Max
The moment Max crossed the threshold into the entrance tunnel, he felt it.
A sharp, distinct heat flared between his shoulder blades, tracing the intricate lines of his new Falna. It wasn't painful, but it was heavy—like a weighted backpack settling into place, grounding him.
Lux Tenebris? Max thought, a shiver of anticipation running down his spine. He smirked, realizing the cheat code he got. Let's grind the hell out of it!
The entrance tunnel was busy with the evening rush—but in reverse. Dozens of parties were trudging upward, dragging their exhausted bodies and bulging loot bags toward the surface. They looked like the walking dead: armor dented, faces smeared with grime and monster blood, eyes hollow with the thousand-yard stare of men who just wanted a cold beer and a warm bed.
Then there was Max.
Fresh-faced, smelling faintly of lavender soap, wearing brand new gear that hadn't seen a single scratch, and practically vibrating with manic energy. He walked against the flow of traffic like a man heading to a festival while everyone else was leaving a funeral.
"Evening!" he chirped, waving enthusiastically at a party of battered beastmen.
One of them stared at him, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead, and just grunted, looking at Max like he was a mental patient who had escaped his handlers.
Tough crowd, Max thought, undeterred. You guys look like you survived a war. I feel like a groom heading to his honeymoon.
He mentally chuckled as he pushed past them, descending rapidly into the spiraling gloom of the first floor.
He moved deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. As the light of the entrance faded, the walls cracked.
Three Kobolds pulled themselves free from the stone. They snarled, raising rusty daggers.
Max didn't even draw his rapier. He pointed a finger.
"Bang."
A marble-sized pellet of Power of Destruction shot from his fingertip. It punched through the lead Kobold's skull and kept going, decapitating the second one behind it. The third Kobold froze, confused, just before Max casually backhanded it with a magic pulse.
Three piles of ash. Three magic stones.
Too easy, Max noted, collecting the stones.
He continued deeper. Another group spawned—ten Goblins this time. He dispatched them with a lazy wave of his hand, a crimson arc slicing through them like a scythe through wheat.
This is a joke, Max thought, feeling almost insulted. On my first run, the Dungeon threw waves of a hundred at me. Now? A mob of twenty is considered a 'horde'?
The Dungeon, it seemed, had tasted the divine ichor of Freya's Falna on his back, categorized him as "Standard Adventurer #9281," and decided he wasn't worth the extra effort.
I'm just another intruder to be killed, not a glitch to be deleted. Perfect. He thought and made his way deeper.
After a few minutes of walking, he paused as he reached a fork, wiping a speck of ash from his sleeve. He intended to push deeper, but he suddenly realized a tactical error in his earlier shopping spree: he spent his Valis on potions but didn't spend a single coin on a map of the Upper Floors even from the supplies shop.
"I figured I could just retrace my steps from the first run," he muttered to himself, looking at the identical stone walls surrounding him. "But running for your life while hallucinating from exhaustion doesn't exactly create the most reliable mental maps."
He needed a landmark. Specifically, he was trying to find the specific alcove he'd collapsed in during that first hellish night—a safe spot to get his bearings before officially starting his descent to the lower levels.
He scanned the wall, moving slowly, looking for the familiar crack he remembered shivering against.
He spotted it—or what he thought was it. A narrow fissure seemingly choked by hanging grey moss, barely wide enough for a human to squeeze through.
Most adventurers, clad in bulky plate armor or carrying large expedition packs, would have bypassed it entirely, assuming it was a dead end or just a crack in the dungeon's geometry. Even if they saw it, they wouldn't fit.
But Max wore only a light breastplate and sleek clothes.
Worth a look, he thought.
He pushed aside the dry, scratchy moss and slipped through the gap sideways, sucking in his stomach. The stone pressed against his chest and back, cool and damp. He shuffled forward a few feet, expecting to hit a dead end.
Instead, the pressure vanished.
Max stumbled forward as the fissure abruptly opened up. He wasn't in a small alcove. He had stepped into a massive, natural cavern concealed completely from the main path.
"Coast is clear," he whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.
He reached into his shirt and pulled out the folded parchment map. Or rather, he pulled out Kairu.
"You can come out now, buddy."
The parchment rippled, losing its fibrous texture and melting back into a cheerful blue blob. Kairu bounced on Max's palm, letting out a relieved Squelch, happy to be three-dimensional again.
"Time for some snacks."
Max sat on a stone outcropping near the entrance of the fissure and opened his potion case. He pulled out the extra High Mind Potion. The blue liquid glowed with concentrated mana.
"Open up."
Max uncorked the bottle and poured onto the slime. Kairu absorbed the liquid instantly, his blue body glowing with a faint internal light as he processed the high-grade alchemical mixture.
"Analyze it," Max whispered. "Break down the composition. If we can figure out the structure, maybe we can synthesize it—or at least, refine raw mana stones into something drinkable."
Kairu jiggled happily, the influx of pure magical energy acting like a sugar rush.
"Good boy."
He stood up, stretching his limbs and suppressing a grimace. He walked further into the cavern to survey his find.
To the side lay a subterranean lake, its surface still and light as the sky, reflecting the faint phosphorescent glow of the moss clinging to the ceiling. It appeared to be a watering hole for the dungeon's denizens—a neutral zone of sorts where the thirstier monsters gathered away from the main corridors. He was surprised all his chatter didn't get their attention.
As currently, the lake was busy with a mixed pack of Goblins and Kobolds lounging by the water's edge, drinking and bickering.
Max watched them for a moment, calculating the blast radius needed to wipe them out, when a flash of iridescent color caught his eye.
He froze. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the far edges of the lake.
There, separated from the squabbling humanoids, were three birds.
They were perched on separate rocks, equidistant from each other, dipping their beaks into the water with nervous, jerky movements. They were larger than chickens, but their plumage was unmistakable—shifting colors in the dim light, transitioning from azure blue to emerald green to a striking, metallic gold.
Max's encyclopedic anime knowledge kicked in instantly, cross-referencing the sprite with the lore he'd memorized.
The Jack Bird.
A rare monster. Exceptionally rare to find.
Max held his breath. These things were the golden snitches of the upper floors. They were incredibly fast, skittish, and usually fled at the first sign of a threat. But the reason every adventurer dreamed of seeing one wasn't the XP.
It's the drop, Max thought, his pulse quickening as greed warred with caution. The Legendary Golden Egg.
Adventurers whispered about it in taverns. A Jack Bird had a confirmed drop item—a jewel-encrusted egg that was essentially a winning lottery ticket.
One Million Valis.
And there were three of them sitting right there.
Otherworldly Luck strikes again, Max thought, a predatory grin spreading across his face. A jackpot on Floor 1? That's insane.
But catching them was the problem. If he charged blindly, they would scatter instantly, disappearing into the high darkness of the cavern ceiling where he couldn't reach them without revealing his wings. And with three of them spaced out, hitting them all with a single projectile was physically impossible.
Subtlety it is.
Max didn't move his body. He moved his mind.
He visualized a barrier. Not a wall, but a dome. A silent, invisible perimeter encasing the entire lake and the shore where the monsters gathered. He focused on the concept of containment—air solidifying without sound, pressure building without release.
He poured mana into the concept, willing the air to harden. A faint, heat-haze shimmer distorted the air around the lake, sealing the monsters inside.
It was perfect. The Goblins and Kobolds kept drinking. The Jack Birds fluffed their feathers, completely unaware that the space around them had just become a cage.
Max raised his hand, pointing his palm toward the water.
Now, for the toaster in the bathtub approach.
"Hadō #4. Byakurai."
He whispered and channeled his condensed Magic into the spell, pushing more output than a Number 4 spell usually required.
A bolt of white lightning, thick as his arm, erupted from his palm. It punched through the air, traversing the distance in a microsecond, and struck the center of the lake's surface.
ZZZZZRT-BOOM!
The water exploded. The electricity didn't just hit the surface; it arced through the conductive liquid, turning the lake into a lethal web of voltage that leaped to everything wet.
The Goblins and Kobolds didn't even have time to scream. Their muscles seized violently, they convulsed once, and then dissolved into ash as the dungeon reclaimed them.
The three Jack Birds shrieked—a high-pitched sound of pure panic.
They launched themselves into the air, abandoning the water instantly. They were fast—blindingly fast—shooting upward like fireworks seeking the safety of the ceiling.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Three distinct impacts echoed through the cavern as the birds slammed beak-first into Max's invisible barrier. They bounced off the solidified air, stunned and confused, their escape route cut off by a wall they couldn't see.
They flapped frantically, banking left and right, seeking a gap that didn't exist.
Gotcha.
Max twitched his finger. A web of secondary lightning peeled off the main bolt still crackling in the water, arching upward to strike the trapped birds mid-air.
ZAP.
They dropped like stones, splashing into the electrified water before dissolving.
Silence returned to the cavern, broken only by the sizzling of ozone and the gentle lap of the disturbed water.
Max dropped the barrier and walked out of the shadows toward the carnage. The shoreline was littered with magic stones, glittering like confetti.
Kairu, seeing the loot, leaped from Max's shoulder. The slime began bouncing around like a pinball, vacuuming up the Goblin and Kobold stones with efficient squelch-pop noises.
Max walked over to the edge of the water where the birds had fallen. He waded in—the water was only ankle deep near the shore—and retrieved the magic stones first. Three of them, shimmering with high-quality mana.
But then his eyes landed on the real prize.
Lying in the shallow water, untouched by the electricity, were three large eggs.
Max picked them up one by one, weighing the heavy, gold-speckled shells in his hands.
"Triple Jackpot," he whispered, a grin stretching across his face as his mind did the math instantly. "One million each. That's three million Valis sitting in my hands."
He carefully tucked all three eggs into the padded section of his storage bag, treating them with reverence due to a small fortune that had just solved all his immediate financial problems.
As he closed the bag, a thought struck him. This cavern is a goldmine. If these things respawn here... I need a way back.
He knelt by a dry patch of stone near the cavern wall. Channeling his demonic power, he pressed his palm against the rock, attempting to etch a permanent teleportation anchor circle directly into the dungeon floor.
Hum—crack.
The moment the intricate lines formed, the stone beneath them fractured. The crimson light flickered and died, the Dungeon aggressively rejecting the foreign magic just as it had before.
"Still territorial, I see," Max muttered, dusting off his hands.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out one of the purple contract circles Kairu had mass-produced. It was parchment-based, independent of the dungeon's physical structure.
He folded the purple sheet and wedged it deep into a crevice in the rock wall, hidden from casual sight.
He waited.
The paper didn't burn. It didn't crumble. The connection pulsed steadily, faint but stable.
Allowed?
With that confirmation, he scattered a few more just to be safe.
It wasn't 100% fool-proof—a monster might eat it, or it might degrade over time—but it was a valid coordinate. Since he had been here physically once, he could come back if he ever found strapped for cash,as he now had a backdoor to the Jack Bird nest.
"Insurance policy secured," Max murmured, standing up.
Kairu finished his collection run and bounced back, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
"Good haul," Max agreed, patting the slime. "We're going to be rich, buddy."
Max hefted the storage bag, grinning at the windfall. Three million Valis in one ambush. Not bad for ten seconds of work.
But as the adrenaline faded, his mind replayed the birds' escape attempt. That burst of acceleration—zero to sixty in a heartbeat, their figures blurring into streaks of color. If the barrier wasn't there, they'd have vanished before he could blink.
I need that kind of speed, Max realized, his grin fading into focus. A blitz option. Something faster than running. His mind conjured the possible use cases: When I run into an almiraj or a Minotaur or an Iguazu, running isn't going to cut it.
He turned, surveying the cavern. The lake dominated the center, but along the far wall, partially obscured by shadow, was another passage—narrow, unlit, stretching into darkness. A side route, maybe. Or a shortcut.
More importantly, it was empty. And straight.
"Perfect," Max murmured, already walking toward it. "Time to see if I can steal that bird's trick."
His mind immediately pulled up the archives of the "Big 3" from his old life.
Soru from One Piece. Shunpo or Sonido from Bleach. Shunshin from Naruto.
He weighed them as he walked. Shunpo required precise spiritual pressure control he was still calibrating. Soru was a purely physical technique that he'd have to drill into his muscle memory the hard way.
But Shunshin... Max mused. The Body Flicker. That's just a raw burst of energy propelling you forward. It relies on the ram-like application of power rather than finesse. And if there's one thing I have in spades right now, it's magical horsepower.
He stopped in the middle of the empty corridor. It was a straight shot for about a hundred meters. A perfect drag strip.
"Alright. Let's try Shunshin."
His mind immediately pulled up the archives of the Body Flicker jutsu. He recalled the variations he'd seen in the anime: Minato's Yellow Flash was instantaneous teleportation via markers. The Raikage used Lightning Armor to synapse-fire his muscles. Gaara dissolved into sand; Zabuza vanished into mist via water.
But the classic, Max thought, a nostalgic grin forming. The Jiraiya special. That effortless vanish into a puff of smoke. That's the style I want.
He wanted that dramatic flair.
Max closed his eyes. He visualized his Demonic Power not just as a thruster, but as an obscurant. He channeled it down through his legs, pooling it in the soles of his feet, while simultaneously trying to transmute a portion of his aura into a cloud of dense, concealing smoke.
Channel. Compress. Visualise the smoke. Release.
He didn't bother with hand signs—his demonic power bridged the gap between intent and reality. He focused on the destination: the end of the hall.
Poof and Zoom.
"GO."
He released the magic.
BOOM.
The stone floor didn't just crack; it cratered.
There was no puff of white smoke. Instead, the sheer, compressed violence of his Demonic Power detonated like a breaching charge. The "smoke" he tried to conjure simply turned into a cloud of pulverized rock dust instantly.
Max didn't run; he was launched. The acceleration was instantaneous, violent, and completely uncontrolled. The walls blurred into a gray smear.
The end of the corridor rushed up to meet him in a fraction of a second.
"Too fast! TOO FAST—!!"
SPLAT.
Max face-planted directly into the far wall.
The impact shook the entire corridor. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Kairu, who had been resting on Max's shoulder, was dislodged by the sudden stop and went sailing through the air, sticking to the wall next to Max with a confused squelch.
"Ow," Max groaned, peeling his face off the stone.
A spiderweb crack radiated out from where his forehead had impacted. Thanks to his Devil physiology and the passive durability buff from the Falna, his nose wasn't broken—but his dignity was shattered.
"Okay," Max wheezed, rubbing his throbbing head. "Note to self: The smoke logic doesn't translate. And I need brakes."
He grabbed Kairu, who was jiggling with concern, and placed him back on his shoulder.
"Take two. Cut the cosmetics. Pure speed."
He realized his magic had struggled with the dual command of "move fast" and "make pretty smoke." It viewed the smoke as inefficient waste and had dumped all that extra energy into raw propulsion instead.
Fine. Function over form.
He turned around to face the way he came. This time, he refined it. No smoke. No flair. Just pure, linear movement stopping exactly fifty feet away.
Shunshin.
WHOOSH.
There was a sharp displacement of air, a sound like a whip crack.
One moment, Max was standing by the cracked wall. The next, he was fifty feet down the hall. He skidded to a halt, his boots carving grooves in the dust, but he stayed upright.
"Whoa."
It worked. He hadn't just run fast; he flickered.
On his shoulder, Kairu spun around in a circle, letting out a bewildered Ki? as if asking, Did we lag?
Max grinned. "Yeah, buddy. We lagged. But the sound..."
The echo of the WHOOSH-CRACK was still bouncing off the dungeon walls. It was loud.
"It needs to be smoother. Less explosion, more slipstream."
For the next thirty minutes, Max practiced. He adjusted the mana output, smoothing the release curve. He visualized the air parting around him rather than crashing through it.
By the twentieth attempt, he had it down.
Zip.
He moved forty feet. The sound was reduced to a soft, swift rustle of fabric—a whisper of wind rather than a crack of thunder.
"Acceptable," Max decided, his blood pumping with the thrill of mastery.
He looked down the long, winding dark of the corridor leading somewhere.
"Hang on, Kairu."
Max channeled the energy, a faint crimson-tinged magic coating his legs.
Shunshin.
Just like that, he zipped to the end of the corridor and, making the turn, went deeper while keeping his magic sense active as an experiment.
After a few jumps, he paused, closing his eyes and expanding his magical senses to their limit, sweeping the area, searching for the monster signatures.
There.
Ahead, fifty meters from him were small clusters of monsters moving in the dark—Goblins patrolling, Kobolds sniffing the air.
Satisfied, Max signaled Kairu. "Hang on, Kairu. Let's see how good we can be with Shunshin in combat."
WHOOSH.
He vanished.
He didn't just run; he flickered through the dungeon, a blur of crimson and black appearing and disappearing in twenty-foot increments.
A trio of Goblins turned at the sound of the wind. They saw nothing. Then, a black line manifested in their midst.
Slash.
Max reappeared ten feet behind them, his rapier already sheathed. Behind him, three heads slid off three necks simultaneously.
"Too slow," Max whispered, the adrenaline spiking.
He pushed harder. He increased the distance. Thirty feet.
A Kobold leaped from the shadows, screeching. Max didn't dodge; he simply ceased to exist in that space. He reappeared directly above the monster, driving his heel down with the full weight of his accelerated momentum.
CRUNCH.
The Kobold flattened against the stone floor, its spine pulverized instantly.
"Forty feet," Max panted, the world blurring around him. "Let's try fifty."
He was getting the rhythm now. It wasn't just about the burst; it was about the stop. Accelerate. Decelerate. Strike. Accelerate. It was a rhythm of violence.
He carved a path through the side corridor, leaving a trail of dissolving ash and bewildered monsters who died before they realized they were under attack. The normal spawn rates were a joke compared to his first dive, but at this speed, even a horde felt stationary.
Finally, the narrow corridor widened. Ahead, the rough-hewn stone gave way to a smoother, wider passage.
The main path.
Max didn't slow down. He gathered his mana for one final, long-range burst.
Shunshin.
He blitzed the last seventy feet, bursting out of the side passage and skidding to a halt on the main road of Floor 1. He dusted off his shoulder, looking back at the carnage he'd left in the dark.
"Not bad," he grinned. "Not Minato level yet, but I'll take it."
He oriented himself. The stairs leading down were close.
Max jogged the remaining distance, reaching the large chamber that housed the connection between Floor 1 and Floor 2. It was quiet here; most adventurers must have already cleared out for the night.
He went straight to the wall near the stairs, kneeling to inspect his handiwork.
The teleportation circle he had placed days ago was still there. It was faint, the crimson ink dulling as the Dungeon slowly chewed away at its magical structure, but the connection was active.
Ping.
He felt it in his mental map—a solid, if slightly static-filled, anchor.
"Still holding," Max murmured, elated. "But degrading. Permanent markers are going to be a hassle if I have to repair them every week."
He waved a hand, dismissing the old circle.
The stone-etched anchor had lasted several days—longer than he'd expected, which he was happy about.
He pulled out one of the parchment circles and placed it against the wall beside his previous circle. He wanted to see how this would work.
'Time for an upgrade,' Max murmured, pressing his palm to the fresh parchment. 'Let's see what Independent Action can really do.'
This time, he didn't just visualize a destination; he visualized a logic gate.
Protocol: Scan vicinity upon activation.
The sensation was weird—like trying to type with his soul. The magic resisted slightly, unused to conditional commands, but his will forced the concept into reality. A small, horizontal line etched itself beneath the main circle—a command prompt bar.
"Activate."
Hummmm.
A near-invisible golden beam projected from the line, sweeping the area in a six-by-six grid. In his mind, Max felt a ping—two vague shapes standing a foot from the circle. Himself and Kairu.
"It works," Max whispered, pumping a fist. "It actually recognizes presence."
Inspired, he decided to swing for the fences.
"Okay, let's try the Uber prototype."
He pulled out one of the purple contract circles Kairu had manufactured. He moved about twenty feet away from the anchor circle.
"Protocol: Transaction," Max commanded, pouring mana into the paper. "Condition: Activation + 1000 Valis coin placed on center. Action: Teleport matter to Anchor Circle A."
He felt the drain on his magic—sharp and heavy. The complexity of the request was straining the spell's framework. Identifying a specific coin value? Transporting matter without a user guiding it? It was a lot of variables.
"Let's see if you crash," Max muttered.
He pulled a coin from his pouch and placed it on the purple paper.
Hum.
The circle glowed. The coin shimmered—and vanished.
Max spun around to look at the Anchor Circle near the wall.
Pop.
The coin appeared in the center of the anchor, spinning on its edge before clattering to a halt.
Simultaneously, the purple paper in front of Max turned gray and crumbled to dust. The anchor circle dimmed significantly, its structural integrity damaged by the rough transfer.
"One-time use," Max noted, rubbing his chin. "And it burns out the receiver end too quickly. But... the logic held. It actually transported the payment."
He was surprised. He honestly expected it to explode or just do nothing.
Screee!
A shrill cry broke his concentration.
A Goblin had spawned from a crack in the wall twenty meters away at the edge of floor 1, seemingly offended by Max's loitering. It charged, club raised.
Max didn't move. He was too busy analyzing the burnout rate of the circle.
Squelch.
Kairu launched himself from Max's shoulder. In mid-air, the slime flattened and compressed, firing a blade of high-pressure water.
Splash.
The Goblin was bisected cleanly. It dissolved into ash before its club hit the ground. Kairu landed, absorbed the magic stone, and bounced back to Max's shoulder, looking smug.
"Nice shot," Max praised, scratching the slime.
But the interruption served as a reminder. He was in the dungeon. Standing around coding magic while monsters spawned was a good way to get stabbed.
"Right. Complex commands are too slow for combat and too unstable for Independent Action right now," Max reasoned. "I need something simple. Something passive. Something that keeps me alive while I'm thinking."
An idea clicked.
He thought of Kazuma Satou—the unrepentant advocate of gender equality and master of the Lurk and Auto-Evade skills. He thought of Luffy in Wano, weaving through arrows with eyes closed.
High-speed movement is good, but automatic avoidance is better.
"Independent Action," Max whispered, focusing on his own body this time. "Protocol: Auto-Evade."
Command: If [Attack] enters [Radius] -> Move Body.
He started with a conservative estimate. Thirty feet should give him plenty of reaction time.
He poured mana into the concept. It was a massive drain—like reserving a chunk of his RAM for a background process that never stopped running. His senses expanded, stretching out into a spherical dome of awareness around him.
For the first few seconds, it was overwhelming. He could feel everything within the sphere: dust motes settling, air currents from the distant stairs, Kairu's vibrations on his shoulder, even the faint tremor of the dungeon walls adjusting under their own weight.
But what caught his attention immediately was the drain. His magical reserves were bleeding—not catastrophically, but steadily. A constant leak that outpaced his natural regeneration.
That's not sustainable, Max realized, wincing at the sensation. At this rate, I'll burn through half my reserves in a few hours just standing still.
He collapsed the protocol, gasping slightly as the sensory overload vanished. The drain stopped immediately.
"Too ambitious," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Let's scale it back."
He recast the protocol. This time, he visualized a tighter sphere. Twenty feet.
The drain was still noticeable, but lighter. He held it for a minute, monitoring the pull on his reserves. Better, but still exceeding his regeneration rate. At this radius, he could maintain it for maybe for half a day before tapping out.
Still not ideal for long dives, Max thought. I need something I can run indefinitely.
He collapsed it again and tried fifteen feet.
The drain shrank further, almost negligible now. The sensory awareness was still there—he could feel the space around him—but it wasn't overwhelming anymore. The active awareness faded into the background, becoming a low hum at the base of his skull.
He held it for five minutes, watching his reserves carefully. The drain and his regeneration were nearly balanced, a slow trickle outward matched by the trickle inward.
Close. But not quite.
One more adjustment. Ten feet.
The moment he set the radius, the drain shifted. It was still there—a faint, constant pull—but now his regeneration outpaced it. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his reserves were actually recovering while the protocol ran.
"There we go," Max murmured, bouncing on his toes experimentally. The sphere moved with him, a personal bubble of heightened awareness that extended just far enough to catch an incoming strike before it landed.
Ten feet wasn't much. It wouldn't give him warning of a distant archer or a charging minotaur. But for close-quarters combat—an ambush from a dungeon wall, a backstab attempt, a lunging blade—it was perfect.
And I can keep it running forever, he realized with satisfaction. The regen covers the cost. It's basically free real estate.
He kept the protocol active, letting it settle into the background of his awareness. The sphere became second nature, a sixth sense humming quietly at the edge of his perception.
"Will it actually work in combat?" Max wondered aloud, flexing his fingers. "I didn't define 'hostile' very well. Hopefully it doesn't make me dodge a high-five."
He'd find out soon enough. Floor 2 would provide plenty of test subjects.
With the old circle replaced and Independent Action set, Max adjusted his gloves. "Phase One complete. Mechanics prepped. Loot secured. Time for the real grind."
He turned toward the stairwell leading down, the protocol humming quietly in the background of his awareness.
"Floor 2. Let's see what you've got."
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
That's too much spent on the first floor, don't you think? I mean he stumbled into a Jack Bird feeding pond, got some good cash, experimented and learned Shunshin and tested Independent Action.
Would you believe me if I say all of this took only 2 hours? I mean there is not much to say about the difficult of Floor 1 to Max and Kairu as he spent the bulk of it getting lost and experimenting. And who thought out of all possibilities with Independent Action, Max picks Auto-Evade? Heh.
And if you feel the dungeon dive was slow, trust me the next chapter is gonna cover good few floors and will be really fun as Max tests Auto-evade, gets inspired again and realizes how stupid he was yet again. ;)
Don't forget to share your thoughts on the story and any suggestions you have on what else Max could try in a review/comment.
If you'd like to read 4 chapters ahead, support my work, or commission a story idea, visit p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m/b3smash.
Please note that the chapters are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Next update will be on Tuesday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.