Dawn slammed into my room before I was ready. My alarm's shrill beep cut through the half-dark, and I bolted upright, heart hammering.
I'd slept maybe an hour—every time I drifted off, translucent windows flickered behind my eyelids: mana currents tracing circuits in the air, spell diagrams building and collapsing, mastery meters climbing in impossible leaps.
My body ached for rest, but my brain buzzed like an overcharged conduit.
"Dungeon registration," I mumbled, rubbing grainy sleep from my eyes as I fumbled for my phone. The Player Bureau app lit up instantly:
[Solo Dungeon Entry Confirmed]
Location: Sector 9 – Underground Transit Ruins
Threat Level: F
Recommended Rank: F–E
Entry Window: 09:00–12:00
Beginner dungeon. Low mortality. Low rewards.
Perfect for a first run.
I shrugged on a charcoal jacket, laced up reinforced boots whose steel-toe caps clinked, and snapped cheap, threadbare gloves over my fingertips—the stitching meant to channel mana, though the price tag had shown.
Nothing glamorous, but sturdy enough. Before stepping out, I summoned my system HUD one last time:
Body: 1.0
Soul: 1.2
Mana: 1.5 / 1.5
No changes overnight. As always: no free stat gains—only stress, orbs, and survival.
I swallowed, opened the door, and felt the morning air hit me like a damp cloth.
***
Sector 9's entrance lay beyond a barricade of rusted metal and warning tape. Bureau sentries in gray uniforms paced beneath flickering floodlights. Automated turrets—sleek barrels of cold steel—tracked every movement, humming softly. A mixture of dust and stale reactivated magic hung in the air, raising the hairs on my arms.
Clusters of players milled around: one trio in mismatched armor whose dull clangs echoed on the concrete; a pair of novices cradling oversized swords so tightly their knuckles blanched; a lone vlogger narrating triumphantly to her live audience. I ignored them, boots crunching on gravel, and strode to the registration gate.
A scanner's blue beam slid over me in a lazy arc.
[Player confirmed: Alexander Cain]
[Solo entry authorized]
With a hiss, the gate's panels ground aside. I inhaled and stepped forward.
The portal was an oval rift hovering midair, its edges rippling like oil on water. A low hum vibrated through my chest as the dull-blue light pulsed. My pulse followed suit—fast, eager. Not fear, exactly, but a whetted anticipation. I lifted a boot and stepped across the threshold.
***
My boots hit cold stone. Drips echoed somewhere far above, and gray daylight slanted through fissures in the cracked ceiling. Rusted rails ran alongside shattered benches; corroded pillars dripped with glowing green moss. The damp smell was alive—like earth and ozone. I exhaled, my breath visible in the chill.
Three steps in, a soft skittering drew my gaze. A narrow, pale shape slid from under a collapsed bench. Then another. Then two more. The Tunnel Crawlers emerged in a pack—knee-high slitherers, skin stretched tight over sinewy muscle, their heads featureless except for rows of thin sensory slits that quivered as they smelled me.
Tunnel Crawler (F-Rank)
Threat: Low
Behavior: Pack-oriented
Four of them. I flexed my fingers. Warmth pooled in my palm as I called mana to life—smooth and clear, sharper than last night. My arm tingled, as if my body remembered the exact amount of energy to draw.
"Magic Bullet."
A perfect, compressed orb of cerulean light winked into being between my fingers. I pointed at the nearest crawler. The spell sang through the air like a conductor's baton, and the projectile punched clean through its pale head. The creature's body slumped without a sound; the sick thud echoed off the walls.
The others shrieked, a wet, high keening, and charged. I dropped into a firm stance, knees bent, breath even. Another snap of my wrist—another orb—and one more crawler went down, this one crumpling into a sticky heap. I didn't hesitate: "Magic Bullet." Thunk. I caught the second shot as it buried itself to the hilt. Only one remained, its slitted head raised in a hiss.
It leaped at me. I angled my hand upward, squeezed, and the orb detonated at point-blank range. A gout of light erupted; the crawler disintegrated, sending tiny bone fragments rattling across the floor.
Silence settled like dust.
I exhaled slowly, tasting iron. The HUD blinked new lines:
[Enemy defeated: Tunnel Crawler x4]
Mana increased. Body increased.
A subtle warmth spread through my chest as I checked my stats:
Mana: 1.4 / 1.6 (gained 0.1)
Body: 1.1
And—
[Magic Bullet mastery increased: 4 / 5]
I stared at that last line. Level 4 mastery? That usually took months of real fights. I'd barely been scratched. My fingertips tingled as I flexed them, noticing how tightly the magic compressed now, how crisp and efficient its release. Absolute Sage wasn't just accelerating growth; it was sharpening my instincts, rewriting my learning curve.
Adrenaline faded to a steady pulse. Shadows stretched along the tracks ahead—dark corridors branching off into unknown depths. From somewhere beyond came a low, guttural growl, heavy with promise and peril.
A grin split my face.
"This is actually quite fun."
I lifted my head and strode forward. Behind me, the mana-smeared remains of my foes dissolved into motes of light. Ahead, something far larger and hungrier waited in the dark. And I couldn't wait to meet it.