"Hah, hah—dammit! Why did I have to run into a Dark Faction lunatic at a time like this?"
Breaking away from Rudra's line of sight, Charles pressed a hand over his pounding heart, unable to calm down for a long time. That look of confidence he had just displayed? Mostly an act.
"This really reminds me of the time I secretly unclogged the sewer for my sister-in-law behind my big brother's back… thrilling!"
If not for the acting skills honed in his past life, he might have been a dead man already.
Reviewing his own performance, he couldn't be sure if he'd let any slip-ups show in front of a god who could discern lies.
But whatever the case—he'd gotten rid of that damn people who had been bullying him, secured 5 million valis in startup funds, and caused some trouble for Zanis on the side.
This crisis… 90% resolved.
"Can't get careless. Knowing the Dark Faction's style, the remaining 10% of danger is going to hit me any moment now!"
Without slowing down, Charles raced along the corridor toward the official route.
Only four turns later, a massive blade swung out from the shadows at a corner.
Oh, shit!
Charles slammed his left foot forward, halting his sprint just in time. The great blade crashed into the ground, shattering the stone floor.
Ahead, blocking the passage, stood two white-robed thugs with a Middle Eastern flair—one on the left, one on the right.
"How'd a rat get in here?"
"Kill him."
Their empty, mad eyes glinted with murderous light.
Seeing this, Charles immediately spun around and bolted toward another corridor.
"Stop! Don't run!"
The Dark Faction—just as expected!
Rudra wouldn't be here in the Dungeon just because I showed up; they must have their own objective. From the looks of it, this whole area's already under their control.
I see…
If I want to take the money out alive… that's the real test they've set for me.
Steadying his mind, Charles ran while analyzing his options.
His combat strength relied heavily on Drunken Rampage, but it required alcohol as a medium. Without any on hand, his combat power was barely a fifth of normal.
And with the enemy's lockdown this tight… I have to refresh my skill.
Here's the problem—
Burdened Stride let him move freely in heavy armor, but if he replaced it, he'd have to ditch his gear. That meant losing not just money, but also armor protection—and worse, his resistance to divine wine's side effects would vanish.
But right now… I have no choice!
Unknown skills were far too dependent on luck; they couldn't be my main win condition.
So… where's my path to survival?
Charles recalled Rudra's parting words, and his eyes lit up.
The Justice Bitch?
Yes—Astraea Familia!
The seventh floor was as large as a city park, and thanks to Gannu's screams earlier, outer-area adventurers must have noticed.
Ordinary adventurers wouldn't be stupid enough to rush in for a rescue… but they would raise an alarm! If luck was on my side, Astraea's group should already be moving in!
That's my escape route!
Realizing his situation, Charles hurled his battle axe behind him.
In the cramped tunnel—barely wide enough for two axes side-by-side—the two white-robes were forced to stop and block the projectile.
Charles seized the opening to widen the gap between them again.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
While fleeing, he tossed his longsword, breastplate, and helmet one by one behind him, each piece slowing the pursuit just enough.
Clutching the bag of gold coins in his arms, he rounded another bend—battle noises growing louder in the distance.
The actual distance wasn't far, but with this ant-nest maze of passages, it was nowhere near a straight run.
In his mind, Charles prayed desperately: Give me a skill to survive! A skill that will keep me alive!
"No more waiting! Pandora—refresh!"
The Falna on his back flared with blistering heat, and Charles felt his very soul descend into chaos once more.
Skills and magic were powers expressed through his vessel, but Second Dimensional Pandora directly rewrote the vessel's expression from its very foundation.
A true miracle of the Lower World.
After a moment of dizziness, new Falna details surfaced in his mind—
Charles — Lv.1
STR: I50 → I78
END: I60 → H157
DEX: I80 → I97
AGI: I50 → I66
MAG: I0 → I0
Magic: [ ]
Skills:
[Fragile College Student]
Passive effect.
Battle Continuation, Death Resistance.
Drastically reduced Endurance beyond normal limits, making you much more vulnerable to damage.
[PS: Physical collapse cannot stop your will to walk away; your ancestors will plead your case in the Underworld.]
[Go Wherever You Want]
When HP is low, resist control and negative effects (including bleeding, cripple, etc.).
STR increases based on lost HP.
When hit, convert spilled blood into chemical vials that heal HP and accelerate recovery.
Greatly boosts HP regeneration speed.
[PS: Mundo goes where he pleases!]
---
Charles was stunned.
What… did he just see?
[Fragile College Student]?
What the hell is this?!
The second skill was expected—it was basically Dr. Mundo's passive from League of Legends—but the first one…
"Is this some kind of meme joke? How can that become a skill?!"
Charles had to once again revise his view of his cheat ability—it didn't just pull powerful game abilities, it could even spit out negative-effect skills!
A severe drop in Endurance… that was practically a stat downgrade!
Already, he could feel his stamina bleeding away, his run slowing. After only a few steps, he was panting—like those nights dragging himself home from a 996 shift.
And yet—
"Kehahahahaha…!"
Instead of despairing, Charles burst into wild laughter.
Because while [Fragile College Student] tanked his physical stats, it also granted two ridiculously broken perks: Battle Continuation and Death Resistance.
Those might sound simple, but combined with the meme's origin, he realized just how terrifying this could be.
"Back then, the hero who made this skill famous… roamed around on vacation with a platelet count of 1, covered in corpse spots—and still didn't die! A living legend!"
Only one issue—
This skill had no healing effect. Meaning if he was blown to bits, no doctor in Orario could save him.
But as fate would have it—
[Go Wherever You Want] erased that last concern.
A percent-based HP regen per second was basically a weaker form of Self-Replenishment, almost on par with a monster's recovery rate.
HP lock… plus accelerated regeneration—
How could he die?
He couldn't. Not anymore.