The countdown timer on his PC screen finally blinked to 00:00:00.
Akira braced himself, gripping the Blue Haze Katana tighter. He had spent the last thirty minutes frantically stuffing a backpack with instant noodles, water, and his phone, a basic survival gear of a pre-apocalypse civilian.
Then, the world outside his window was eclipsed by something impossible.
It wasn't a teleportation flash or a sudden shift in gravity. Instead, the very fabric of reality in front of him seemed to shudder and tear, like a cheap canvas ripped by an invisible hand. The air cracked with a sound like tearing silk amplified a thousand times.
In the space where the air had been, a gate materialized.
It was not solid, but an ominous, shimmering distortion. The edges were sharp and geometric, like shattered glass, but the interior was a swirling vortex of deep purple and impossible black—colors that defied the physics of light. It was cold, silent, and radiated a pure, overwhelming sense of wrongness.
This was the Trial. This was the dungeon.
[Trial Commencing. Entering: Dungeon of the Shattered Boundary. Duration: 48 Hours. Objective: Survival and Acquisition of Initial Power Core. Good luck, Candidate Akira.]
Akira swallowed hard, the taste of dry fear in his mouth. The gate pulsed, the vortex deepening, seeming to actively pull the air and dust toward it.
He looked at the two sealed cards—Kurumi and Yukari—a desperate, terrifying reserve of power in his pocket. He looked at the glowing katana in his hand.
As he had no choice. Steeling his nerves, Akira took a final breath in his familiar bedroom and stepped through the shimmering gate.
Akira stumbled through the shimmering gate, hitting solid, wet ground with a jarring thud. The transition was instant and absolute. The digital chill of his bedroom was replaced by a heavy, oppressive atmosphere that coated his skin.
He scrambled to his feet, gripping the Blue Haze Katana, its faint blue glow the only reliable light source.
He was inside a cave.
The air was thick and stagnant, reeking of sulfur, rot, and something sour and metallic—the foul stench of decay and something worse. Every inhale was a struggle against the nausea.
The light was dim, sickly, and seemed to originate from nowhere, casting long, wavering shadows that danced across the uneven, damp walls. This lack of clear illumination made the cavern far more terrifying than it might have been in the daylight. The ceiling dripped with unseen moisture, and every small sound—the plink of water—echoed unsettlingly.
The passage he was in was narrow and winding, its floor slick with mud. Akira could hear the faint sounds of something dragging itself deeper inside, sounds that promised danger.
This was no video game tutorial; this was a horrific, palpable reality. He had entered the Dungeon of the Shattered Boundary. The Trial had officialy begun.
Akira forced himself to stop, pressing his back against the slicked wall. He shut his eyes, trying to sharpen the senses he relied on back in the real world—hearing the subtle shifts in air current, smelling the distinct dangers hidden beneath the overwhelming stench, and focusing on the faint, ambient glow of his katana.
He became aware of two things: the oppressive humidity clinging to his clothes, and a subtle shift in the foul air flow coming from deeper ahead.
Creeping forward slowly, the Blue Haze Katana held ready, he reached the end of the narrow passage. He peered around the jagged stone corner and instantly froze.
The passage opened into a massive cavern, and it was full of them.
Dozens of the beings—the simple, iconic enemies of every fantasy game—were scattered across the cavern floor, pulsating slowly in the dim light.
They were Slimes, but these were sickeningly organic, their amorphous bodies dripping with viscous, unsettling fluids that pooled and reflected the sparse light.
They were varied in color, a detail Akira's gaming instincts immediately flagged as critical:
Green Slimes were the most numerous, jiggling menacingly.
A few Blue Slimes clustered near a vein of stone, looking slightly denser.
One large, deep Red Slime pulsed near the far wall, radiating a faint, internal heat.
And near the center, a surprisingly transparent, almost invisible Yellow Slime slowly shifted, its movement hard to track.
He remembered the common knowledge of these fantasy tropes: different colors meant different threats. Green usually meant basic acid or poison. Blue meant water, perhaps resistance or slow effects. Red almost always meant fire or explosion. But that Yellow one... visibility issues usually meant speed or electric shock.
Akira's eyes, darting across the slime-filled cavern, quickly spotted another detail: a second passage directly opposite his current position, likely leading deeper into the dungeon. The Trial wasn't just this one gruesome waiting room; it was a sprawling labyrinth.
"Alright, option one: try to sneak past to the other side, or option two: clear the room," he mumbled, tightening his grip on the katana. Clearing the room felt almost suicidal, given the numbers and the abilities of the different colored slimes.
Sneaking might be impossible with the floor being so slick. As he was calculating the trajectories of possible attacks, a new, ethereal voice sliced through the foul air and, more disturbingly, through the boundary of his own mind. It was sophisticated, ancient, and utterly composed.
Akira jolted, his eyes wide. He knew that voice, one of the being sealed on the card in his pocket.
Yakumo Yukari.
The voice then delivered the instructions, sharp and precise, instantly validating his gaming instincts about the colored threats:
The voice faded, leaving Akira breathing heavily, his mind cleared of doubt but filled with a new, profound terror at the power he held.
He had a plan now, handed to him by a Youkai of Boundaries who could bypass the rules. He just had to execute it.
Target one: The Yellow Slimes.
Yukari's cold, calculated voice was the only fuel Akira needed. He had a clear directive, and the looming threat of paralysis forced him into action. He gripped the Blue Haze Katana, its faint blue aura now his singular focus.
"Yellow first," he hissed, dropping into a low crouch.
He burst from the corner, his adrenaline overriding the fear and the stench. Ignoring the mass of green and blue, he shot toward the center of the cavern, moving faster than he thought his gamer body could manage. The Yellow Slime, semi-transparent and lethargic, didn't react until Akira was right upon it.
With a desperate, powerful swing, the Blue Haze Katana sliced through the viscous body. The high-quality blade met surprisingly little resistance, and the Yellow Slime was cleaved instantly into two rapidly dissolving halves. The paralyzing agent it contained hissed harmlessly onto the wet stone floor.
Before the remaining slimes could even begin their slow, acidic pursuit, Akira pivoted. The large, throbbing Red Slime was his next target, situated awkwardly near the back wall. Knowing he couldn't afford an explosion, Akira didn't swing; he thrust.
He lunged, driving the glowing point of the katana directly into the Red Slime's core. The blade passed through with a sickening, wet sound, and the Red Slime seized up, its internal heat sputtering out harmlessly as its volatile core was pierced and neutralized.
With the two primary threats gone, the room descended into chaos, the remaining Blue and Green Slimes reacting with sluggish, undirected aggression.
Akira, driven by pure instinct and the adrenaline rush of survival, entered a frenzy. He moved swiftly, utilizing the light weight of the katana for rapid, clean cuts.
The Blue Slimes proved slightly tougher, forcing him to strike twice to fully dissipate their dense acid. The Green Slimes were simple targets—a single powerful slash reduced them to steaming puddles of harmless poison.
The fight was brutal, wet, and brief. After a minute of frantic slashing and dodging, the only sound left was the slow drip of water from the ceiling. Akira stood panting, his clothes splattered with multi-colored slime residue, the smell making him gag.
The floor of the cavern, however, began to shimmer with light.
Where each slime had dissolved, a digital drop materialized—glowing, collectible treasure. Akira's eyes widened at the sight of true "item drops":
Slime Cores: Dozens of translucent, glowing orbs of various colors.
Ability Cards: Five small, shimmering cards—likely containing temporary buffs or low-level skills.
Summoning Tickets: To his astonishment, three small, golden tickets scattered on the ground.
The Celestial AI's voice pinged directly into his mind, the tone now sounding less detached and slightly more congratulatory:
[Combat Phase Complete. Initial Enemy Hostiles Eliminated. Candidate Akira has acquired necessary resources. Trial Progress: 10%.]
Akira bent down, his hands trembling slightly, and began collecting his spoils. He had survived the first encounter and, impossibly, earned enough for three more rolls of the Gacha. His initial dread was replaced by a strange, surging confidence. He was fighting for his life, and he was winning.