He never did make it back into the dungeon.
Sleep won that argument.
Asher woke up and immediately knew two things.
One: he was alive.
Two: his body was filing charges.
He tried to roll over.
His muscles responded by screaming.
"…Okay," he groaned into his pillow. "So this is what bad decisions feel like."
Every part of him hurt in a way that suggested his skeleton had been briefly removed and reinstalled incorrectly. Even blinking felt like a physical activity.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
Then sat up.
Easily.
Asher froze.
"…No. That's suspicious."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
No dizziness.
No wobbling.
No pain spike.
Just… soreness. Manageable soreness.
"…I don't trust this," he muttered.
A system window flickered into existence.
[Physical Adaptation – Ongoing]
Recovery Rate: Above Baseline
Asher squinted at it.
"That feels like something future me is going to regret," he muttered.
Because healing faster meant never knowing when to stop.
The window vanished.
The mirror was less forgiving.
Bruises layered over bruises. Scratches traced his arms and ribs. One particularly ugly mark on his shoulder looked like it wanted its own backstory.
"…I look like I lost a fight with a lawnmower."
His phone buzzed.
MAYA:
You alive?
Asher blinked.
Then typed carefully.
ASHER:
Define alive.
Three dots appeared.
MAYA:
If you don't show up today I'm charging interest on that favor.
Asher sighed.
"…Of course you are."
Getting dressed was an exercise in strategic wincing.
Pull shirt over head—bad idea.
Tie shoes—worse idea.
Bend down—never again.
By the time he stepped outside, Asher had already reconsidered every life choice that led him here.
The walk to work was… strange.
His legs moved easily. Too easily. He had to consciously slow himself down to avoid jogging.
"Act normal," he muttered. "Normal people limp."
A system message flickered and disappeared before fully forming.
"…Don't," Asher warned. "I'm working today."
The store was already busy when he arrived.
Maya spotted him instantly.
Her eyes dropped to his arms.
Then his posture.
Then his face.
"…Wow," she said. "You look worse than yesterday."
"Good morning to you too," Asher replied.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You smell like stone dust."
Asher paused.
"…That's oddly specific."
She smirked. "Told you. Coffee. Expensive kind."
"Deal," he said quickly.
Ten minutes into the shift, Asher learned something alarming.
He wasn't tired.
At all.
Boxes felt lighter. Movements smoother. Even when his muscles complained, they recovered faster than they should.
He caught himself lifting a crate one-handed again.
He immediately stopped.
"…Nope," he whispered. "Two hands. Human hands."
Maya watched him carefully.
"You're doing it again," she said.
"Doing what?"
"Moving like you forgot how heavy things are."
Asher laughed nervously. "I've always been strong?"
She stared at him.
"…Have you?"
He did not answer.
Halfway through the shift, fatigue finally hit.
Not his body.
His brain.
Asher blinked too long. Missed a call from the supervisor. Nearly walked into a shelf.
"…Okay," he muttered. "There it is."
A system notice slid into view.
[Notice]
Extended activity without rest detected.
Cognitive fatigue increasing.
Asher groaned.
"You couldn't have told me before?"
The system did not respond.
Which meant it agreed.
By the time his break arrived, Asher collapsed into a chair like gravity had just remembered him personally.
He stared at his hands.
They still looked normal.
But he knew better now.
"…I can't do this every night," he muttered. "I'll burn out."
The thought lingered.
Because for the first time since awakening, he realized something important.
The dungeon would always be there.
His body might not.
His phone buzzed again.
MAYA:
You're spacing out.
ASHER:
Just tired.
MAYA:
Try sleeping sometime. Revolutionary idea.
Asher smiled despite himself.
"…Yeah," he whispered. "Maybe."
But as he leaned back in the chair, eyes closing for just a second—
He felt it.
That familiar itch.
The dungeon.
Waiting.
Asher sighed.
"…I really need better self-control."
The system, wisely, said nothing.