The last thing Aris Thorne knew was the screech of metal, a collective gasp, and the profound, stupid irony that his final thought was about a missed appointment.
He did not expect the void to have a user interface.
System Initialization Complete.
Soul [Aris_Thorne_v.42] successfully integrated into [Fantasy_Prime] reality stream.
Welcome, Dungeon Core.
Text, crisp and blue, hung in the darkness. It was accompanied by a faint, pleasant chime, like a notification from a well-designed wellness app. Aris felt a flicker of professional annoyance. Whoever designed this afterlife had clearly never read the studies on calming color palettes for high-stress introductions.
Primary Directive: Grow.
Resource: Ambient Mana & Emotional Resonance.
Choose your foundational defense archetype:
Three pulsating options materialized before his… awareness. He had no eyes, but he could perceive them clearly.
[Spawn Skeletons]: Raise the fallen. Simple, scalable, classic fear response.
[Poison Mist & Pits]: Environmental hazards. Encourages anxiety and hyper-vigilance.
[Summon Lesser Elemental]: Direct confrontation. Fuels anger and aggression.
Aris scanned the choices. Then he scanned them again. A deep, familiar weariness settled over him, a feeling he'd spent the last decade of his life (and apparently his death) wrestling with.
"These aren't defense mechanisms," his thought echoed in the empty space, sounding surprisingly like his own voice. "These are textbook maladaptive coping strategies. Avoidance. Paranoia. Externalized rage. Is this a joke?"
The System did not respond to rhetorical questions. The three options continued to pulse, waiting.
Memories of his waiting room flashed—the overstuffed chairs, the soft hum of the air filter, the box of tissues placed just so on the side table. The sacred, fragile space where armor was meant to be taken off, not put on.
He didn't want a trap. He didn't want a monster. He wanted a boundary.
There was no fourth option. But the compulsion was instinctual, born of twenty years of training and a soul-deep need for order. He focused all his will, not on selecting, but on correcting the prompt. He imagined the soothing beige of his old office walls, the solid weight of a closed door, the simple act of a deep, grounding breath.
Error. Input not recognized.
Please choose from provided—
Re-calibrating…
User psychic imprint overriding standard parameters.
Analyzing…
A long pause. The blue text flickered, glitched, and reformed.
Archetype Detected: [Sanctuary-Seeker].
Compiling…
New Archetype Forged: [Create Safe Environment].
Is this acceptable? [Y/N]
A bubble of something perilously close to laughter rose in Aris. Safe Environment. The two words that had been his life's work. Now, his afterlife's directive.
He chose [Y].
The void dissolved. Sensation rushed in—not sight or sound, but a profound, spherical awareness. He was a point of consciousness at the heart of a small, damp cave. He could feel the weight of the stone above, the trickle of water along a wall, the roots of something growing through a crack.
Then, the Mana moved.
It didn't hurt. It felt like a deep, structural exhale. The rough cave walls smoothed, their jagged edges softening into clean, rounded corners. The gritty floor compacted and grew warm, covered in a soft, moss-like carpet of a soothing green hue. The chaotic drip-drip of water organized itself into a small, elegant fountain in the corner, providing a gentle, ambient trickle.
Light bloomed from the ceiling—not from torches or crystals, but a soft, diffuse glow that mimicked late afternoon sun. In the center of the now oblong room, two chairs formed from smoothed stone and petrified wood, facing each other. Between them, a low table grew from the floor.
Aris's awareness settled. This was him now. This room. He was the room.
A new prompt, glowing a gentle gold, appeared in his perception.
Dungeon Established: [The Quiet Room - Lvl 1]
Core Directive: Provide Safety. Facilitate Processing.
Primary Resource: [Emotional Resonance - Breakthroughs].
Current Mana: 10/10 (Passive Regeneration: 1/hr)
Abilities Unlocked:
· Ambient Calm (Passive): Lowers aggressive intent, reduces anxiety in occupants.
· Passive Listening (Active): Core consciousness can focus on one occupant, perceiving surface emotional states (e.g., [Agitated], [Sad], [Confused]).
Quest Generated: [First Session]
Facilitate one (1) meaningful emotional engagement with a sentient being.
Reward: 100 EXP, Unlock [Basic Furnishings] Bundle.
Aris, the dungeon, the therapist, contemplated his empty chairs. The irony was so perfect it was painful. He'd spent his life trying to fill chairs like these. Now, his existence depended on it.
He didn't have to wait long.
A tremor in the Mana, a disturbance in the peaceful atmosphere he'd cultivated. Something was at the newly formed entrance—a rough arch where the cave mouth had been. Something big.
The figure that ducked inside was a mountain of scarred muscle and battered plate mail. A greatsword, notched and stained, was strapped to his back. His face was a roadmap of violence, etched with a permanent scowl. His eyes, the color of flint, swept the room with tactical precision, finding no threats, only baffling peace.
Subject Identified.
Designation: Kaelen.
Title: The Mountain That Slays.
Emotional State: [Profoundly Confused], [Underlying: Grief/Buried].
Threat Assessment: High (Physical), Low (Current Intent).
Kaelen took a heavy step forward, his boot sinking slightly into the soft floor. He grunted, unnerved.
"What trickery is this?" his voice was a gravelly rumble, shaking dust from the ceiling. "Where is the beast? The treasure?"
Aris focused, activating [Passive Listening]. The berserker's emotional signature was a turbulent storm of orange (anger) and deep, bruised purple (sorrow). Standard defense presentation. Classic case of grief manifesting as rage.
This was it. His first client.
Aris willed his consciousness forward, shaping the ambient Mana into a projection of sound. He aimed for his best "initial consultation" voice: calm, clear, and utterly neutral.
The words echoed gently from the walls themselves.
"Hello," the dungeon said. "My name is Aris. What brings you in today?"
Kaelen, the S-Rank adventurer who had slain wyverns and stared down demon lords, froze. His hand, which had been inching toward his sword, fell limp at his side. He stared at the empty chair, then at the fountain, then back at the chair.
A single, bewildered word escaped him.
"…What?"
---
End of Chapter 1