A chaotic stampede echoed through the dungeon corridors a desperate young man sprinting for his life, a horde of cackling goblins and snarling kobolds at his heels. Their claws scraped against stone, their guttural cries bouncing off the glowing blue walls as they chased their seemingly doomed prey.
But something was... off.
The man kept glancing back with an unsettling smirk, deliberately veering toward clusters of additional monsters. With each taunting wave, more creatures joined the pursuit, until the tunnel seethed with twice as many enemies, their collective stench of wet fur and rotting meat thickening the air.
Then—a sharp turn into a dead-end chamber.
The monsters skidded to a halt, their beady eyes gleaming with victory. Nowhere left to run. But as they fanned out, claws raised, a chilling realization set in.
Their prey had vanished.
A beat of silence.
Then—CRACK.
A huge wall of ice erupted from the ground, sealing the exit with a thunderous boom. The creatures whirled, panic rising—only to freeze at the sound behind them.
Heavy. Ragged. Breathing.
The temperature plummeted. Frost spiderwebbed across the floor. And then—
A shadow loomed over them.
The Frostarm Lawachurl stood at its full, terrifying height—three meters of muscle and matted white fur, its icy horns scraping the ceiling. The tribal mask hid its face, but nothing could disguise the murderous glow of its blue eyes as it loomed over the trembling horde.
A low, guttural growl reverberated through the chamber.
"Grrrrr—"
That was the last sound the monsters heard before a massive fist, wreathed in swirling Cryo energy, slammed into the front them—sending bodies flying like ragdolls into the frozen wall with sickening thuds.....
--
Liam sat cross-legged in a dim chamber of the dungeon, carefully sorting through the scattered magic stones before him. The faint blue glow of the walls reflected off their crystalline surfaces as he divided them into two piles—one for immediate use, the other to exchange for valis later.
Can't use them all, he mused, rolling a particularly large stone between his fingers. I still owe Syr for that meal... and showing up empty-handed after hours down here would raise too many questions.
A satisfied grin tugged at his lips as he reviewed his Frostarm Lawachurl's upgraded status:
[Frostarm Lawachurl]
Level: 5/20
Max HP: 1,477 ▲
ATK: 509 ▲
DEF: 525 ▲
Not bad. The defense and attack had seen modest gains, but the HP had more than doubled—a crucial buffer for future battles.
Closing the interface, Liam scooped up ten intact magic cores and stashed them in his pouch. Time had become meaningless in the dungeon's endless twilight, but his aching muscles suggested he'd been grinding for at least several hours.
Definitely not addicted to leveling up, he told himself, ignoring how his fingers had itched to crush just one more stone moments ago.
A final check of his base stats revealed quieter progress:
[Liam]
Level: 2/20
Max HP: 634 ▲
ATK: 246 ▲
DEF: 55 ▲
Priorities first, he reasoned. Better to invest in the Lawachurl's overwhelming power now than spread resources thin. With a final stretch, he rose ready to go back to the surface.
As he turned to leave, a glint caught his eye a curved black claw half-buried in the stone dust. Liam picked it up, rolling the drop item between his fingers.
Monster drop? Might be worth something.
He pocketed it, the claw's edge scraping faintly against the fabric. Tonight, he'd celebrate with Hestia.
--------------------------------
Stepping out from the Babel Tower, Liam blinked against the sudden wash of golden-orange light. The sun hung low over Orario, setting the white stone buildings aflame with its glow and stretching long shadows across the plaza. Around him, groups of adventurers emerged from the dungeon's depths, laughing and comparing loot with their parties—some nursing wounds, others clutching bulging sacks of magic stones.
A quiet sigh escaped Liam as he turned away from the camaraderie. His own pockets sagged heavily against his thighs, the weight of his haul threatening to drag his pants down if not for his belt. The magic stones clinked together with each step, a satisfying reminder of his solitary grind.
Then—thud.
Someone collided with his side. Liam barely budged, but the small figure rebounded off him and tumbled to the cobblestones with a yelp.
Looking down, Liam's eyebrows rose.
A kid?
The child was wrapped in a tattered robe several sizes too large, the frayed hem dragging against the cobblestones. Up close, Liam still couldn't determine their gender - the dirt-smudged face and cropped brown hair suggested a boy, but the voice had a softer lilt.
A comically oversized backpack dwarfed the small frame, its straps digging into narrow shoulders. Liam brushed dust from the robe's sleeves, noting how the fabric hung loose around tiny wrists as he helped the child up.
"Are you hurt?" Liam asked, crouching to eye level.
The child shook their head, revealing chestnut eyes too old for such a young face. Then Liam noticed the worn leather bracers, the chipped dagger at their belt. His stomach dropped.
An adventurer? At this age?
"Where are your parents?" Liam kept his voice low. "A boy like you shouldn't be wandering alone near the dungeon."
Lili's gaze fell to the ground, fingers twisting in the oversized robe. "Don't have any." The words came out flat, practiced.
Before Liam could respond, the child bristled. "And Lili's not a kid! Or a boy!"
Liam studied the face now glaring up at him - the lack of any distinctly feminine features. Every visual cue says boy... Was this some kind of disguise? But then movement caught his eye - two small, furry triangles twitching beneath the hood.
A dog people?
"Ahem. Is that so?" Liam managed, filing away the questions.
"Mm!" Lili nodded vigorously, making the ear-like tufts quiver. The oversized backpack swayed dangerously with the movement.
Liam chuckled softly, glancing at the darkening indigo sky. The first evening stars were beginning to pierce through the twilight. "Well, even so," he said, turning back to Lili, "be careful when walking around. Not everyone will stop to help if you bump into them like I did."
Lili nodded vigorously, making her oversized backpack wobble precariously. Her curious eyes scanned Liam's plain tunic and trousers. "Mister, are you an adventurer?"
"I am," Liam confirmed.
Lili tilted her head, her ear tufts twitching. "But... where's your party?"
"Don't have one. Just me." Liam shook his head.
A strange expression flickered across Lili's face—something between surprise and calculation—before she suddenly bowed. "I see! Then Lili will take her leave now. Bye-bye, mister!"
Before Liam could respond, she scampered off, her large backpack bouncing comically with each hurried step. Liam watched her disappear into the growing crowd, shaking his head in disbelief. A child adventurer... What kind of world lets this happen?
Turning toward the guild direction, Liam began his own trek. As he walked, the city gradually illuminated around him—one by one, magical street lamps flickered to life, their warm glow pushing back the encroaching darkness. The scent of roasting meat from nearby stalls mingled with the evening breeze, and the distant sound of a minstrel's lute began weaving through the hum of conversation.
Liam's hand instinctively went to his hip—only to grasp empty air.
Eh?
His fingers patted the space where his dull blade should have been. A cold realization settled in as he turned back toward the crowded plaza, now bathed in flickering lamplight.
That kid...
The suspicious questions, the deliberate collision—it hadn't been an accident at all. Liam almost laughed at his own naivety. A pickpocket. And I fell for it like some greenhorn.
Sighing, Liam opened his system interface. Sure enough, the dull blade's icon sat grayed out in his inventory, marked [Unsummoned]. A wry smirk tugged at his lips. Clever kid. But not clever enough.
With a tap, the icon flickered back to full color. Liam quickly ducked into a nearby alley, checking over his shoulder to ensure no witnesses. The moment the coast was clear, he extended his hand—
Shink.
The blade materialized in a flash of light, its weight familiar against his palm. He slid it smoothly back into his belt, shaking his head.
After a short walk through Orario's lamp-lit streets, Liam pushed open the guild's heavy oak doors. The usual bustle of adventurers had dwindled to a few late-night stragglers nursing drinks or comparing loot. His eyes scanned the reception area, but Eina's familiar glasses and black uniform were nowhere in sight.
Shift must be over, he mused, approaching a free clerk instead.
Placing three mid-sized magic stones and a kobold's claw on the counter, Liam tapped the surface. "Could you put the exchange in a pouch? Deduct the cost from the total."
The clerk - a tired-looking human with ink-stained fingers - gave a curt nod. The items disappeared behind the counter, followed by the sound of scales clinking and a drawer sliding open. Moments later, a small leather pouch appeared in the exchange tray.
Liam weighed it in his palm before loosening the drawstrings. Inside, seven thousand valis glinted under the guild's crystal lamps - a modest sum, but respectable for a first dungeon dive.
Enough to cover Syr's meal and then some.
Tucking the pouch into his inner pocket where pickpockets would struggle to reach, he cast one last glance around the guild hall. Still no Eina. With a shrug, he turned toward the exit, the coins jingling faintly with each step.
Stepping out of the guild, Liam paused beneath the street lamps to assess himself. The thought of attending Hestia's welcome party in his current state made his nose wrinkle. He brought his sleeve to his face—
Huh.
No clinging dungeon stench, no sweat. Just the faint metallic tang of magic stones that had rubbed off in his pockets. Still, better safe than sorry.
His eyes scanned the nearby storefronts until spotting a bathhouse's steam-clouded windows. The sign advertised "500 Valis - 10 Minute Luxury Wash!"
Good enough.
Ten minutes later, Liam emerged scrubbed pink, his damp hair slicked back. The evening air felt crisper against his clean skin. A glass bottle of chilled milk—purchased from a vendor outside—dripped condensation into his palm as he took a long pull.
The creamy sweetness washed over his tongue as he exhaled, finally feeling human again.
--------------------
The Hostess of Fertility buzzed with raucous energy, every table packed with adventurers washing down the day's battles with foaming ales and laughter. The scent of roasted meat and spilled beer hung thick in the air as Liam wove through the crowd toward the counter.
Mama Mia stood behind the bar, her muscular arms flexing as she polished a glass. She looked up as Liam approached, her stern expression softening in recognition.
"Well, if it isn't the polite young man from this morning," she said, setting the glass down with a thud. "None of that 'miss' nonsense—just Mia's fine. What brings you back?"
Liam reached for his coin pouch. "I came to pay for this morning's—"
Mia's calloused hand clamped over his wrist before he could retrieve the valis. "Keep your coin," she said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. "Consider it thanks for putting a spring in Syr's step today. Just do me a favor—don't go breaking that girl's heart." Her pats on his back carried enough force to rattle his teeth.
"Ha...haha," Liam laughed nervously, bracing against the counter. "I'll... try not to?"
"Good lad." Mia straightened, her tone shifting to business.
Mia leaned in, the overhead lanterns catching the silver streaks in her brown hair. "Staying for dinner then? Or waiting for someone?"
"My goddess should be arriving soon," Liam said, glancing toward the entrance.
"Want me to call Syr over?" Mia suggest.
"no thank you," Liam reply.
Mia shrugged, already turning to fill another order. "Suit yourself. But that seat won't stay empty long with this crowd."
(A/n: tell me your thoughts....)