbled, fizzling out too soon, but he kept going, firing more bolts, each one sharper, straighter, hitting stalactites with solid thuds. It sucked his energy hard, sweat dripping down his face, but he pushed on, driven by the need to nail that thing from a distance¡ªclose up would get him killed, plain and simple. A small thrill buzzed through him, a practical high from nailing this skill.


    The dungeon¡¯s hum droned on, its purple light weaving shadows over the stone as time slipped by. Avan crashed between tries, munching more moss, its bitter bite keeping him sharp. He worked Origin Healing harder, tweaking its flow until it ran smooth, a quick fix for the fight ahead. The Origin Energy Shield firmed up, now Origin Energy Shield (Lv. 1), tough enough to take a hit, its shimmer a steady guard in the dark. His Origin Energy Projectiles tightened, now Origin Energy Projectiles (Lv. 1), precise and strong, slamming targets across the cavern with clean shots. Each skill drained him, but he kept at it, driven by the need to take on the Dungeon Guardian¡ªnot some epic quest, just staying alive. Hiding here made sense; rushing that thing would end him, and his mind screamed prep, not panic. A faint unease hit him¡ªcould this power mess him up, make him too hard?¡ªbut he shook it off.


    He stood, testing his leg¡ªsolid now¡ªand stretched his arm, the shield flickering briefly, projectiles crackling at his fingers. He was fixed, armed, ready to roll, not some hero, just a guy set on making it out. The cavern¡¯s hum grew louder, the Dungeon Guardian¡¯s presence a heavy shadow in his gut, and he edged toward the staircase¡¯s edge, penknife in one hand, energy humming in the other, eyes locked on the path ahead. Doubt flickered¡ªcould this energy change him, turn him into something cold?¡ªbut he buried it. This power was his tool, not his boss.


    Avan stood at the edge of the staircase, his legs steady now, the faint scars from the goblin fight itching faintly under his jacket. The dungeon¡¯s hum pulsed louder here, its purple light casting jagged patterns across the moss-slick steps leading upward. He gripped his dulled penknife, its handle worn but familiar, while Origin Energy Shield shimmered briefly at his forearm, and Origin Energy Projectiles crackled softly at his fingertips, ready to fire. He¡¯d healed, leveled up his skills, and felt stronger than ever, but charging straight into the Dungeon Guardian¡¯s lair felt reckless¡ªtoo big a jump, too high a risk. He wasn¡¯t some action-movie hero; he was just a guy trying to make it out alive. Stronger, yes. But alive. Testing his new moves on something smaller, like the goblins upstairs, made sense¡ªpractice before the big showdown, a smart move to avoid getting smashed by that massive thing waiting below.


    With a nod to himself, he started up the stairs, his boots quiet but sure, the overhang¡¯s shadow falling away behind him. The climb stung a little, his muscles still sore from healing, but Origin Healing (Lv. 2) held steady, a warm buzz keeping the ache at bay. The upper floor loomed ahead, its tunnel stretching into darkness, the same purple glow lighting the way. Skittering echoed faintly¡ªgoblins, no doubt, those little creeps always lurking. His gut tightened, but excitement buzzed too, a sharp, practical thrill at trying out his new tricks. He wasn¡¯t about to rush in blind, though; he paused at the tunnel¡¯s mouth, Identification flaring to scan ahead. Three goblins, he caught¡ªsmall, green, wiry, armed with bone spears, their yellow eyes glinting in the shadows. Scouts, fast but weak, the skill whispered, a familiar nudge in his mind. Perfect targets to test his range and shield, not some suicide run.


    Avan crouched, channeling Origin Energy Projectiles, the gold and silver bolt forming in his palm, purple sparks dancing around it. He aimed, exhaled, and fired¡ªa clean shot arcing through the tunnel, striking the lead goblin square in the chest. It shrieked, black ichor spraying as it crumpled, the bolt leaving a glowing mark on the stone behind. The other two froze, their chittering rising in panic, but Avan didn¡¯t hesitate. Another projectile zipped out, hitting the second goblin in the leg, sending it tumbling with a howl. The third charged, spear raised, and Avan raised his Origin Energy Shield, its translucent barrier catching the spear¡¯s thrust with a sharp hum. The impact jolted him, the shield flickering but holding, and he grinned¡ªgritty, tired, but pleased it worked. He fired a final bolt, nailing the goblin¡¯s throat, and it fell, silent, black blood pooling on the stone.


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    Breathing hard, Avan lowered his shield, the energy draining him, sweat beading on his forehead. The fight was quick, clean, but it showed him something¡ªhis projectiles hit hard, his shield blocked well, but sustaining both together would wear him out fast. He needed to pace himself, save juice for the big guy downstairs. Satisfaction hit, a practical buzz at nailing this, no big deal, just solid prep. But his arm ached where the goblin¡¯s spear had grazed it earlier, a shallow cut reopening under the strain. He pressed his hand to it, Origin Healing kicking in, the warmth sealing the skin, leaving a faint scar. ¡°Good enough,¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, his voice low but steady. The fight felt good, a test run that proved he wasn¡¯t just surviving¡ªhe was getting better, sharper, ready.


    But he wasn¡¯t stupid; he knew he couldn¡¯t push too hard yet. His energy reserves were low, and that Dungeon Guardian wasn¡¯t going anywhere. He remembered the glowing purple pool from earlier¡ªback near where he¡¯d first stumbled into this mess, in Chapter 2. It had perked him up before, its metallic taste giving him a boost, and a quick drink might top him off, just in case. With a glance at the quiet tunnel, he retraced his steps, moving fast but careful, the dungeon¡¯s hum a constant background beat. The pool shimmered ahead, its purple glow steady, and he knelt, cupping water in his hands. It tasted sharp, metallic, but it hit him like a shot of espresso, the Origin Energy in his core buzzing stronger, sharper. He drank deeply, wiping his mouth, feeling steadier, more alert. ¡°Can¡¯t hurt,¡± he said, standing, his voice gruff but focused. It was practical, not some magic fix, just a smart move to stay in the game.


    Back on the upper floor, Avan tested his skills again, spotting two more goblins skulking near a collapsed pillar. He crouched, fired a Origin Energy Projectile, the bolt zipping through the dark, catching one in the shoulder, spinning it back with a scream. The second lunged, spear thrusting, but Avan¡¯s Origin Energy Shield caught it, the hum louder, the barrier holding firm. He sidestepped, firing another bolt, nailing the goblin¡¯s chest, and it fell, silent. He panted, the effort draining, but satisfaction settled in¡ªhis shield and projectiles worked, syncing better now, a solid setup for the Guardian. His arm stung again, a minor cut from the first fight, and he healed it quickly with Origin Healing, the warmth familiar, efficient.


    Hours passed, or maybe minutes¡ªthe dungeon¡¯s hum blurred time, but Avan kept at it, facing four more goblins in pairs, refining his aim, timing his shield. Each fight drained him, but Origin Healing kept him going, and the pool¡¯s water topped him off twice more, its metallic bite grounding him. His projectiles grew sharper, his shield steadier, and a quiet thrill built¡ªa practical rush at mastering this, no big speech, just relief it clicked. He wasn¡¯t invincible, but he was ready, or close enough, his energy reserves holding, his body healed, his mind clear. The Dungeon Guardian loomed below, its red eyes and club a shadow in his head, but he wasn¡¯t rushing yet. He¡¯d head back to the overhang, crash hard, save his strength for the real fight. The cavern¡¯s purple glow felt less threatening now, a familiar backdrop to his growing power. ¡°One step at a time,¡± he muttered, turning back down the stairs, penknife in hand, Origin Energy humming.


    Avan trudged back down the spiral staircase, his boots scuffing against the moss-slick stone, the dungeon¡¯s hum growing louder with each step. The purple glow from the torches above bathed the cavern in shifting shadows, and his penknife felt heavier in his hand, its dulled edge a quiet reminder of the goblins upstairs. Origin Energy Shield shimmered faintly at his forearm, while Origin Energy Projectiles crackled softly at his fingertips, primed and ready. He was healed, his energy topped off from the purple pool, his skills sharp from the upper-floor tests, but the Dungeon Guardian still loomed ahead, a shadow he couldn¡¯t shake. Rushing in felt wrong¡ªtoo risky, too final¡ªso he decided to check it out, scope the place, and figure out his next move. Smart, not stupid, he told himself, wiping sweat from his brow, his voice a low mutter in the silence.


    The cavern stretched out below, its ceiling lost in darkness, the air thick with that metallic tang he¡¯d grown used to. He moved slowly, sticking to the shadows near the wall, his steps cautious but steady. The golden runes on the archway pulsed brighter as he approached, their light syncing with the Origin Energy in his chest, a weird, electric buzz that made his skin tingle. He crouched behind a jagged outcrop, peering into the Boss Room. The space was massive, its floor littered with shattered stone and bones, the purple torchlight flickering off the walls¡¯ rune-carved surfaces. A damp, heavy mist hung low, curling around the debris, and the hum here was deeper, almost alive, like the dungeon itself was holding its breath.


    At the room¡¯s center stood the Dungeon Guardian, and Avan¡¯s gut clenched at the sight. It was huge¡ªeight feet tall, its gray, cracked skin like weathered stone, fissures leaking faint purple mist that shimmered in the light. Red eyes burned like hot coals, scanning the shadows, and its massive club, carved from twisted bone, rested against the ground, its jagged edges glinting dangerously. Identification flared, sharp and clear: Dungeon Guardian¡ªstrong, slow, brutal, armored hide, relentless, vulnerable to ranged attacks, resistant to physical strikes. Its movements were deliberate, pacing like a caged animal, each step shaking the floor, its claws scraping stone. Avan¡¯s heart thudded, but he stayed low, analyzing, not panicking. It wasn¡¯t just big¡ªit was a tank, built to crush anything that got close, but its plodding pace suggested it couldn¡¯t dodge fast. That¡¯s where his Origin Energy Projectiles came in, he thought, a practical spark lighting up his mind. He could hit it from afar, stay out of reach, wear it down with shots while his Origin Energy Shield blocked any wild swings if necessary.


    He studied the room more, mapping it out. The archway offered a choke point, narrow enough to limit the Guardian¡¯s movements, but he¡¯d need cover¡ªthose shattered pillars and jagged rocks could work, giving him spots to duck and weave. The mist might hide him, but it could also screw with his aim, so he¡¯d have to stay sharp, keep his projectiles tight. The runes on the walls pulsed, their golden glow syncing with his energy¡ªmaybe they could boost him, amplify his shots, but he wasn¡¯t sure how, not yet. Risky, but worth a try if things got ugly. His leg ached faintly, a ghost of the goblin wounds, and he pressed a hand to it, Origin Healing (Lv. 2) kicking in, the warmth sealing any lingering soreness, leaving him steady. ¡°Okay,¡± he muttered, voice low, focused, ¡°hit it from range, use the pillars, watch the mist. Don¡¯t get crushed.¡± It was simple, direct, a plan that fit his style¡ªpractical, not flashy.


    The Dungeon Guardian roared suddenly, a deep, guttural bellow that rattled the cavern, its red eyes locking onto the shadows near the arch. Avan froze, heart pounding, but it didn¡¯t charge¡ªtoo far, too slow. Its club slammed into the ground, sending shards of stone flying, and he ducked lower, the debris skittering past. That swing was massive, a one-hit kill if it connected, but its reach was predictable, its speed sluggish. He could dodge, he figured, using the room¡¯s layout, popping out to fire projectiles, then ducking back. His shield could handle a glancing blow, maybe, but getting hit head-on would end him. He¡¯d need to time his shots, conserve energy, and keep moving¡ªstay alive long enough to wear it down. A quiet thrill hit, a practical rush at cracking this puzzle, no big drama, just relief it wasn¡¯t hopeless.


    But he wasn¡¯t ready to dive in yet. His energy reserves were solid, thanks to the pool, but testing his skills upstairs had drained him more than he liked. He needed rest, a final top-up, to make sure he didn¡¯t crash mid-fight. He backed away from the arch, slipping into the shadows, the Dungeon Guardian¡¯s roars fading as he retraced his steps to the overhang. ¡°Can¡¯t be too careful,¡± he said, standing, his voice gruff but calm.


    Back under the overhang, Avan sat, closing his eyes, letting the Origin Energy settle. His shield shimmered faintly, projectiles crackled at his fingers, Origin Healing pulsed strong. He was healed, armed, prepped, and only some rest needed now. The Dungeon Guardian waited, its presence a heavy shadow in his mind, but he wasn¡¯t rushing. He¡¯d face it soon, with a plan, not blind luck. The dungeon¡¯s hum droned on, its purple glow a familiar backdrop, and Avan leaned backward into the narrow space to close his eyes and rest while he still could.

 Chapter 5

    Chapter 5


    Avan crouched beneath the overhang, the faint drip of water tapping against the stone behind him. Purple torchlight flickered across the cavern, casting jagged shadows that twisted like restless spirits. His penknife, chipped but steady, rested in his hand, its weight a quiet anchor. At his wrist, the potential for the Origin Energy Shield lingered¡ªa shimmering construct of gold and silver threaded with violet sparks he could summon when needed, not a permanent fixture. His other hand tingled, Origin Energy Projectiles coiled beneath his skin, ready to be unleashed. He¡¯d spent hours here, patching up the gashes and bruises with Origin Healing¡ªnow Level 2¡ªuntil his body felt whole again, the lingering ache in his ribs fading to a dull whisper. The dungeon¡¯s low hum thrummed through the floor, a steady vibration that set his nerves humming. Beyond the overhang lay the Boss Room, and with it, the *Dungeon Guardian*¡ªa Hobgoblin beast he¡¯d glimpsed in fleeting rune-visions, its red eyes burning in his memory. He wasn¡¯t charging in blind. Not after clawing his way this far.


    With a slow breath, Avan stood, brushing grit off his knees. The golden runes carved into the archway ahead flared as he approached, their light syncing with the electric buzz in his chest, sending a shiver up his spine. He moved carefully, hugging the shadows along the wall, his boots silent on the rubble-strewn floor. The air grew thick, heavy with a metallic tang that coated his throat. The Boss Room opened before him¡ªa vast, shattered chamber of ancient stone and swirling mist. Its ceiling stretched into shadow, swallowed by darkness, while the walls glowed faintly with rune-etched patterns, pulsing in rhythm with his own energy. Shattered pillars jutted from the ground like broken ribs, their bases choked with ash and jagged bone fragments. The mist hung low, curling around his legs, its chill seeping through his worn jacket.


    Avan paused at the entrance, ducking behind a cracked boulder. His eyes narrowed, scanning the space with cold precision. Identification flared in his mind, sharp and clear: Ancient chamber, unstable footing, scattered cover¡ªpillars, rocks, debris. The runes on the walls drew his gaze, their golden gleam flickering like distant stars. They felt alive, tied to the Origin Energy thrumming inside him¡ªa resource he tucked away for later. His focus shifted to the center of the room. There it was¡ªthe *Dungeon Guardian*.


    The Hobgoblin loomed above the mist, a grotesque colossus of muscle and menace. Nine feet tall, its frame bulged with raw power, its skin a mottled gray-green, cracked and rough like weathered stone. Fissures split its hide, oozing faint purple mist that twisted upward in thin, shimmering wisps. Its eyes blazed red, twin embers cutting through the haze, framed by twisted horns that curled from its skull like a warped crown. A massive bone club, studded with jagged shards, hung from its right hand, scraping the stone with each heavy step. Its left arm hefted a crude shield¡ªdented metal glowing faintly red, as if heated by some inner fire. Tattered fur scraps draped its shoulders, matted with ash, swaying as it paced, its clawed feet leaving deep prints in the dust.


    Avan¡¯s heart kicked hard, but he clamped it down, studying the beast. Identification chimed again: Dungeon Guardian¡ªHobgoblin variant, brute strength, sluggish speed, cracked exterior, fissures vulnerable to precise strikes, resistant to blunt trauma. It was a tank, built to crush anything dumb enough to get close. But slow. That was his edge. The Hobgoblin¡¯s head jerked, eyes sweeping the room, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Its roar thundered through the chamber, a guttural bellow that rattled the debris underfoot, sending a splinter of bone skittering past Avan¡¯s hiding spot.


    ¡°Stay sharp,¡± he muttered, barely audible. He shifted behind the boulder, mapping the terrain. The room was a maze of cover¡ªpillars, rocks, the mist itself if he stayed low. His Origin Energy Projectiles could hit those fissures from range, chipping away without risking a direct fight. He could summon the Origin Energy Shield to block any wild swings or flying debris¡ªhe¡¯d practiced enough to trust it, but maintaining it would drain him fast. And the runes¡­ if he could tap them, boost his power, it might tip the scales. A risk, but one he¡¯d take if pushed.


    Avan edged forward, keeping the boulder between him and the beast. The Hobgoblin¡¯s patrol was steady, its club dragging in a slow arc, gouging the stone. He darted to a fallen pillar, crouching as the mist swallowed his boots. The air buzzed louder here, a resonant drone that pressed against his skull. He peeked over the pillar¡¯s edge, tracking the creature¡¯s rhythm. It paused, head tilting, shield arm twitching upward. Avan froze, breath held, until it lumbered on, turning toward the far wall. He let the air out slow, mind racing through his plan.


    Those fissures were his target¡ªcracks where the purple mist leaked, weak spots he could exploit. Hit them right, and he might cripple it without a melee brawl. He flexed his fingers, Origin Energy sparking to life¡ªgolden threads streaked with silver and violet, sharp against the dimness. Mobility was key; he¡¯d keep it off balance, use the room to outmaneuver it. The shield worried him¡ªthat glowing metal could block torso shots. He¡¯d aim high¡ªneck, shoulders, maybe the head if he got lucky.


    Avan slipped to another rock, closer now, the Hobgoblin¡¯s stench hitting him¡ªdamp fur, ash, and a sharp, burnt-metal edge. Its back faced him, horns glinting in the torchlight. He raised a hand, a single Origin Energy Projectile forming¡ªa tight, glowing bolt. He held it, waiting, lining up the shot. The Hobgoblin spun, eyes flaring, and Avan dropped, the bolt dissolving into harmless sparks. Too damn close. He pressed flat against the rock, cursing under his breath as the creature growled, club tapping the floor, searching.


    Time stretched, taut and quiet, until the Hobgoblin¡¯s focus drifted. Avan rose, wiping sweat from his face. His energy reserves held steady¡ªhe¡¯d rationed them under the overhang, sipping that bitter moss water for a final boost. One last check: penknife secure, shield potential primed, projectiles ready. He glanced at the runes, their glow steady, tempting. If he could reach them in the chaos, channel that power¡­ it might be his ace. No turning back now.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Avan¡¯s heart thudded, but he forced it steady, summoning a single Origin Energy Projectile¡ªa tight bolt of gold and silver laced with violet sparks. It drained him instantly, a sharp pull on his reserves, but he held it, waiting, breath shallow. The Hobgoblin¡¯s back was turned, its shield lowered, horns glinting in the torchlight. Perfect. He exhaled, loosing the bolt in a silent arc through the mist, aiming for a fissure near its shoulder. The projectile struck, a burst of light and shadow, purple mist erupting as it grazed the crack, drawing a guttural snarl. Black ichor oozed, and the creature spun, roaring, its red eyes locking onto him, club raised. The surprise worked, but barely¡ªit staggered, off-balance, but not down. Avan grinned grimly, already sprinting to another pillar, the mist swallowing his retreat. ¡°Got your attention,¡± he muttered, voice low, adrenaline surging. The fight was on.


    The Hobgoblin charged, club swinging in a brutal, downward arc, its roar shaking the chamber, debris rattling beneath Avan¡¯s boots. He dove, rolling behind a boulder as the club crashed into the pillar he¡¯d left, stone exploding in a shower of fragments. A shard caught his calf, slicing through his pants, warm blood trickling down his leg. Pain flared, but he ignored it, popping up to fire another Origin Energy Projectile¡ªgold and violet streaking through the haze, hitting a fissure on its thigh. More mist sprayed, and it roared, slowing, but its shield snapped up, blocking his next shot, metal ringing like a gong. Avan ducked, the club¡¯s next swing obliterating his cover, rubble pelting his back, bruising his shoulders. He scrambled, heart pounding, weaving through the mist, firing a bolt at another fissure on its arm¡ªanother hit, more mist, but the energy drain hit hard, his hands trembling, sweat stinging his eyes.


    The battle stretched into a brutal rhythm of hit-and-run, Avan darting between pillars and rocks, using the mist and debris to obscure his position. Each projectile drained him, his reserves dwindling, but he pressed on, targeting the fissures¡ªshoulder, thigh, neck¡ªeach strike drawing purple mist and a bellow of rage. The Hobgoblin¡¯s shield caught most torso shots, its metal glowing hotter, but Avan aimed higher, clipping a horn, grazing its jaw, each hit chipping at its armor. Its club swung again, a wide arc that caught a pillar, sending it toppling toward him. He dove, the pillar crashing behind, pinning his leg for a moment. Pain exploded, sharp and crushing, and he grunted, wrenching free, *Origin Healing* (Lv. 2) flaring to seal the skin, leaving a raw, bloody gash but steadying him. Blood soaked his pant leg, but he pushed forward, firing a bolt at its chest fissure¡ªanother hit, more mist, but it barely slowed, its fury growing.


    Seconds felt like Hours, the dungeon¡¯s hum a relentless drone, the mist thickening, obscuring his vision. Avan¡¯s energy reserves sputtered, his hands shaking, a shallow cut on his forearm from a claw graze bleeding freely. He summoned the Origin Energy Shield, its golden and silver glow laced with violet flickering as the Hobgoblin¡¯s club smashed down, the impact jolting through his arm, the shield holding but draining him further. He stumbled back, dodging a claw swipe that tore his jacket, raking his side, blood seeping through torn fabric, pain burning sharp. Another projectile struck its neck, purple mist rising, but the creature roared, its eyes blazing brighter, its movements wilder. It was relentless, its shield catching another shot, metal sizzling, but Avan pressed on, firing, dodging, bleeding, always at the edge¡ªheart racing, lungs burning, legs screaming.


    Then, the shift came. The Hobgoblin¡¯s fissures glowed red, its purple mist darkening to a violent crimson, and it roared, a sound that shook the cavern, walls cracking, debris raining. *Identification* flared: Berserk State¡ªenhanced speed, strength, aggression, lower intellect, increased vulnerability. It moved faster now, its club a blur, shield forgotten, horns slashing through the air. Avan dove, the club smashing a pillar, stone fragments shredding his arm, blood dripping as he rolled, pain a constant drumbeat. A claw caught his shoulder, tearing deep, blood gushing, and he cried out, stumbling, nearly falling¡ªanother blow grazed his thigh, splitting skin, blood soaking his pants. He was on the brink, energy low, wounds bleeding, vision blurring, but he forced himself up, firing a desperate bolt, striking a fissure, mist erupting.


    The Hobgoblin charged, faster, wilder, club swinging in a frenzied arc. Avan ducked, rolled, but a tendril lash caught his back, ripping through his jacket, blood streaming as he crashed into a pillar, pain exploding, black spots dancing in his eyes. He slid to the ground, pinned against the stone, the creature looming, club raised for the final blow. His penknife skittered from his hand, his energy nearly gone, blood pooling beneath him¡ªleg, arm, shoulder, back, all raw and bleeding. Fear gripped him, cold and sharp, but he fought it, instincts kicking in. ¡°No way,¡± he rasped, voice breaking, and his hand brushed the wall, fingers finding a rune cluster, golden light pulsing faintly beneath his touch.


    Desperation fueled him, and he channeled the last of his Origin Energy¡ªgolden streams laced with silver and violet¡ªinto the runes. They flared, blindingly bright, but something went wrong¡ªcracks spiderwebbed across the stone, the runes sizzling, melting in places, their golden light warping into jagged arcs of lightning, uncontrolled and wild. The chamber lit up, electricity crackling, striking the Hobgoblin¡¯s chest, then its horns, then its legs, each bolt tearing through its fissures, purple mist exploding in bursts of light and ash. The creature shrieked, its berserk strength faltering, its body convulsing as lightning ripped it apart, black ichor and crimson mist dissolving into motes of light and ash that floated upward, fading into the dungeon¡¯s air, recycled energy shimmering as it vanished. The Hobgoblin¡¯s form disintegrated, leaving nothing but a faint pile of ash¡ªand then, a chest materialized in the room¡¯s center, glowing with a soft, golden aura, its ornate design flaring with arcane symbols, a boss loot chest spawned in a burst of light and dust.


    Avan collapsed, chest heaving, too exhausted and wounded to move¡ªleg broken, arm slashed, shoulder torn, back bleeding, cuts crisscrossing his skin. Blood soaked the stone beneath him, his vision swimming, but he knew he was safe, the dungeon¡¯s hum softening, approving. The chest gleamed, tempting, but his eyes fluttered shut, unconsciousness claiming him without resistance, his body giving in to sleep as the purple mist settled around him, the dungeon¡¯s silence a fragile shield against the next challenge.

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6


    Avan groaned, his eyelids fluttering open to the dim purple glow of the dungeon¡¯s torches. His body ached, stiff from sleeping on the hard, jagged stone floor, every muscle protesting as he shifted. Hours must¡¯ve passed¡ªmaybe more¡ªjudging by the heavy stillness in the air and the faint crick in his neck. His back throbbed where the Hobgoblin¡¯s claws had torn into him, his leg pulsed with a dull ache from the boulder¡¯s crush, and his arm stung from the cuts, but he felt¡­ better. Not great, but better than the blood-soaked mess he¡¯d been before crashing out. The mist in the Boss Room had settled, curling lazily around the ash-streaked floor where the *Dungeon Guardian* had fallen, its motes of light and dust long gone, leaving only the faint outline of its dissolution. He rubbed his eyes, wincing at the soreness, and sat up, taking stock.


    Blood crusted his jacket, his pants were ripped, and his sneakers¡ªonce modern and sturdy¡ªwere shredded, soles peeling, laces frayed. But the pain was fading, faster than it should¡¯ve. He focused inward, and a quiet ping echoed in his mind¡ªOrigin Healing had leveled up, now Origin Healing (Lv. 3). A new note shimmered in his status: a passive effect, healing him automatically, even when he wasn¡¯t consciously channeling it. ¡°No way,¡± he muttered, half-laughing, half-stunned, his voice rough from sleep. It explained the relief, the automatic tingle that patched his cuts and soothed his bruises while he slept. Not perfect¡ªhis back still stung, his leg felt stiff¡ªbut it was a game-changer, keeping him alive without draining him dry. He stretched, testing his limbs, feeling the warmth spread, the soreness easing, though the stiffness lingered, a reminder of his rocky bed.


    Slowly, he pushed to his feet, wincing as his joints creaked, his sneakers squelching on the stone. The Boss Room was silent, no skittering, no roars¡ªjust the dungeon¡¯s steady hum, a low buzz that felt almost approving. He stayed wary, penknife in hand, its chipped blade glinting in the purple light, but nothing moved, no threats lurking in the shadows. The golden runes on the walls pulsed faintly, their glow dimmer now, some patches melted and blackened from his lightning strike, cracks spiderwebbing the stone where the energy had overloaded them. He ignored that for now, his gaze drifting to the center of the room, where the boss loot chest still gleamed, its golden aura pulsing softly amid the ash and mist.


    Avan approached cautiously, boots crunching on debris, his senses sharp. The chest was ornate, its dark wood carved with unfamiliar runes that shimmered faintly, the lid sealed with a latch glowing gold. He hesitated, penknife ready, but nothing stirred¡ªno traps, no sounds. With a steadying breath, he flipped the latch, the lid creaking open. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a pair of boots¡ªsoft leather, black as shadow, stitched with tiny, glowing runes along the soles and sides, their patterns unfamiliar but intricate. He reached in, pulling them out, and noticed his sneakers¡ªworn, torn, practically falling apart. These new boots felt sturdy, their leather supple yet tough, and as he turned them, the runes pulsed, hinting at power. Identification flared: Enchanted Boots¡ªenhanced durability, improved grip. Runes of unknown origin, stable but untested. ¡°Nice upgrade,¡± he said, kicking off his sneakers and slipping the boots on. They fit perfectly, the grip firm on the stone, the durability a clear boost as he tested a step¡ªsturdy, reliable, like they¡¯d take a beating and keep going.


    Next, he spotted a pile of shimmering coins in the chest, their surfaces glinting with a strange, iridescent light¡ªcopper, silver, and one gold among them, each coin etched with arcane symbols that seemed to shift under his gaze. Curious, he picked one up, a copper coin, its surface warm to the touch. The moment his fingers brushed it, the coin dissolved, tiny motes of light streaming into his skin, vanishing into his chest. He flinched, leaving the rest, heart racing. ¡°What the hell?¡± he blurted, voice sharp, but a ping in his mind calmed him¡ªhis status updated, listing *Copper: 15, Silver: 8, Gold: 1, Platinum: 0* in a new tab, a weird, mysterious currency tied to the system. He stared, spooked but intrigued, then scooped up the rest, watching as each coin dissolved, adding to his tally. ¡°System cash,¡± he muttered, shaking his head, half-amused, half-weirded out. It wasn¡¯t money he could spend topside, but it felt¡­ significant, tied to this place somehow.


    With the chest empty, Avan stepped back, closing it with a soft click, the golden glow fading. He sat against a pillar, pulling up his status in his mind, reviewing it carefully with a focused, methodical eye. The details unfurled, clear and sharp, as he¡¯d grown used to seeing:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 3


    Class: None


    Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>Identification (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 2)</li>


    <li>Origin Healing (Lv. 3, passive healing effect)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Shield (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Projectiles (Lv. 1)</li>


    </ul>


    Stats:


    <ul>


    <li>Strength¡ªaverage</li>


    <li>Agility¡ªdecent</li>


    <li>Intelligence¡ªabove average</li>


    <li>Vitality¡ªstubborn</li>


    <li>Luck¡ªquestionable</li>


    </ul>


    Currency:


    <ul>


    <li>Copper: 15</li>


    <li>Silver: 8</li>


    <li>Gold: 1</li>


    <li>Platinum: 0</li>


    </ul>


    The passive healing from Origin Healing (Lv. 3) stood out, a quiet safety net he hadn¡¯t expected, and his energy reserves felt fuller, bolstered by the fight¡¯s aftermath. The boots, the coins¡ªit all pointed to growth, but he frowned, glancing around. ¡°Now what?¡± he said, voice low, practical. Normally, in games or those system novels he¡¯d skimmed online, a portal or exit path would pop up after a boss, or maybe a deeper level if this wasn¡¯t the end. But nothing shimmered, no glowing door, no path forward¡ªjust the silent, misty chamber and the dungeon¡¯s hum.


    His eyes drifted to the walls, the golden runes now marred by blackened patches and melted stone from his lightning strike. The cracks spiderwebbed out, some runes warped, their glow uneven. He frowned, stepping closer, tracing a finger along a melted edge. ¡°What went wrong here?¡± he muttered, voice thoughtful, a mix of curiosity and unease. The lightning had worked, but it wasn¡¯t meant for that¡ªOrigin Energy wasn¡¯t supposed to fry runes like that, was it? Were they designed for something else, something he¡¯d accidentally triggered? His mind raced, piecing it together. Maybe they amplified energy, not lightning, but his desperation had overloaded them. Was this common, or unique to him, tied to his Origin Energy? The thought sent a chill down his spine, but he shook it off, practical as ever¡ªspeculation wouldn¡¯t get him out.


    He paced, penknife in hand, scanning the room for anything¡ªanother rune, a hidden door, a clue. The dungeon¡¯s hum grew softer, almost inviting, but then he felt it¡ªa faint tug in the air, a whisper of something calling, stirring deep in the mist. It wasn¡¯t sound, not exactly, but a sensation, like a current pulling at his chest, toward the far wall where the runes glowed dimmest. His heart quickened, curiosity warring with caution.


    Avan¡¯s hand tightened on his penknife, its chipped blade catching the purple torchlight as the strange tug in the air pulled at him again¡ªa faint, electric hum deep in his chest, like a current drawing him forward. He frowned, squinting into the mist-shrouded Boss Room, the dungeon¡¯s low buzz a steady backdrop. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± he muttered, voice low, practical, his heart picking up speed, curiosity mixing with caution. It wasn¡¯t sound, not exactly, but a sensation, a whisper in the air, tugging at his Origin Energy reserves, toward the far wall where the golden runes glowed dimmest. He stepped forward, boots crunching on ash and debris, the mist curling around his new enchanted boots, their grip steady on the stone.


    He moved slowly, penknife raised, eyes scanning the cavern¡¯s edges. The room stretched wide, its shattered pillars and scattered bones casting jagged shadows in the torchlight. The golden runes on the walls pulsed faintly, some blackened and melted from his lightning strike, but others held steady, their light a quiet guide. He circled the chamber, narrowing it down¡ªleft wall, no tug; right wall, nothing; near the archway, still quiet. But as he approached the far side, opposite the entrance, the pull grew stronger, a sharp buzz in his chest, like Origin Energy resonating with something hidden. He stopped, peering closer, the mist thinning here, revealing the stone wall in sharper detail.


    At first, it looked like just more runes¡ªgolden, intricate, glowing softly¡ªbut as he squinted, a pattern emerged, subtle and faint, woven into the stone. Countless runes, tiny and precise, like single letters of some runic alphabet, formed a shape¡ªvague, but unmistakable: a door. Not a physical one, not yet, but a suggestion, a silhouette of uncountable runes interlocking, their glow barely brighter than the surrounding stone. It was unlike the other glyphs and runes he¡¯d seen¡ªwhole sentences or enchantments linking runes into larger patterns¡ªbut this was different, intricate, dizzying. ¡°A door?¡± he whispered, voice hesitant, half-hoping, half-doubting. If he was right, it meant a way out, or deeper, something to move forward. But it could also be a trap, another dungeon trick.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Avan stepped closer, penknife still in hand, its edge too worn for combat but useful for now. He reached out, fingers brushing the stone, feeling the faint warmth of the runes, their energy pulsing under his touch. The buzz in his chest intensified, Origin Energy responding, golden threads streaked with silver and violet tingling in his fingertips. The runes felt alive, humming, their patterns shifting slightly, as if reacting to him. He traced a rune, its curve sharp and unfamiliar, then another, their shapes dizzying, a headache creeping in at the edges of his mind. ¡°This is nuts,¡± he muttered, rubbing his temple, voice strained but focused. The complexity was overwhelming¡ªhundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny runes forming this door-shape, their connections too intricate to parse at a glance. Were they a lock, a key, or just decoration? His gut said they meant something, but figuring it out felt like solving a Rubik¡¯s cube blindfolded.


    He stepped back, staring at the rune-pattern, the headache growing, a dull throb behind his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s the point of this?¡± he said, voice low, practical, a mix of frustration and curiosity. The dungeon had thrown goblins, a Hobgoblin, now this¡ªrunes that could melt, doors that might not exist. Were they testing him, punishing him, or just screwing with his head? He thought of the system novels he¡¯d skimmed online¡ªrunes often hid secrets, portals, or traps, but this felt different, deeper, tied to his Origin Energy somehow. The lightning strike had fried some runes, but these held steady. Maybe they amplified energy, like he¡¯d guessed, or maybe they were a puzzle only he could solve. ¡°Probably overthinking it,¡± he grumbled, shaking his head, but the tug persisted, urging him on.


    Sitting cross-legged before the rune-door, Avan set the penknife down, its blade too dull for fighting but perfect for something else. He scooped away loose stones and dirt with his hands, clearing a patch of stone floor, then picked up the penknife, its tip scraping against the surface. He scratched a rough outline of the rune-pattern, the blade catching, leaving faint, uneven marks. ¡°Might as well scribble it out,¡± he said, voice dry, focused, his mind working faster as he drew. The headache pulsed, but the act of sketching helped¡ªvisualizing the runes, their shapes, their connections, made the chaos clearer. He added notes, arrows, guesses¡ªdoor, lock, energy?¡ªeach scratch a step toward understanding, even if it felt like chasing smoke.


    Hours passed, or maybe minutes¡ªthe dungeon¡¯s hum blurred time, its purple light steady on the stone. Avan leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow, the penknife¡¯s edge worn to nothing, its shape barely recognizable now, more a tool for marks than a weapon. The rune-pattern loomed above, unchanged, its glow taunting him. ¡°This is a headache and a half,¡± he muttered, voice tired but determined, rubbing his temples. The door-shape felt real, but unlocking it? That was the puzzle. His energy reserves tingled, Origin Energy humming, but he wasn¡¯t sure how to use it, not without frying more runes. He glanced at his status, a quick ping in his mind:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 3


    Class: None


    Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>Identification (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 2)</li>


    <li>Origin Healing (Lv. 3, passive healing effect)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Shield (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Projectiles (Lv. 1)</li>


    </ul>


    Stats:


    <ul>


    <li>Strength¡ªaverage</li>


    <li>Agility¡ªdecent</li>


    <li>Intelligence¡ªabove average</li>


    <li>Vitality¡ªstubborn</li>


    <li>Luck¡ªquestionable</li>


    </ul>


    Currency:


    <ul>


    <li>Copper: 15</li>


    <li>Silver: 8</li>


    <li>Gold: 1</li>


    <li>Platinum: 0</li>


    </ul>


    Nothing new there, but the Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 2) caught his eye¡ªmaybe it could help, but he wasn¡¯t sure how. The passive healing from Origin Healing (Lv. 3) kept his soreness at bay, but the headache lingered, a stubborn ache he couldn¡¯t shake. He stared at the rune-pattern, sketching another line, his mind grinding through possibilities. ¡°A door¡¯s no good if I can¡¯t open it,¡± he said, voice gruff, practical, but a flicker of excitement stirred¡ªsolving this felt like progress, like beating the dungeon at its own game.


    Sitting cross-legged before the rune-patterned door, Avan stared at the golden glow on the stone, the headache from its complexity still throbbing behind his eyes. ¡°How?¡± he muttered, voice tired but determined, rubbing his temples. The uncountable runes, tiny and precise, formed that vague door-shape, their patterns interlocking but never merging, touching at specific points like a puzzle he couldn¡¯t crack. HMore time ticked by. He leaned forward, squinting, trying to make sense of it, but the shapes swam, dizzying, their connections too intricate to grasp. He didn¡¯t get the runes, didn¡¯t know what they meant, but something clicked¡ªa pattern, subtle but there. The runes flowed into each other, grazing at precise junctures, never blending, each staying distinct yet seamless, like threads in a circuit board he couldn¡¯t quite trace.


    ¡°Okay, there¡¯s something here,¡± he said, voice steady and slightly happy, a spark of excitement cutting through the frustration. He studied the pattern closer, noticing how one rune curved into another, touching at a sharp angle, then branching to a third, looping back but never merging. It wasn¡¯t random¡ªit was a path, a flow, like wiring in some tech he¡¯d seen in a sci-fi flick. If he could follow that flow, maybe he could use his Origin Energy to trace it, thread it through like a current. It was a long shot, but better than staring at a wall. He reached out, fingers hovering, the electric hum of Origin Energy¡ªgolden threads streaked with silver and violet¡ªtingling in his palms.


    Avan focused, channeling the energy carefully, willing it into the first rune, its golden glow pulsing under his touch. The energy flowed, a warm, golden stream laced with silver and violet, sliding into the rune¡¯s curve¡ªbut then it fizzled, sputtering out like a dying spark, slipping from his grip. His head throbbed harder, the complexity overwhelming, his brain lacking the precision to hold it. ¡°Damn it,¡± he grumbled, voice sharp, rubbing his forehead. He tried again, pushing harder, but the energy scattered after the second rune, vanishing into the stone, leaving him panting, energy drained, the runes unchanged. ¡°This is harder than it looks,¡± he said, voice dry, half-annoyed, half-intrigued, but he wasn¡¯t giving up.


    Hours passed, or maybe less¡ªthe dungeon¡¯s hum swallowed time, its purple light a constant flicker. Avan tried again and again, each attempt draining him, his energy reserves dipping, his hands trembling. By the fifth try, he¡¯d threaded the energy through three runes, their golden glow flaring briefly with his silver-violet sparks before fading, but he stalled, losing control halfway through the pattern. ¡°Come on,¡± he muttered, voice frustrated, wiping sweat from his brow. His body ached, stiff from sitting, and the headache pounded, a relentless drumbeat. He needed a break, a reset, but he hated the idea of sitting still, doing nothing¡ªmeditating, like some yoga guru, felt ridiculous. Still, something in the dungeon¡¯s hum, the runes¡¯ quiet pulse, felt¡­ right. He sighed, crossing his legs tighter, closing his eyes. ¡°Fine, let¡¯s try this crap,¡± he grumbled, voice grudging, but he focused, breathing deep, letting the hum wash over him, calming his mind, sharpening his focus.


    After resting, meditating reluctantly for a few minutes, Avan felt clearer, the headache dulling, his energy reserves tingling, replenished by the dungeon¡¯s quiet. He tried again, channeling Origin Energy¡ªgolden streams woven with silver and violet¡ªinto the first rune, holding it steady, following the pattern¡¯s flow. It moved, smooth and precise, lighting up the second rune, then the third, their golden glow shifting to his silver-violet sparks. He pushed further, threading through the fourth, fifth, sixth, each rune flaring briefly, the energy holding, his mind locking onto the path. But it faltered at the tenth, slipping, fading, leaving him gasping, energy low but closer than before. ¡°Getting there,¡± he said, voice tired but determined, resting again, meditating briefly, the dungeon¡¯s hum a steady anchor.


    Days might¡¯ve passed, or hours¡ªthe dungeon¡¯s timeless buzz made it impossible to tell¡ªbut Avan kept at it, trial and error wearing him down, then building him up. He rested, meditated, pushed his limits, the passive healing from Origin Healing (Lv. 3) keeping his stiffness at bay, sealing minor cuts from scraping the stone. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of frustration, he channeled Origin Energy¡ªgolden threads laced with silver and violet¡ªinto the first rune, holding it steady, following the pattern with razor-sharp focus. It flowed, lighting up each rune in sequence, their golden glow transforming to his silver-violet sparks, one after another, twenty, thirty, fifty, a hundred, until the entire door-shape blazed with his energy, a radiant path across the stone.


    The cavern rumbled, stone groaning, the runes on the walls shifting, their patterns sliding like puzzle pieces. Some mechanism clanked deep within the stone, trying to activate, but the melted runes¡ªblackened and cracked from his lightning strike¡ªstopped it, sparks flying, stone grinding to a halt. Avan stumbled back, heart racing, eyes wide with fascination. The stone between the rune-door began to dissolve, melting away like wax, revealing a black void sprinkled with tiny, star-like specks, like a fabric too dense to see through. ¡°No way,¡± he whispered, voice stunned, a mix of awe and nerves, penknife trembling in his hand.


    He hesitated, staring at the portal, its starry darkness both inviting and terrifying. His mind raced¡ª*a door, a way out, or deeper, or a trap?* But the tug in his chest, the dungeon¡¯s hum, pulled him forward, a quiet promise of progress. ¡°Screw it,¡± he said, voice firm, pumping himself up internally, adrenaline spiking. He gripped the penknife tighter, boots steady on the stone, and stepped through the portal, the void swallowing him whole.


    What he saw on the other side left him speechless, his breath catching, heart pounding.

 Chapter 7

    Chapter 7


    Avan stepped through the portal, the black void swallowing him whole, its starry specks brushing against his skin like cold static. His heart raced, boots steady on nothing for a split second, then his feet hit solid ground, the dungeon¡¯s hum buzzing louder, sharper. He stumbled, catching himself on the stone, and looked up¡ªand froze. What he saw left him speechless, his breath catching, jaw dropping, a mix of awe and dread washing over him. The room stretched out before him, massive and glittering, like a cathedral carved from shadows and light. Towering walls of dark, polished stone rose high, their surfaces etched with glowing golden runes that pulsed softly, warm and steady, casting long, shimmering reflections across the floor. The runes¡ªcircles, spirals, intricate patterns¡ªcovered every inch, their light like trapped sunlight, bright but heavy, making his skin prickle with unease.


    At the room¡¯s center, a raised platform stood, square and carved with more runes, glowing brighter than the rest, like a spotlight in the dark. Above it hovered a sphere¡ªa Dungeon Core, he realized, its surface a perfect, radiant gold, ringed with faint, shimmering energy that spiraled upward in twisting streams of light, almost liquid, reaching toward the unseen ceiling. The golden glow bathed the chamber, warm but intense, like staring into a sun that didn¡¯t burn, its pulses syncing with the runes, their hum vibrating in his chest, stronger than ever. He blinked, heart pounding, a chill running through him, half-excited, half-terrified. ¡°Holy crap,¡± he whispered, voice stunned, his hand tightening on his penknife, its chipped blade catching the golden light, trembling slightly in his grip.


    Avan took a cautious step forward, boots¡ªnew and enchanted, their leather grip firm on the stone¡ªcreaking as he moved, the stiffness from his earlier sleep fading under the passive warmth of Origin Healing (Lv. 3). The room felt alive, the golden light wrapping around him, heavy and inviting, like it was watching, testing him. His gut twisted, awe swelling at the sheer scale¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just another cavern; it was a temple, a vault, maybe the dungeon¡¯s heart. But dread lingered, sharp and practical¡ªwhat if this thing fried him, drained his energy, or locked him in forever? He shook his head, forcing a shaky laugh, voice rough but steady. ¡°Get it together,¡± he said, running a hand through his hair, the golden glow reflecting in his eyes, making them shine like amber.


    He circled the platform, penknife in hand, its worn edge scraping softly against his palm, boots silent on the rune-carved floor, each step sending faint ripples of golden light across the stone. The columns stretched upward, their surfaces etched with swirling circles and spirals, glowing steadily, their patterns weaving together like a code he couldn¡¯t crack. The Dungeon Core pulsed, its light intensifying, and Avan froze, heart thudding, a mix of excitement and fear tightening his chest. What was it¡ªa power source, a control hub, or a trap waiting to snap shut? His mind raced, questions piling up, but he stayed focused, practical. ¡°One step at a time,¡± he murmured, voice firm, his energy reserves¡ªgolden threads laced with silver and violet¡ªtingling, ready but wary. The dungeon¡¯s hum grew softer, almost inviting, but the pull of the Core, its golden light, felt like a challenge, a test he couldn¡¯t ignore.


    Avan edged closer, the runes underfoot glowing brighter, their patterns shifting subtly, as if reacting to his presence. The air buzzed, electric, the Core¡¯s light warming his face, its energy resonating with the Origin Energy in his chest, a sharp, electric hum that made his fingers twitch. He felt awe, sure¡ªbeautiful didn¡¯t cut it; this was otherworldly¡ªbut unease gnawed at him, a practical fear of what might happen if he touched it, if it drained him like the runes he¡¯d fried before. ¡°This is nuts,¡± he said, voice low, half-amused, half-spooked, his boots scuffing the stone as he stopped, staring at the Core¡¯s radiant glow. It pulsed again, stronger, and he stepped back, heart racing, a mix of curiosity and caution holding him in place. The dungeon wasn¡¯t done with him, and this Core¡ªthis room¡ªit felt like the key, or the next lock. Either way, he wasn¡¯t walking away without figuring it out.


    Avan edged back from the platform, boots scuffing the rune-carved floor, the golden glow underfoot sending faint ripples of light across the stone. His heart still pounded from the shock of the room, but he forced it down, gripping his penknife tighter, its chipped blade catching the Dungeon Core¡¯s radiant light. The golden sphere pulsed in the center, its light warm and hypnotic, but he wasn¡¯t ready to dive in¡ªnot yet. Something about those runes, glowing on every surface, felt off, like a puzzle he couldn¡¯t ignore. He glanced at the towering walls, their dark stone etched with intricate patterns, and decided to hang back, scoping them out first. ¡°Better safe than fried,¡± he muttered, voice low, practical, a mix of caution and curiosity tightening his chest.


    The runes stretched across the walls, columns, and floor, a sea of golden light that bathed the chamber in an otherworldly glow. Up close, they weren¡¯t just random scratches¡ªthey were precise, sharp, like someone had carved them with a laser, their edges clean but ancient, worn by time yet still radiant. He stepped closer to a column, its surface etched with circular patterns, each rune a tiny, intricate loop or spiral, no bigger than a dime, glowing with a steady, warm gold. Some were simple, single strokes curving into half-moons, others complex, layered with intersecting lines forming star-like shapes, their edges shimmering faintly, as if charged with energy. He traced a finger near one, not touching, feeling the heat radiating off it, a faint buzz in his chest syncing with *Origin Energy*¡ªgolden threads laced with silver and violet tingling in his fingers. ¡°These aren¡¯t just decoration,¡± he said, voice hushed, half to himself, half in awe, his mind racing with questions. Were they a map, a lock, or something else entirely?


    He moved to the wall, its surface covered in rows of runes, stacked like paragraphs in a book he couldn¡¯t read. They varied in size¡ªsome small, others palm-sized, their shapes shifting subtly under the golden light, as if alive, responding to his presence. He spotted a cluster near eye level, their patterns interlocking: a jagged zigzag feeding into a circle, then branching into a series of dots, each glowing brighter as he leaned in. The dots formed a grid, like coordinates, but the zigzag felt chaotic, its edges jagged, almost angry. He squinted, head tilting, the golden glow reflecting in his eyes, a headache creeping in at the edges of his mind, dull but persistent. ¡°What¡¯s the point of all this?¡± he muttered, voice dry, practical, rubbing his temple. The complexity was insane¡ªthousands of runes, maybe millions, covering every inch, their connections weaving like circuits in some sci-fi tech he¡¯d seen in movies, but heavier, older, steeped in power.


    Avan crouched, studying the floor, its stone tiles etched with concentric circles, each ring lined with runes¡ªspirals, crosses, triangles, their golden light pulsing in rhythm with the Dungeon Core. The circles overlapped, forming a labyrinthine pattern, some runes larger, glowing brighter, others faint, almost hidden, like secrets buried in the stone. He traced the pattern with his finger, not touching, the buzz of *Origin Energy* growing stronger, a warm current in his chest, silver and violet sparks flickering beneath his skin. One rune, a starburst with five points, pulsed faster, its light intensifying, and he jerked back, heart skipping, a chill racing down his spine. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s creepy,¡± he said, voice sharp, half-spooked, half-intrigued, standing and stepping away. The rune¡¯s glow dimmed, but the pattern held, its complexity overwhelming, a puzzle he couldn¡¯t crack but couldn¡¯t ignore.


    He circled the room, keeping his distance from the platform, boots silent on the rune-carved stone, their enchanted grip steady, their soft leather brushing the glowing tiles. The walls stretched upward, their runes spiraling in columns, each panel framed by thin, golden lines, like frames in a gallery of light. Some runes were simple, single strokes, others layered, forming glyphs¡ªwhole sentences, he guessed, their shapes interlocking but distinct, never merging, touching at precise points. He spotted a glyph near a column, its pattern a series of curves and dots, glowing brighter, its edges shimmering, as if charged. *Identification* flared, faint and unclear: Ancient script, arcane purpose, energy-linked, unreadable. ¡°Great, useless,¡± he grumbled, voice frustrated but focused, shaking his head. The glyph pulsed, its light syncing with his energy, and he stepped back, hands up, heart thudding. ¡°Not touching that yet,¡± he said, voice firm, practical, but a spark of excitement lingered¡ªsolving this felt like progress, like cracking the dungeon¡¯s code.


    Avan moved to another wall, its runes denser, layered in tight grids, their golden glow casting long shadows across the floor. He noticed patterns¡ªsome runes repeated, a spiral here, a zigzag there, forming sequences, like code or music. One sequence, near the ceiling, glowed brighter, its spirals looping into circles, then dots, their light flickering, as if alive, responding to his gaze. He squinted, head tilting, the golden light reflecting off his face, warm but heavy, making his skin tingle. ¡°What are you hiding?¡± he whispered, voice low, curious, a mix of wonder and unease tightening his chest. The sequence pulsed faster, and he froze, heart pounding, a chill creeping up his neck. Were they watching him, testing him, or just reacting to his energy? He didn¡¯t know, but the complexity was mind-bending¡ªmillions of runes, maybe, each a piece of a puzzle he couldn¡¯t solve but felt tied to his *Origin Energy*¡ªgolden streams woven with silver and violet, humming in his core, stronger now, sharper.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    He dropped to one knee, studying the floor again, its tiles etched with overlapping circles, each ring lined with runes¡ªtriangles, crosses, loops, their golden light pulsing in time with the Dungeon Core. Some runes glowed steady, others flickered, their patterns shifting subtly, as if responding to his movements. He traced a circle with his finger, not touching, feeling the heat radiating off it, a faint buzz syncing with his energy, silver and violet sparks dancing beneath his skin. One rune, a jagged line feeding into a starburst, pulsed brighter, its light intensifying, and he jerked back, heart racing, a mix of awe and fear tightening his throat. ¡°Too close,¡± he said, voice sharp, practical, standing and pacing back, boots scuffing the stone. The rune¡¯s glow dimmed, but the pattern held, its depth overwhelming, a labyrinth of light he couldn¡¯t navigate but couldn¡¯t look away from.


    Avan leaned against a column, catching his breath, the golden light bathing his face, warm but heavy, like a spotlight he couldn¡¯t escape. The runes on the column spiraled upward, their patterns forming chains¡ªloops feeding into zigzags, then dots, their light steady but shifting, as if alive, reacting to his presence. He noticed a sequence near the top, its spirals looping into circles, then branching into crosses, their glow brighter, more intense, their edges shimmering, charged with power. *Identification* flickered again, faint but insistent: Arcane script, energy conduit, unstable resonance. ¡°Unstable, huh?¡± he said, voice dry, half-amused, half-wary, running a hand through his hair. The sequence pulsed, its light syncing with his energy, and he stepped back, hands up, heart thudding. ¡°Not risking that yet,¡± he muttered, voice firm, practical, but a quiet thrill lingered¡ªcracking this felt like beating the dungeon¡¯s game, one step at a time.


    Avan stopped, leaning against a wall, the golden light warming his back, its weight heavy, electric. The runes pressed against him, their complexity dizzying, a puzzle he couldn¡¯t solve but couldn¡¯t ignore. ¡°This is insane,¡± he said, voice low, tired but determined, rubbing his temples, the headache creeping back. The patterns¡ªspirals, zigzags, dots, circles¡ªformed sequences, chains, grids, their light steady but shifting, as if waiting for him to figure it out. Were they a lock, a map, or a trap? His gut said they were tied to him, to his *Origin Energy*, but the depth, the sheer number¡ªit was mind-bending, a code he¡¯d need time to crack. He glanced at the Dungeon Core, its golden light pulsing, calling, but he stayed back, focused on the runes, their glow a quiet challenge he couldn¡¯t walk away from.


    Avan edged back from the platform, boots scuffing the rune-carved floor, the golden glow underfoot sending faint ripples of light across the stone. His fingers brushed the soft leather of his enchanted boots, their grip steady, but his pulse quickened, a mix of nerves and curiosity tightening his chest. The Dungeon Core pulsed in the center, its radiant gold light almost hypnotic, but nothing else in the room offered a way out¡ªno hidden doors, no glowing portals, just the endless stone and glowing runes. He knew, deep down, something would happen if he touched it. Was he the only one ever reaching a Dungeon Core like this? In games or those system novels he¡¯d skimmed, dungeon divers were usually beamed out or handed a portal after clearing the place, not left standing in a glowing temple with no exit in sight. Was this normal, or was he breaking some unspoken rule, stumbling into something unique, maybe dangerous?


    He lingered at the platform¡¯s edge, hand hovering near his penknife¡ªits chipped tip now a useless stub, tucked into his belt for comfort more than combat. The golden runes on the columns and walls pulsed steadily, their light warm and heavy, but they offered no answers, just more questions. He glanced at the Dungeon Core again, its golden streams spiraling upward, a beacon in the vast, shadowy chamber. ¡°Guess it¡¯s this or nothing,¡± he muttered, voice low, practical, a flicker of unease in his gut. He straightened, rolling his shoulders, the passive warmth of Origin Healing (Lv. 3) easing the stiffness from his earlier sleep, but his nerves stayed on edge, a mix of excitement and dread churning inside him.


    Avan stepped closer, boots whispering on the rune-etched stone, the golden light bathing his face, its heat prickling his skin. The Core hovered above the platform, its surface smooth and flawless, ringed with shimmering energy that twisted like liquid gold, reaching toward the unseen ceiling. He paused, heart thudding, a chill racing down his spine. What if it fried him, drained his energy, or trapped him forever? But staying here, staring at a glowing ball, wasn¡¯t an option either. He exhaled, steadying himself, and reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the Core¡¯s surface.


    The moment he touched it, a sharp ping echoed in his mind¡ª*Identification* flaring, crisp and clear: Dungeon Core¡ªAncient energy nexus, primary source of dungeon stability, hidden designation: Seed of Origin. His breath caught, eyes widening, the name hitting him like a shockwave. Seed of Origin? That whisper from his status, that mysterious connection¡ªit clicked, deep and unsettling, but before he could process it, a flood of information crashed into his brain, overwhelming, unstoppable, like data downloading at warp speed.


    Knowledge poured in¡ªmonsters, goblins, Hobgoblins, their forms, tactics, weaknesses, etched into his mind with perfect clarity. The caves, their twisting tunnels, the purple mist, the rune-carved walls, every detail of this dungeon¡¯s layout and environment, cataloged in an instant. He saw the energy flows, the recycled motes of light and ash from fallen foes, the dungeon¡¯s purpose as a self-sustaining system, feeding off its challengers, recycling their energy. His head spun, vision blurring, knees buckling as the weight of it pressed against his skull, a dizzying torrent of facts and images he couldn¡¯t control. ¡°What the¡ª?¡± he gasped, voice strained, clutching the Core, its golden light intensifying, searing into his palms, warm but not painful, just¡­ endless.


    Another ping cut through the chaos¡ªhis status, sharp and urgent: New Skill Acquired: Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin. Description: A primordial language woven into the fabric of the universe, used to channel and control the energy of creation. Limited understanding detected. Further knowledge required to interpret. The knowledge unfolded in his mind, not as words but as a sprawling compendium¡ªan infinite book of runes, their shapes, meanings, and connections, tied to this dungeon¡¯s glyphs and enchantments. Runes were the alphabet, he realized, single letters of an ancient script, while glyphs were sentences, complex structures linking runes into meaning. But this was just the start¡ªonly the runes from this dungeon, a fraction of the knowledge, needing more sources to grow, to unlock the full scope of *Origin Language*.


    Avan¡¯s vision swam, his legs giving out, and he slumped to the platform, fingers slipping from the Core, its golden light dimming. The room tilted, the runes on the walls flickering, their golden glow pulsing faster, as if reacting to his collapse. His head throbbed, a relentless ache, but the knowledge settled, a quiet weight in his mind, a library he couldn¡¯t yet read but knew was there. He tried to stand, but his body betrayed him, strings cut, and he fell, crashing to the stone, unconsciousness claiming him in a heartbeat. The last thing he heard was the system¡¯s voice, calm and mechanical, echoing for the first time since that weird announcement outside the dungeon: ¡°Dungeon Core Absorbed: Knowledge of Origin Runescript (Partial) and Summoning Control (Partial) Gained.¡± Then, darkness.


    While Avan lay unconscious, his body still, the dungeon¡¯s hum softened, the golden runes glowing steadily, as if approving. A quiet ping rippled through his mind, unnoticed in his sleep¡ªhis status shifting, evolving, as the energy from the Core and his trials propelled him forward. When he awoke, he¡¯d be stronger, faster, sharper, but for now, his dreams took hold, pulling him into a vast, unimaginable expanse.


    <hr>


    In his dream, Avan stood¡ªor felt like he stood, though there was no ground, no form, only an endless void that stretched beyond comprehension. Before him, or around him, or through him, loomed a being so vast it spanned multiple galaxies, its presence a paradox of purity and chaos, ancient beyond time, the origin of all existence. No description could capture it fully¡ªno shape, no color, no boundary defined its essence, yet he sensed it, felt it, a weight that crushed and uplifted simultaneously. It shimmered like shattered stars, a kaleidoscope of light and shadow that flickered in and out of reality, never solid, always shifting. Its voice, if it had one, was a symphony of silence and thunder, a hum that vibrated through his soul, whispering truths he couldn¡¯t grasp¡ªcreation, destruction, life, void, all at once. Tendrils of energy, golden and black, violet and silver, wove through the cosmos, threading galaxies together, unraveling them, a dance of infinite power that defied logic. It was the source of all *Origin Energy*, the heartbeat of the universe, formless yet omnipresent, a god of creation without form, its chaos more profound than any order, its purity more blinding than any light. Avan¡¯s mind reeled, overwhelmed, as the being pulsed, a presence too vast to comprehend, leaving him adrift in its incomprehensible majesty.

 Chapter 8

    Chapter 8


    Avan¡¯s vision spun, the world tilting as he stumbled out of the black void, its starry specks brushing his skin like cold static. His head throbbed, a dizzying ache that made his knees buckle, boots¡ªnew, enchanted leather, sturdy and gripping¡ªscuffing against something soft, not stone. He blinked, shaking his head, the memory of the portal flashing back¡ªhe¡¯d just stepped through that rune-door, leaving the dungeon behind, its *Seed of Origin* knowledge still buzzing in his skull, a chaotic library of runes and monsters he couldn¡¯t fully grasp. ¡°What the¡ª?¡± he muttered, voice rough, hand brushing the soft leather of his belt where his chipped penknife hung, now a useless stub for scribbling, not fighting. His chest tightened, *Origin Energy*¡ªgolden threads laced with silver and violet¡ªtingling faintly, steadying him as the dizziness faded, replaced by confusion. Where was he now?


    He straightened, rubbing his eyes with his right hand, the sun¡¯s relentless rays glaring through the trees, forcing him to squint. For a split second, panic spiked¡ªdamn, I¡¯m late for work! It¡¯s noon already, shit, shit, shit¡­¡ªbut the thought dissolved as he fully opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. This wasn¡¯t his Frankfurt apartment, not his black nightstand, not the tram ride with Dave to the office. He stood in the middle of a sunlit clearing, surrounded by towering beech trees, their gnarled roots sprawling, branches swaying gently in a warm breeze. The sky above was cloudless, a brilliant blue, filled with bird chirps, rustling leaves, and the distant hum of forest life. If he weren¡¯t so shocked, he might¡¯ve found it idyllic¡ªperfect, even¡ªbut his heart raced, palms clammy, mind scrambling for logic.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± he said, voice louder, half-disbelieving, half-pissed, turning slowly to scan the area. He blinked rapidly, rubbed his eyes again, but the scene held¡ªgreen, thirty-centimeter-high grass glowing faintly turquoise under the sunlight, yellow leaves drifting lazily, roots weaving through the earth. This wasn¡¯t Frankfurt¡¯s February frost, not the gray streets he¡¯d walked yesterday after Wing Tsun training. His thoughts churned¡ªdid I sleepwalk? Black out during practice and end up here? No, that¡¯s insane. I was in a dungeon, not a forest. Did the portal glitch, or is this¡­ something else? He stayed calm, breathing deep, *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) passively easing the stiffness from his dungeon sleep, but his nerves stayed taut, a mix of experience and unease from possibly weeks underground.


    Avan knelt, running his hands through the grass, its cool, slightly damp blades brushing his fingers, the turquoise glow catching his eye, alien but mesmerizing. He wore his torn jacket and pants from the dungeon, bloodstains crusted over, his enchanted boots gripping the earth, but no shirt or socks¡ªjust the dungeon¡¯s aftermath, his body leaner, tougher from Level 8¡¯s growth. ¡°Okay, Avan, chill,¡± he whispered, voice steadying, hands clasped in his lap, staring at them. ¡°Something¡¯s happened, and you¡¯re not in Frankfurt anymore. Think¡ªwhere am I? Can I find help, call work, Dave, anyone?¡± He ticked off the questions on his fingers, right hand moving methodically, grounding himself with each point, his dungeon-honed instincts kicking in, calculated, not panicked like before.


    Calmer now, he slapped his cheeks gently, the sting waking him fully, blood rushing to his face. ¡°Not a dream,¡± he said, voice sober, the slight tug of pain not changing his reality, just as he¡¯d expected. He stood, legs steady but wary, and shielded his eyes with his left hand, the sun¡¯s heat burning his face, leaving his pale skin tingling with the threat of sunburn. ¡°February¡¯s supposed to be freezing¡ªyesterday it was snowing back home. What¡¯s going on?¡± he muttered, voice tight, scanning the forest edge for shade, shelter, anything familiar. His thoughts jumped¡ªkidnapped, dropped on another continent, a UFO abduction like some Frankfurt conspiracy nut online, or a reality show prank, though that¡¯d be illegal as hell. He chuckled, short and bitter, the sound echoing through the trees, half-disbelief, half-amusement at the absurdity, but his dungeon experience kept him sharp, cautious, not lost in panic like the old Avan might¡¯ve been.


    Then, a rustling snapped him back, sharp and close, from the dense vegetation at the clearing¡¯s edge. A low, threatening growl followed, deep and rumbling, like a big cat¡¯s snarl, and his stomach dropped. ¡°Seriously? Clich¨¦ as hell,¡± he muttered, voice dry, half-hoping it was his imagination, but he turned slowly, fingers brushing his belt, penknife forgotten, heart pounding with the precision of a dungeon survivor. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught it¡ªa black wolf, massive, nearly six feet tall, its orange slit eyes glowing with hunger, bared teeth dripping saliva, fangs glinting in the sunlight. It loomed between the shrubs, fur pitch-black, claws digging into the soil, focused on him like prey, its growl steady, menacing.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Avan breathed, stepping back, adrenaline surging, but his boot caught on a root, and he fell, sprawling on the grass. He scrambled backward, hands digging into the turf, the wolf stepping forward, crouching low, ready to pounce. Its growl deepened, eyes narrowing, and Avan¡¯s mind raced¡ªWing Tsun training kicked in, but this wasn¡¯t a sparring match, and his penknife was useless. *Identification* flared, sharp and clear: Corrupted Black Wolf¡ªLevel 15, enhanced strength, supernatural speed, vulnerable to energy strikes, resistant to physical blows. ¡°Level 15?¡± he said, voice stunned, heart hammering, but his dungeon instincts took over, calculated, not panicked. ¡°Way above me¡ªdamn it, but I¡¯ve handled worse.¡±


    The wolf leaped, a blur of black fur and orange eyes, and Avan reacted, rolling sideways, summoning *Origin Energy Shield* (Lv. 1)¡ªa shimmering barrier of gold and silver laced with violet, draining his reserves instantly. The wolf¡¯s claws raked the shield, sending sparks flying, the impact knocking him back, shield flickering but holding. He scrambled up, pain flaring in his shoulder, and sprinted toward the forest, the wolf¡¯s heavy paws thundering behind him. He zigzagged through beeches, roots snagging his boots, branches whipping his face, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek, but *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) passively dulled the sting, sealing the skin with a warm, golden glow that left him breathless but steady.


    Minutes blurred into chaos, time lost in the adrenaline rush, the wolf¡¯s growls echoing, its claws shredding trees as it closed the distance. Avan¡¯s lungs burned, legs screaming, but his Level 8 agility¡ªabove average now¡ªkept him ahead, *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) tingling in his veins, ready to strike. He spotted a cliff ahead, sheer and rocky, and skidded to a stop¡ªtoo late. His foot caught, and he tumbled over the edge, shouting, ¡°Awwww! Fuuuuck!¡± as he plunged twenty meters into a lake below, the impact jarring, water closing over him, knocking him out cold for a heartbeat, *Origin Healing* kicking in to dull the pain, his vitality¡ªresilient¡ªholding firm.


    He jolted awake, coughing, spitting water, leaning forward on the muddy shore, chest heaving. ¡°Ouch, that was steep¡­¡± he muttered, voice ragged, rubbing his face and arms, skin red and itching from the fall, Something inside him easing the ache, making it bearable. Then, out of nowhere, a chime rang in his mind, sharp and clear, but different¡ªcrisp, mechanical, not the instinctive pings of *Identification* or *Origin Energy* he¡¯d known in the dungeon:


    You have learned the Passive Skill: Pain Resistance 1.


    While smacking your head against obstacles, walls, and water surfaces, you don¡¯t care. Your head has learned to tolerate your incompetence with handling situations with more sensitivity. You feel pain more bearable with each increasing level of this Skill.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Avan said, startled, waving a hand through the air as a translucent, glowing window appeared, its text sharp and bold. He flinched, trying to swipe it away, but it vanished on its own, leaving him dazed. ¡°Some kind of overlay¡­ straight out of a damn RPG,¡± he muttered, grinning despite the ache, half-amused, half-spooked. But unease crept in¡ªwhy was this system different? Back in the dungeon, *Identification* and *Origin Energy* felt instinctive, like gut feelings, not these flashy, game-like notifications. Was this tied to the *Seed of Origin*, the *Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin* he¡¯d absorbed, or something new? ¡°Did the dungeon screw with my head, or is this place just¡­ glitching?¡± he said, voice low, thoughtful, scratching the back of his neck, his dungeon-honed instincts kicking in, calculated, wary.


    No sooner had he finished his thoughts about the strange interface and the possible loss of his sanity, than he immediately heard familiar, heavy footsteps coming down the slope on the side of the cliff he had just fallen from.


    Wet, shivering, and disoriented, Avan stumbled to his feet, sprinting along the lake¡¯s edge, away from the cliff. A hundred yards ahead, through the trees, he spotted a small camp¡ªtents, a smoldering fire, hope flaring in his chest. ¡°HELP! A wolf¡¯s after me!¡± he shouted, voice raw, sweat and water dripping down his dungeon-torn clothes. He burst into the camp, desperate, but froze. No living people¡ªjust three lifeless bodies, two men and a woman, their faces half-eaten, guts spilling, claw marks raking their flesh. Flies buzzed furiously, settling on the blood and wounds, and Avan gagged, hands flying to his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. ¡°Oh, fuck¡­ shit, this is bad,¡± he whispered, voice shaking, eyes darting to their weapons¡ªa bow, two daggers, a sword, and a spear lying near one man.


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    Without thinking, he grabbed the spear, its wooden shaft rough in his hands, tip glinting in the sunlight. The wolf lunged, a black blur, and Avan reacted, jamming the spear¡¯s butt into the dirt, *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) steadying his grip, his agility¡ªabove average¡ªkeeping him rooted. The wolf crashed into him, air whooshing from his lungs, its massive weight nearly crushing him, claws sinking into the ground above his shoulders. It snarled, teeth inches from his face, saliva dripping, but then it whimpered, going limp, the spear piercing its chest, heart skewered. Black blood poured down, soaking his shirt, warm and sticky, and Avan gasped, shoving the beast off, coughing, choking on the stench, *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) passively dulling the pain, sealing minor cuts from the impact.


    ¡°Ouch, get off me!¡± he groaned, voice strained, crawling free, blood and muck coating his torso. Another chime rang, mechanical and bold:


    Congratulations on reaching Level 9!


    You will receive 5 free stat points for leveling up.


    Please check your character interface to distribute your free stat points.


    Congratulations! You have learned the Passive Skill: Steady 1 for killing a monster far above your level at Level 8!


    What a great feat! You managed to kill a monster far above your own strength and level as a Level 8 survivor.


    ¡°What the¡ª?!¡± Avan said, voice stunned, swiping the windows away, too dazed to process fully. ¡°This is¡­ different,¡± he muttered, voice low, thoughtful, scratching his chin, his dungeon instincts kicking in, calculated, wary. ¡°Back in the dungeon, it was all gut feelings¡ª*Identification*, *Origin Energy* pings, not these flashy pop-ups. Did the *Seed of Origin* do this, or is this new system just¡­ louder?¡± He shook his head, voice dry, half-amused, half-spooked. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m glitching, or this place rewrote the rules. Great.¡± But the weight of survival hit him¡ªgoblins, the Hobgoblin, now this wolf. He sank to his knees, panting, surrounded by corpses and the wolf¡¯s massive, blood-soaked body, its black fur still, not dissolving like dungeon monsters. Laughter burst from him, manic and relieved, tears stinging his eyes, not just for this fight but for every battle¡ªthe dungeon¡¯s mechanized instincts, the *Origin Energy* guiding him like a dream, not fully him. ¡°How am I even alive?¡± he whispered, voice breaking, sobs mixing with laughter, a human release as he processed it all, the dungeon¡¯s instinctual precision fading, leaving him raw, real, shaken.


    After the storm of emotions passed, he staggered to his feet, zombie-like, and stumbled to the lake, stripping off his soaked, blood-soaked shirt and boxers, dropping them into the shallow water to wash away the stench. The cool, clear liquid soothed his skin, red bleeding into the lake as he scrubbed the dirt and blood, half-dazed, half-relieved, watching the water ripple, *Pain Resistance* 1 easing the ache, *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) sealing minor scrapes. He washed his clothes, then waded out, naked, back to the camp, pulling on the soggy fabric absently, nearly tripping several times, his mind still reeling. The smoldering campfire¡¯s ashes glowed faintly, and he glanced at the wolf¡¯s corpse, its blood pooling, spear embedded in its chest. ¡°Hit the heart, huh?¡± he said, voice quiet, practical, a grim satisfaction settling in. He¡¯d survived by instinct, luck, and *Origin Energy*, but the dreamlike state of the dungeon fights lingered¡ªmechanized, not fully him, as if he¡¯d been a puppet, not a person. ¡°What was that?¡± he muttered, voice low, thoughtful, rubbing his temple, the *Seed of Origin*¡¯s knowledge whispering in his mind, unanswered.


    The smell of blood and guts hit him again, and he gagged, stumbling to the side, vomiting into the grass, hands shaking. ¡°Damn¡­ I lucked out compared to these poor bastards,¡± he muttered, wiping his mouth, voice hoarse, glancing at the claw-marked corpses. ¡°Wolf got them too¡ªthose scratches match.¡± He rummaged through their gear, hesitant but practical, grabbing a bow, a belt for the daggers, the spear, linen pants, and a leather vest, leaving the tattered armor behind. ¡°No use for that crap,¡± he said, voice dry, stuffing the items into a larger backpack, its weight heavy but manageable on his strengthened Level 9 frame. ¡°This looks medieval¡ªLARP gear, real weapons, a death-wolf? Definitely not Frankfurt.¡±


    He looked up, squinting at the sky, the afternoon sun dipping toward two moons¡ªpale, one crimson, hanging low on the horizon, clear and bright. His breath caught, voice stunned, hands trembling as he scratched his head. ¡°Two moons¡­ not Earth. Definitely not Earth anymore,¡± he said, voice low, half-shocked, half-awed, the realization sinking in, alien and surreal. ¡°Aliens? Isekai anime style? Dead and reincarnated? This is so fucked up¡­¡± He shook his head, voice trailing off, and trudged back to the lake, dropping onto a nearby rock, letting the reality sink in¡ªanother world, magic, stats, levels, monsters, tied to the *Seed of Origin*, to *Origin Energy*. ¡°Fantasy world, huh? Like those anime I binged with Dave¡­ but real, with no guidebook.¡±


    His thoughts drifted to Dave, his Frankfurt office, his parents¡ªwould they think he¡¯d vanished, died in his bed, rotting somewhere? ¡°Can¡¯t change that now,¡± he said, voice firm, practical, pushing the worry aside. ¡°Focus on here¡ªopportunities, not losses. Maybe I can be a badass mage, a warrior, fly or something, if this world lets me.¡± Excitement sparked, despite the corpses haunting his mind, and he grinned, a shaky but real smile. ¡°Crazy, but¡­ it¡¯s a dream come true, right? Better than being a lazy desk jockey back home.¡± But the dungeon¡¯s mechanized instinct lingered, a shadow in his mind¡ªhad he been himself, or just a tool of *Origin Energy*? He shook it off, lying back on the rock, staring at the alien sky, exhaustion pulling him under, dreams of magic, battles, and black wolves swirling as he drifted into sleep, the *Seed of Origin* humming in his chest, a quiet promise of more.


    Avan¡¯s mind drifted after he woke up shortly after, but curiosity tugged him back. He focused, whispering, ¡°Character interface,¡± and a glowing window appeared, sharp and bold, half-blocking his view:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 9


    Class: None


    Element: Celestial (via *Origin Energy* and *Seed of Origin*)


    Subclass: None


    Stats:


    <ul>


    <li>Strength: 5</li>


    <li>Dexterity: 5</li>


    <li>Vitality: 5</li>


    <li>Intelligence: 5</li>


    <li>Wisdom: 5</li>


    <li>Spirit: 5</li>


    </ul>


    Free Stat Points: 40


    Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>Identification (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 3)</li>


    <li>Origin Healing (Lv. 3, passive healing effect)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Shield (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Projectiles (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin (No level, partial compendium of runes from the dungeon, requiring expansion)</li>


    <li>Pain Resistance 1</li>


    <li>Steady 1</li>


    </ul>


    Currency:


    <ul>


    <li>Copper: 15</li>


    <li>Silver: 8</li>


    <li>Gold: 1</li>


    <li>Platinum: 0</li>


    </ul>


    ¡°Huh, okay¡­ this is wild,¡± Avan said, voice stunned, staring at the window, its text sharp and game-like, blocking half his view. He focused, imagining it smaller, and it shrank, shifting to the left side of his vision, clearer now. ¡°Intuitive, at least,¡± he muttered, voice dry, half-amused, half-wary, scratching his chin. ¡°But why the RPG pop-ups now? Back in the dungeon, *Identification* and *Origin Energy* were quiet, instinctive¡ªnot this flashy crap. Did the *Seed of Origin* trigger this, or is this world¡¯s system just¡­ louder?¡± He frowned, voice thoughtful, running a hand through his hair, the golden glow of *Origin Energy* tingling in his chest, silver and violet sparks dancing beneath his skin. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s tied to my *Origin Language* or the Core¡¯s knowledge. Or this place rewrote the rules. Great.¡±


    He focused on the stats, and another window popped up, crisp and bold, explaining each:


    Strength:


    Increases physical penetrating power with melee weapons and unarmed combat.


    Increases the capacity of weight you can carry.


    Increases all activities related to physical strength.


    Dexterity:


    Increases physical speed and dexterity in combat and movement.


    Increases physical range weapon handling and accuracy.


    Increases all activities related to physical speed and finesse.


    Vitality:


    Increases your life supply by 5 per point.


    Increases your physical resistances.


    Increases your stamina pool by 5 per point.


    Intelligence:


    Increases magical impact and power.


    Increases your overall understanding of magic.


    Increases your speed of learning.


    Wisdom:


    Increases your mana pool by 5 per point.


    Increases your mana regeneration by 5 per minute per point.


    Increases your perception.


    Spirit:


    Increases your mental resistances.


    Increases your magical resistances.


    Increases your luck.


    ¡°Whew,¡± he groaned, voice tired, reading through the blurbs, head tilting. ¡°Not super detailed, but¡­ okay. More luck, seriously? What¡¯s that even mean¡ªbetter dice rolls or just dumb luck?¡± He shook his head, voice dry, half-amused. ¡°Let¡¯s stick with 15 Strength, 10 Dexterity, 15 Vitality, and 10 Intelligence for now. More damage, some speed, health, and brainpower. Hah.¡± He focused, willing the points to distribute, and the stats updated:


    Stats:


    <ul>


    <li>Strength: 15</li>


    <li>Dexterity: 10</li>


    <li>Vitality: 15</li>


    <li>Intelligence: 10</li>


    <li>Wisdom: 5</li>


    <li>Spirit: 5</li>


    </ul>


    Free Stat Points: 10


    ¡°Better,¡± he said, voice firm, practical, but he reserved the last 10 points, voice thoughtful. ¡°Might be thresholds, like in games I¡¯ve played with Dave. Or something I don¡¯t get yet.¡± He dismissed the window with a thought, the interface vanishing, leaving him staring at the alien sky, two moons glowing faintly as dusk fell. ¡°It¡¯s getting dark¡ªdon¡¯t want another wolf or worse. Tents, sure, but not here with all this blood. Smells like a buffet for beasts.¡±


    He grabbed a tent and sleeping bags from the camp, leveraging his enhanced Strength¡ª15 now¡ªto carry them easily, his dungeon-honed agility guiding him to the lake¡¯s far side, under two gray boulders shielding the site. He set up the tent quickly, throwing the bags inside, then sat, letting the day¡¯s madness sink in¡ªFrankfurt, the dungeon, the wolf, this world. ¡°Far from home, huh? Survived goblins, a Hobgoblin, now this¡­ could be my shot at something bigger,¡± he said, voice low, excited but wary, dreams of magic and battles swirling as exhaustion pulled him under, the *Seed of Origin* humming softly in his chest, a promise of more.

 Chapter 9

    Chapter 9


    Avan jolted awake, hands instinctively patting his chest, searching for the gashes he half-expected from the wolf¡¯s claws. His fingers found only damp, intact skin beneath the blood-crusted remnants of his shirt, the passive glow of Origin Healing (Lv. 3) having worked through the night, mending the bruises and cuts from his cliff dive and wolf fight. ¡°Still alive,¡± he muttered, voice rough with sleep, collapsing back onto the sleeping bag inside the tent. His enchanted boots pressed against the canvas wall, their rune-stitched leather a quiet comfort. Oof¡­ that was too damn close yesterday. He rubbed his face, the memory of the spear piercing the wolf¡¯s heart flashing vivid¡ªdumb luck, sure, but also a flicker of the dungeon-honed instincts that had kept him breathing.


    Shaking his head at his ridiculous survival streak, he crawled out of the tent, the faint hum of *Origin Energy*¡ªgolden threads laced with silver and violet¡ªbuzzing in his chest, steadying his nerves. The lake shimmered under the morning sun, its surface calm, no trace of yesterday¡¯s bloodbath. He scanned the campsite he¡¯d set up beneath the gray boulders¡ªtent intact, backpack slung over a rock, spear propped nearby, its tip still stained with the wolf¡¯s black ichor. No fresh paw prints, no rustling beasts. ¡°No midnight snacks today,¡± he said, voice dry, half-relieved, half-wary, as he began packing up, rolling the sleeping bag and dismantling the tent with quick, practiced moves, his Strength¡ª15 now¡ªmaking the load feel lighter than it should.


    First come, first served, right? he reasoned, slinging the scavenged backpack over his shoulders, its weight stuffed with the camp¡¯s loot¡ªdaggers, bow, spear, vest, pants, and those sleeping bags. The dead adventurers wouldn¡¯t miss it, and survival trumped guilt. He adjusted the straps, ticking off his needs in his head: Food, water, better gear, and some damn answers about this world¡¯s system. The spear and clothes were a start, but his stomach growled, and the lake water he¡¯d sipped last night wouldn¡¯t hold him long. The forest stretched ahead, beech trees swaying in a warm breeze, and beyond, a jagged mountain range loomed under the rising sun, promising a new day in this alien place.


    Avan closed his eyes, tilting his face toward the sun, its warmth cutting through the morning chill, a stark contrast to Frankfurt¡¯s February snow. ¡°New world, new rules,¡± he murmured, voice low, a flicker of excitement sparking beneath his practical edge. Could do without the wolf nibbles, though. He chuckled, short and bitter, the near-death adrenaline still lingering, but alive was alive, and he¡¯d take it. Opening his eyes, he rummaged through the backpack, pulling out the flask and a small pouch of dried berries and meat he¡¯d scavenged from the camp. He squatted by the lake, filling the flask with water¡ªHopefully cleaner than my blood-soaked swim¡ªand took a long gulp, the coolness grounding him. Popping a few berries into his mouth, he chewed, savoring the tart sweetness, and stood, picking a random direction¡ªnorth, toward the mountains.


    ¡°Off I go,¡± he said, voice light, grinning despite the uncertainty. ¡°Overpowered mage tossing fireballs? Anti-hero with a dark streak? Nah, just want to figure this place out and not die.¡± The forest swallowed him, trees towering overhead, their leaves a familiar green at first glance, but subtle differences emerged¡ªrabbits with tiny horns darting through the underbrush, blue birds with trailing, ribbon-like tails flitting above. He munched on the dried meat as he walked, the peaceful hum of birdsong and rustling leaves a balm after yesterday¡¯s chaos. Hours slipped by, his Dexterity¡ª10¡ªkeeping his steps sure over roots and rocks, the enchanted boots gripping the earth like they were made for it.


    The trees thinned after a couple of hours, opening into a sprawling clearing dotted with white marble ruins¡ªcrumbling walls, shattered columns, a wild garden tangled with vibrant flowers and bluish-leaved trees. Avan paused, eyes narrowing, the spear in his hand a steady weight. A faint shimmer passed through him as he stepped forward, a cold tingle racing down his spine, syncing with the *Origin Energy* in his core. ¡°Barrier?¡± he muttered, voice cautious, *Identification* (Lv. 1) flaring instinctively: Ancient ward, protective, dormant energy, no active threat. He relaxed slightly, boots crunching on gravel as he approached a low wall encircling the garden. Empty, maybe safe. Worth a shot.


    Golden fruits hung from the bluish trees, their glow catching his eye, tempting in the sunlight. ¡°Well, why not?¡± he said, voice dry, plucking one and biting into it. Sweet juice burst across his tongue, a mix of mango and apple, fresh and juicy, dripping down his chin. ¡°Love it,¡± he grinned, sitting against a tree, savoring the taste, *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) passively easing the faint ache in his legs from the walk. No poison, no tricks¡ªjust a damn good fruit. A chime rang in his mind, sharp and bold, a glowing window popping up:


    *Chime*


    You ate a Golden Meaple!


    For consuming a Golden Meaple, your body and soul are infused with celestial energy.


    *Chime*


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    Passive Skill Gained: Celestial Affinity (Lv. 1)


    Celestial Affinity (Lv. 1): Your connection to celestial energy strengthens. Celestial-related skills gain increased potency, and you resist hostile celestial energy more effectively.


    ¡°What the¡ª?¡± Avan blinked, swiping at the window, half-startled, half-delighted. ¡°Just from this?¡± He stared at the fruit, then at the others hanging nearby, a grin spreading. ¡°Matches my element¡ªcheck.¡± The dungeon¡¯s *Seed of Origin* hummed in his chest, its celestial tie-in clicking into place. Greedy for more, he ate another, the sweet juice flooding his senses, and another chime followed:


    *Chime*


    Celestial Affinity has reached Level 2!


    Celestial Affinity (Lv. 2): Your celestial energy deepens, further enhancing celestial skills and resistance.


    Laughter bubbled up, echoing through the garden, wild and relieved. ¡°Jackpot,¡± he said, voice bright, snagging the remaining fruits¡ª23 in total¡ªand stashing them in his backpack. Forgotten ruins, no owners¡ªmine now. The haul felt nourishing, a lifeline in this world, and he leaned back, popping another berry from the pouch, savoring the moment.


    ¡°If it names the fruit, maybe I can ID stuff properly,¡± he mused, voice thoughtful, holding a Golden Meaple up, focusing hard. The dungeon¡¯s *Identification* had been instinctive, gut-level, but this system was louder, flashier. He rolled the fruit between his hands, willing it to reveal itself, until a soft chime rang:


    *Chime*


    Skill Enhanced: Identification now includes detailed analysis!


    Identification: You can now analyze objects and creatures within range, revealing detailed information. Higher levels expand range and depth.


    [Golden Meaple]


    A rare fruit infused with celestial energy, once cultivated in the earliest dungeons of Eos. Grants significant celestial power when consumed. Lost to legend, its origins tie to ancient celestial forces.


    ¡°There we go,¡± Avan chuckled, voice dry, ¡°monkey brain pulls through.¡± The sarcastic system tone felt familiar, like his own snark mirrored back. Satisfied, he stood, brushing off his pants, and explored the ruins further, spear in hand, *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) tingling at his fingertips, ready for trouble.


    The garden gave way to smaller structures¡ªcrumbled houses, a stable, a warehouse¡ªall white marble, weathered but grand, their elegance hinting at a lost era. The temple itself loomed ahead, its archway collapsed, columns cracked, but its altar intact, etched with runes that glowed faintly gold. Another barrier brushed him as he entered, a cool, cleansing wave syncing with his *Origin Energy*. ¡°Protective, huh?¡± he muttered, *Identification* flaring: Sanctuary ward, celestial-aligned, dormant power. The interior was ornate, benches shattered but walls carved with sublime detail¡ªfit for royalty, now dust. The runes on the altar pulsed, simple yet overwhelming, slipping from his memory the moment he looked away, *Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin* whispering fragments he couldn¡¯t grasp.


    ¡°Beautiful once,¡± he said, voice low, imagining the temple in its prime¡ªcolumns tall, well flowing, a sphere atop it. He stepped outside, circling the dried-up well, its marble sphere pristine, untouched by time, hovering faintly above the base. Curiosity tugged, and he reached out, brushing its smooth surface. It bobbed, then crumbled to nothing, not even dust, and a sharp headache stabbed his skull.


    ¡°What¡ª?!¡± he yelped, stumbling back, clutching his head as chimes rang, bold and mechanical:


    *Chime*


    Congratulations! You have awakened your Class: Celestial Dungeonheart


    *Chime*


    Primary Resources Unlocked: Health, Stamina, Ambient Mana


    Avan froze, pain fading as fast as it came, the glowing windows hovering before him. ¡°Character interface,¡± he rasped, voice stunned, and it appeared:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 9


    Class: Celestial Dungeonheart


    Element: Celestial (via *Origin Energy* and *Seed of Origin*)


    Subclass: None


    Stats:


    <ul>


    <li>Strength: 15</li>


    <li>Dexterity: 10</li>


    <li>Vitality: 15</li>


    <li>Intelligence: 10</li>


    <li>Wisdom: 5</li>


    <li>Spirit: 5</li>


    </ul>


    Free Stat Points: 10


    Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>Identification (Lv. 1, enhanced analysis)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 3)</li>


    <li>Origin Healing (Lv. 3, passive healing effect)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Shield (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Projectiles (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin (Partial, dungeon-specific)</li>


    <li>Pain Resistance 1</li>


    <li>Steady 1</li>


    <li>Celestial Affinity (Lv. 2)</li>


    </ul>


    Primary Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>Health: 125 (50 base + 75 from Vitality)</li>


    <li>Stamina: 125 (50 base + 75 from Vitality)</li>


    <li>Ambient Mana: 75 (50 base + 25 from Wisdom)</li>


    </ul>


    Currency:


    <ul>


    <li>Copper: 15</li>


    <li>Silver: 8</li>


    <li>Gold: 1</li>


    <li>Platinum: 0</li>


    </ul>


    ¡°Dungeonheart?¡± he muttered, voice shaky, sinking to his knees, hands gripping his head. ¡°Still human, at least¡­ and numbers now¡ªmakes sense, 5 per stat point plus a base.¡± He scanned further, landing on his class description:


    Celestial Dungeonheart:


    You are a living conduit of celestial energy, tied to the *Seed of Origin*. As a Dungeonheart, you wield ambient mana within your sphere of influence, a domain centered on you. Conquer dungeons and creatures to expand your power, harnessing their essence to strengthen your core.


    ¡°A dungeon¡­ me?¡± Avan whispered, voice stunned, half-laughing, half-spooked. The *Seed of Origin* pulsed in his chest, its celestial roots tying it all together¡ªFrankfurt¡¯s collapse, the dungeon, this world. ¡°No fireballs yet, but¡­ this could work.¡± He stood, spear in hand, the ruins silent around him, a new path unfolding in this strange, glowing world.

 Chapter 10

    Chapter 10


    Avan crouched before the temple¡¯s dried-up well, head throbbing like someone had taken a hammer to his skull, the aftershock of his *Celestial Dungeonheart* awakening still pulsing through him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto the white marble as he rocked back and forth, fighting the mental strain. ¡°Arghhh¡­¡± he groaned, voice raw, clutching his temples, the *Seed of Origin* in his chest humming wildly¡ªgolden threads laced with silver and violet sparking beneath his skin. The headache wasn¡¯t just pain; it felt like his soul was being rewired, the dungeon¡¯s energy merging with this new world¡¯s rules.


    Twenty minutes dragged by, the agony relentless, until it finally ebbed, leaving him sprawled on the stone, arms flung out, chest heaving. ¡°Ouch¡­¡± he muttered, voice hoarse, staring at the alien sky¡ªtwo moons faint against the morning blue. That was unnecessary as hell. Never felt anything rip me apart like that. Soul included. He breathed slow and deep, *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) passively soothing his cramped muscles, the golden warmth dulling the soreness as he lay there, too drained to rant aloud.


    After a few minutes, he sat up, running a shaky hand through his hair¡ªand froze. What had been black was now translucent white, flecked with gold, shimmering like starlight against a clear dawn. ¡°Of course,¡± he sighed, voice dry, not even surprised anymore. Magic world, magic bullshit. He twisted a strand between his fingers, admiring its purity, the way it caught the sun. ¡°Not bad, though,¡± he mused, struggling to his feet, boots¡ªenchanted, rune-stitched¡ªgripping the marble steady. ¡°Doesn¡¯t shock me after goblins, wolves, and that damn Core. If I squint, it¡¯s almost see-through¡ªpretty cool.¡± Could sell it for a fortune if it weren¡¯t attached. He chuckled, the sound rough but genuine.


    Then it hit him¡ªa shift, subtle but overwhelming. His perception expanded, a flood of sensations washing over him, sharper than sight or sound. He didn¡¯t just see the garden; he knew it¡ªevery blade of turquoise grass, every buzzing insect, the moisture in the air, the marble beneath his feet, all within a perfect ten-meter sphere around him. His *Celestial Dungeonheart* pulsed, ambient mana tingling in his core, feeding him awareness of every living thing in his domain. ¡°Whoa¡­¡± he whispered, voice stunned, rooted to the spot as his mind scrambled to process it, the wholeness dizzying, like he¡¯d plugged into the world itself.


    Minutes passed before he wrestled it down, focusing until the flood dulled to a quiet hum in the back of his head, manageable but ever-present. *Identification* (Lv. 1) flared instinctively, no effort needed¡ªjust a thought, and details streamed in:


    [White-horned Rabbit]


    A small, peaceful creature with snow-white fur and a single horn. Native to Eos, these rabbits are mundane prey, their bright coats making them easy targets for predators.


    [White Marble]


    Mined from the Dragon Peak Mountains in northeastern Eos, prized for its pristine whiteness and durability.


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s¡­ new,¡± he muttered, voice awed, stepping toward a rabbit grazing nearby, its location clear in his mind without looking. He knelt, spear propped beside him, and stretched out a hand. The rabbit sniffed, wary but calm, then resumed eating. Avan scratched behind its ears, grinning at the velvet-soft fur. Cute little bugger. Almost a crime not to keep it. A chime interrupted his thoughts, bold and mechanical:


    [Do you wish to domesticate the White-horned Rabbit as a Dungeon creature? Yes/No]


    ¡°Ohhh¡­¡± he mumbled, voice low, eyes widening. Dungeonheart, right¡ªI¡¯m the anchor. Makes sense. He willed a ¡°Yes,¡± and the system responded:


    [White-horned Rabbit has joined you as a Dungeon creature!]


    Dungeon creatures draw sustenance from your ambient mana within your sphere of influence. They evolve with your progress as a Dungeonheart and remain loyal. Should they perish, their essence lingers for potential resurrection at your discretion.


    A new connection clicked into place¡ªnot painful, just strange, like a thread tying him to the rabbit. He sensed its calm, its health, a silent bond he could command. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m Avan,¡± he said, voice quizzical, half-expecting a reply. Silence. Yeah, dumbass, it¡¯s not talking back. ¡°Fine, you¡¯re Horny,¡± he snickered, lifting it gently, noting its obvious maleness. Puns for days¡ªsorry, buddy, you didn¡¯t protest. He set it down, testing the bond. ¡°Horny, hop to the fountain,¡± he said aloud. The rabbit wriggled free, darting to the well in a flash, then turned, staring back with expectant eyes.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Success,¡± Avan grinned, voice light. Nonverbal next¡ªquiet¡¯s better in a pinch. He focused, willing: Come back, Horny. The rabbit strolled over, nibbling grass at his feet. ¡°Perfect,¡± he muttered, satisfied, the bond intuitive, seamless. He glanced around the ruins, his sphere revealing nothing new¡ªrotted wood, cracked stone, the garden¡¯s fruits already claimed. Shouldering his backpack, he stepped out, Horny trailing behind, instinctively staying within his ten-meter domain. ¡°West, I think,¡± he said, voice uncertain, heading back into the forest.


    The pair moved steadily, Horny pausing to munch on a *Cinth Mushroom*¡ªEdible, mildly energizing, his sphere confirmed¡ªwhile Avan savored the forest¡¯s calm, a breeze rustling the beech trees. No wolves today, just horned rabbits and ribbon-tailed birds, the sky mostly clear save for fleeting clouds. Don¡¯t jinx it, idiot, he chided himself, spear in hand, daggers sheathed at his belt. A deer-like shape flickered in the distance¡ªMaybe¡ªbut he let it go, focused on the path.


    A screeching grind shattered the peace¡ªmetal on metal, sharp and close. Horny¡¯s fur bristled, a quiet growl rumbling from its throat, eyes locked ahead. Avan crouched, unsheathing his daggers, their blades glinting in the sunlight, *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) tingling at his fingertips. ¡°Here we go,¡± he muttered, voice low, creeping through the underbrush with Horny at his heels. Seconds later, he saw it¡ªa green, pox-ridden *Fodder Goblin*, one meter tall, hacking at adventurer corpses, its rusty cutlass scraping leather armor, blood dripping as it devoured chunks of flesh.


    Avan gagged, hand clamping his mouth, horror twisting his gut. Jinxed it, of course¡ªnice one, dipshit. *Identification* flared: Fodder Goblin¡ªLevel 5, weak but vicious, vulnerable to precise strikes. It smacked its lips, claws licking blood, oblivious to him. Anger surged, drowning the nausea, his grip whitening on the daggers. Disgusting bastard. He circled through the brush, Dexterity¡ª10¡ªkeeping him silent, aiming for its back¡ªuntil a twig snapped underfoot, loud as a gunshot.


    The goblin spun, shrieking gibberish, cutlass raised. ¡°Shit!¡± Avan cursed, lunging, daggers slashing for its throat. It dodged, quicker than expected, claws raking his right arm, a deep gash stopping at bone, the cutlass slashing at his gut. *Steady* (Lv. 1) kicked in, keeping him upright as he twisted, dodging the belly strike, pain flaring hot and sharp. *Pain Resistance* (Lv. 1) dulled it enough to move, adrenaline pumping. He ducked under its arm, slashing¡ªone dagger grazing its throat, the other ripping a wide gash across its poxed stomach.


    The goblin screeched, stumbling back, furious¡ªbut before it could leap, a white blur struck. Horny launched, horn piercing its left eye, a wet crunch ending its cry as it collapsed, brain pulped. Avan panted, glancing at his companion cleaning itself nonchalantly. ¡°Thanks, buddy,¡± he rasped, voice strained, clutching his bleeding arm. He dropped his pack, splashing water from his flask over the wound, wincing as *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) began sealing it, slow but steady. Cutting a strip from his sleeve with a dagger, he tied it tight, grimacing.


    Chimes rang, bold and insistent:


    *Chime*


    Pain Resistance has reached Level 2!


    Pain Resistance (Lv. 2): Pain tolerance increases, dulling discomfort further.


    *Chime*


    Identification has reached Level 2!


    Identification (Lv. 2): Range and detail of analysis expand slightly.


    *Chime*


    You have defeated 1 Fodder Goblin!


    *Chime*


    Congratulations! You have reached Level 10!


    For leveling up, you gain 5 free stat points.


    Please check your character interface to distribute your free stat points.


    *Chime*


    Passive Skill Gained: First Aid (Lv. 1)


    First Aid (Lv. 1): You can crudely bandage wounds on yourself or allies using clean cloth. Does not heal negative status effects. Keep it clean¡ªmasochism¡¯s fine, but infection¡¯s a killer.


    ¡°Close call,¡± Avan muttered, voice shaky, swiping the windows away, Horny glancing up smugly. Smug little hero¡ªsaved my ass. He pulled up his interface:


    Name: Avan


    Level: 10


    Class: Celestial Dungeonheart


    Element: Celestial


    Subclass: None


    Stats:


    <ul>


    <li>Strength: 15</li>


    <li>Dexterity: 10</li>


    <li>Vitality: 15</li>


    <li>Intelligence: 10</li>


    <li>Wisdom: 5</li>


    <li>Spirit: 5</li>


    </ul>


    Free Stat Points: 15


    Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>Identification (Lv. 2)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Manipulation (Lv. 3)</li>


    <li>Origin Healing (Lv. 3, passive healing effect)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Shield (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Energy Projectiles (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin (Partial)</li>


    <li>Pain Resistance (Lv. 2)</li>


    <li>Steady (Lv. 1)</li>


    <li>Celestial Affinity (Lv. 2)</li>


    <li>First Aid (Lv. 1)</li>


    </ul>


    Primary Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>Health: 125</li>


    <li>Stamina: 125</li>


    <li>Ambient Mana: 75</li>


    </ul>


    Currency:


    <ul>


    <li>Copper: 15</li>


    <li>Silver: 8</li>


    <li>Gold: 1</li>


    <li>Platinum: 0</li>


    </ul>


    ¡°Too slow,¡± he grumbled, voice firm. That thing nearly gutted me¡ªneed speed. He dumped all 15 points into Dexterity, feeling his muscles refine, movements sharper. Stats updated: Dexterity 25. He stretched, testing it¡ªquicker, smoother. ¡°Better,¡± he said, voice satisfied, though brooding lingered. Can¡¯t be that sloppy again.


    He scanned the clearing¡ªthree mangled corpses, chunks missing, blood pooling. Kneeling, he searched, finding a necklace with a woman¡¯s picture and coins: 14 silver, 56 copper. ¡°Standard currency, huh?¡± he mused, pocketing them, updating his tally: Copper 71, Silver 22, Gold 1. Missed coins last time¡ªdumbass. The goblin¡¯s cutlass lay nearby¡ªRusty Old Cutlass, dull, useless¡ªand he kicked it aside, sticking to his sharper daggers.


    A cavern loomed across the clearing, its entrance sloping down, two meters wide, reeking of blood and filth. Its den? He sniffed, frowning, then paused. ¡°Light first,¡± he muttered, voice practical, rummaging his pack for flint and knife. Collecting sticks and resin from nearby trees, he crafted a torch, wrapping it with a scrap of cloth from a corpse. Striking the flint, he lit it, the flame steady in his hand, *Origin Energy Shield* (Lv. 1) tingling as a backup. With Horny at his side, he descended into the dark, spear ready, the dungeon¡¯s lessons sharp in his mind.

 Chapter 11

    Chapter 11


    Avan descended into the cavern¡¯s depths, the torch in his right hand casting a wavering glow across the slick, uneven stone walls. Each step echoed faintly, swallowed by the oppressive stillness, his enchanted boots¡ªrune-stitched, black leather gripping the ground¡ªkeeping his footing sure despite the dampness seeping through the soles. The air hit him like a physical force, thick and feculent, a nauseating blend of decay, blood, sweat, and an acrid tang he couldn¡¯t name, clawing at his lungs with every breath. His left hand clutched the spear, its wooden shaft a steady anchor, while *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) hummed beneath his skin, golden threads laced with silver and violet ready to flare at a moment¡¯s notice. Horny hopped beside him, the white-horned rabbit¡¯s ears twitching nervously, its small form a quiet comfort in the gloom.


    So far, no ambush¡ªno guttural snarls or skittering claws broke the silence. Avan¡¯s *Celestial Dungeonheart* sphere pulsed outward, a ten-meter radius of ambient mana feeding him a constant stream of awareness, sharper than sight or sound alone. He focused, willing *Identification* (Lv. 2) to catalog everything it could, the skill pinging relentlessly as it parsed the cave¡¯s grim details. Gotta level this up¡ªthere¡¯s a cap or evolution point somewhere, right? Skills don¡¯t just stall. His mind churned, pragmatic even in the dark, the dungeon¡¯s lessons etched deep: knowledge was survival, and he needed every edge this world could give.


    The walls told a story in stains and scraps¡ªblood, days old, smeared in streaks of crimson and brown, human and animal mingled with goblin ichor. Bones jutted from the dirt, cracked and gnawed, some still clinging to bits of rotting flesh. Unfamiliar traces teased his sphere, creatures his skill couldn¡¯t name yet, their essence alien, locked beyond his current understanding. Need to see them first¡ªtag them like a damn database, he thought, the idea oddly comforting, a tether to the logic of his old life in Frankfurt¡¯s orderly chaos. The sphere sharpened further, revealing footprints¡ªsome faint, others deep¡ªand a new skill crystallized from the flood of perception:


    *Chime*


    Passive Skill Gained: Tracking (Lv. 1)


    Tracking (Lv. 1): You can discern tracks and their age within your sphere of influence, identifying patterns and movement.


    ¡°Handy,¡± he muttered, voice barely a whisper, the torch¡¯s flame flickering as he shifted it to his left hand, freeing his right to dig into his backpack. He pulled out a *Golden Meaple*, its golden skin glinting faintly, and bit into it, the sweet, mango-apple juice bursting across his tongue, a fleeting reprieve from the stench. *Celestial Affinity* (Lv. 2) pulsed in his chest, syncing with the fruit¡¯s energy, a warm tingle spreading through him as he chewed, savoring the taste amidst the rot. Keeps me going¡ªwonder if it boosts anything else. He tucked the thought away, practical as ever, eyes scanning the tunnel ahead.


    The path sloped downward, the air growing heavier, the walls closing in until they brushed his shoulders. His sphere mapped it all¡ªcracks in the stone, patches of mold, a rat scurrying beyond his torchlight, its tiny heartbeat a blip in his awareness. Like sonar, but creepier, he mused, the dungeon¡¯s hum in his core a steady rhythm, grounding him. The torch sputtered, casting long shadows that danced like specters, and he tightened his grip, *Steady* (Lv. 1) keeping his hand firm despite the unease creeping up his spine. Horny¡¯s fur brushed his ankle, a soft reminder he wasn¡¯t alone, and he glanced down, offering a faint grin. ¡°Stay sharp, buddy.¡±


    A two-way fork loomed ahead, the tunnel splitting into darkness. Avan paused, torch raised, his sphere tracing the tracks etched in the dirt. The right tunnel bore the fresh, heavy prints of the *Fodder Goblin* he¡¯d killed¡ªdeep on entry, lighter on its return, as if it¡¯d carried something up. The left showed a mess of older trails, some days old, none looping back. Right¡¯s the lone runt¡¯s path¡ªsafer, maybe loot. Left¡¯s a death trap, bodies waiting. He crouched, running a finger near a print, *Tracking* (Lv. 1) confirming the timeline: the goblin¡¯s steps were hours old, the rest at least a day, matching the corpses¡¯ decay topside. One went up, didn¡¯t come back¡ªothers down there, rotting.


    He leaned against the wall, the cold stone biting through his torn jacket, and fought a wave of nausea. Images flashed¡ªyesterday¡¯s wolf tearing into campers, today¡¯s goblin gnawing human flesh, blood dripping, entrails spilling. Can¡¯t shake this¡ªtoo many dead faces for one lifetime. His stomach churned, bile rising, and he dropped the torch, hands slamming against the wall as he retched, the sour taste mixing with the cave¡¯s stench. Horny hopped back, ears flat, while Avan shook his head, dizzy, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. ¡°Ab-so-lutely awesome,¡± he grimaced, voice rough, stepping away from the mess.


    Rummaging through his pack, he found a scrap of cloth¡ªa torn shirt from the camp¡ªand splashed water from his flask, cleaning his hands and face. The flask was nearly empty, the damp cloth now reeking, and he tossed it aside with a scowl. No more puking¡ªcan¡¯t make this a habit. If it weren¡¯t for the damn corpses everywhere¡­ He straightened, breathing deep through his mouth, the dizziness fading as *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) dulled the ache in his gut. ¡°Right tunnel first,¡± he muttered, nodding to Horny, retrieving the torch and relighting it with flint and knife, the flame steady again in his grip.


    They moved cautiously, the tunnel narrowing, the walls glistening with moisture that reflected the torchlight in eerie glints. Minutes passed, the silence broken only by their steps and Horny¡¯s soft hops, until a faint shimmer flickered ahead, just beyond a sharp bend. Avan slowed, pressing against the wall, dousing the torch in the dirt with a hiss. His sphere swept the area¡ªno breathing, no movement, just the hum of ambient mana. He strained his ears¡ªnothing but dripping water somewhere deep¡ªand edged forward, peering around the corner, spear tip leading.


    A small cave opened up, five meters across, its natural stone walls studded with crude cages¡ªrusty iron and pitted bronze, bolted haphazardly into the rock. Most hung empty, their doors ajar, but one held a figure. A young beast-kin huddled inside, knees drawn tight, sobbing into her arms. Fox-like ears drooped atop fiery orange hair, a smudged tail curled around her, its tip twitching faintly. *Identification* flared: Fox-kin female, adolescent, malnourished, no visible injuries. Avan¡¯s stomach twisted, a cold shudder racing down his spine. This is a nightmare¡ªlocked up like an animal.


    He stepped closer, boots silent, until he stood before the cage, its bars warped and rusted, the stench of unwashed fur and despair wafting out. ¡°Hey¡­¡± he whispered, voice soft, kneeling to her level, spear propped against his shoulder. Her head jerked up, one orange eye peering through tangled hair, then she scrambled back, slamming against the cage¡¯s rear with a muffled yelp, fear radiating from her trembling frame. Her ears twitched, tail curling tighter, and Avan froze, raising a hand, palm out. Easy, don¡¯t spook her more. ¡°I¡¯m Avan,¡± he said, keeping his tone gentle, steady. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to scare you. I¡¯m here to help¡ªget you out, okay?¡±


    Her shoulders eased, just a fraction, tension bleeding out as his words sank in. She opened her mouth, lips trembling, then shut it, mumbling, ¡°H-hello¡­¡± Her gaze dropped to the cage floor, shame flickering in her eyes. ¡°A-are you¡­ here to¡­ take me away too?¡± The question hit like a punch, and Avan¡¯s mind raced¡ªgoblins, cages, captives. ¡°No, no, no!¡± he said, voice firm but kind, shaking his head. ¡°I ran into a goblin up top¡ªnasty bastard¡¯s dead now. You¡¯re safe with me, I swear. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He dropped his backpack, the thud echoing faintly, and rummaged through it, pulling out the last handful of dried berries, a strip of meat, and his flask¡ªhalf-empty but clean. ¡°Hungry?¡± he asked, holding them out, hands steady despite the ache in his arm from the goblin¡¯s claw. ¡°Take these while I work on this cage.¡± She stared, hesitant, then crawled forward, her movements slow, wary, like a cornered animal testing trust. Her fingers brushed his as she took the berries and flask, tilting her head slightly, a silent question. Avan nodded, offering a small smile, and she shoveled the berries into her mouth, coughing as they hit her dry throat, then fumbled the flask open, gulping the water in one desperate pull.


    While she ate, Avan wedged a dagger into the cage¡¯s padlock, *Strength* (15) straining the rusty metal. It resisted, creaking, and he gritted his teeth, twisting harder, the blade scraping until the lock snapped with a dull crack. He stepped back, letting her finish, watching the spark return to her eyes, her skin less pallid already. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± she whispered, hands fidgeting, squeezing together nervously. ¡°Not worth mentioning,¡± he replied gently with a wink.


    She giggled, a soft, harmonic sound cutting through the cave¡¯s gloom, and Avan grinned. Got her to smile¡ªsmall win. She crawled out, stretching like a cat, limbs trembling from confinement, a faint purr rumbling as she shook off the stiffness. He chuckled, earning a smirk, then turned away, giving her space. ¡°Here,¡± he said, pulling spare pants and a shirt from his pack, holding them over his shoulder without looking. She snatched them, the rustle of fabric filling the silence as she changed, shedding the tattered rags that barely clung to her frame.


    ¡°Thank you¡­ I owe you my life,¡± she whispered, voice stuttering. ¡°Can¡¯t repay that¡­¡± Avan¡¯s jaw tightened, anger flaring at the goblins who¡¯d done this. ¡°You owe me nothing,¡± he said, voice hard, turning to face her. ¡°They owe you. Pain¡ªlong, slow, and ugly. Not me.¡± He grabbed the torch, relighting it with flint, the flame steadying his nerves as he stepped back into the tunnel, fists clenched white. Horny waited around the bend, ears perked, and Avan crouched, scratching the rabbit¡¯s fur, the softness calming his rage. Smart little guy¡ªstayed back. Too crowded otherwise.


    His sphere pinged¡ªYue followed, her steps tentative but growing steadier. No one deserves this. ¡®Take me away too¡¯? More than cages¡ªsomething¡¯s rotten here. She rounded the corner, squealing at Horny, dropping to her knees to pet him, delight chasing the fear from her face. Avan laughed, nodding permission. ¡°What¡¯s your name, queen of rabbits?¡± he teased, kneeling beside her as she lavished attention on Horny. She smiled, hesitant. ¡°Yue¡­ and you¡¯re Avan, right?¡± He nodded, settling in. ¡°What happened? Were you alone? What¡¯re the goblins doing?¡±


    Her hands froze on Horny¡¯s fur, body curling inward, shivering as if the questions dragged her back into the cage. Avan squeezed her shoulder gently, voice soft. ¡°You don¡¯t have to say a word. I won¡¯t push if it¡¯s too much. Just¡­ how¡¯d one goblin kill three men? Why lock you up?¡± She sighed, meeting his eyes, the spark dimming but holding. ¡°Not one goblin¡­ They ambushed us¡ªtwo groups, six total. Yannis, Ivan, Nota went down fast, overwhelmed. Jane, Nia, and I got clubbed unconscious. I woke in that cage¡ªone ran out as I came to. Don¡¯t know where they took Jane and Nia¡­¡± Her voice trembled, fingers resuming their stroke through Horny¡¯s fur, seeking comfort.


    ¡°We were from Cyntha¡¯s guild,¡± she continued, voice steadier. ¡°People vanishing¡ªtravelers, traders, adventurers¡ªover the last week. Always men found dead, women gone. Goblins were suspected, so we took two groups¡ªthree each. One wouldn¡¯t cut it for a plague like this. No one knows why they¡¯re taking people¡­ or if something¡¯s pulling strings.¡± Avan¡¯s brow furrowed, mind racing. Men killed, women snatched¡ªbut Yue left behind? Goblins aren¡¯t known as masterminds in the stories I have read. Someone else maybe? ¡°Will you help find Jane and Nia?¡± she asked, voice breaking, eyes pleading. ¡°They¡¯re my childhood friends¡­ we grew up together in Cyntha. Their families took me in after my parents died. We just started adventuring a week ago. Please¡­¡±


    He squeezed her shoulder again, steel in his gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll help. No goblin expertise where I¡¯m from, but I¡¯m in. And you owe me nothing, Yue¡ªI¡¯m just glad I got you out.¡± He leaned against the tunnel wall, tilting his head back, torchlight flickering across his face as he mapped their next move. She needs a weapon¡ªcan¡¯t trail me defenseless. ¡°Yue, can you fight with daggers? I¡¯ve got two, but I¡¯m trash with them¡ªbetter unarmed, Wing Tsun style from back home. Not even the spear feels good in my hands.¡± She nodded, resolve hardening. ¡°Trained dual-wielding daggers¡ªsword too, but daggers are my strength. I¡¯d love them¡­ get some payback while we search.¡±


    Avan unbuckled his belt, the twin daggers sheathed and gleaming faintly, and handed them over. She fastened them around her waist, fingers brushing the hilts with familiarity, her stance shifting¡ªready, tense, but steady. He gestured to her and Horny, leading them back to the fork, torch raised. Left tunnel¡ªolder tracks, answers maybe. Flask¡¯s dry, berries low¡ªmeat¡¯s untouched. He grinned, the dried meat still a mystery in his pack. Vegetarian back on Earth, but I eat to survive. ¡°We¡¯re short on food and water,¡± he whispered to Yue. ¡°Left tunnel, then back up for supplies if it¡¯s deep.¡± She flashed a thumbs-up, gripping her daggers, eyes sharp despite the weariness.


    At the fork, they veered left, the torch¡¯s glow stretching thin, *Tracking* (Lv. 1) mapping the faded prints¡ªdays old, leading deeper, none returning. The tunnel twisted, walls tightening, the air growing fouler, a mix of rot and damp stone pressing in. Avan¡¯s sphere hummed, picking up faint echoes¡ªwater dripping, a distant scuttle¡ªbut no threats yet. Another fork split the path, a soft blue shimmer pulsing from the right, its source hidden around a bend. He paused, sphere clear, ears straining¡ªno growls, no steps. ¡°Light first,¡± he whispered to Yue, nodding right, and they crept forward, torch dimmed to avoid detection.


    At the bend, they peered around¡ªa massive double door loomed, five meters tall, its surface glowing with blue light, an ornate archway pulsing with runes. Murals carved into the stone depicted warriors battling monsters, blue energy raining down to heal them, a lone figure channeling power into the doors, opening a path within. Avan¡¯s *Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin* tingled, fragments of meaning teasing his mind, too partial to decipher fully. ¡°Know this?¡± he asked, voice low, watching Yue trace the runes, her fingers trembling with awe.


    ¡°It¡¯s a dungeon entrance,¡± she breathed, eyes wide. ¡°Never seen one near Cyntha¡ªguild would¡¯ve claimed it, advertised it. The murals show mana opening it.¡± Avan nodded, the figure¡¯s energy mirroring his *Origin Energy*. ¡°Could try it with mine, but¡­ survivors first. We need intel¡ªtwo of us can¡¯t take a nest alone. Back for help after we know more.¡± She agreed, reluctantly pulling away, and they retraced to the junction, Horny¡¯s soft hops a quiet rhythm behind them.


    The left tunnel awaited, its stench intensifying¡ªfeces, urine, rot¡ªa wall of filth that hit like a slap. Avan pinched his nose, Yue gagging beside him, her free hand clutching a dagger. Excrement smeared the walls, piled along the edges, and the tunnel widened into a medium-sized cave. His sphere pinged¡ªtwo adult goblins, one larger, three smaller, snoring in a heap; at the far end, a tableau of horror: male and female corpses, some bellies burst open, blood and viscera pooling, flies buzzing in the torchlight. Avan¡¯s stomach heaved, the sight slamming into him, and he bolted back a dozen meters, vomiting hard, the torch clattering as *Pain Resistance* (Lv. 2) failed against the visceral shock. Fuck¡­ Yue retched opposite, trembling violently, her daggers shaking in her grip.


    He wiped his mouth with his bandaged sleeve, the wound beneath throbbing faintly, and locked eyes with her, terror mirrored in her wide gaze. ¡°What the hell happened in there?¡± he whispered, voice raw, images searing his mind¡ªburst flesh, goblin snores, a slaughterhouse of nightmares. Chimes rang, cutting through the haze:


    *Chime*


    Tracking has reached Level 2!


    Tracking (Lv. 2): Enhanced precision in identifying tracks and their age.


    *Chime*


    Steady has reached Level 2!


    Steady (Lv. 2): Greater stability under pressure, reducing interruptions.


    Avan slumped against the wall, torchlight flickering, the cave¡¯s horrors lingering like a stain he couldn¡¯t scrub away.

 Chapter 12

    Chapter 12


    Avan slumped against the tunnel wall, torchlight flickering across his pale face, the acrid taste of bile still sharp on his tongue. His chest heaved, each breath a struggle against the cave¡¯s festering stench¡ªfeces, blood, and the sickly sweet rot of death. Yue trembled opposite him, her orange eyes wide with terror, tears glinting in the dim glow as she clutched her daggers, knuckles white. The carnage they¡¯d glimpsed¡ªgoblins snoring amidst burst corpses, entrails glistening in pools of crimson¡ªburned into his mind, a grotesque tableau he couldn¡¯t unsee. His *Celestial Dungeonheart* sphere pulsed, confirming the five goblins still slept, oblivious, but the horror drowned out its clarity. Horny huddled between them, fur bristling, a quiet growl rumbling from his throat.


    Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Avan¡¯s jaw clenched, anger surging past the nausea. ¡°These bastards¡­¡± he whispered, voice raw, furious, his translucent white hair¡ªflecked with gold¡ªfalling into his eyes as he glared at Yue. ¡°Let¡¯s finish these things now. We¡¯ll deal with¡­ that later.¡± She nodded, tears spilling, but her gaze hardened, a spark of resolve cutting through her despair. He yanked his spear from his backpack, the wooden shaft rough against his bandaged right arm, its tip glinting faintly as he gripped it with clenched fists, *Origin Energy* tingling beneath his skin, ready to flare. He wasn¡ät as good with a spear as he was with his bare hands thanks for some minor training years ago, but starting with a deadly weapon to make full use of a surprise attack was now the main focus.


    ¡°Can you take the small ones before they wake?¡± he murmured over his shoulder, voice low, steady despite the pounding in his chest. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the bigger two.¡± Yue¡¯s nod was sharp, decisive, her daggers flashing as she adjusted her stance. They crept back into the cave, the torch¡¯s glow dimmed to a faint ember in his hand, shadows stretching long and jagged across the filth-strewn floor. His enchanted boots padded silently, *Dexterity* (25) guiding each step, while his sphere tracked the goblins¡ªthree *Fodder Goblins*, small and wiry, curled in a heap; two *Goblin Brutes*, hulking masses sprawled against the wall, their snores a guttural rasp.


    Avan positioned himself over the nearest *Goblin Brute*, its chest rising and falling, oblivious to the spear hovering above its throat. He glanced at Yue, crouched beside the smaller goblins, her daggers poised. A silent count¡ªthree, two, one¡ªand they struck. His spear thrust downward, piercing the brute¡¯s neck from below with a wet crunch, driving up into its brain, silencing it in an instant, a faint gurgle the only sound. Yue¡¯s daggers flashed, one slicing through a *Fodder Goblin*¡¯s throat, killing it cleanly, but the second blade lodged in the cheek of another, the goblin jerking awake with a piercing screech that shattered the silence.


    The cave erupted. The remaining *Fodder Goblin* flailed, blood spraying, waking the second *Goblin Brute* too. Avan spun, spear raised, as the brute¡ªover two meters tall, pox-scarred and furious¡ªlurched upright, its yellow eyes locking onto him with a snarl. He thrust again, aiming for its throat, but the brute twisted, the spear sinking into its right shoulder instead. It hissed, ripping the weapon free with a meaty tear, tossing it aside with a clatter, and lunged, massive hands clawing for his neck.


    Wing Tsun instincts kicked in, honed from years of sparring back in Frankfurt. Avan ducked sideways, slipping under the brute¡¯s arm, *Steady* (Lv. 2) keeping his balance as he pivoted out of reach. His sphere tracked Yue¡ªstruggling with the wounded *Fodder Goblin*, its screeches echoing¡ªwhile Horny awaited his command. Help her, he willed, the rabbit darting forward in a white blur, horn aimed at the goblin¡¯s flank. Avan faced the brute, shifting his stance, favoring his left arm as pain flared in his injured right, the slightly strained claw wound still throbbing beneath its bandage.


    The *Goblin Brute* roared, swinging wide, its fists a blur of raw power. Avan flowed with it, ducking left, then right, *Dexterity* (25) turning his movements fluid, precise. He stepped in, striking¡ªleft fist slamming its wounded shoulder, widening the gash, then a sharp jab to its ribs, bone crunching under his knuckles. The brute hissed, grabbing for his wrist, and Avan twisted, but a loose stone snagged his boot. He stumbled, footing lost, and threw himself back, landing hard on his rear, the impact jarring his spine. His passive *Steady* not enough in the heat of the fight to negate all unstable ground, yet.


    The brute pounced, fists raised to crush him, a shadow of muscle and rage. Avan rolled left, *Pain Resistance* (Lv. 2) dulling the sting as the blow grazed his right shoulder, a sickening pop signaling dislocation. He scrambled up, gasping, left arm raised in a shaky stance as the brute charged again¡ªuntil a white streak struck. Horny rammed its horn into the back of the goblin¡¯s head, a glancing blow, but enough to stagger it, arms flailing. Avan seized the moment, lunging forward, left fist slamming its larynx with a crack, cutting off its breath. The brute clutched its throat, gagging, and Yue leapt from the side, daggers plunging into its eye sockets with a wet squelch.


    It collapsed, a lifeless thud shaking the ground, blood pooling beneath its ruined face. Avan panted, chest heaving, glancing at Yue¡ªher daggers dripping, the last *Fodder Goblin* dead at her feet, Horny cleaning itself nonchalantly beside her. ¡°Thanks, Yue¡­ and you, Horny,¡± he rasped, voice strained, scanning them for wounds. ¡°All dead? You okay?¡± She shook her head, adrenaline fading, sobs breaking free as she sank to her knees, daggers clattering. Horny hopped over, nuzzling her leg, and Avan winced, gripping his dislocated shoulder, the pain sharp despite *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) working to dull it.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He surveyed the cave¡ªgoblin corpses sprawled in heaps, the human remains a grim testament to their brutality. With a grunt, he braced his right arm against his side, jerking it back into place, teeth gritted as a pop echoed, *Pain Resistance* softening the edge. ¡°We need to bury them, Yue,¡± he said gently, squeezing her shoulder with his left hand, offering a lifeline through her grief. ¡°Give them peace. Will you help?¡± She looked up, tears streaking her grimy face, and threw herself into his surprised arms, sobbing into his chest. He held her, stroking her head between the fox-like ears, their softness a stark contrast to the cave¡¯s horrors, waiting as her cries softened.


    A minute later, she pulled back, embarrassed, wiping her face with a sleeve, and turned to the corpses. Together, they carried the women out first, silent, the weight of loss heavy in every step. Outside, beneath the alien sky¡ªtwo moons pale against the dusk¡ªthey laid the bodies beside the men from the surface and the cave, a row of silent figures in the clearing. Avan stood with Yue, torch extinguished, the quiet stretching as they paid their respects, the forest¡¯s whispers their only company.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get wood,¡± he murmured, voice soft. ¡°Take your time¡ªsay goodbye. Call if you need me.¡± She nodded, eyes fixed on her fallen friends, and he trudged into the trees, Horny trailing behind. His mind churned, the goblin slaughter replaying¡ªburst bellies, blood, a purpose he couldn¡¯t grasp. Not random¡ªsomeone¡¯s behind this. He gathered dry branches, arms full, returning trip after trip, building a pyre with methodical care, the task a balm against his anger. System chimes pinged, muted since the fight, and he dismissed them for later¡ªgrief came first.


    An hour passed, the pyre complete, the bodies arranged with dignity. Avan lit a new torch with flint and knife, the old one long burned out, and handed it to Yue. Her hands trembled, tears glinting as she took it, a sad smile breaking through. She touched the flame to the wood, and it caught, crackling as it consumed the pyre, smoke curling skyward. They watched in silence, the fire¡¯s roar a farewell, until only ashes remained, glowing faintly in the twilight.


    Yue broke the quiet, voice small but firm. ¡°I need to go to Cyntha¡ªtell their families, the guild, about this¡­ the goblins. I want to repay you for saving me by following you, but this needs to be done first. Will you wait or do you want to come with me to the town?¡± Avan met her gaze, sober, steady. ¡°You owe me nothing¡ªI¡¯ve said it before. I¡¯ll go with you to town, keep you safe, but I won¡¯t intrude on their grief. If you want to join me after, I¡¯d be glad to have you of course.¡± After this hell, I need answers¡ªpeople, info, and a fight to burn this rage out, he thought, the dungeon¡¯s pull tugging at him.


    She nodded, a sad smile flickering. ¡°I¡¯ll need time¡ªfamilies, guild reports, the dead goblins. You could explore that dungeon. But please be careful¡­ don¡¯t die in there and go too deep. I¡¯ll come looking for you or wait in town.¡± He dug into his pack, pulling out the necklace from the camp, its locket glinting. ¡°Found this yesterday¡ªwolf attack, dead adventurers. Can you get it to the guild, find his kin?¡± She took it, understanding softening her features, and promised to handle it.


    They gathered trinkets from the fallen they had kept on a separate pile¡ªrings, a bracelet, tokens of memory¡ªand set off for Cyntha, only a thirty-minute trek through the forest, Horny hopping alongside. The village emerged from the trees, wooden walls and torchlit gates stark against the dusk. Yue hugged him, fierce and brief, then ran to the guards, wiping a tear as she explained. They glanced at Avan, wary, but waved her through. He watched until she vanished into the streets, then turned back, the dungeon¡¯s call a quiet hum in his chest. Avan really wanted to visit the town, too. But something called him to the dungeon first. So he hesitantly moved back the way they came.


    Half an hour later, he stood before the dungeon doors again, their blue runes pulsing faintly, the murals a riddle he¡¯d yet to crack. Hands on, mana in¡ªsimple, yet his earlier attempts had failed, *Origin Energy* stalling against the barrier. His sphere couldn¡¯t pierce the stone, the runes blocking his perception, a puzzle teasing his *Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin*. Need more¡ªmana¡¯s the key, meditation maybe, like those games with Dave. He sank against the opposite wall, legs crossed, torch propped beside him, and closed his eyes, breathing deep, slow, calming the storm within.


    Minutes stretched, the world fading¡ªforest whispers, Horny¡¯s soft breaths¡ªuntil a sensation bloomed, deep and vast, an ocean within his core. His soul, he knew instinctively, its surface rippling as he probed it, gentle waves radiating outward, powerful yet serene. Another energy flickered, lighter, wavier, threading through the air around him¡ªambient mana, tied to his sphere, thin lines linking it to his soul¡¯s depths. This is it¡ªsoul core, mana, all connected. He opened his eyes, the feeling lingering, a quiet strength pulsing in his chest.


    Standing, he approached the doors, hands pressing against the cool stone, *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) guiding mana from his core through his arms, silver and violet sparking faintly. The runes flared, a resonant boom shaking the tunnel as blue light surged, the doors grinding open with a screech, revealing a dark hallway beyond. The stench of goblin filth faded, replaced by a stale, dusty scent¡ªold, stagnant, but laced with a hint of freshness, a promise of what lay ahead.


    Crossing the threshold, mana thickened, dense and vibrant, flooding his sphere, a stark contrast to the trickle outside. A chime rang, bold and clear:


    *Chime*


    [You have entered the Dungeon: Tower of Akkalon]


    Avan grinned, a giddy laugh escaping. First dungeon in this new world¡ªmore monsters, traps, treasure. Let¡¯s go! Horny hopped beside him, and he stepped forward, the hallway stretching into shadow, the *Seed of Origin* humming in his chest, eager for what awaited.

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13


    Avan stepped into the *Tower of Akkalon*, the dungeon¡¯s threshold humming beneath his enchanted boots, their rune-stitched leather scuffing faintly against the white marble floor. The massive double doors groaned shut behind him, sealing the goblin-infested tunnels outside, their stench replaced by the dry, dusty air of ancient corridors. A faint blue glow pulsed from runes embedded in the walls, casting a dim, ethereal light that bathed the hallway, rendering his torch unnecessary. He tucked it into his backpack, the weight of his spear a comforting presence against his shoulder as Horny hopped beside him, ears twitching in the stillness.


    The walls stretched high, adorned with murals¡ªscenes of robed figures locked in combat, their stances fluid yet precise, fists and staffs striking down shadowy beasts. Avan paused, tracing the carvings with his fingers, *Identification* (Lv. 2) pinging faintly: Depictions of battle monks, style unknown, purpose unclear. ¡°Monks, huh?¡± he muttered, voice echoing softly. ¡°No runes, just poses¡ªfighting stances, maybe?¡± His *Origin Language ¨C Runescript of the Origin* stirred, teasing fragments of meaning, but nothing concrete emerged. Could be useful¡ª old Earth''s Wing Tsun got limits. He filed the thought away, steps resuming with a confident rhythm, the dungeon¡¯s mana thrumming through his *Celestial Dungeonheart* sphere, a ten-meter radius of awareness pulsing around him.


    The hallway stretched on, the blue glow steady, the air thick with ambient mana¡ªa dense, vibrant contrast to the thin threads outside. His core hummed, the *Seed of Origin* resonating with it, silver and violet threads sparking faintly beneath his skin. First dungeon¡ªmonsters, traps, loot. Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got. A grin tugged at his lips, the goblin horrors fading behind a surge of curiosity, the weight of Yue¡¯s grief and the pyre¡¯s ashes momentarily set aside. He needed this¡ªa distraction, a purpose, something to channel the simmering rage still coiled in his gut.


    ---


    Meanwhile, beneath Cyntha¡¯s cobblestone streets, in a damp, shadow-cloaked hideout, chaos erupted. A wiry man burst through the iron-bound door, his ragged cloak flapping, breath ragged from a desperate sprint. ¡°They messed it up, Adrian!¡± he shouted, voice cracking with panic. ¡°All of it! The goblins¡ªdead! Some damn adventurer stumbled into our setup, killed them all, even freed one of the girls! She¡¯s at the guild now, spilling everything¡ªwe¡¯ve gotta run before they piece it together and come for us!¡±


    Adrian, a hulking figure draped in a tattered robe, sat hunched over a table littered with vials and bloody tools, his scarred hands pausing mid-motion. His eyes¡ªcold, predatory¡ªflickered with irritation, imagining the screamer¡¯s throat torn out by his pet wolfhounds, their growls a low rumble from the corner. Then the words sank in, and his rage flared, a snarl twisting his lips. ¡°You idiot!¡± he hissed, slamming a fist down, shattering a glass vial, green liquid hissing as it hit the stone floor. ¡°Stop yelling and explain¡ªor I¡¯ll feed you to the breeders myself! Who did this? What happened to my goblins?¡±


    The lackey flinched, sweat beading on his brow, his voice dropping to a trembling whisper as fear overtook bravado. ¡°I-I was first scouting near the caves¡ªthen heard it from a guild runner. Some kid, low-level, nobody special. Came out of nowhere, wiped out the nest¡ªthe two brutes, three fodder, all dead. Freed a fox-kin girl, Yue, she¡¯s at the guild now, talking. They¡¯re linking the missing women, the corpses¡ªwon¡¯t be long ¡®til they trace it back!¡±


    Adrian¡¯s face darkened, a vein pulsing at his temple. His goblins¡ªhis carefully bred tools, his experiment in chaos¡ªslaughtered by some meddling, unknown whelp? He surged to his feet, towering over the man, and seized his neck, fingers crushing with brutal strength. The lackey gurgled, eyes bulging, clawing at Adrian¡¯s arm, but within seconds, his body went limp, a lifeless sack dangling from the monster breeder¡¯s grip. With a sneer, Adrian tossed the corpse aside, wolfhounds lunging from the shadows, tearing into flesh with wet snaps and growls.


    He stormed out, robe billowing, the hideout¡¯s damp air clinging to his skin as he sought his co-conspirators¡ªshadowy figures lurking in Cyntha¡¯s underbelly, bound by greed and cruelty. ¡°Unacceptable,¡± he muttered, voice a low growl. ¡°Some brat dares ruin my work? Here, in my domain?¡± The boy¡¯s location was a mystery¡ªhe hadn¡¯t entered Cyntha yet it seems¡ªbut the girl, Yue, was a target he could reach. Torture her, break her¡ªget every scrap of info, then breed her into something new. A twisted smile curled his lips, anticipation coiling in his chest as he vanished into the tunnels, new improvised plans sharpening with every step.


    ---


    Avan reached the hallway¡¯s end, an archway looming ahead, its stone frame unadorned, promising the dungeon¡¯s depths. His mind buzzed with his newfound mana sense¡ªthe soul¡¯s ocean within, the ambient waves around him¡ªstill raw, unrefined, but thrilling. Goblins are done¡ªtime to explore to clear my head. Yet, as he neared the arch, a glint caught his eye¡ªa narrow gap in the right wall, just wide enough for a person to squeeze through, its edges rough, shadowed, unlike the polished corridor. It looked more like a crack.


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    Curiosity flared, the archway forgotten. ¡°Oh?¡± he murmured, stepping closer, *Identification* pinging: Hidden passage, purpose unknown. Big enough for me¡ªsomething¡¯s back there, dimmer than out here. He grinned, pragmatic thrill overriding caution. Not meant to be seen, huh? Let¡¯s check it out. He sidled into the gap, Horny wriggling after him, the stone scraping his jacket as he emerged into a small chamber, lit by a faint yellow glow¡ªweaker, warmer than the dungeon¡¯s blue.


    A plain door stood before him, less grand than the entrance, but its surface shimmered with runes¡ªsimpler, yet denser, etched in patterns that tugged at his *Origin Language*. Someone studied these deep¡ªsame base as the big doors, but different flavor. He pondered, hand brushing the stone. Rune dialects? Levels of complexity? Gotta ask Yue about this world¡¯s rune script and written language. Without overthinking, he pressed his right palm to the center, *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) channeling mana¡ªsilver and violet threads flowing¡ªbut the runes only glowed brighter, unyielding.


    ¡°Huh,¡± he frowned, stepping back. Not enough¡ªsomething¡¯s off. He sank to the floor, legs crossed, the narrow space cramped but workable, and closed his eyes, breathing deep. Meditation had helped him unlocking the dungeon doors; it could crack this too. His soul bloomed within¡ªan ocean, vast and calm, rippling as he touched it¡ªwhile ambient mana threaded around him, denser here, weaving through stone and air. His sphere stretched, sensing a bronze vein in the left wall, its metallic tang a faint pulse, and then¡ªunlike the main doors¡ªhe pierced the barrier, perceiving beyond.


    A room unfolded in his mind: white marble floor, bookshelves sagging with decayed tomes, a stone table, rotted wooden chairs crumbled to dust. Two runes glowed on the door¡¯s inner side, distinct¡ªone higher, one lower. Different vibe¡ªlet¡¯s try. He focused, mana flowing to the upper rune; it drank greedily, but nothing moved. The lower rune, though, triggered a rumble, the walls trembling as the door swung inward, an airtight seal cracking with a hiss, centuries of stale air rushing out.


    Avan leapt up, heart pounding, but darting through before it could possibly snap shut. The hall beyond sprawled wide¡ªfifty meters across, shelves towering over two meters, books crumbled into dust, their pages devoured by time. Yet some stood intact, faint runes glowing around them on the shelves, seemingly preserving their contents. He circled the central stone table, fingers brushing leather spines, *Identification* pinging: Ancient texts, Order of Akkalon, partial decay. ¡°Not a nonfiction guy back home,¡± he chuckled, ¡°but this? This I like.¡± The thrill of discovery outweighed his usual disinterest, the dungeon¡¯s secrets tugging at him.


    The door thudded shut, and a hidden panel slid open opposite¡ªa smaller chamber, stone table, chair, shelf, and a moss-covered bed, soft and inviting. Avan beelined for the shelf, finding two pristine books, leather-bound and unmarred. Special¡ªhidden for a reason. He carried them back, settling at the table under the room¡¯s starry rune-light, popping a *Golden Meaple* into his mouth, its juice a burst of sweetness. ¡°Forgot water¡ªdumbass,¡± he muttered, smacking his forehead, resolving to surface soon.


    The first book, a teacher¡¯s diary, chronicled the Order of Akkalon¡ªbattle monks wielding healing and combat in tandem. It reminded him of a web novel he had read back home, something called Azarinth Healer. Avan smiled with fond memories and continued reading.. Faded pages detailed acolyte training: mastering fighting stances -like the murals- and knowing body and soul through meditation. Two keys¡ªstances and self-awareness. The second listed the teacher¡¯s gear¡ªstaff, robe, coins¡ªand a now-useless glossary of lost books. Staff¡¯d beat this spear¡ªrobe¡¯d fit better too. He pocketed the books, then paused as a voice cut through the silence.


    ¡°Young sir, please leave those books¡ªthey¡¯re not for taking,¡± it said, calm but firm. ¡°I¡¯d rather avoid violence, but I¡¯ll enforce it if needed.¡± Avan jolted, dropping into a stance, *Sphere* sweeping¡ªno threats. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he called, sheepish at the empty air. A laugh answered, and a figure shimmered into view¡ªa worm, mustached, bespectacled, scholar¡¯s hat perched atop. ¡°I¡¯m the *Bookworm* of Akkalon¡¯s secret library,¡± it said, bowing.


    Avan tried to hide it, then roared with laughter, collapsing back on the chair. ¡°*Bookworm*? For real? The bow¡ªmuahaha!¡± The creature¡¯s absurdity¡ªeyes, hat, manners¡ªundid him, Avan''s giggles persisting as it glared. ¡°Sorry, sorry, too funny and sudden,¡± he gasped, calming. ¡°You live here?¡± The *Bookworm* sighed, sour. ¡°Eight hundred years, guarding this place, guiding acolytes to the healer class. You¡¯re the first in five centuries. Ask nicely, and I might help¡ªbut no stealing!¡± It vanished, leaving Avan chastened.


    He set the books down, mumbling, ¡°Sorry,¡± and lightened his pack¡ªclothes, bow, arrows¡ªmaking room for berries. Back outside of the caves and the dungeon, he refilled his flask at a creek, *Identification* tagging edible fruits¡ªtart, cherry-like¡ªand then returned to the dungeon, backpack full with edibles and water. In the hallway, he mimicked the mural stances, *Dexterity* (25) aiding his form, practicing for hours until exhaustion won. When kicked in, he slumped on the moss bed, which was cool and soft, and as the second day on this strange new world ended, he drifted off, mind swirling with monks, runes, and a worm¡¯s dry wit.

 Chapter 14

    Chapter 14


    Avan stirred awake, the soft moss beneath him cradling his body in a cool, earthy embrace. He stretched, joints popping with a satisfying crack, and blinked into the dim yellow glow of the *Tower of Akkalon*¡¯s hidden chamber. The stone walls loomed solid and unyielding, the starry rune-light overhead casting faint patterns across the floor. It wasn¡¯t luxury¡ªno plush beds or roaring hearths¡ªbut it was enough, more than enough for a guy who¡¯d roughed it under tarps as a boy scout back in Frankfurt. He grinned, memories flickering: whittling tables from logs, rigging chairs with rope and branches. If I snag an axe, I could drag some wood down here¡ªmake this a proper camp. He punched the air, a playful fist-bump to no one. ¡°Back to the roots, baby!¡±


    Horny snoozed in a fluffy heap by the bed, white fur rising and falling with lazy breaths. Avan¡¯s *Celestial Dungeonheart* sphere pulsed faintly, the ten-meter radius threading mana through the room, keeping the rabbit¡¯s presence a steady hum in his mind. First, though, he had a goal: master those monk stances from the murals and unlock the healer class the *Bookworm* had hinted at. The library¡¯s intact tomes called to him¡ªhistory, systems, secrets¡ªand he rolled to his feet, snagging a *Golden Meaple* from his pack. The fruit¡¯s sweet juice burst across his tongue, *Celestial Affinity* (Lv. 2) tingling as it synced with his core, a morning ritual to kickstart the day.


    Flask in one hand, fruit in the other, he stepped into the larger library hall, the air thick with dust and mana. Finishing the *Meaple* and gulping water, he eyed the shelves¡ªrows of preserved books glowing faintly under protective runes. Order first¡ªsort, then read. He hauled the readable volumes to the stone table, stacking them with care, their covers etched with unfamiliar script. *Identification* (Lv. 2) flared: Ancient Aorian runes, translatable. ¡°Weird,¡± he muttered, brow furrowing. Not English, not German, but I get it. Magic brain tweak when I landed here? Handy¡ªno translator needed. He smirked, testing a thought. Could write English as a cipher¡ªkeep notes private. He tucked the empty diary aside for later, sorting history from manuals.


    The history pile towered¡ªtomes of Aorus, this strange world split into continents, mostly uncharted. He¡¯d woken on Eos, a heart-shaped land of elves in the Everforest¡¯s east, dwarves under the northeast¡¯s Dragonpeak mountains, humans scattered across two-thirds, and beast-kin near the southern Voidesands¡¯ brutal deserts. Kingdoms like Thalia mixed humans and beast-kin, while Haipu in the west enslaved the latter, its plains a stark contrast to the Talamar river splitting Eos in three. Cyntha, he pieced from a faded map, sat west of the Everforest, east of the upper Talamar. Five hundred years old¡ªcould be way off now, he mused, shuddering. Elves¡¯d skewer me if I¡¯d wandered too far east. Lucky break.


    Setting history aside, he grabbed a system manual, its leather worn but intact. It detailed overlays he¡¯d already fiddled with¡ªresizing windows, digging deeper by focusing on terms, muting chimes for later. New info sparked his interest: elements¡ªfire, water, air, earth as basics; lightning, lava, plant, storm as advanced; celestial and dimensional at the core, blending all. His *Golden Meaple* had infused him with celestial mana, a rare feat tied to dungeons like this one. Bathe in lightning for that element? Insane¡ªbut doable. He smirked, closing it, eager for the last two books.


    One outlined supernatural meditation¡ªphilosophies of spirit and soul the monks had debated, promising faster regen for health, mana, and stamina. The third, a dungeon guide, lit his eyes up. Ten levels: the first, a sprawling forest with *Hounds*¡ªsolo-stalking dogs with sharp sight and hearing, no smell; the second, *Kobolds* with crude weapons; third to fifth, traps and critters; fifth, a tutor¡¯s test. Beyond that, chaos¡ªunstable, impractical. Hounds first¡ªthen the class. He rubbed his hands, grinning, then froze. ¡°Shit¡ªnotifications!¡±


    *Chime*


    Pain Resistance has reached Level 3!


    Pain Resistance (Lv. 3): Greater endurance against physical discomfort.


    *Chime*


    You have defeated a [Goblin Brute]!


    *Chime*


    Your group has defeated a [Fodder Goblin]!


    *Chime*


    Your group has defeated a [Fodder Goblin]!


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    *Chime*


    Your group has defeated a [Fodder Goblin]!


    *Chime*


    Your group has defeated a [Goblin Brute]!


    *Chime*


    Congratulations on reaching Level 11!


    For leveling up, you gain 5 free stat points.


    Please distribute your free stat points in your Status.


    ¡°Level 11¡ªnice,¡± Avan muttered, pulling up his interface mentally, the overlay shimmering before his eyes. Five goblins from the cave fight¡ªenough for a jump. He scanned his stats, unchanged since Level 10: Strength 15, Dexterity 25, Vitality 15, Intelligence 10, Wisdom 5, Spirit 5. Hounds need strength and toughness¡ªDex is solid. He dumped 3 points into Strength, 2 into Vitality, feeling muscle tighten and energy surge.


    <u>Avan Leaf</u>


    Level: 11


    Free Stat Points: 0


    Element: Celestial


    Class: Celestial Dungeonheart (Human)


    Subclass: -


    <u>Stats</u>


    Strength: 18


    Dexterity: 25


    Vitality: 17


    Intelligence: 10


    Wisdom: 5


    Spirit: 5


    <u>Primary Resources</u>


    Health: 135


    Stamina: 170


    Ambient Mana: 75


    <u>Passive Skills</u>


    Pain Resistance: 3


    Steady: 2


    Celestial Affinity: 2


    Identification: 2


    Dungeon Sphere: ?


    Tracking: 2


    ¡°Better,¡± he said, flexing his arm, the claw wound¡¯s ache dulled by *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3). Horny stirred, one eye cracking open with a lazy tilt. ¡°What, no breakfast?¡± Avan teased, crouching. Does he even eat? Dungeon critter now¡ªmaybe mana¡¯s enough. He scooped the rabbit up, its horn glinting, and grabbed his spear, the backpack slung over one shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s dive in, buddy.¡±


    The tunnel sloped downward, birdcalls echoing faintly, growing louder as he descended. His sphere hummed, mana thickening, until he crested a ridge overlooking a vast forest¡ªtrees sprawling kilometers wide, a crystal-studded ceiling mimicking a night sky. Humid air hit him, rich with life¡ªbugs chirping, leaves rustling¡ªa stark shift from the library¡¯s silence. ¡°Awesome,¡± he breathed, sinking to the ground, Horny plopping beside him. The moment sank in¡ªEos, Aorus, a world so vast he was a speck in it, yet so alive he felt every pulse.


    Will Mom and Dad miss me? he wondered, staring into the green expanse. Divorced forever, both living new lives¡ªwe barely talked. And my Friends? Online bros, mostly¡ªmight not even notice my absence. The Job sucked honestly¡ªno loss there. Always wanted to travel, code my own game¡­ Can I go back? Keep this magic? And return here? His mind spun, then settled on Yue. Hope she¡¯s okay in Cyntha. Cool girl¡ªfeels like a little sister, weirdly. Too much to see, do¡ªstrength, sights, food, people. He stood, resolve firm, and started down the path, Horny trailing.


    The forest swallowed them, dense and vibrant. Horny rubbed a tree, cat-like, and Avan chuckled, gathering mushrooms and purple flowers with *Identification*: Edible, properties unknown. Spear in hand, he tracked a stream¡¯s burble, predators likely near water. At the tree line, a waterfall roared, mist cooling his face. A black shape flickered across the river¡ªa *Hound*, brown-dotted, drinking. He crouched, spear ready, watching its fangs gleam. Showtime.


    He tossed a stone rightward¡ªthump¡ªand the *Hound* perked, leaping the river to investigate. Avan crept forward, but a twig snapped. AGAIN? It spun, snarling, and he steadied, *Steady* (Lv. 2) locking his grip. The *Hound* lunged; he thrust, Strength (18) driving the spear through its snout. It yowled and retreated, blood streaming from the small wound. Avan charged in, leaping to slam the spear down into its chest, but all he managed was some ribs cracking. Still, it was enough. The *Hound* wailed, then fell still. He yanked the weapon free, panting.


    *Chime*


    You defeated a [Hound]!


    *Chime*


    Congratulations on reaching Level 12!


    For leveling up, you gain 5 free stat points.


    ¡°Hell yeah,¡± Avan grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. He cleaned the spear in the river, the blood swirling away, then glanced at the *Hound*¡¯s corpse. Skinning comes later¡ªI need a sharp edge for that again. Gave my daggers to Yue. He dragged the body back up the slope, Horny hopping behind, and returned to the dungeon¡¯s hallway. The blue-lit corridor felt stark after the forest¡¯s vibrancy, but he pressed on to his temporary room, dropping the *Hound* near the moss bed.


    Camp¡¯s got tools¡ªaxe, maybe a sword. He grabbed his backpack, spear in hand, and headed out, exiting the dungeon into the surface clearing. The pyre¡¯s ashes lay cold, a grim reminder, but he turned west¡ªhis starting point two days ago¡ªusing the sun to gauge direction. West to the camp, east back here. The forest stretched quiet around him, *Tracking* (Lv. 2) picking up faint trails¡ªhis own, days old¡ªguiding him past the temple ruins, their stones unchanged, and up the cliff he¡¯d tumbled down fleeing the wolf.


    Sliding down the slope, he hit the camp, and the stench slammed into him¡ªrotting flesh, blood, decay. He gagged, bile rising, and spat sideways, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. ¡°Eugh¡ªfuck,¡± he muttered, forcing himself forward. The dead adventurers¡¯ gear lay scattered, and he rummaged through it, *Identification* pinging: Short sword, worn but functional; axe, sturdy; bedroll, intact. He snagged the sword¡ªbetter than nothing¡ªstowing it in his pack beside the spear, then grabbed blankets, clothes, two more flasks, and the axe, its weight a promise of crafting. I am stronger now, too¡ªand can carry it all. Strength (18) made the load manageable, and he shouldered multiple packs, a mule laden with loot.


    Whistling to Horny, who¡¯d trailed him silently, he turned west again¡ªno, east now¡ªback toward the dungeon. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows, and he trekked steady, the forest alive with distant rustles. More bags, more stash¡ªsmart move Avan. The cave entrance loomed ahead, and he stepped inside, the familiar hum of mana welcoming him back to his new home, Horny hopping at his heels, ready for whatever came next.

 Chapter 15

    Chapter 15


    Avan huffed, sweat trickling down his brow as he flowed into the thirtieth stance, his body aching from days of grueling practice. ¡°Whew, Fluffy¡ªthis one¡¯s a monster,¡± he panted, glancing at Horny, his *White-horned Rabbit* companion lounging near the crevice to Akkalon¡¯s library. The rabbit¡¯s ears twitched, its gaze half-lidded in lazy boredom. ¡°You sure you don¡¯t wanna give it a shot? I mean, those stubby legs could probably throw a mean kick¡ªor a punch, if you¡¯re feeling fancy.¡± He chuckled, wiping his forehead with his arm. ¡°Party pooper,¡± he accused, grinning as Horny yawned, unfazed. His enchanted boots scuffed the marble floor, slick with perspiration under the dungeon¡¯s blue glow.


    The thirty stances of the Akkalon style had been a beast to master¡ªfar tougher than he¡¯d anticipated after days wrestling with the murals. Each form demanded a river-like flow, weaving through enemies at odd angles, countering blades, spears, claws with a predator¡¯s grace. It wasn¡¯t like Earth¡¯s Wing Tsun, all sharp and human-tuned; this was a stalking dance, reacting to every move, lethal yet flexible, blending death with the promise of healing. ¡°It¡¯s a terrifying sight when it all comes together,¡± he mused, finishing the final pose, breath steadying. He grabbed a looted towel, mopping sweat from his bare torso¡ªstripped to boxers¡ªand sipped from his flask before tossing it onto his clothes pile. Legs crossed, he sank into meditation, the cool stone anchoring him.


    Days of training had deepened his bond with his soul core, its density surging¡ªmana inside and around his *Celestial Dungeonheart* sphere felt ten times thicker than when he¡¯d started. He cycled it through his veins, a torrent of golden energy laced with silver and violet, marveling as it flooded his blood, ambient mana rushing in to replenish his core almost instantly. ¡°My regen¡¯s off the charts now¡ªhealth, stamina, mana, all spiking thanks to this focus,¡± he thought, a thrill coursing through him. Chimes rang, sharp and clear:


    *Chime*


    You have learned the Passive Skill: Meditation 1


    Through meditation, a true spirit can reach godhood with enhanced regeneration of health, mana, and stamina. While still, you recover these resources at an elevated rate.


    *Chime*


    Your Passive Skill: Meditation has leveled up!


    Meditation: 9


    ¡°Level 9 already,¡± Avan murmured, a grin spreading. ¡°I can¡¯t help but wonder what happens when it hits 10. Is there a threshold where it evolves into something more? It¡¯s climbing fast, and honestly, it¡¯s probably my strongest skill right now¡ªthe way it boosts everything is unreal.¡± He dove deeper, hours blurring as he guided mana, reinforcing body and soul. A shift rippled through him, elusive but close. ¡°What if I push the flow harder?¡± he pondered. ¡°Would it heat up like a steam engine, steam pouring off me? Or is mana too ethereal for that¡ªpure energy, no heat at all?¡± Curiosity drove him, urging more.


    He drew ambient mana into his core, watching it harden, glass-like, fissures cracking as power surged unchecked. Pain stabbed his gut, sharp and swelling, the mana crashing like a tidal wave. ¡°Too much¡ªgotta stop it!¡± he thought, panic spiking, but the flood wouldn¡¯t yield. He redirected it, venting energy into his bloodstream, sweat and blood seeping from his pores, purging toxins in a crimson sheen. Coughing, desperate, he channeled the torrent from his fracturing core, veins burning as mana bled out, impurities with it. ¡°I can¡¯t let it shatter¡ªfocus, guide it, hold on,¡± he urged himself, clinging to control.


    Time melted¡ªhours, maybe?¡ªuntil the agony faded, his core stabilizing into a hardened orb, translucent and tough. The ambient mana flowed steady, pooling in his cells without strain. He exhaled, deep and slow. ¡°My skin¡¯s like steel now, muscles tighter, mana stored everywhere,¡± he observed, tracing the changes. His heart thumped stronger, eyesight sharpened, teeth felt denser, bones buzzed with energy, and his brain sparked like a live wire. Opening his eyes, the hallway snapped into crystal focus, details leaping out. He sprang up, nearly smacking the three-meter ceiling, and giggled, stretching stiff limbs. ¡°Gotta let these adjust¡ªthis is wild.¡±


    *Chime*


    You have learned the Passive Skill: [Bronze] Meditation 1


    Through meditation, a true spirit can reach godhood with enhanced regeneration of health, mana, and stamina. While still, you recover these resources at an elevated rate. [Bronze]: Your soul survived a mana flood, emerging stronger. Your body and mind are vastly improved, storing mana in your cells for greater speed, strength, and resilience. You can release small bursts of stored mana through contact to corrupt foes.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Power surged, electric¡ªlike chugging energy drinks back-to-back¡ªand he dove into the stances again, blazing through all thirty forms triple his old speed. Something clicked, deep and certain.


    *Chime*


    You have proven your worth to the Order of Akkalon and are offered the Subclass: Healer of Akkalon.


    Healers of Akkalon master hand-to-hand combat while excelling at healing themselves and others, known for kindness and aid in any crisis.


    [Do you want to accept Healer of Akkalon as your subclass? Y/N]


    ¡°Oh, hell yes¡ªabsolutely, I¡¯m taking it!¡± Avan exclaimed, willing acceptance.


    *Chime*


    Your subclass is now: Healer of Akkalon!


    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s it? No juicy details?¡± he grumbled. ¡°I was hoping for a deeper dive¡ªwhat¡¯s this class really about?¡± Chimes flooded in, relentless:


    *Chime*


    You have learned the Active Skill: Akkalon¡¯s Touch


    With great strength comes great responsibility. Heal or destroy through direct contact, inflicting mana-based wounds on enemies or infusing allies with supportive energy.


    *Chime*


    You have learned the Active Skill: Celestial Storage


    As an otherworldly being, you access a private celestial pocket dimension for limited item storage. Open a small portal to store or retrieve items, a fusion of your main class, celestial element, and subclass.


    *Chime*


    You have learned the Active Skill: Akkalon¡¯s Sphere


    Your meddling nature grants new ways to intervene. Summon one celestial mana sphere, controllable within your Sphere of Influence.


    *Chime*


    You have learned the Passive Skill: Pain Expert 1


    Pain is your ally, a thrill you embrace through self-inflicted trials. You inflict greater pain on foes, sharing your passion for it.


    *Chime*


    You have gained levels in Pain Resistance!


    Pain Resistance: 8


    *Chime*


    Thanks to your Celestial Element and Subclass: Healer of Akkalon, your Dungeon Sphere is upgraded to: Celestial Sphere 1


    You are a Dungeon, fueled by ambient mana. Harness it within your sphere-shaped influence, centered on you. Celestial power now radiates light, detectable only by the highest beings. Beware your heightened mana density.


    *Chime*


    Your class Dungeonheart [Human] is upgraded to: Healing Dungeonheart [Human]


    A mobile dungeon, your potential unfolds. Sense and influence all within your sphere¡ªheal, harm, or manipulate as imagination allows. You are omnipotent within your domain.


    *Chime*


    Your Potential has been unlocked!


    Potential: [Unlocked]


    *Chime*


    You achieved a unique feat!


    As an otherworldly being, you gain a one-time bonus of +50 to all stats!


    ¡°Holy¡ªwhat?!¡± Avan blurted, mind reeling. ¡°Wait a damn minute¡ªthis is insane! I¡¯m what now? I can do what? And extra stats¡ªfifty across the board?¡± The flood of sensations hit, his old Dungeonheart dampening gone, every nerve alight with raw input. His brain scrambled, teetering on overload, and he dropped to the floor, meditating fast. ¡°I¡¯ve got to calm this down before it fries me,¡± he thought, breathing deep and slow, guiding mana to his head, bolstering synapses against the storm. His mind flared like a holiday display, sorting chaos as hours bled away unnoticed.


    Exhaustion won, and he collapsed, sleeping hard. Waking, he checked himself¡ªtop to bottom, no damage. A stray thought of self-inspection made him cringe. ¡°Oh god, no¡ªthat¡¯s an image I¡¯ll never unsee,¡± he groaned, shaking it off. ¡°Alright, focus¡ªlet¡¯s see the good stuff.¡± His interface flared:


    <u>Avan Leaf</u>


    Level: 12


    Free Stat Points: 5


    Element: Celestial


    Class: Healing Dungeonheart [Human]


    Subclass: Healer of Akkalon


    <u>Stats</u>


    Strength: 68


    Dexterity: 75


    Vitality: 67


    Intelligence: 60


    Wisdom: 55


    Spirit: 55


    <u>Active Skills [3/8]</u>


    Akkalon¡¯s Touch


    Akkalon¡¯s Sphere


    Celestial Storage


    <u>Passive Skills</u>


    Pain Resistance: 8


    Steady: 2


    Potential: [Unlocked]


    Celestial Affinity: 2


    Identification: 2


    Celestial Sphere: 1


    First Aid: 1


    Tracking: 2


    Meditation: [Bronze] 1


    Pain Expert: 1


    <u>Primary Resources</u>


    Health: 385


    Stamina: 385


    Ambient Mana: 575


    ¡°Hell yeah¡ªlook at me now!¡± Avan crowed, flexing. ¡°I was fit on Earth, but this? Ridiculous! If my base stats were human-normal, I¡¯m leagues beyond that now. Started with 5 points and 50 resources¡ªlook at this haul! I love this world!¡± He cackled, a mock-villain laugh echoing off the walls. ¡°Active skills at last¡ªtime to test these babies. Eight slots, huh? Wonder if I can swap ¡®em later¡ªplenty to play with.¡±


    He pictured a rift for *Celestial Storage*, frowning when nothing happened. ¡°Okay, mana and intent¡ªlet¡¯s try that,¡± he thought, focusing. A yellow, starry portal swirled open, thirty centimeters wide, edges translucent. ¡°Gorgeous¡ªcelestial¡¯s got style, all shiny and golden,¡± he marveled, circling it. He dipped a hand in, feeling cold, confirming it didn¡¯t poke out the back. Grabbing a flask, he pushed it through¡ªchill, then gone, yet his mind tracked it. Willing it back, it materialized in his grip. ¡°Success! So intuitive¡ªjust think, and it happens. There¡¯s gotta be more to dig into with this magic¡ªway better than dusty uni lectures.¡±


    He tossed his loot¡ªclothes, flasks, axe¡ªinto the portal, feeling a third full. *Akkalon¡¯s Touch* seemed straightforward, a combat test for later. *Akkalon¡¯s Sphere* intrigued him, its pattern complex yet vague. He raised his palm, envisioning a ball, mana draining fast¡ªnearly 600 points gone as ambient flow refilled him. A yellow orb flickered, growing, hardening into a starry mini-sun. ¡°This is nuts¡ªa thousand mana and counting,¡± he breathed, tossing it hand-to-hand, weightless, bending to his will. He flung it up, willing it steady¡ªit hovered precisely.


    ¡°Cool toy, but I¡¯m not juggling for kids yet,¡± he thought, neck craned. ¡°What else can you do, little glowy?¡± He sent it circling the ceiling, speed ramping up, a swoosh cutting the air like a cannonball. An eight-pattern barely slowed it¡ªdeadly, accurate. Testing further, he fired it into the stone above, a boom echoing as it buried a meter deep, rubble raining. He whooped, bouncing like a kid. ¡°Fucking amazing! Hounds won¡¯t know what hit ¡®em¡ªguts everywhere, let¡¯s roll!¡± Ignoring Horny¡¯s glare, he strode down the slope, grinning. ¡°I¡¯m the Healing Dungeon now, wrecking havoc¡ªunbelievable!¡±

 Chapter 16

    Chapter 16


    Yue¡¯s heart hammered in her chest as she darted through a narrow alley in Cyntha¡¯s slums, the shout¡ª¡°There she is!¡±¡ªringing behind her. Her breath came in sharp gasps, lungs burning, and she pressed herself against the crumbling wall of a shabby house, its warped wood familiar after years of calling this squalor home. Since her parents¡¯ death, survival had been a daily grind¡ªscraping by until she¡¯d turned eighteen, old enough to join the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. She¡¯d started solo, tackling small quests, until Nia and Jane, her childhood friends, hit the same age. Together, they¡¯d made a decent team¡ªuntil that cursed goblin quest a month ago, paired with another group from the guild board. ¡°I had a bad feeling about it even then,¡± she thought, stifling a sob as she peeked around the corner. ¡°Should¡¯ve trusted my gut¡ªeverything went to hell after that.¡±


    Rescued by a stranger named Avan, she¡¯d returned to Cyntha, reporting the goblins¡¯ demise and her grim findings to the guild. But safety had evaporated a week ago when dark-hooded figures began hunting her. It started at an inn, drowning her grief in ale for Nia and Jane after breaking the news to their families. The men had been friendly at first, plying her with drinks, but their smiles felt off¡ªtoo sharp, too eager. ¡°Something wasn¡¯t right¡ªI knew it,¡± she recalled, her stomach twisting. She¡¯d slipped away with a flimsy excuse¡ªneeding to pee¡ªand bolted when they followed. Now, they hounded her every step, watchers posted near the guild and guard posts, cutting off any refuge.


    She dashed through the night, weaving past slum-dwellers stirring in the shadows, their murmurs a faint hum against her pounding pulse. ¡°Nowhere left to hide¡ªthey¡¯re closing in,¡± she thought, panic clawing at her. A misplaced stone snagged her foot, nearly toppling her, but she caught herself, veering into a tighter alley. ¡°Damn it¡ªdead end!¡± The stone wall loomed over two meters high, no escape but up. Shouts echoed closer, and she sprinted, leaping¡ªfingers grazing the edge, slipping. ¡°Come on, Yue¡ªmove!¡± she urged herself, heart thundering as she tried again, adrenaline surging. Her second jump barely caught the lip, fingers cramping as her body slammed into the wall, dangling. Footsteps neared, and with a desperate heave, she pulled herself up, rolling over and crashing to the other side.


    The impact stole her breath, air wheezing out as she braced on her knees. ¡°Maybe¡­ maybe Avan¡¯s still at the dungeon,¡± she gasped, forcing herself up. ¡°If he¡¯s alive, he could help¡ªhe saved me once, maybe he¡¯d do it again. It¡¯s my only shot¡ªI can¡¯t drag this out alone, but I hope I¡¯m not dooming us both.¡± She sighed, resolve hardening, and sprinted toward a night gate, nothing left to lose.


    ¡°Collecting nocturnal herbs,¡± she lied smoothly to the guards, their bored nods waving her through. She strolled casually until out of sight, then broke into a run, the forest swallowing her. ¡°Thirty minutes¡ªkeep moving,¡± she thought, weaving through trees, the cave¡¯s dark maw looming after a breathless trek. She plunged into the tunnels, memory guiding her to the dungeon doors¡ªwide open, a testament to Avan¡¯s triumph. ¡°He did it¡ªplease, gods, let him be safe,¡± she whispered, a silent prayer to any deity listening as she stepped inside, the blue-lit corridor stretching before her, murals of fighting monks lining the walls.


    *Chime*


    [You have entered the Dungeon: Tower of Akkalon]


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    <hr>


    Adrian stormed through his underground lair, fury boiling as he swept vials and tools from a table, glass shattering against the damp stone. ¡°How could you lose an eighteen-year-old girl?!¡± he roared, glaring at his scrambling lackeys. ¡°You imbeciles! Bribe the guards, scour the town¡ªfind her now!¡± His voice thundered, sending them fleeing to obey. ¡°I swear, if they can¡¯t track down that clumsy, filthy little fox-kin, I¡¯ll rip them apart myself,¡± he snarled, pacing like a caged beast, his tattered robe swirling.


    Time crawled until a subordinate burst in, breathless, eyes wide with dread. Adrian¡¯s patience frayed, his glare icy as he waited. ¡°Speak, you fool¡ªwhat news?¡± he snapped.


    ¡°Master,¡± the man stammered, ¡°a bribed guard at the east gate saw a fox-girl leave town minutes ago. We¡¯ve sent five of our best hunters to track her down!¡±


    Adrian¡¯s lips curled into a sneer. ¡°Idiots¡ªlosing her in the first place was bad enough. If they return empty-handed, I¡¯ll make sure they never need hands again¡ªor any limbs, for that matter,¡± he growled, his threat hanging heavy in the air, aimed at no one but the shadows. ¡°She¡¯s mine to break¡ªevery secret she holds about that meddling stranger, every scrap of her will. I¡¯ll twist her into something exquisite.¡± His mind churned with dark delight, plotting as his hunters fanned out into the night.


    <hr>


    Yue¡¯s footsteps echoed softly as she descended the earthen slope beyond the dungeon¡¯s entrance hall, her eyes darting over Avan¡¯s handiwork. Logs and sticks, bound with plant-fiber ropes, formed a sturdy table flanked by benches¡ªcrude but stable, like a scout¡¯s bivouac minus the tarp. ¡°He¡¯s been busy,¡± she thought, marveling at the setup. Near the library crevice, a meter-wide campfire ringed with stones sat cold, ashes days old, beside a shelf of wooden cutlery and dishes, neatly stacked. Wood chips littered the floor, evidence of his labor. ¡°All this in a few weeks¡ªhe¡¯s resourceful, I¡¯ll give him that.¡±


    Across the hall, a patch of grass cradled a circular hollow¡ªHorny¡¯s nest, she guessed, shaking her head with a faint smile. She pressed on, the slope dropping into a vast forest, its canopy shimmering under crystal-lit ceilings. ¡°This view¡ªit¡¯s breathtaking,¡± she thought, pausing to soak it in, the humid air refreshing after her frantic run. A trampled path wound through the trees, flanked by skinned *Hound* corpses¡ªdozens, maybe a hundred. ¡°Did Avan kill all these himself? That¡¯s¡­ unsettling,¡± she murmured, nearly tripping as she stared, her pulse quickening. ¡°He¡¯s stronger than I realized¡ªscary, even.¡±


    An hour later, she reached a deeper passage veering left, its crystals casting a faint glow. ¡°Please let this lead to him,¡± she thought, descending cautiously, the air growing thick and moist. Hundreds of meters down, vines barred her path¡ªa jungle biome unfurling beyond, towering trees brushing the ceiling. She parted the curtain, stepping through, spotting more corpses¡ª*Kobolds*, her *Identify* skill confirmed, smaller than goblins, strewn along the trail. ¡°He¡¯s been relentless,¡± she whispered, awed and uneasy.


    The path led to a burned-out *Kobold* village, its wooden walls charred, huts collapsed, remains scattered. ¡°This is pure carnage¡ªhe tore through them,¡± she thought, hurrying past, unease prickling her spine. A stone staircase loomed ahead, and she descended again, the air cooling as she hit the third floor¡ªa tunnel riddled with triggered traps: pitfalls, boulders, spikes, arrow slits, saw blades jutting from walls. ¡°Dangerous¡ªand he survived all this? Disarmed them too?¡± she wondered, picking her way through. ¡°I misjudged him¡ªhe had no class when we met, just raw grit. How did he manage this?¡±


    The fourth floor mirrored the third¡ªmore traps, more destruction¡ªuntil the fifth opened into a breezy meadow, dotted with trees, a stone path winding to a well and a house. Yue froze, watching a white blur¡ªHorny¡ªchase a yellow orb, a tall, bearded man with a translucent white ponytail emerging, laughing as he shouted at the rabbit. ¡°Holy gods¡­ is that Avan?¡± she mumbled, stunned by his sheer presence, confusion swirling as she took a tentative step backward.

 Chapter 17

    Chapter 17


    Avan pushed open the weathered wooden door of the stone house he¡¯d claimed as his temporary refuge on the fifth floor of the *Tower of Akkalon*, stepping out into the sprawling meadow that stretched before him like a sea of green under the faint, otherworldly glow of the crystal-studded ceiling high above. The air carried a crisp, earthy scent, laced with the subtle dampness of underground springs hidden beneath the dungeon¡¯s depths, and a gentle breeze brushed against his bare chest, tugging at the frayed waistband of his boxer shorts¡ªthe last tattered remnant of clothing after weeks of relentless grinding had shredded every other piece he¡¯d owned. His translucent white ponytail, tied back with a strip of scavenged cloth, swayed lightly as he rolled his shoulders, the faint scars crisscrossing his skin catching the soft light, each mark a silent testament to battles fought and won. He stretched his arms overhead, joints popping with a satisfying crack from days spent swinging spears, dodging traps, and hauling logs, and let his gaze drift across the open expanse, a broad grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he spotted Horny, his *White-horned Rabbit*, darting through the grass.


    The little beast was locked in a frantic chase after one of the two *Akkalon¡¯s Spheres* Avan had summoned earlier that morning, golden orbs of celestial mana shimmering just beyond the rabbit¡¯s reach, dancing under his mental command like fireflies teasing a child. Horny¡¯s horn gleamed with each determined leap, his small paws kicking up tufts of grass and dirt as he lunged, only for the sphere to zip away at the last second, leaving him sprawling in a heap. ¡°Yoo, at least you¡¯re getting some cardio after napping all damn day, you lazy fluffball!¡± Avan called out, his voice booming across the meadow as he smirked down at his companion, hands planted on his hips. Horny skidded to a halt mid-pursuit, whipping his head around to fix Avan with a glare so venomous it practically screamed *Fuck off* in rabbit-speak, his ears flattening in indignation. ¡°Oh, come on, don¡¯t give me that look¡ªit¡¯s good for you! Builds character, keeps those stubby legs from turning to mush!¡± Avan¡¯s chuckle rolled out, deep and unrestrained, echoing off the distant stone walls of the cavernous floor, a sound of pure, unfiltered amusement that felt freer than anything he¡¯d known in weeks.


    Through his *Celestial Sphere*, a constant pulse of awareness radiating ten meters around him like an invisible web woven from mana threads, he¡¯d tracked the chase unfolding long before stepping outside. He¡¯d nudged the orb with a flicker of intent¡ª*keep moving, just out of reach*¡ªwatching Horny scramble in a playful dance of frustration, a game he¡¯d orchestrated to keep the rabbit entertained while he tinkered inside. But standing here now, boots planted on the cool stone threshold, watching the chaos play out in real-time was a different kind of thrill, one that warmed him from the inside out. ¡°Sure, I could¡¯ve stayed in there and tracked this through the sphere¡ªfelt every hop and tumble like a ghost in the background,¡± he thought, leaning casually against the smooth gray doorway, its stone surface too perfectly carved, too seamless to be the work of human hands. ¡°But there¡¯s something about seeing it with my own eyes¡ªHorny tearing around like he¡¯s got a personal vendetta against these glowing balls. Beats any pet video I ever scrolled through back on Earth, hands down. This little maniac¡¯s a one-rabbit comedy show, and I¡¯ve got the best seat in the house.¡±


    Horny lunged again, his horn slicing the air as he misjudged the sphere¡¯s dodge, tumbling head-over-heels into the grass with a muffled thump. Avan¡¯s laughter deepened, shaking his broad shoulders as the rabbit popped back up, shaking off dirt with a glare that could¡¯ve curdled milk. ¡°Alright, alright, you¡¯re doing great, buddy¡ªdon¡¯t murder me with those eyes!¡± he said, still grinning as he pushed off the doorframe and stretched his arms wide, feeling the satisfying pull of muscles honed by weeks of brutal combat and relentless labor. His mind drifted to the grind that had brought him here¡ªdays and nights of blood-soaked battles, sweat-drenched crafting, and a relentless drive to push himself further, deeper into the dungeon¡¯s unforgiving depths. ¡°Been a hell of a ride these past weeks¡ªfeels like a lifetime since I was fumbling around up top with a busted spear and a prayer,¡± he thought, his grin softening into something quieter, more reflective. ¡°Time to take stock, see how far I¡¯ve climbed¡ªwhat I¡¯ve built down here in this madhouse of a dungeon.¡±


    With a mental nudge, he summoned his interface, the overlay flaring to life before his eyes like a holographic scroll etched in celestial light. It was a testament to his ascent, a record of every kill, every upgrade, every hard-won step through the *Tower of Akkalon*¡¯s brutal floors, and he scanned it with a mix of awe and pride, his heart thumping steadily in his chest:


    <u>Avan Leaf</u>


    Level: 53


    Free Stat Points: 190


    Element: Celestial


    Class: Healing Dungeonheart [Human]


    Subclass: [Bronze] Healer of Akkalon


    <u>Stats</u>


    Strength: 75


    Dexterity: 80


    Vitality: 75


    Intelligence: 60


    Wisdom: 55


    Spirit: 55


    <u>Active Skills [3/8]</u>


    [Bronze] Akkalon¡¯s Touch


    [Bronze] Akkalon¡¯s Sphere


    [Bronze] Celestial Storage


    <u>Passive Skills</u>


    Pain Resistance: [Bronze] 3


    Steady: 8


    Potential: [Unlocked]


    Celestial Affinity: [Bronze] 5


    Identify: [Bronze] 6


    Celestial Sphere: 1


    First Aid: 1


    Tracking: [Bronze] 7


    Meditation: [Bronze] 8


    Pain Expert: 7


    <u>Primary Resources</u>


    Health: 425


    Stamina: 425


    Ambient Mana: 575


    <u>Celestial Storage</u>


    76 [Bronze Coins]


    23 [Silver Coins]


    1 [Gold Coin]


    10 [Golden Meaples]


    1 [Well-Used Spear]


    3 [Water Flasks]


    1 [Short Sword]


    3 [Blankets]


    1 [Tent]


    1 [Short Axe]


    1 [Bow]


    3 [Wooden Iron-Tipped Arrows]


    79 stacks of [Berries]


    11 dry [Roots]


    37 [Herbs]


    57 [Hound Hides]


    114 [Hound Fangs]


    13 [Small Stones]


    3 [Wooden Logs]


    15 [Wooden Sticks]


    <u>Dungeon Creatures</u>


    [Horny]


    A [Horned White Rabbit], found at the ruins of an Akkalon temple. Named Horny, he is wholly devoted to Avan, showing remarkable intelligence with potential for evolution into a fully sentient being.


    ¡°Level 53¡ªdamn, that¡¯s a hell of a leap from where I started,¡± Avan marveled, his grin stretching so wide it ached as he scrolled through the stats, his heart thumping with a mix of disbelief and raw pride. ¡°Hundreds of kills¡ª*Hounds*, *Kobolds*, traps dodged and dismantled¡ªit¡¯s been a brutal, bloody slog through this place, but look at this haul! Nearly 200 stat points sitting there, just begging to be spent, skills hitting bronze tier, and my subclass evolving at 50¡ªI¡¯m a walking force of nature now, aren¡¯t I?¡± He¡¯d torn through the first floor¡¯s *Hounds* in a mere three days¡ªfifty-seven solitary hunters felled with ruthless efficiency, their hides and fangs meticulously skinned and salvaged, piling up in his *Celestial Storage* like trophies of a relentless campaign. ¡°Those dogs didn¡¯t know what hit ¡®em once I got my rhythm down,¡± he thought, recalling the early fights with a mix of satisfaction and grim amusement. ¡°No packs, just lone stalkers prowling around¡ªperfect for picking off with a well-aimed sphere or a quick spear thrust through the snout. Took me a bit to figure out the skinning, fumbled the first few hides, but I got the hang of it¡ªnow I¡¯ve got a stash that¡¯d make any hunter back home green with envy.¡±


    ¡°The hides are useless to me raw¡ªtoo tough to stitch with my clumsy hands¡ªbut Cyntha¡¯s gotta have an armorer or leatherworker who¡¯d pay decent coin for this much quality stuff,¡± he mused, running a hand through his ponytail as he pictured the bustling town Yue had described. ¡°And those fangs¡ªsharp as hell, but no use to me beyond throwing them like darts if I get desperate. Maybe an alchemist would want ¡®em for some potion or another¡ªgrind ¡®em into powder, mix ¡®em with who-knows-what. Could be worth a shot.¡± He¡¯d lingered on the first floor longer than planned, methodically clearing every corner, every shadowed nook where a *Hound* might lurk, driven by a mix of survival instinct and a stubborn need to master this new world. ¡°Three days of hunting, skinning, salvaging¡ªfelt like a lifetime, but it was just the start,¡± he reflected, the memory of blood-streaked grass and the weight of his spear still vivid.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The second floor had been a different beast entirely¡ª*Kobolds*, cunning little bastards who¡¯d turned his overconfidence into a hard lesson. ¡°Got cocky at first¡ªthought they were just pint-sized goblins, easy pickings like the ones up top,¡± he thought, rubbing a faint scar on his jaw where a jagged wooden spear had grazed him in the chaos of that initial skirmish. ¡°Big mistake on my part¡ªthey were smarter, nastier, setting snares and jumping me from the shadows like they¡¯d been planning it all along. That first fight was a breeze compared to what came after¡ªtook days to grind through their village, wading through rivers of their blood and ash.¡± He¡¯d burned their straw huts to the ground after the slaughter, the acrid smoke stinging his eyes as he left their crude wooden weapons¡ªsticks, spears, clubs¡ªscattered in the wreckage, too flimsy to bother with. ¡°No value in that junk¡ªnot worth the space in my storage¡ªbut I found coins in their hovels, little stashes tucked under mats and in cracked pots,¡± he recalled, intrigued by the system that had auto-sorted them into bronze, silver, and a single gleaming gold piece. ¡°A hundred bronze to a silver, a hundred silver to a gold¡ªwonder if there¡¯s platinum or something fancier up the chain. Gotta figure out what that¡¯s worth when I hit Cyntha¡ªcould be my ticket to some proper gear.¡±


    He¡¯d stayed on the second floor longer than the first, not just to clear it but to gather resources¡ªfelling three sturdy trees with his *Short Axe*, their trunks now stored as *Wooden Logs* alongside a bundle of *Wooden Sticks* he¡¯d snapped off for future crafting. ¡°That bronze tier upgrade at 50 was a game-changer¡ªkicked everything up a notch,¡± he thought, pride surging as he reviewed his skills, his fingers twitching with the urge to test them again. ¡°*Akkalon¡¯s Touch* hitting multiple targets at once, *Celestial Storage* swallowing whole logs like it¡¯s nothing, *Akkalon¡¯s Sphere* packing double the mana punch¡ªoverpowered doesn¡¯t even begin to cover it. *Identify* and *Tracking* hitting bronze too, giving me eyes and a nose like a damn bloodhound. Still got *Steady* and *Pain Expert* lagging a bit, but they¡¯ll catch up with more fights.¡±


    The constant cycle of pain and healing had tested his sanity in those early weeks¡ª*Hounds* clawing at his legs, *Kobolds* stabbing with splintered spears, traps snapping shut inches from his flesh¡ªbut *Meditation [Bronze] 8* had been his lifeline, a soothing balm against the relentless grind. ¡°Infusing my brain with celestial mana was the best damn move I ever made,¡± he reflected, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he remembered the first time he¡¯d tried it, sitting cross-legged in the blood-soaked dirt of the first floor, mana flooding his skull to dull the ache of a fresh claw wound. ¡°Heals the mind, soothes the soul¡ªkept me from cracking under all that hurt-heal-hurt loop. Without it, I¡¯d have lost it¡ªturned into some gibbering wreck muttering about hounds and kobolds in the dark.¡± He flexed his hands, feeling the steady hum of power beneath his skin, a gift of his *Healing Dungeonheart* class that had turned every bruise, every cut into a stepping stone.


    His gaze drifted back to Horny, still stubbornly chasing the sphere, and he let out a low whistle, calling the rabbit off for a moment. ¡°Come on, you little terror¡ªgive it a rest before you wear yourself out,¡± he said, watching as Horny ignored him, leaping again with a determined grunt. ¡°Fine, keep at it¡ªstubborn as ever,¡± he thought, amusement flickering as he turned his attention to the meadow¡¯s edge, his *Celestial Sphere* humming faintly in the back of his mind. A flicker of movement caught his eye¡ªa familiar presence, faint but unmistakable, stepping onto the cobblestone path that wound through the grass. ¡°No way¡ªthat¡¯s Yue!¡± he thought, delight sparking in his chest as he squinted across the field, his heart giving a quick, eager thud. Her orange hair glinted under the crystal light, her slim figure framed against the stone archway, and he raised his right arm high, waving with unrestrained enthusiasm, a wide grin splitting his face.


    She hesitated for a heartbeat, her posture tense, then broke into a run, her footsteps pounding the path as she closed the distance. Before he could brace himself, she flung herself into his chest, arms wrapping tight around his waist in a desperate, clinging embrace. Avan froze, suddenly hyper-aware of his near-naked state¡ªboxers and scars on full display, no shirt, no dignity¡ªand a flush crept up his neck, his hand darting to scratch the back of his head in a sheepish attempt to play it off. ¡°Well, this is awkward as hell¡ªcaught me in my underwear like some half-dressed barbarian,¡± he thought, masking the embarrassment with a lopsided grin as he looked down at her, her face buried against his ribs.


    A stifled sob vibrated through his chest, her trembling frame pressing closer, and his grin softened into something gentler, more protective. ¡°Something¡¯s seriously wrong¡ªshe¡¯s shaking like she¡¯s been running for her life,¡± he realized, his left hand settling on her back, tracing slow, comforting circles against the fabric of her worn tunic. ¡°This feels too much like that first day¡ªthe goblins, her friends¡¯ bodies, that raw shock we both carried. She¡¯s too young for this kind of hell¡ªbe strong or get culled, huh? Brutal damn world.¡± He held her quietly, giving her space to breathe, the memory of their shared horror in the caves flickering through his mind¡ªher tear-streaked face, his own numb disbelief at the carnage they¡¯d stumbled into. ¡°Whatever¡¯s chasing her now, it¡¯s bad¡ªbad enough to drive her all the way down here through five floors of dungeon madness,¡± he thought, resolve hardening as he kept stroking her back, a steady rhythm to anchor her against the quiet sobs she muffled against him.


    After a long moment, Yue pulled back, her steps unsteady as she retreated a pace, her head tilting shyly to the side. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, cheeks flushed red from crying, and Avan rested a hand on her shoulder, firm but kind, waiting for her to find her voice. ¡°Hey, Avan¡­¡± she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, one orange eye peeking up at him through a curtain of tangled hair, the other hidden by her tilt. ¡°I¡¯m so happy you¡¯re doing well¡­ and you¡¯ve grown a bit, haven¡¯t you?¡± Her words were soft, tentative, and he squeezed her shoulder gently, offering a reassuring smile. ¡°Glad to see you healthy too, Yue¡ªbeen wondering about you out there,¡± he said, his tone warm and steady. ¡°No pressure to spill anything right now¡ªhow about we get you some tea and fruit? Warm you up, take the edge off whatever¡¯s got you rattled?¡± He gestured toward the house¡ªsmooth gray stone, its edges too perfect to be human-crafted, with a wooden door and two open windows framing the entrance like silent sentinels.


    Inside, he led her to the lone table¡ªa sturdy slab of wood he¡¯d carved from a felled log, flanked by two rough benches he¡¯d lashed together with plant-fiber ropes¡ªand moved to the kitchen corner, a humble nook he¡¯d cobbled together from scavenged finds. ¡°Let¡¯s get some comfort going¡ªshe looks like she hasn¡¯t stopped running in days,¡± he thought, grabbing a dented teapot from a shelf of mismatched metalware he¡¯d salvaged from the upper floors. He filled it with water from an iron bucket he¡¯d hauled from the meadow¡¯s well a week back, the liquid sloshing softly as he set it aside. Kneeling by the stove¡ªa simple stone slab with a grate¡ªhe summoned a handful of *Wooden Sticks* from his *Celestial Storage*, their rough bark scraping his palms as he stacked them into a cone beneath the metal frame. With a practiced flick of his flint and knife, sparks caught, and he poked the growing flames with a stray stick, coaxing them into a steady crackle. ¡°Just needs a little nudge¡ªthere we go,¡± he thought, satisfied as the fire took hold, its warmth spreading through the small space.


    Standing, he tossed a pinch of dried *Herbs* into the pot¡ªscavenged from the second floor¡¯s jungle, their earthy scent rising as the water heated¡ªand turned to catch Yue at the table. Her fiery orange hair was a wild tangle, strands sticking out in every direction, and her fingers nervously twisted an amulet around her neck, the metal glinting faintly in the firelight. ¡°Poor kid looks like she¡¯s been through a war zone¡ªhair¡¯s a mess, hands won¡¯t stop moving,¡± he thought, softening as he studied her. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been wondering how you¡¯ve been holding up in Cyntha these past weeks,¡± he said, his voice warm and genuine as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. ¡°All that mess with your friends¡ªhow are you? Not just whatever chased you down here, but really¡ªhow¡¯ve you been? Me, I¡¯ve had some quality time with hounds and kobolds¡ªthose dogs were cuddly, I swear, once you got past the claws and the snapping.¡± He giggled, leaning into the tease to lighten the air. ¡°Tea¡¯s steeping¡ªwant some fruit? You¡¯re eyeing that basket like it¡¯s calling your name.¡±


    He snagged a green *Apple* from a woven basket on the shelf¡ªa relic he¡¯d found in a *Kobold* stash, miraculously unspoiled¡ªand tossed it her way with a playful flick of his wrist. Yue yelped, her chair scraping as she flailed to catch it, nearly toppling backward in the process, the fruit bouncing off her hands before she snagged it mid-air. Avan chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. ¡°Okay, maybe less force next time¡ªI¡¯m not hurling cannonballs here,¡± he thought, amused by her startled reaction. She glared at him, baring sharp fangs as she bit into the apple with a crunch, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Whoa, those teeth¡ªbetter not mess with her! My lady fox, your humble servant forgot his manners,¡± he said.


    ¡°You dumb-ass,¡± she shot back, shaking her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips.


    Grinning, Avan fetched two stone mugs from a hanging shelf above the kitchen¡ªcrude but functional, scavenged from the third floor¡¯s trap-riddled tunnels¡ªpouring the steaming herb tea with a practiced hand. He slid one across the table to her and settled into the opposite chair, the stone cool against his bare thighs. ¡°Mission accomplished¡ªshe¡¯s smiling, even if it¡¯s small,¡± he thought, sipping contentedly, the warm liquid soothing his throat as he tilted his head back to study the ceiling, its smooth gray surface etched with faint, ancient runes he hadn¡¯t yet deciphered. ¡°Guess it¡¯s time I hit Cyntha¡ªmy boxers won¡¯t last much longer at this rate, and fighting half-naked¡¯s losing its charm fast,¡± he mused, his mind drifting to practicalities. ¡°Can¡¯t keep embarrassing myself like this¡ªnext thing you know, the *Kobolds* will start running at the sight of me, not out of fear but sheer horror at my lack of pants. Need proper gear¡ªshirt, boots, something that doesn¡¯t scream ¡®desperate dungeon hermit.¡¯ Plus, these hides and fangs piling up¡ªthey¡¯re no good to me raw. Cyntha¡¯s got to have an armorer, a trader, someone who¡¯d pay for this stash. Yue could guide me through¡ªshe knows the place, the people. Maybe we could snag some quests through her guild without me registering officially¡ªkeep my name off the books for now, let her claim the rewards. Hmm¡­¡±


    Yue drained her mug, clutching it nervously with both hands, her fingers tracing the rough edges as she fidgeted for a moment before finding her voice. ¡°Avan¡­ someone¡¯s hunting me in Cyntha,¡± she said, her tone trembling, eyes dropping to her lap. ¡°I don¡¯t know why¡ªI couldn¡¯t figure it out¡ªbut they are. All I overheard was something about the goblins we killed in the caves, someone furious if they don¡¯t bring me back to whoever¡¯s pulling the strings. They chased me for days¡ªblocked every safe spot, the guild, the guards, everywhere I could¡¯ve run to. I fled through the slums, dodging them at every turn, and even then, they kept finding me, hounding me nonstop. You¡¯re the only one they wouldn¡¯t know about¡ªnot connected to me in their eyes¡ªso I slipped through the gates, praying you¡¯d still be here¡­ And now I¡¯ve dragged you into this danger with me¡­¡± Her voice cracked, guilt heavy as she stared at her cramped, folded hands, knuckles whitening.


    Avan¡¯s grin widened, wild and gleeful, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes as he leaned forward, elbows on the table. ¡°Oh, and here I thought you just missed me,¡± he teased. Her expression shifted¡ªhalf incredulous, half *you¡¯re an asshole*¡ªand he laughed, a deep, rolling sound that filled the room. ¡°Kidding, Yue¡ªrelax! Don¡¯t look at me like I¡¯ve lost my mind! Danger? Please¡ªI¡¯ve left a trail of corpses from here to the surface. Overconfident? Maybe, I¡¯ll give you that¡ªthe goblins were small fry compared to what I¡¯ve faced since. But now we know they¡¯re coming, we flip the script¡ªturn hunters into hunted. We¡¯ve got time to set the stage, rig some traps, use the floors above us. All those disarmed goodies up there¡ªpitfalls, spikes, boulders¡ªwe can reactivate ¡®em, tweak ¡®em, make ¡®em ours. How¡¯s that sound? Let¡¯s see how they like being the prey for once.¡± He gestured upward with sweeping hands, his grin turning downright maniacal, a glint of anticipation dancing in his eyes.


    Yue¡¯s lips twitched, a reluctant smile breaking through as she shook her head at his antics, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. ¡°Worth every bit of the theatrics¡ªshe¡¯s back, even if it¡¯s shaky,¡± he thought, watching her stand and gather the mugs, carrying them to the kitchen corner with a quiet determination. He whistled sharply for Horny, the rabbit abandoning its sphere chase to dart toward Yue, nuzzling her legs for pets. ¡°Traitorous little bastard,¡± Avan muttered under his breath, smirking as he rose, beckoning her with a flourish. ¡°Come, oh huntress¡ªlet¡¯s bring pain and death to these fools who dared chase you!¡± His voice boomed with overdramatic flair, one hand sweeping toward the door as he strode forward, ready to turn their hunted fate into a hunter¡¯s game.

 Chapter 18

    <div>


    They moved through the winding tunnel that led from the fourth level upward. Yue kept a curious gaze on the walls, her eyes wide with wonder¡ªuntil one of the pressure plates suddenly clicked just behind Avan as he passed.


    He turned his head with a smug grin.


    Yue gave him a blank stare, stepped closer, and punched him in the shoulder. Then immediately shook her hand with a pained grimace. "Ow! What the hell are you made of? Brick?! That actually hurt!"


    Chuckling, Avan replied, "Level fifty-three, not quite a hundred yet. But close enough to be tough, huh? And what''s your level, adventurer extraordinaire?"


    Yue blinked. "Wait¡ªwhat? You''re Bronze tier already?! You were below me when we met! I just hit nineteen! And you''re a healer now too?!"


    Right. I always forget about my Identification skill¡­ Ugh, idiot.


    He laughed lightly. "Alright, alright. I was joking earlier. I¡¯m using an ability¡ªAkkalon¡¯s Sphere. It lets me manipulate objects within my aura as if I were touching them. So traps? Disarmed or rearmed without lifting a finger."


    Yue raised a hand to hit him again but hesitated, then lowered it with a groan. "You have got to be messing with me. You¡¯re casually rearming traps with your mind and talking about seeing me naked like it¡¯s nothing? People would kill for that ability! You better not have used it like that, Avan, or I swear¡ª"


    They both laughed, their banter easing the tension.


    Half an hour later, they reached the stairwell. Avan plopped down, cross-legged, and summoned a steaming mug of tea from his storage. Yue¡¯s jaw dropped slightly.


    "Seen something interesting, foxy?" he teased, then handed her a second mug. She sat beside him, silently accepting the cup.


    "I don¡¯t even want to ask anymore," she muttered. "Aura, ridiculous leveling speed, and now storage magic. Most adventurers would stab you for that."


    Avan sipped, unconcerned. Later, he explained his ambush plan: they¡¯d wait at the bend, letting any pursuers struggle through the traps first. Yue agreed with a nod and followed him back through the corridor, where he disarmed and reset every trap along the way.


    Near the stairwell, he summoned blankets and lay back. Yue watched him with an incredulous stare.


    "We¡¯ll hear them coming," he said. "Unless you know anyone in Cyntha who can walk through traps without triggering them?"


    Yue shook her head. "Maybe a dozen bronze tiers, max. You''re probably the scariest person in or around Cyntha right now." She gave him a grateful glance and lay down beside him, quickly drifting off to sleep.


    Avan watched her face thoughtfully.


    She¡¯s been through too much¡­ Losing her parents, her friends. And here I am, living some twisted dream while the same kind of pain follows people here too. The old saying¡ªbreak or become stronger¡ªit always felt like a game mechanic. Level up, beat stronger enemies, repeat. But in real life, death is permanent. Still¡­ the comparison sticks. And here I go again, overthinking like a damn philosopher.


    He summoned two orbs of Origin energy, dimmed to resemble the night sky¡ªswirling with faint specks like distant stars.


    Beautiful. Looks like pure potential. Oh right¡ªmy passive skill literally says that. And I¡¯ve got a ton of stat points saved up. Let¡¯s see...


    With a grin, he reviewed his stats, chuckling to himself while allocating the points.


    Fifty to Intelligence. Fifty to Spirit. Fifty to Dexterity. Twenty to Wisdom and Vitality each. Feels good.


    His body thrummed with power as the numbers shifted in his mind¡¯s eye.


    Stats


    Strength: 75


    Dexterity: 130


    Vitality: 95


    Intelligence: 110


    Wisdom: 75


    Spirit: 105


    Hours passed. Avan practiced with his orbs in the dark, until distant voices and shouts echoed down the hall. A smirk tugged at his lips.


    Showtime.


    He peeked around the bend. Five adventurers moved cautiously, one hopping on one leg with a spear through the other. Avan snorted as another figure failed to help, only worsening the wound. After a harsh yell from the rear, a towering woman strode forward and yanked the spear out in one swift pull. The victim¡¯s scream echoed through the entire floor.


    Avan stayed still, observing. The woman¡ªlikely the leader¡ªgestured for silence and pointed ahead. Another man, probably a rogue, began disarming the next traps. Then he spotted one of the traps Avan had accidentally left exposed and called his allies over. While distracted, he took one step too far¡ª


    ¡ªand was promptly sawed in half by a hidden blade.


    Oops. Guess that¡¯s on me. Not that it makes capturing Yue any easier, does it?


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Their leader destroyed another trap with her massive blade. Her movements were fluid, experienced. The rest of the group followed at a distance¡ªa ranger with bow ready, two mages in brown and blue robes. As they neared, their conversation became audible...


    Avan remained crouched, watching the intruders from his hidden vantage point as the last of the triggered traps fell silent. The quiet tension in the corridor was palpable, broken only by the muttered curses and heavy steps of the remaining invaders. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the woman in front ¡ª the leader. She moved like someone familiar with danger. Her movements, her posture, the way she swung her blade to destroy the trap mechanism... none of it was sloppy. She was experienced, disciplined ¡ª a real threat.


    That sword isn¡¯t just for show. She''s no amateur. And the others... one archer, two mages. All with some training, but they''re following her lead without question. That means she''s either earned their respect or fear.


    One of the men, a mage in brown robes, began speaking nervously. ¡°I swear, Seff, this quest is at least bronze-tier! Who sends people into a dungeon without even a whisper at the guild? Something about this stinks.¡± He waved his arms around, visibly shaken.


    The other mage, Seff, replied with a sigh, ¡°You swear a lot, Milan. And you panic even more. You should¡¯ve never been approved for a mage class with that attitude.¡±


    Avan listened from his crouch, arms resting on his knees, brow slightly furrowed as he analyzed the group''s internal dynamic. He could hear the ranger¡¯s cautious steps as he checked the floor for more traps, and the silent judgment in the exchange between the mages told him volumes.


    Milan, clearly offended, snapped back, ¡°Just because you had it easy healing townsfolk doesn¡¯t mean you get to judge. Some of us had to fight monsters to gain experience, not just read books and bandage bruises!¡± He pointed at Eve. ¡°And remember how that voice struck her with lightning the moment she tried to force the door? You healed her, yes, but you didn¡¯t object to the quest either!¡±


    The party went quiet at that, and even the ranger, who had been focused on the corridor, turned around to glance at them. The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.


    Avan stepped away from his spot with a sigh and looked toward the sleeping Yue. He crouched beside her and gently spoke, ¡°Yue, they¡¯re here.¡±


    She blinked awake, rubbing her eyes slowly. Her expression shifted as she processed his words and the distant sounds of cursing and scraping. She quickly sat up, brushing her fiery orange hair back and frowning at the noise.


    Avan gave her a reassuring smile, stretched with an audible pop from his joints, and walked toward the corridor bend like it was a morning stroll rather than a confrontation. Yue blinked at his relaxed demeanor, then giggled as she noticed he was still only in his underwear, carrying himself with the grace of a warrior and the absurdity of someone heading to a picnic.


    She covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.


    Avan smirked as he stepped around the bend, arms raised. The adventurer group immediately tensed. Bows were raised. Spells charged. The woman¡¯s massive blade dropped to her side, ready to swing. They stared in silence as Avan stopped twenty meters from them, hands still raised casually. After a long pause, he slowly lowered them with a grin.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t help but overhear your lovely conversation,¡± he said. ¡°Milan, Seff. And of course, the musical butchering of those poor trap mechanisms, Eve. Or should I say, your quest to capture my companion here ¡ª Yue ¡ª who, by the way, I rescued from a goblin cage not too long ago.¡± He tilted his head slightly. ¡°And now I hear someone commissioned her abduction under the lie of a missing niece?¡±


    Behind him, Yue stepped cautiously into view, standing just behind his shoulder. Her expression was guarded, wary ¡ª but strong.


    The traps are mostly useless now, but the distance will help if they charge. Better keep them talking for now.


    Avan gestured toward Yue. ¡°This is Yue. And she¡¯s not someone¡¯s lost relative. She¡¯s the hunted. And now she¡¯s under my protection.¡± His voice dropped, laced with warning. ¡°If any of you try anything¡­ I won¡¯t hesitate.¡±


    He locked eyes with Eve, knowing instinctively she was the only real problem here. Her response was slow but calculated. She raised her sword ¡ª not to strike, but to slide it back into the sheath on her back. Then she grinned.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± she said. ¡°I believe you ¡ª for now. And if I¡¯m honest, I don¡¯t want to find out how a fight between us would end. Especially not with those orbs of yours floating around.¡±


    Her teammates looked surprised, but obeyed her signal. Spells were dismissed. Bows were lowered. Avan nodded slightly, relaxing just a fraction.


    ¡°Since you already know our names,¡± Eve continued, ¡°how about returning the favor? I hear that¡¯s what polite people do.¡±


    Avan chuckled. ¡°Polite? From bounty hunters? Well, I suppose I can humor you. I¡¯m Avan. And you¡¯ve already met Yue.¡± He bowed with exaggerated flourish, and Yue gave a small, nervous wave. ¡°Hi.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now that we¡¯re all acquainted,¡± Avan said, straightening, ¡°what do you plan to do? Keep chasing someone who was kidnapped and hunted by goblins?¡±


    Milan stepped forward before Eve could reply. ¡°Honestly? I never wanted to accept this quest. And now that we¡¯ve lost Jun, I want answers. We should report this to the guild. Let them trace whoever commissioned this madness.¡±


    ¡°After Yue confirms it all,¡± Eve added, ¡°we¡¯ll escort you to the guild. No tricks.¡±


    Yue stepped forward, voice shaky but firm. ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth. Avan saved me from a goblin cage weeks ago. My childhood friends¡­ they were already dead by then.¡± She clenched her hands tightly, tears threatening her voice.


    Eve studied her for a moment, then nodded solemnly. ¡°Then we¡¯ll bring the report. If this quest was forged or manipulated¡­ someone¡¯s going to pay.¡±


    Yue still sat on the cold stone floor, her arms wrapped around her legs as Avan leaned casually against the tunnel wall. Her eyes were red from emotion, but they burned with newfound resolve. When Eve finally stood, strapping the massive sword across her back in one smooth motion, she stepped forward.


    "I¡¯ll document everything and report to the guildmaster. This isn¡¯t some simple retrieval quest. Someone deliberately tried to mislead us¡ªperhaps even manipulate the entire guild." Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp with understanding.


    Avan nodded in agreement, the floating orbs behind him gently pulsing with soft light. "And whoever it was, they clearly didn¡¯t expect Yue to survive, let alone for her to find someone like me."


    Yue slowly rose to her feet, brushing dust from her clothes. "They¡¯ll know everything. Names, faces¡ªif I remember any¡ªand what they did to me. I don¡¯t want pity. I want justice."


    Milan, the brown-robed mage, took a cautious step forward. "Then we¡¯d better get moving before whoever¡¯s behind this sends another group. We¡¯re not far from Cyntha, but if they were able to manipulate the guild once, they may try again."


    Eve gave a short nod. "We¡¯ll escort you. Officially. Once we¡¯re back, we can also make sure you¡¯re both listed under guild protection¡ªat least temporarily. That¡¯ll make things a little harder for any future bounty nonsense."


    Avan exchanged a brief glance with Yue. She seemed hesitant, but her nod was firm. "Then let¡¯s go," she said quietly.


    They moved as a group, stepping carefully around the remaining traps Avan hadn¡¯t disarmed. His presence was now fully integrated into the group¡¯s dynamic¡ªhalf guardian, half mystery. Milan kept stealing glances at the floating orbs, while Eve seemed more amused than anything else.


    When they finally stepped out into the sunlit clearing beyond the tower¡¯s entrance and goblin caves, Yue shielded her eyes for a moment. It had been days since she had last seen the sky. Behind her, Avan emerged slowly, his gaze lifted toward the horizon as if measuring the path ahead.


    Without a word, he sent a silent mental command. The invisible bond responded.


    Stay here, Horny. Keep the meadow safe. I¡¯ll call when it¡¯s time.


    He felt the faint impression of agreement ripple through the link before it faded into the background of his awareness. He didn¡¯t know how long they¡¯d stay in Cyntha, or what challenges lay ahead, but one thing was certain¡ªthis was only the beginning.


    As the group began their journey toward the city, Avan walked a step behind Yue, silent, but watchful. His fingers curled slightly as the orbs followed like shadows, and somewhere deep in his thoughts, a single idea echoed like a warning bell.


    Time to step out of the shadows¡ªbut only on my own terms.