Ethan sat on a long box. He kept his belongings in a mutant storage ring — a small miracle for survival. Someone had given him a mutant battle-hammer as an inauguration gift into the Vanguard; it lay in the box, unused.
"Damn. I don't know how long I'll be stuck here. I better make some arrangements," he thought.
Opening his ring, he found a stockpile of foodstuffs — enough for one month if he ate normally, two months if he rationed strictly. After three weeks in the abyss Ethan still hadn't found the end. He was starting to lose it. This place was eerily dark and silent; it would break anyone's mind.
Every twenty-four hours Ethan practiced breathing exercises to keep sane. By now he was fully healed, though he had used up his med kit. After another two weeks, tiny dots appeared in the distance — far-off lights that suggested stars. "What? Am I in space? How can I still breathe?" Ethan clutched his throat, baffled.
"Maybe the dungeon floor is a planet floating in the void," he guessed.
"But if I'm in space, why am I still affected by gravity?" The thought hung heavy. This place was too mysterious.
A month passed and he was still in the void, as he called it. Nothing changed — until today. Heavy wind began to lash his makeshift boat; gusts knocked and rocked it so violently Ethan could barely steady the oars.
BANG — a space-wrap hit his body. "What was that?" he panicked. The wrap tore him from one void into another. This time he could see a planet.
"Thank God — land. There's hope," Ethan breathed, overjoyed but cautious as he controlled the boat. The tiny planet tugged him faster; crimson heat licked at his already damaged armor.
He gritted his teeth and fought the pull, resisting the heat while keeping the boat upright.
On the tiny dark planet the soil was blue and shimmered like starlight from within, although it looked dark from the outside. Tiny bright dots — insect-like lights — wandered the fields. It almost looked like heaven. Sitting on the grass and looking up, one could see bright stars swimming like fish.
BRACCCCK — BOOM. The peaceful scene shattered. A red meteor crashed down from the sky and smashed the blue grass; the bright insects scattered, terrified.
"Cough… cough…" Ethan was gravely injured. He had used Phantom Ghost before landing; without it his flesh would have been smudged across the scenery. He passed out. Surviving that fall was luck — even Apex-level beings would have turned to bloody paste.
After nearly two days Ethan woke. His head spun; his organs were a mess. Somehow he had survived the fall. His vision blurred as he tried to make out his surroundings.
The planet was beautiful, but Ethan couldn't calm his mind. "God, why won't you let me die? I've tried and survived so far, but now I've fallen onto an unknown planet," he said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then he thought of his family and fallen comrades. He couldn't die here. There had to be a portal.
He tried to stand — his leg was broken. "Damn." Did the god of death want his soul today? Everything since entering this dungeon had become harder and harder, but he wouldn't give up. His family was waiting for him.
Ethan cut a piece of his makeshift boat and fashioned a long splint, then straightened the fractured leg around it. It hurt like hell, but he bore the pain. After some time he ate the last of his rations; without food he wouldn't have the strength to move. Six hours later he felt a little refreshed and rose to a limp.
The land was flat and covered in blue mystic grass. "What is this?" he muttered and reached down to touch it. Immediately the grass buzzed — then a blue streak of light shot from the grass into his body. It didn't harm him. Instead, he felt refreshed; his wounds healed a little.
"No wonder I didn't die. The blue grass kept me alive," Ethan said, relieved. He knew an Ascended couldn't withstand the planet's intense gravity pull unaided. Even standing now, he still felt pressure.