Jace Harlow blinked at the sunlight cutting through the blinds of his tiny Chicago apartment, rubbing at his eyes. Somewhere in the city, life went on—coffee shops, subway hustlers, college students complaining about midterms—but for him? The world was broken open. Dungeons were cropping up randomly, monsters were wandering freely, and he had a System in his chest that screamed for blood, power, and… something darker he wasn't ready to name.
The first night after activating the Pack had been a blur. He'd fought shadows, drained their aura, and felt himself change—not fully, but enough to notice his reflexes, senses, and even minor instincts behaving differently. Hunger wasn't just for food anymore; it was for energy, for fight, for survival.
Which meant coffee alone wasn't cutting it.
He threw on a hoodie and shoved a backpack over one shoulder. Outside, Chicago was messy and loud and beautiful in that urban way. Neon flickered on rain-slick streets, taxis honked, and somewhere someone was probably screaming at a pigeon. Normalcy existed in patches, and Jace was desperate to cling to a sliver of it.
He had a mission. Or at least, the closest thing to one a Level 2 adventurer could have: find information.
A couple of texts from the local urban exploration forum had hinted at something: not all dungeons were created equal. Some were "guild-owned," monitored, or sealed by authorities—or by groups that made authorities look like toddlers fumbling with crayons. If he wanted to survive, he needed allies. Or at least, people who could die with him.
First stop: Brew & Blade. A small coffee shop tucked between a pawn shop and a tattoo parlor, supposedly a front for a minor adventurer guild. The smell of espresso hit him before he even entered.
"First time here?" A voice asked.
Jace turned to see a girl perched on a barstool, laptop open, messy ponytail, sharp eyes that scanned him like she could see the aura trails around his chest.
"You could say that," he replied cautiously, wondering if she was… one of them.
"Level 2 or lower?" she asked, tilting her head. "You smell like someone who hasn't managed a dungeon yet. And your Pack… yeah. Definitely new. Rookie mistake."
He froze. How could she know about the Pack?
"I'm Avery," she said, extending a hand, smirk curling at one side. "Guild rep. Brew & Blade is technically a coffee shop. Practically? We handle contracts, dungeon tracking, and sometimes babysit idiots like you who bite off more than they can chew."
Jace shook her hand. "Jace. Harlow. And… yeah, that sounds like me."
She nodded, tapping at her laptop. A map of Chicago's underground flashed on the screen, dots and colored trails indicating dungeon locations. "There's a new one popping up near the old Navy Pier. Level 3. Expected spawn in, oh… twelve minutes. You'll want a team for that."
"Team?" Jace's stomach flipped. He'd been surviving alone, relying on the System and instinct. "I… I don't have one."
"Yeah, that's called a rookie problem," Avery said bluntly. "Lucky for you, I need someone with a Pack ability. Makes the hunt easier. You in, or you want to die alone?"
Jace's fingers brushed against his chest, feeling the hum of the Pack inside him. The hunger tickled, whispering, coaxing. Alone was tempting—he could move faster, fight smarter—but the human part of him—the side still clinging to some shred of sanity—knew he needed backup.
"I'm in," he said finally.
She grinned. "Good. Name's Avery, Level 4 mage. Our tank's some giant with muscles too big for reality. Don't ask. And a rogue, because we apparently need one for balance or guild politics. Team makes a difference in survival rates."
They left the coffee shop, night beginning to fall over the lake. The streets were alive, full of shadows and the faint echo of urban life. Jace's senses twitched, reading every flicker of movement. Not just monsters this time—humans could be just as dangerous.
As they approached the spawn point, the System chimed.
Level 3 Dungeon detected. Spawn imminent. Difficulty: Moderate.
Suggested Team: 3–5 members.
Jace swallowed. Moderate didn't feel moderate. Not when he'd already pushed his body past limits. But the Pack thrummed, eager.
And then it appeared. A faint shimmer in the alley, a warp of air and space, as the dungeon's entrance solidified—a twisting mass of stone and shadows, glowing faintly red.
Avery whispered, "Remember, we do this smart. No reckless moves. Aura conservation, team coordination, and follow my lead. Don't let the Pack make you wild."
Wild. Jace almost smiled. The word resonated deeper than it should have. His instincts itched at her warning, like a leash tugging at a predator's neck.
Inside, the air was thick, the faint scent of iron and wet stone curling around their senses. Shadows stirred, but this time, they weren't mindless. They retreated at Avery's command, regrouped, and attacked strategically.
"See?" she murmured, eyes scanning. "Level 3. Not a joke."
Jace moved, Pack activated. Shadow Fang, senses heightened, but he stayed tethered to the team, dodging, striking only when necessary, absorbing aura carefully. Avery's spells flew in arcs, creating zones of control. The tank brute barreled forward, drawing attention. And the rogue flitted like a ghost, cutting weak points and opening paths.
When they reached the first mini-boss—a hulking thing that looked like a human-wolf hybrid on steroids—Jace felt it. His heartbeat synced with the creature, a pulse of pure predatory awareness. The System prompted:
Demonic Bond Level 2 unlocked. Pack synergy available.
The attack wasn't just physical. His Pack instincts guided his moves, nudging him, warning of weak points. He struck with precision, feeding aura back to his body, feeling the thrill of control rather than chaos.
And when the creature fell, the dungeon's ambient glow shifted, acknowledging victory. Rewards appeared, aura gained, minor loot, and a token for a skill upgrade.
Outside, the city felt calmer, but Jace knew it was temporary. Guilds, dungeons, Systems—it was all escalating. And this was only Level 3.
Avery clapped him on the shoulder. "Not bad for a rookie. Keep your head, and you might survive the next spawn. Oh, and your Pack… it's growing faster than I expected. Control it, or it'll control you."
Jace's fingers brushed his chest again. The hunger was still there, but something else too—pride, power, and maybe the faintest thrill of being part of something bigger.
Chicago wasn't safe. The world wasn't normal. But for the first time, he felt… like he belonged.