I stood before the gate.
Up close, it was far worse than it had appeared from a distance.
The stone surface was ancient—older than kingdoms, older than written history—etched with runes so eroded they looked less carved and more grown into the rock. This wasn't a structure meant to welcome challengers. It didn't simply block a path.
It sealed something.
The air around it felt wrong. Heavy. Pressurized. As if the gate itself was holding its breath, restraining a presence that wanted nothing more than to tear its way out. My instincts screamed at me to turn back, but the dungeon offered no mercy for hesitation.
When I placed my hand against the stone, mana surged violently in response.
A chill shot up my spine.
Goosebumps crawled across my skin—even though this body wasn't truly mine. Fear didn't care about ownership. It recognized danger all the same.
Beyond the gate, no light escaped. Even the red mana crystals embedded near the entrance refused to illuminate what lay past it, their glow bending away as if afraid.
I stepped back.
Grinding my teeth, I snapped a thick tree branch from the forest outside the cave and ignited it with fire mana. The flame flared weakly but held. Crude, unreliable—but better than walking blind into oblivion.
I pushed the gate open.
It didn't creak.
It didn't resist.
It simply yielded—as if it had been waiting.
Inside, the dungeon swallowed all sound. The flame in my hand trembled as though suffocating, its light barely carving a circle of visibility around me. The passage sloped downward, the stone beneath my feet smooth from centuries of erosion—or passage.
Minutes passed.
Then the tunnel widened.
I stepped into a massive cavern—a hub carved deep into the earth. The ceiling vanished into darkness above, and from the circular chamber branched fifteen separate paths, each one plunging into its own unknown abyss.
Including the one I had come from.
As I stared, a system message surfaced before my eyes.
[Player has spent more than 1 day in dungeon time.]
[Equivalent to approximately 8 hours in original world.]
My heart skipped.
Then another message followed—this one not metallic, but mockingly calm.
[Curse Weaver of Fallen Timelines:]
You have two choices.
A) Complete the dungeon and return with all rewards.
B) Return to your world now. However, every time you sleep, you will return here until all paths are cleared. Performance-based rewards will be calculated accordingly.
I didn't hesitate.
If I stayed any longer, Aeldir would notice my absence. The princess too. Eight hours was already pushing it.
"I choose B," I said quietly.
A pause.
Then—
[Accepted.]
[Condition: You must clear one path before return.]
The ground trembled.
Invisible barriers slammed down over fourteen of the tunnels at once, sealing them completely. Only one path remained open.
It was darker than the rest.
Colder.
The air flowing from it carried the faint scent of metal and old blood.
I swallowed and stepped inside.
The moment I crossed the threshold, a violent gust of wind surged through the tunnel, extinguishing my torch in an instant.
Darkness.
Before I could react, pain exploded across my back.
A blade.
I spun, slashing instinctively—but my sword met nothing but air.
Shapes moved around me.
Too fast.
Too quiet.
Steel kissed my skin again. Then again. From the side. From behind. From above.
I flared fire mana along my blade, but the flames dimmed the moment a shadow passed near them—as if the heat itself was being devoured.
They emerged briefly.
Goblins.
Lean, wiry bodies. Dull green skin. Eyes sharp with intelligence. Daggers in their hands—short, serrated, meant to bleed rather than kill cleanly.
And worse—
They vanished the instant they moved.
Stealth.
Not magic alone. Training.
A blade slid across my ribs. Another pierced my shoulder. My scream echoed uselessly in the cavern.
I swung wildly, panic clawing at my chest.
Wrong.
Every movement exposed me further.
Pain stacked upon pain. Blood soaked my clothes. A dagger slipped past my guard and sliced across my throat.
The world tilted.
Darkness claimed me.
—
I awoke screaming.
I was back in the hub chamber, trembling violently, breath coming in ragged gasps. My hands clawed at my neck, phantom pain still burning there.
I dropped to my knees and vomited.
"I can't—" My voice broke. "Stop it. I don't want age manipulation anymore. Just end it."
A presence pressed down on me.
Cold.
Amused.
[Curse Weaver:]
What low resolve. I expected more.
"You chose that path," I spat weakly. "You wanted this."
So?
"…I want to withdraw."
Impossible. The mission has begun. There is no return.
Silence.
Then—
Seeing your state, I will grant you a hint.
Fight them with closed eyes.
My hands shook.
"You want me to die blind now?"
Weak mortal. I meant—listen. Use your ears.
I laughed hysterically.
Madness. This was madness.
But there was no escape.
I stood again, returned to the path, and the goblins came.
Pain followed instantly. Blades cut. Flesh tore.
I shut my eyes.
Focused.
Ignored everything except sound.
Footsteps scraping stone. Cloth shifting. Breath drawn too sharply.
I swung.
Steel connected.
Not a kill—but a hit.
I poured mana into regeneration, forcing my body to endure. Another strike landed. Another goblin fell back.
Ten minutes.
That was all I managed before they overwhelmed me again.
Death came swiftly this time.
"This wasn't repetition. Each death stripped something from me — fear, hesitation, mercy."
—
I died twice in that darkness.
The first time, my fear ruled me.
The second time, my hesitation killed me.
After that… I stopped counting deaths.
There were no more resets — only moments where I failed, adapted, failed again, and adapted faster. Their blades found me again and again, but this time I didn't fall. I endured. I countered. I learned.
Eventually, something inside me broke—not my will, but my fear.
I silenced it.
Divided my mana carefully. Regeneration. Fire. Control.
When the goblins rushed, I listened.
Moved.
Struck.
Fire spiraled outward, forming a crude tornado. Their stealth weakened under the heat. Their screams echoed as flames consumed them.
I burned them.
Every last one.
When the final body hit the ground, I collapsed.
A circle of light formed beneath me.
My wounds vanished.
[Curse Weaver:]
You learn quickly. Impressive.
I didn't answer.
I moved on.
At the end of the path, a chest awaited—two daggers and a book.
The Book of Wisdom.
Before I could examine them—
[Items stored temporarily in system inventory.]
[Returning player to original world.]
—
I woke with tears on my face.
A small black kitten was licking them away, purring softly.
A voice echoed in my mind—gentle, distant.
I entrust my daughter, Nyx, to you. Protect her. Farewell… for now.
A dragon's roar thundered across the sky.
And I lay there, staring at the black cat before me, knowing—
This dungeon was only the beginning.