The Core Fragment pulsed faintly in Dev's palm, like the heartbeat of something not entirely alive, yet not fully dead. Its glow was dim, softer than the streetlights bleeding through his broken curtains, but it demanded his attention more than anything else in the room.
He had replayed the dungeon a hundred times in his head. The monsters' claws, the suffocating fear, the way death had clung to him like a shadow. He had felt it—how close it had been. Yet here he was. Alive.
Alive because of something that wasn't his.
The Reader's Window flickered before his eyes:
[Quest Reminder: Legacy of the Author]Progress: 0%
Dev sat back against the cold wall, sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. "Legacy… of the Author." The words felt foreign, like a language he wasn't meant to speak.
Who was this "Author"? Why had Dev seen him—crying, writing endlessly into a void? That figure was burned into his memory more deeply than the monsters, more deeply than even the fear.
His fingers clenched around the shard. If this is the first step… what comes next?
A knock jolted him from his thoughts. Sharp, deliberate. He shoved the Core Fragment beneath his pillow, his heart pounding.
"Dev?" It was the girl's voice, weak but steady. "Can I come in?"
He hesitated, then opened the door. She stood there wrapped in an oversized coat, her hair still damp from the rain. Her eyes, however, had changed. They no longer carried the blind panic of a civilian—they carried weight.
"I couldn't sleep," she whispered, stepping inside. "Every time I close my eyes, I see that place again."
Dev swallowed. "You shouldn't be here. Hunters will start asking questions if they notice."
"They already did," she said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "They asked how we survived. I… I lied for you."
His stomach twisted. "Why?"
She looked at him, and for a moment, he saw something like fear and admiration tangled together. "Because I saw what you did in there. You weren't normal, Dev. And if I told them the truth, they would've taken you away."
Silence filled the room. He hadn't thought about that. The Hunters—those silver-armored figures who walked with authority—would they have let someone like him walk free if they knew? No. They would cage him. Use him. Or worse.
"Thank you," he muttered finally.
She gave a faint smile. "I don't know what's happening to this world… but you're part of it now. Just… don't forget the rest of us who can't fight."
Her words lodged deep in him, heavier than the Core Fragment itself.
The next morning, the city woke not to sunshine, but to panic.
News feeds flooded with shaky footage—civilians had captured glimpses of the portal opening in the middle of the storm. Headline after headline screamed across screens:
[Unregistered Dungeon Emerges in Sector 12!][Casualties Unknown – Survivors Found?][Guild Association Issues Emergency Statement]
Dev sat at a small café, his hood pulled low, the girl seated quietly across from him. He sipped cheap coffee, pretending to be just another background figure in the bustling morning crowd. But his ears were sharp, his attention fixed on every conversation.
"…my neighbor's son didn't come home last night. They said he was caught near the rift…"
"…the Association's hiding something. Dungeons don't just open in residential areas. Someone messed up."
"…I heard a couple civilians actually survived. Can you believe that? Ordinary people?"
Dev's jaw tightened. Ordinary. That word felt like a chain now. He wasn't ordinary anymore, and the world would notice sooner or later.
The Reader's Window flickered.
[Notice: Information Spread Detected][Risk Factor Increased]
His coffee cup nearly slipped from his hand. Even the system knew it—the more the world talked, the closer eyes would turn toward him.
The girl leaned forward. "We can't keep living like this. What are you going to do, Dev?"
He didn't answer right away. Because the truth was, he didn't know.
He wanted to survive. To live quietly. To pretend that none of this was real. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the void, the Author hunched over endless pages, whispering for him to carry the story forward.
And survival had never been enough for that voice.
Dev exhaled slowly. "I don't have a choice. If I run, if I hide… this will just happen again. And next time, there won't be anyone to lie for me."
The girl's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't argue. Because she knew he was right.
That night, Dev returned to his apartment and pulled out the Core Fragment once again. The shard pulsed faintly, and with it came a whisper, softer than the last but still distinct.
"The world you know is only the prologue."
He froze. His pulse hammered.
"Dungeons are not accidents. They are rehearsals."
His breath caught. The shard grew warmer in his hand.
And then, the final whisper—so quiet he almost missed it:
"The story must not end here. Write it forward."
The glow faded. His room returned to silence.
Dev sank to his knees, pressing the shard against his forehead. His body trembled—not from fear this time, but from something heavier. Responsibility.
The Reader's Window appeared once more, cold and undeniable:
[Main Quest Updated]Legacy of the Author– Survive future dungeons.– Seek the fragments of truth.– Carry the story to its rightful end.
Reward: Unknown.Failure: Erasure.
The word burned into his vision. Erasure. Not death. Not defeat. Erasure.
Dev clenched his fists, his voice hoarse. "I don't know who you are… but if you trusted me with this… then I'll carry it."
The night outside stretched endlessly, but within that darkness, a spark flickered to life.
The spark of a story that was no longer just his own.
The knock came just past midnight.
It was heavy. Firm. The kind of knock that didn't ask for entry—it demanded it.
Dev froze where he sat, the Core Fragment still clutched in his palm. For an instant, he thought it was the Author's voice again, another whisper through the void. But then came the second knock, louder this time, shaking the door on its hinges.
He shoved the shard into his jacket pocket, his heart racing.
"Dev Kumar?" a voice called from outside. Calm. Professional. Deadly certain. "We'd like to speak with you. Open the door."
His breath caught. Not Hunters. Not civilians. This voice was different. Polished. Authority wrapped in iron.
He glanced toward the window. Third floor. A jump would break bones. He wasn't ready.
Another knock. This time, it wasn't a question. "We know you're inside. Don't make us force entry."
The Reader's Window flickered to life without warning:
[System Alert: Hostile Presence Detected]Recommendation: Conceal abnormal status.]
Dev's pulse hammered. Too late for choices. He pulled open the door.
Two figures stood in the hallway. Not Hunters in silver armor—these were men in dark coats, clean and sharp, the insignia of the Guild Association pinned to their collars. Behind them stood a woman with a tablet, her gaze cool and assessing.
"Dev Kumar?" the man in front repeated, though it wasn't a question this time.
"Yes," Dev said carefully.
The woman spoke without lifting her eyes from the tablet. "Civilian, age twenty. No record of Hunter registration. No combat license. Survived unregistered Dungeon #12014." She finally looked up. Her stare was sharp enough to cut. "Statistically, impossible."
Dev's throat went dry.
The man in the coat took a step forward. "You'll come with us. The Association has questions."
For a moment, Dev thought about resisting. Running. Lying. But the Reader's Window pulsed faintly in his vision:
[Warning: Resistance will escalate hostility.]
He swallowed. "Fine. I'll come."
The Association building loomed over the city like a shadow. Towering steel and glass, its windows reflecting the stormclouds above. Inside, it smelled of antiseptic and metal.
They led Dev down a long corridor, past Hunters clad in uniforms, some staring openly at him, others ignoring him as though he were already judged.
They placed him in a small room—bare walls, a single table, two chairs. A camera blinked silently in the corner.
He sat, the Core Fragment burning against his leg inside his pocket.
Minutes passed. Finally, the door opened.
The woman from before entered, tablet in hand. She didn't sit. She stood, looking down at him like a specimen under glass.
"Tell me," she said, her voice steady. "How did you survive?"
Dev's hands tightened into fists beneath the table.
"I hid," he said simply. "The monsters… didn't find me."
Her expression didn't change. She tapped the tablet. "And yet you emerged without critical injury. With another survivor who claims you 'protected her.'" She paused. "Civilians don't protect others from dungeon-class entities. They die."
Dev met her eyes. "Then maybe I got lucky."
For the first time, her lips curved—though it wasn't a smile. "Luck. The eternal excuse."
The Reader's Window flickered faintly before his eyes:
[Lie Detected. Countermeasure: Adaptive Concealment Engaged.]
The system's help steadied him. Whatever this Reader's Window was, it didn't want him exposed yet.
The woman leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "You saw something in there, didn't you? Something you're not telling us."
Dev's heart pounded, but he forced his voice calm. "I saw death. Isn't that enough?"
For a moment, silence stretched. Then she straightened.
"You'll be monitored," she said flatly. "If another unregistered dungeon appears, and you're there… we'll know."
She turned sharply, leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind her.
Dev exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging. The Core Fragment pulsed faintly against his leg, as if mocking him.
The world wasn't blind. They already suspected.
If he didn't grow stronger—fast—he wouldn't just be fighting monsters. He'd be fighting the very system that ruled humanity.
Later that night, they released him. "Pending observation," they called it. Which, in Dev's ears, meant chains invisible but heavy.
He walked the streets alone, the neon glow of the city bleeding across wet pavement. His reflection stared back at him in every puddle—tired eyes, trembling hands.
He remembered the girl's words: Don't forget the rest of us who can't fight.
He remembered the Author's whisper: The story must not end here.
And he remembered the Association woman's eyes, cold and sharp, waiting for him to slip.
Dev tightened his grip around the Core Fragment inside his pocket.
No. He wouldn't let them write his ending for him.
If the Author had passed the pen to him, then he would carve the story forward himself.
Even if the whole world stood against him.
The Reader's Window pulsed one last time that night, sealing his resolve:
[New Sub-Quest: Strength in Secrecy]– Grow without detection.– Protect those who know.– Prepare for the next rift.
Failure Condition: Capture.
Dev's lips curled into a grim smile.
So be it.
The weight of survival was no longer a burden.
It was a promise.