"I am alive."
Zarek's eyes fluttered open, and he whispered those words as though saying them aloud would tether him to reality. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his body aching but… healed. Almost completely. Even the searing agony that had once consumed him was now a dull echo of pain.
A strange, serene calmness filled his mind, unnatural in its steadiness—as though some unseen force was suppressing the chaos that had threatened to tear him apart earlier.
Slowly, carefully, Zarek pushed himself upright, his muscles trembling. His first instinct was to check his surroundings. The small dagger glinted faintly on the cold stone floor, and he scooped it up immediately, clutching it in a white-knuckled grip. His eyes darted around, alert and searching for any sign of danger.
The oppressive darkness that had once swallowed this place whole was gone. In its place, an unsettling glow lit the cavern, revealing jagged walls streaked with dark stains. The twisted rock formations seemed almost alive, like serpents coiling endlessly into the distance, casting unnerving shadows that shifted and writhed.
Then it hit him.
The stench.
His nose scrunched up violently as the foul, cloying odor of rotting flesh slammed into his senses like a physical blow.
"Guh—!" Zarek gagged and stumbled back, clutching his stomach. The smell was so rancid it felt as if it had seeped into his very soul. His stomach twisted, and before he could suppress the urge, he doubled over and vomited violently onto the ground.
"Heh… heh!" His breaths came in sharp gasps, like a panting dog trying desperately to get air through the miasma. His voice was hoarse as he rasped, "What is this disgusting smell?"
He staggered to his feet, swaying.
Then a thought struck him like lightning. His eyes widened.
"The goblin—where did it go?"
Zarek spun around, scanning the cave with frantic urgency. His heartbeat pounded like a war drum in his ears. But there was nothing. Not even a corpse. No sign of the goblin he had slain. It was as though the creature had never existed at all.
For a moment, panic threatened to take hold.
Then the reality of his situation crashed down on him with bone-chilling clarity.
This wasn't just a cave. This was a dungeon.
And not just any dungeon—it was the world of his favorite novel brought to life, The World of Good and Evil.
The memory of the previous fight replayed in his head, making his skin crawl. If the goblin's disappearance meant anything, it was that other monsters might have caught its scent.
"They'll be coming," he muttered under his breath.
His body moved before his mind could even process the decision. He sprinted forward—or at least, as close to a sprint as his recovering frame allowed. There was no time to check the status window hovering at the edge of his consciousness.
The flashing prompts could wait.
If he got distracted for even a second and another monster ambushed him while he was gawking at glowing blue screens, he wouldn't survive.
Zarek forced his breathing into a steady rhythm as he navigated through the now-lit passages. The twisting corridors blurred past him. With the visibility restored, his pace increased rapidly, covering hundreds of meters in mere minutes.
But with each passing moment, unease gnawed at his mind.
This wasn't right.
He distinctly remembered the first dungeon run of Arthur Dreamwalker, the protagonist of this world. Arthur's first dungeon was also a sacrificial dungeon, infamous for its brutal difficulty. His elite squad of six had been annihilated, one by one, as relentless waves of monsters attacked without pause. Arthur hadn't been allowed a single moment to rest.
Yet…
Zarek's eyes scanned the eerily empty corridors. The silence was suffocating. There were no monsters. No sound of claws scraping stone. Just his own echoing footsteps.
His heartbeat quickened, hammering against his ribs.
"This doesn't make sense…"
A fleeting, dangerous hope whispered in his mind: Maybe this time, for once, I actually got lucky.
His pulse raced faster at the thought. A grin almost tugged at his lips—only to fade instantly.
"No," he hissed, shaking his head violently. "Such a good thing could never happen to me."
If there was one immutable rule of his existence, it was that fortune never favored him. If things seemed too calm, it only meant the storm was about to hit harder.
Zarek dropped into a crouch, moving even more cautiously. His eyes scanned every crevice, every shadow, until he finally spotted a narrow gap between two jagged stones—a perfect hiding place.
It wasn't much, but it would shield his back from surprise attacks. For now, that was enough.
Settling into the cramped space, Zarek exhaled slowly and whispered in his mind:
"Status."
Immediately, a cascade of glowing blue windows materialized before his eyes.
[Congratulations, warrior!]
[You have slain your first monster.]
[Target: Regular Goblin – Eliminated.]
[You have leveled up!]
[+5 unassigned stat points gained.]
[Summoning Authority Activated!]
[Regular Goblin is ready to be summoned.]
[Name: Zarek Silversword]
[Class:First Sequence Ultimate Grade – Infinite Origin Summoner]
[Level: 1 (0/100)]
[Strength: 2.6]
[Agility: 2.8]
[Perception: 2.9]
[Physique: 2.4]
[Mana: 2.1]
[Unassigned Stat Points: 5]
[Active Summons: 0/2]
Acquired Skills: Mana Manipulation (Unique), Absolute Combat Mode (Unique)
Zarek's breath caught in his throat. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the glowing panels.
Even though he'd seen this system countless times on a screen back in his old world, seeing it here, real and alive, was overwhelming.
He forced himself to calm down and focus.
First, his name was the same as before, but his surname had changed to Silversword. It felt vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite recall why.
Then there was the shocking revelation of his class.
The prompt when he'd first entered the dungeon hadn't been lying—he had truly awakened a First Sequence Ultimate Grade class.
A wide grin almost split his face.
This was beyond rare. People in this world usually awakened their class upon entering their first dungeon at the age of fourteen.
Classes were divided by sequences, and each sequence had multiple grades:
Regular → Rare → Epic → Legacy → Ultimate.
Ultimate-grade classes were so powerful they weren't even known to the public at this point in the story. They would only be revealed much later.
But there was more. He had acquired skills—something even more mysterious.
Skills could normally be learned through training, books, or through extremely rare drops from monsters.
But Zarek hadn't learned anything, nor had he killed anyone strong enough to grant such rare skills.
The mystery nagged at him, but he forced himself to set it aside. There was no time to obsess over questions he couldn't answer yet.
His eyes fell on the final glowing section at the bottom of the panel.
Class Skills.
Heart pounding, he willed it open. Two skills appeared before him, written in dazzling golden script:
[Infinite Origin Summon Link]
[Infinite Origin Summoning]
He focused on the first one, and a description appeared.
[Infinite Origin Summon Link – Form a link with a summoned creature of your choice. Stats and skills can be shared and used interchangeably between host and summon.]
Zarek's jaw dropped slightly. The possibilities were staggering. If he could share stats and skills with his summons, the combinations would be endless.
He moved to the next skill, anticipation building.
[Infinite Origin Summoning – The origin of every being slain by the user is captured and bound eternally. Copies of these beings can be summoned to fight for the user.]
A sharp glint flashed in Zarek's eyes.
"So it's like… DNA," he muttered. "I'm collecting their essence, then summoning perfect clones."
He finally understood the system's foundation. It wasn't as overwhelming as he had hoped, but its potential was undeniable.
Before he could delve deeper, a guttural roar shattered the silence.
ROAR!
The sound echoed through the twisting halls, followed by the clash of battle and frenzied screeches.
Zarek tightened his grip on his dagger, his heartbeat steadying. Fear was still there, coiled deep in his gut, but his new abilities gave him a flicker of confidence.
There was just one problem.
"How do I summon?" he muttered.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, his vision warped. The cave vanished, and he was floating in a familiar dark void.
But unlike last time, it wasn't empty.
A small green sphere of light hovered a short distance away, glowing faintly like a firefly.
Recognition struck instantly—it resembled the goblin he'd killed.
The sphere noticed him and drifted closer, then bowed low in a gesture of submission.
A prompt appeared.
[Please grant a name to the creature.]
Zarek blinked.
It made sense—calling it "goblin" every time would get confusing.
He considered the creature's pitiful existence, the hunger and fear that had driven it to attack him.
There was only one word that felt fitting.
"Misery."
As soon as he spoke, the green light shifted. Its shape stretched and twisted, forming limbs, pointed ears, and a sharp nose. In mere moments, a three-foot-tall goblin stood silently in the void, its glowing form kneeling before him.
Then, just as suddenly, Zarek was back in the cave.
But now, there was a connection—a thread linking him to Misery. He could feel it, deep in his core. At will, he knew he could summon or dismiss the creature.
A grin spread across his face.
For the first time since entering this nightmare, he felt truly ready to face what lay ahead.
His steps grew steadier, his grip on the dagger firm as he ventured deeper into the twisting halls.
The game had changed. And this time, he wasn't playing alone.