---
After fourteen Days,
The forest clearing was quiet. Too quiet.
Only the faint shimmer of twilight pressed through the canopy, scattering long shadows across the ground where Logan Dex'Murphy sat cross-legged. His thin frame leaned slightly forward, as if even his body was still surprised it hadn't collapsed under the strain of the past two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Fourteen relentless, bone-grinding days.
The moment Nexus dropped that "trial quest" on him, Logan swore it was a death sentence in disguise. Push-ups until his arms shook like wet noodles, sprints until his lungs felt like a furnace, dodging drills against swinging logs that nearly brained him more than once. He'd trained alone, sweat-soaked, bruised, aching, and still had to haul himself home every night to smile for his siblings like nothing was wrong.
But he'd done it. Somehow.
And now, the air itself seemed to hum with a faint tension around him.
> [Quest Complete: Fourteen Days of Fire]
Rewards Distributed.
- All Traits: +1
- Minor Essence Crystal (Consumed)
- ???
"…So that's it?" Logan muttered, breath ghosting in the cooling air. His pale red eyes flicked toward the faint translucent panel floating before him. "Two weeks of hell and I don't even get a medal? No applause, no parade?"
> [Notification: The Host receives the invaluable reward of survival. Applause unnecessary.]
Logan dragged a hand down his face, smearing sweat along his cheek. "…You've got the sense of humor of a wet rag, you know that?"
> [Counter-Argument: Host's attempts at humor are statistically less successful.]
"…Oh, screw you." He laughed despite himself. It came out hoarse, tired, but there was an edge of satisfaction there.
---
The Status Window
He exhaled, forcing himself to really look at the updated screen.
[Status Window – Logan Dex'Murphy]
Race: Human (Awakened)
Age: 17
Rank: Novice (Level 1/9)
Exp;[0/100]
STR: D
AGI: D+
VIT: D
INT: C+
WIL: C
CHARM: B-
Luck: ??
Traits:
[Big Brother's Burden] – ???
[Fragment of ???] – ???
[Unyielding Embers] – Locked
---
Logan tilted his head, lips quirking. "…Okay, not gonna lie, that 'B-' in Charm? That feels like cheating. Who's grading this—some drunk noblewoman at a tavern?"
> [System Clarification: Charm evaluates Host's potential for persuasion, magnetism, and interpersonal resonance. Not drunken tavern wenches.]
"'Interpersonal resonance,' huh? So basically, I'm hot." He gave the glowing panel a smug finger-gun gesture.
> [Correction: Host's face is objectively average. Aura and charisma create an inflated perception.]
Logan's grin faltered. "…So you're saying I've got the aura of a con artist."
> [Affirmative.]
He sighed. "…Y'know what, I'll take it. Better than looking like a wet dog."
---
The Crystal
The faint glow of the Minor Essence Crystal lingered in his chest. He could still feel it, a steady warmth thrumming like an ember nestled against his heart.
When he absorbed it, the sensation had nearly knocked him flat—like fire and ice shoving through his veins at once. His fingertips had tingled for minutes afterward, his breaths sharp and uneven.
Even now, the memory left goosebumps prickling his arms.
And worse—no, stranger—there'd been that whisper.
Not Nexus. Not him. Something else.
"…Awaken…"
It had come and gone like a ripple on water, leaving only a hollow silence behind.
He rubbed his temple, frowning. '…Probably just exhaustion. Hallucination. Yeah. Definitely not the creepy voice of some cosmic stalker trying to crawl inside my head.'
But the thought refused to leave.
> [Query: Host has not disclosed all experiences during Essence absorption. Clarify.]
"…What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"
> [Data Correlation: Micro-twitch in left eye, elevated heart rate, hesitation of 0.7 seconds before denial.]
"…Wow. You're like an overbearing mom with a lie detector."
> [Correction: System is more effective than a mother. Mothers cannot quantify lies at 0.7 seconds.]
"…Yeah, yeah." Logan leaned back against the bark of a tree, staring up at the dusky sky. He wasn't about to tell the damn system about voices in his head. Not yet. If Nexus thought he was losing it, who knew what kind of punishment quest it would throw at him.
---
The Traits
His gaze shifted back to the bottom of the status panel. Three glowing words sat there, pulsing faintly.
[Big Brother's Burden] – ???
[Fragment of ???] – ???
[Unyielding Embers] – Locked
"…God, you're really stingy with the details, aren't you?" Logan muttered.
> [Clarification: Information locked until resonance conditions are met.]
"Resonance, resonance, resonance. Do you even know what half your own words mean?"
> [Affirmative. Host does not.]
"…I walked into that one."
Still, those traits tugged at him. The first one especially.
Big Brother's Burden??.
Every time he read it, he pictured Cael's tiny fingers gripping his sleeve, or his sister's cold eyes softening just barely when she thought he wasn't watching.
It was weight. Heavy, suffocating sometimes. But it was his.
And if this world wanted to call it a burden? Fine. He'd carry it anyway.
---
The New Quest
> [New Quest Issued: Into the Depths]
Duration: 6 Days
Objective: Clear the F-Rank dungeon at Hollow Brook before Academy entrance trials.
Failure: Loss of newly-gained Trait resonance.
Reward: Unlock First Element. Minor Wealth (Essence Cores). ???
Logan's eyes widened. "…Dungeon? Already?"
> [Affirmative. Host has limited time before Academy. Current strength remains inadequate.]
"…You're kidding. Look at me—do I scream 'professional monster hunter' to you?"
> [Correction: Host screams 'fragile youth attempting to appear competent.']
Logan buried his face in his hands. "…God, you're insufferable."
> [Observation: Insults toward System increase when Host is under stress.]
"…And they'll keep increasing until you stop trying to get me killed."
But beneath the sarcasm, a tremor of anticipation stirred in his chest. A dungeon. Actual monsters. Actual rewards. Maybe—just maybe—enough money to put real food on his siblings' plates, enough to pay debts before creditors came sniffing again.
His hands lowered, pale red eyes glinting in the twilight.
"…Alright, fine. Let's dance with the dungeon."
---
The faint shimmer of the status window lingered even after Logan dismissed it, as though his mind couldn't shake the glowing letters.
Dungeon. Six days. Fail, and he'd lose his progress.
He pushed himself to his feet, brushing dirt and dead leaves from his trousers. His legs wobbled, reminding him that "stat growth" didn't cancel out sore muscles. He muttered a curse under his breath and started down the worn forest path toward the outskirts of Blackwood town.
By the time the crooked rooftops came into view, twilight had deepened into a velvet blue. Oil lanterns burned on the streets, casting long, wavering shadows. The smell of baked bread—cheap but warm—drifted from one of the bakeries, making Logan's stomach growl. He tightened his belt. Bread could wait. His siblings came first.
---
The small, half-rotted house at the far edge of town barely deserved the title. The shutters hung askew. The roof sagged like a drunk. The wood groaned every time the wind shifted.
Logan exhaled, lips twitching upward. "…Home sweet pile of crap."
He pushed open the door.
Inside, the warmth of a tiny fire greeted him. So did the sound of a small boy's laughter.
"Brother!" A high-pitched voice chirped.
Cael, six years old, messy-haired and bright-eyed, barreled across the creaky floorboards, his arms outstretched. He almost tripped on the rug but caught himself and lunged again, hugging Logan's leg like it was a tree trunk.
Logan staggered slightly but smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. "Hey, troublemaker. You keeping the place from falling down?"
Cael nodded fiercely, eyes wide and serious. "I guarded everything! Even the pot!"
"…The pot?" Logan raised an eyebrow.
"The pot where we put the soup!" Cael puffed his chest out proudly.
Logan chuckled. "Good work, soldier. Without you, we'd all be starving by now."
---
From the corner, a colder voice cut in.
"You're late."
His sister sat at the rickety table, arms folded, long dark hair falling neatly over one shoulder. Her pale features were calm, but her crimson eyes—mirrors of Logan's own—narrowed in quiet reproach.
"…Miss me, Sis?" Logan asked, lips quirking as he walked closer.
She tilted her chin. "You said you'd be back before nightfall."
"I was training." He leaned casually against the table, smirking. "Gotta get strong enough to scare off all the idiots who'll try flirting with you in a few years."
Her cold mask cracked for half a second. The faintest flush colored her cheeks before she turned her head away. "…Idiot."
Logan grinned. Teasing her was one of the few luxuries he let himself have.
---
Dinner was simple—vegetable soup, watery but warm. Logan ate slowly, listening to Cael ramble about the bugs he'd found in the yard, and watching his sister pretend she wasn't sneaking glances at him to make sure he was really eating.
For a moment, the looming dungeon, the quests, the voices, all of it faded. Just three siblings in a falling-apart house, sharing the kind of peace that was too rare in this world.
---
Later, when Cael finally drifted to sleep, Logan stepped outside into the cool night air. His sister followed, standing just behind him on the porch.
"…You're leaving again," she said softly.
Logan leaned against the post, staring up at the moon. "…Yeah. There's… something I have to do. A job."
"Dangerous?"
He smirked. "…Only if you think 'risk of death' counts as dangerous."
Her eyes narrowed. "…Logan."
He glanced back, meeting her gaze. Her cold mask was gone. What stared at him now was raw worry, etched deep in the lines of her face.
His chest tightened.
"…I'll come back," he said firmly. "…Always."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The night hummed with the sound of crickets. Then she stepped closer, almost brushing his shoulder.
"…You'd better."
And with that, she turned and slipped back inside, closing the door behind her.
Logan exhaled slowly, pale red eyes lingering on the stars.
'…Guess I've got no choice, huh? Dungeon or not, I can't afford to screw this up.'
> [System Observation: Emotional ties increase Host's reckless determination. Probability of success: marginally improved.]
"…Did you just say my family makes me statistically better?"
> [Affirmative.]
"…Huh. Guess even you aren't completely useless."
The translucent screen pulsed faintly.
> [Correction: System is highly useful. Host is marginally less so.]
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. Tomorrow, Hollow Brook awaited.
But tonight, for once, he allowed himself to stand quietly on the porch, holding the weight of the world and refusing to let it crush him.
---
The morning air clung damp and heavy as Logan pulled his patched coat tighter around his shoulders. The faint light of dawn struggled through low clouds, staining the crooked streets of Blackwood in muted grays. He glanced back once at the sagging house where his siblings still slept.
'…Don't screw this up. They're counting on you.'
The thought gnawed at him harder than hunger ever did.
---
The town was already stirring despite the hour. Vendors set up their stalls with sluggish motions, their breath puffing pale clouds into the air. The smell of coal smoke and damp wood filled the narrow streets. Logan passed them with a casual gait, ignoring the sidelong glances. His odd aura always earned him stares, as if his very presence itched at the back of people's skulls.
One man muttered something about "fallen nobles" under his breath. Logan shot him a half-bow, flashing a smile that was more teeth than warmth.
"Your envy is showing, good sir."
The man paled and looked away. Logan chuckled.
---
The Hollow Brook lay beyond the town's northern ridge. The path wound through sparse woods, the trees bending overhead in twisted arcs like skeletal fingers. Mist clung low to the ground, curling between roots and stones. The air smelled of wet moss and iron—sharp, almost metallic.
By the time the shallow river came into view, the world was silent except for the sluggish trickle of water. The brook itself was unremarkable, barely knee-deep, its surface dappled with fallen leaves. But beyond it, half-hidden by vines, gaped a stone arch carved with ancient runes.
The dungeon entrance.
Logan's pale red eyes narrowed. "…Well, that's not ominous at all."
---
> [System Notice: Dungeon Detected. Classification: E-Rank anomaly zone.]
[Caution: Mortality rate of unprepared entrants exceeds 72%.]
Logan snorted. "…Appreciate the motivational speech."
> [Clarification: Probability of Host's death estimated at 84%.]
"…Even better." He ran a hand through his black hair, muttering, "…God, why couldn't it have been a bakery dungeon? Death by pastries would at least smell nice."
The arch hummed faintly, the runes glowing dull crimson as he stepped closer. The air grew heavier, pressing against his chest like a weight.
> [Final Warning: Entry will lock until completion or death.]
"…Yeah, yeah. Story of my life."
He smirked, though his palms were damp. His slender frame shifted restlessly as he touched the arch with one hand. The stone was cold, almost biting.
For a moment, he thought he heard whispers—low, guttural, threading through the mist. His eyes flicked around, but the woods were empty.
'…Great. First boss fight and I'm already hearing voices. Totally healthy.'
Taking a long breath, Logan squared his shoulders.
"…Alright, Hollow Brook. Let's done with it."
He stepped forward.
The runes flared, crimson light engulfing him. The world folded inward, shadows swallowing him whole.
---