The kobold's claws came straight for my face. I ducked — badly — and ended up flat on my ass. Not exactly the heroic entrance I'd pictured when I signed up for this mess.
"Jin! Look out!" someone yelled from behind me.
I scrambled backwards through something wet and sticky on the dungeon floor. Better not to think about what it was. In places like this, wet and sticky never meant anything good.
The kobold was ugly as sin, looked like someone had crossed a rat with a particularly nasty piece of work. Patchy fur, yellowed teeth that belonged in a nightmare, and breath that could knock a troll unconscious. It lunged again.
This time I wasn't quick enough.
Its claws tore through my leather armour like it was made of paper. Pain exploded across my chest, hot and sharp enough to make me see stars. I screamed. Not some manly battle cry either. A full on, embarrassing shriek that probably echoed through half the dungeon.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.
My first real dungeon dive. My big chance to prove I was more than just another face selling overripe fruit at the market. Three years of that life, and I'd finally scraped together enough coins to buy decent gear and join a proper expedition. The advertisement made it sound simple enough: "Entry-level dungeon dive! Perfect for beginners! Minimal risk, maximum reward!"
What a load of crap.
The kobold's breath hit my face as it leaned in for what was probably going to be the killing blow. Behind it, I could see my party — three people I'd met just this morning — fighting their own battles. Losing them, more like.
Koros, our so-called tank, was already down. His fancy plate armour might as well have been tissue paper. Blood pooled beneath him in quantities that made my stomach turn. Lina, the mage we'd all been counting on, had her back against the wall. Her staff was broken in half, and the weak fire spells she kept throwing barely singed the kobolds' mangy fur.
As for Drav, our healer? Couldn't see him anywhere. Probably ran for it the moment things went sideways. Smart man.
We were finished. All of us. In what was supposed to be the easiest, most beginner-friendly dungeon in the entire region.
The kobold raised its claws again. I closed my eyes and waited for the end.
Instead, I heard a wet gurgling sound. When I opened my eyes, the kobold was clutching its throat. An arrow shaft stuck out from one side, and dark blood was already pooling on the ground as the creature toppled over.
"Adventurers! Hold your positions!"
The Guild Rescue Squad. I'd never been so happy to hear those pompous, official voices in my entire life.
But they were too late for most of us. Koros was definitely gone, even I could tell that much. Lina screamed as another kobold managed to get its teeth into her neck. By the time the rescuers fought their way to her, she'd stopped moving entirely. And Drav... I spotted his body near the entrance, apparently taken down while trying to flee.
I just lay there bleeding while the professionals cleaned up what was left of the kobold pack. They moved with the kind of methodical efficiency that made it clear how completely useless we'd been.
"Got a live one here!" someone shouted. Next thing I knew, someone was kneeling beside me, pressing a healing potion to my lips. The stuff tasted like mint mixed with copper pennies, but the pain in my chest started fading immediately.
"Lucky bastard," the rescuer muttered as he helped me sit up. "Rest of your party's gone."
Five dead in total. My three party members, plus one of the rescuers who'd taken a poison dart to the face from some trap we'd apparently triggered without even noticing. And there was a fifth body I didn't recognize, probably another adventurer from an earlier expedition who'd never made it out.
I felt hollow inside. Empty. This was supposed to be the beginning of my adventure, not some massacre that left me as the only survivor.
The rescuer got me on my feet. "Can you walk? We need to get you out of here before something else shows up."
I nodded, though my legs felt like water. That's when I noticed something strange near my feet — a faint bluish glow that seemed to be coming from the dungeon floor itself.
I blinked hard, thinking it might be some side effect from the healing potion. But no, there was definitely something there. Like a piece of paper, but made of light. Translucent and shimmering, lying right there on the stone.
"What's that?" I asked, pointing down at it.
The rescuer looked where I was pointing. "What's what? Come on, we need to move."
He couldn't see it. That was... strange.
I bent down and picked the thing up, half-expecting my hand to pass right through it. But I could actually feel it — cool to the touch, with a slight tingle of energy running through it.
The moment my fingers made contact, words appeared on its surface:
DUNGEON RECEIPT
Dungeon: Kobold Warren (Level 1)
Deaths Processed: 5
Points Awarded: 500
Thank you for your patronage!
I stared at the glowing text, my brain struggling to make sense of what I was seeing. Five deaths. Five hundred points. What the hell did any of that mean?
"Hey!" The rescuer shook my shoulder. "We're leaving. Now!"
I stuffed the glowing receipt into my pocket and followed him toward the exit, my mind spinning. What was this thing? And what exactly were these "points" supposed to be for?
We emerged into daylight that felt blindingly bright after the dungeon's gloom. The rescue team had set up a temporary camp where they were wrapping bodies in clean white cloth, a sight that made my empty stomach churn all over again.
"Sit here," my rescuer said, pointing to a log near their campfire. "Debriefer needs to talk to you."
I sat down, but as soon as he walked away, I pulled the receipt out of my pocket. Still there. Still glowing. Still displaying the same impossible message.
"Deaths Processed: 5." My three party members, the unlucky rescuer, and that fifth body I'd spotted.
"Points Awarded: 500." But points for what? And awarded to who? Me?
As I stared at it, the receipt shimmered and changed. New text appeared below the original message:
DUNGEON SHOP NOW AVAILABLE
Say "Open Shop" to view available items.
I looked around. The rescuers were busy with the bodies and their equipment. Nobody was paying any attention to the traumatized survivor.
"Open Shop," I whispered, feeling like a complete idiot.
The air in front of me rippled, and suddenly I was looking at what could only be described as a floating menu. Glowing with the same blue light as the receipt, completely transparent, and apparently visible only to me since none of the rescuers were freaking out about it.
DUNGEON SHOP
Available Points: 500
ITEMS:
- Health Potion (Minor) - 50 points
- Reinforced Leather Armor - 200 points
- Skill Book: Basic Swordsmanship - 300 points
- Skill Book: Trap Detection (Novice) - 300 points
- Kobold Fang Dagger - 150 points
I read the list twice. Then a third time, just to be sure.
This was impossible. A magic shop that only I could see? One that somehow gave me points when people died in dungeons?
It was disturbing. More than disturbing — it was sick. Wrong on every level imaginable.
But as I looked at the bodies of my party members being prepared for their final journey back to the city, a cold, practical thought wormed its way into my head:
They were already dead. Nothing was going to bring them back.
And if I had this... ability, this twisted gift... wasn't it better to use it than waste it?
"Jin!" The chief rescuer was walking toward me, his expression grim. "We need your statement about what happened down there."
I quickly waved the shop menu away, relieved when it disappeared instantly.
"Of course," I said, trying to look appropriately traumatized. Which wasn't hard, considering I'd nearly died and watched four people get torn apart by rat-monsters.
But as I told the Guild official my version of events, part of my mind was already working on other problems. Calculating.
If I got 500 points from five deaths in a level 1 dungeon...
What kind of points could I get from higher-level dungeons? Ones with bigger monsters and higher casualty rates?
The thought should have horrified me. Instead, it filled me with something that felt uncomfortably like excitement.
I wouldn't cause the deaths myself. I wasn't a monster. But if people were going to die in dungeons anyway — and they were, every single day — then somebody might as well benefit from it.
And that somebody was going to be me.