Year: 1988 – New York City
The day began like any other.
The morning sun spilled across the Stark estate, gilding the edges of Tony's half-finished machines. The faint buzz of an arc welder sang in the distance as Ethan Stark sat at the kitchen counter, a glass of orange juice in one hand and the morning paper in the other. He wasn't reading the headlines so much as pretending to. Howard skimmed the news with the intensity of a man reading battle reports, while Maria hummed softly as she prepared breakfast.
"Ethan," Maria said, sliding a plate toward him, "at least try to get to class on time today."
He flashed his mother a lazy grin. "On time is a social construct, Mom. Besides, I arrive fashionably late. Ask anyone."
Tony snorted from behind his coffee. "Fashionably late is just late with extra excuses."
"Spoken like a true man destined to have no social life," Ethan shot back. "Don't worry, bro. I'll carry the Stark charisma banner while you marry your machines."
Howard cleared his throat, cutting through their sparring like a judge's gavel. "Both of you—eat."
Ethan raised his glass in mock salute. "Yes, sir. Fueling the Stark legacy, one pancake at a time."
It was a normal morning. Too normal, in fact. And deep inside, Ethan knew it was a fragile illusion. He remembered December 16, 1991. He remembered blood on snow and the cold hand of fate waiting for his family. Every second spent here felt like stolen time, and it made him restless.
At Midtown High, Ethan settled into his role with ease. He cracked jokes, he coasted through lessons, and he played the fool so convincingly that even teachers believed it.
When the teacher handed back graded quizzes, Ethan glanced at his perfect score and immediately flipped it over before Hope could see.
"You didn't even study," she accused, narrowing her eyes.
"Correct," Ethan said. "I let the answers come to me through spiritual osmosis. Very advanced technique."
Hope crossed her arms. "Or you're hiding how smart you actually are."
Danny leaned in. "Honestly, I think he just cheats off divine intervention."
"Exactly," Ethan said, pointing at him. "God and I are tight. He sends me the answers, I make him laugh. It's a fair trade."
The classroom erupted in chuckles, and the teacher rolled his eyes. But Hope didn't laugh. She kept staring at him like she was dissecting a puzzle.
That evening, Ethan sat in his room, working out in secret. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats—he hid his growing strength behind the facade of laziness. His body glistened with sweat, muscles straining as he whispered the numbers under his breath.
On his fiftieth push-up, the air rippled.
He froze.
The world around him seemed to dim, like shadows stretching unnaturally long. His breath hitched as something sharp pierced into the edges of his mind.
[SYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION: 95%...]
The words burned across his vision. Not imagined. Not hallucinated. Real.
Ethan sat back on his heels, panting. "So it's finally happening, huh? Took you long enough."
The System didn't answer. It never did. But the air felt heavier, charged with something alien and undeniable.
He couldn't sleep that night. Not properly. Not when every blink carried afterimages of text, every breath felt like the calm before a storm.
The following evening, while walking home from school with Danny, Ethan felt it.
The air split.
A jagged tear shimmered in an alley, pulsing like an open wound in reality. Shadows writhed around it, spilling darkness onto the cracked pavement.
Danny stopped short. "What the hell is that?"
Ethan's heart pounded. He knew exactly what it was. A Dungeon.
And he was being called.
[QUEST: Enter the Gate]Failure: Death.
"Ethan," Danny whispered, voice trembling. "We should… we should call someone. The cops, or—"
But Ethan wasn't listening. The pull was irresistible. A tether yanked at his core, dragging him toward the rift.
"Go home, Danny," Ethan said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Tell everyone I went to cram school or something."
"Cram school? Since when do you—"
But before Danny could finish, Ethan stepped forward. The shadows swallowed him whole.
Cold slammed into his lungs like a fist. He stumbled forward, boots crunching on stone.
The world was a cavern of jagged rock, lit by an eerie green glow that pulsed from cracks in the walls. The stench of rot and sulfur clung to the air, thick and choking.
Ethan's breath fogged as he straightened, scanning the cavern. His instincts screamed danger. His skin prickled with the memory of battles long past, from a life that wasn't supposed to exist anymore.
Movement stirred in the dark.
The first monster emerged: a twisted, hound-like beast with bone spines jutting from its back and eyes glowing red. Its growl vibrated through the cavern, low and hungry.
Ethan swallowed hard. "Well. That's new. Ugly mutt."
The beast lunged.
He rolled to the side, stone scraping his palms. He barely dodged the snapping jaws, grabbing a loose rock and hurling it with everything he had. It cracked against the creature's skull, staggering it for a split second.
"Note to self," Ethan muttered, circling. "Rocks are not effective weapons. Stark tech would be great right about now."
The hound lunged again. This time, Ethan met it with a dropkick, his heel slamming into its jaw. Pain shot up his leg, but the creature yelped, crashing to the ground. He scrambled for the trash of his surroundings—another rock, a broken stalagmite, anything he could use.
The fight dragged on, Ethan ducking and weaving, every muscle screaming. His lungs burned, and sweat soaked his shirt. But slowly, carefully, he adapted. He baited the creature into overextending, slammed it into the cavern wall, and drove a jagged stone into its throat.
The hound convulsed, then stilled.
Blood dripped from Ethan's hands. His chest heaved.
Then the System spoke again.
[You have defeated a Low-Rank Beast.][Experience Gained.][Level Up.]
A warmth surged through him, coursing like fire in his veins. His muscles felt denser, his vision sharper.
Ethan staggered back, staring at the corpse. "Oh… oh, this is real. This is really happening."
He wiped his face with his sleeve, smirking despite the fear still twisting in his gut. "First kill in this world. Guess I'm back in business."
The cavern growled again, deeper this time.
From the darkness, more red eyes blinked open.
The hounds weren't alone.
📊 Status Window – End of Chapter 5
Name: Ethan StarkLevel: 2Job/Class: [Unassigned]HP: 140 / 170MP: 20 / 20
Stats:
Strength: 17 (+1)
Agility: 17 (+1)
Vitality: 15 (+1)
Intelligence: 20 (Locked, awaiting sync)
Sense: 17 (+1)
Skills:
[Unarmed Combat Basics] – Passive instinct sharpening during fights.
[Locked]
System Synchronization: 95%
Notes:
First kill achieved.
System synchronization nearly complete.
Dungeon escalation: multiple monsters incoming.
Ethan's instincts and humor intact despite mortal danger.