Chương 4: Chapter 3 — Warrior, Again

The red crystal on Jack's screen was unmistakable. He leaned closer anyway. Not because he needed a better look. The photograph LuckyLooter had sent was unusually clear by Day One standards: bright lighting, clean focus, nothing obscuring the crystal, even a ruler placed beside it for scale. Jack leaned closer because fifteen years of delving had trained the habit into him. Verify first. Act second. He focused Appraisal through the screen. The familiar window appeared.

HEAVY STRIKE Skill Gem Rarity: Common Type: Attack / Melee Required Level: 2 Compatible Job: Warrior Mana Cost: 5 Effect: Deliver a powerful melee strike using the equipped weapon, dealing increased damage to a single target. Jack leaned back.

"Already." It had not even been a full day. Most of humanity was still debating whether the gates represented an invasion, a natural disaster, a government experiment, or the greatest resource discovery in history. Someone had already found a Skill Gem. Fifteen years from now, Heavy Strike would be beginner merchandise. Every serious Delver equipment store carried low-level Common Gems by the box. Nobody would stop to photograph one unless they were listing it for sale.

Today, LuckyLooter might be holding one of the first publicly documented Skill Gems on Earth. The messages continued. LuckyLooter: so what is it LuckyLooter: everyone keeps telling me to eat it LuckyLooter: i am NOT eating it Jack smiled. Good. One problem avoided. He typed. GateGuide: It's a Skill Gem. Keep it. Don't sell it yet. Don't try to use it until you've reached Level 2 and unlocked a Skill Gem Slot. The reply arrived almost immediately. LuckyLooter: LEVEL 2??? LuckyLooter: THERE ARE LEVELS???

Jack stopped. Right. That part had not gone public yet. At least not widely. With thousands of gates scattered across the planet, somebody had almost certainly reached Level Two already. Probably several somebodies. There were simply too many reckless people and too many unsecured gates for Jack to believe otherwise. But something happening was not the same thing as humanity understanding it. He had started writing an explanation. Jobs. Mana. Skill Slots. What Level Two actually changed.

Jack looked at the paragraph. Then deleted it. GateGuide: Yes. More later. Keep the Gem safe. Send. Information had value. So did timing. He had dumped the firearms rule onto the internet because people were getting killed by a misunderstanding that could be corrected immediately. Mana Stones had been different. Their existence would reshape the world's behavior whether Jack helped or not, and getting ahead of that conversation had built GateGuide into an information magnet. Leveling was not as urgent. Not yet.

Jack closed the message. The GateGuide notification counter jumped again. He ignored it and opened his Status. JACK MERCER Level: 1 Life: 49 / 61 STR: 14 DEX: 14 INT: 14 Job: Unassigned Skill Gem Slot: Locked Native Unique Skill: Appraisal — A Forty-nine. Still. Jack frowned. Then glanced at the clock. Not much time had actually passed since he came out of the dungeon. The lack of visible recovery over minutes did not prove there was none. He knew there was.

He also knew it was slow enough to be worthless when something was actively trying to kill him. Jack looked at LuckyLooter's red Gem again. Then at his own locked Skill Slot.

"Not yet." That annoyed him more than he expected. A private Dungeon sat fifty feet from his kitchen. He had a sword. He knew exactly what Level Two would unlock. And the smartest thing he could do was wait. Jack hated waiting. He did it anyway. He ate. He drank water. He answered only the GateGuide messages that looked immediately dangerous. One user had sent a photograph of a bottle filled with faintly glowing green liquid and the message: Can I drink this? Jack replied: No.

Another had photographed a metal object embedded in a Dungeon wall. Can I pull this out? Jack's Appraisal returned insufficient information through the terrible image quality. GateGuide: Not until you send a better photo. A third message simply contained: ate the thing. feel weird Jack closed that one. Some problems could not be solved remotely. Every so often, he checked his Status. 49 / 61. Then 52. Later, 56. The recovery was not fast. It was not supposed to be.

By early afternoon, the number finally reached: Life: 61 / 61 Jack stood immediately.

"There." Passive recovery was useful when he had several hours to spare. Inside a fight, it might as well not exist. That was why Life Flasks mattered. He could worry about acquiring one after he stopped being Level One. Jack closed the laptop. The world could survive several hours without its anonymous tutorial NPC. Probably. The Rusted Sword was waiting in the garage. So was the improvised spear. Kitchen carving knife. Wooden handle. Hose clamps. Tape.

A weapon assembled by a man who knew exactly how bad an idea it was and had simply lacked alternatives. Jack picked up the sword first. RUSTED SWORD Rarity: Common Item Level: 1 Required Level: 1 Physical Damage: 6–10 Condition: Poor Still awful. Still vastly better for this particular purpose than an expensive Earth-made sword. Jack took the spear too. He had thanked it for its service once already. That did not mean he was stupid enough to enter a dungeon with only one weapon. Weapons broke. Weapons got dropped.

Reach mattered. Sometimes the correct backup weapon was an embarrassment made from kitchen supplies. Jack checked his boots, work gloves, jacket, flashlight, phone, and water bottle. No armor. No Life Flask. No Portal Scroll. No utility belt. His Level Eighty-Seven self would have considered the equipment list criminal negligence. His Level One self considered it Tuesday. He stepped into the backyard. The storage shed looked as harmless as ever. Jack checked the road. Neighboring windows. Fence line. Nothing.

He opened the shed, slipped inside, and closed the door. The blackout tarp still covered the window and the gaps where blue light had leaked through earlier. Beyond it, the gate waited. Appraisal responded. LAYERED DUNGEON Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Status: Unclaimed Current Accessible Layer: 1 Current Threat Rank: F First Clear: In Progress Floor Guardian: Alive Known Depth:??? Total Layers:??? Origin: UNKNOWN Jack's eyes lingered on the final line. Still there.

Still the one question A-rank Appraisal refused to answer. He had enough unanswered questions already. The one in front of him had a much simpler solution. Jack tightened his grip on the spear.

"Let's finish this." He stepped through. Stone replaced wood. Cool Dungeon air touched his face. Jack moved immediately. No staring at the walls. No adjusting to the impossible geometry. He had already done that. Scratching came from ahead. A Burrow Rat rounded the corner. BURROW RAT Level: 1 Life: 18 / 18 Jack drew the Rusted Sword. The first Burrow Rat he had fought that morning had nearly embarrassed him. Not because he had failed to understand it.

Because his instincts had still been calibrated to a body with eighty-seven levels behind it. He had moved when his old body would have moved. Reached as far as his old body would have reached. Expected speed he no longer possessed. That mistake was gone now. The rat lowered its body. Jack waited. Half a heartbeat longer than his instincts wanted. It jumped. Jack took one short step. No flourish. No ambitious angle. The Rusted Sword moved in a compact arc. The rat vanished.

BURROW RAT DEFEATED Experience Gained Jack looked at the fading message. Then continued walking. He had seen those notifications thousands of times. The System could keep displaying them. He did not need to stop and admire every one.

"Better." Same Level. Same Stats. Same terrible sword. Different calibration. That mattered. The next Scrap Goblin charged with a jagged piece of metal raised over one shoulder. Jack read the posture before it moved. Not Appraisal. Experience. Shoulder low. Weight forward. Right foot already committed. Charge. He shifted aside. The goblin rushed past. Jack cut across its back. The Dungeon weapon bit deeper and cleaner than the improvised knife had managed earlier. The goblin spun.

Jack finished it before it could recover. No Life lost. He moved on. Two Burrow Rats attacked together. Then a third appeared from a side passage. Jack killed all three. Safely. Efficiently. Still too slowly. One target. One attack cycle. Reposition. Second target. Another cycle. Third target. Another chance for something stupid to happen. He stood over the last fading patch of ash.

"This is why Skills exist." Technique could make ordinary attacks safer. It could not make one sword occupy three places at once. A faint blue glow appeared farther down the corridor. Jack crouched. Mana Stone. Fresh. He picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. That made one full Stone on him and the partially depleted Stone back at the house. A few hours earlier, one F-rank Mana Stone had been enough to send half the internet into an economic crisis. Jack cared about a different question.

How often did this Dungeon produce them? One sample meant nothing. Ten would begin to mean something. A hundred would change the value of the property beneath his feet. For now, the answer remained private. The corridor widened. Jack recognized the turn. Guardian chamber. He slowed. The circular room beyond was larger than the surrounding passages, its ceiling lost in weak blue darkness. Something stood near the center. Jack stopped at the threshold. Appraisal.

SCRAP GOBLIN CHIEF Level: 3 Life: 72 / 72 Threat Rank: F Primary Weapon: Crude Cleaver Physical Power: Moderate Mobility: Low–Moderate That was all. No attack script. No convenient list telling him exactly where to stand. Good. Appraisal gave information. It did not play the game for him. The Chief was broader than the smaller goblins, wrapped in mismatched leather and scraps of metal. Its cleaver looked like somebody had forged a butcher's knife from a piece of farm equipment. Jack switched from sword to spear.

Level One was not the time to prove he could duel something stronger at close range. The Chief noticed him. It screamed. Jack planted his rear foot.

"Come on." The goblin charged. Fast for its size. Slow compared with what Jack remembered fighting. His old instincts offered three counters immediately. Jack ignored all three. Those belonged to a different body. He thrust. The Chief twisted. The knife scraped across leather and caught shallowly in the shoulder. The cleaver came around. Jack withdrew. Metal struck the wooden shaft. The impact jolted his arms. Jack let the force push the spear aside instead of trying to stop it. The Chief stepped forward.

Another swing. Jack retreated. The cleaver struck stone hard enough to throw sparks. The goblin pulled it free. Jack watched. The recovery was slow. Maybe. He thrust again. This time the spear found the ribs. The Chief recoiled with a roar. Jack withdrew before the counterattack. Not to maximize damage. To observe. The goblin lifted the cleaver. Overhead. Heavy commitment. Jack moved aside. The blade crashed down. The Chief recovered. Jack watched the hips. The feet. The way it turned.

Left side slower than the right. Maybe. One observation was not enough. The Chief came again. Jack deliberately gave it the same angle. The goblin chose the same overhead strike. Jack moved. Again, the left-side recovery lagged. There. Twice. Confirmed.

"Got you." The Chief charged before Jack could capitalize. Horizontal swing. Jack ducked. Not as low as his instincts wanted. His current body would take too long to stand back up. The cleaver passed overhead. Jack stabbed. The Chief snarled and knocked the spear aside. Then suddenly changed rhythm. Shorter swing. Faster. Jack had been expecting the heavy overhead. He corrected late. The cleaver caught the wooden shaft. CRACK. The spear snapped. The blade end spun across the floor.

Jack still had half a wooden pole in his hands. For one absurd fraction of a second, he looked at it.

"Okay." The Chief was already moving. Jack threw the broken half at its face and reached for the Rusted Sword. The goblin flinched. Not enough. The cleaver came across before Jack had fully settled his grip. He tried to step outside the arc. Too slow. The flat and edge caught him across the side. Impact. Pain without a wound. The supernatural protection of Life absorbed the force, but it felt as though somebody had hit him with a steel bat. Jack stumbled two steps. His Status flashed. Life: 47 / 61 Fourteen.

Jack straightened. The Chief roared.

"That was mine." Not bad luck. Not an unfair attack. His mistake. He had committed to drawing the sword half a beat too late because part of him still expected Level Eighty-Seven speed. Good reminder. Jack raised the Rusted Sword. The distance was shorter now. More dangerous. Also simpler. The Chief swung horizontally. Jack stepped back. Miss. The goblin lifted its cleaver. Heavy overhead. Jack did not attack. He watched. The strike fell. Stone cracked. The Chief recovered left. Slow. Exactly as before.

Jack moved into the opening and cut. The Rusted Sword tore through leather and bit deep. The Chief howled and twisted. Jack was already gone. Better. Dungeon weapon. Proper edge. Proper interaction. No kitchen knife pretending it belonged here. The Chief chased. Jack gave ground. Another heavy swing. He waited. Not for the attack to land. For the commitment. The goblin's shoulder dropped. Its weight shifted. Jack began moving before the blade descended. He no longer needed to react. He already knew.

The cleaver smashed into the floor. Jack was past the Chief's left shoulder. Sword across the ribs. The goblin staggered. Jack did not overextend. It recovered. Turned. Slower than it needed to. Another cut. The Chief swung wildly. Jack slipped outside. This time his body did exactly what he expected of fourteen DEX. No more. No less. The goblin raised the cleaver one final time. Jack stepped in before the strike developed fully. Rusted Sword drove beneath its arm. The Chief froze. Gray spread from the wound.

Then the entire monster collapsed into ash. Jack backed away. He waited. Listened. Nothing. His Life remained: 47 / 61 Not clean. But alive. And won. A clear tone rang inside his head. Jack knew that sound. The interface flashed. LEVEL UP Jack Mercer has reached Level 2. A second line appeared. Mana Resource Unlocked Jack stared at the notification. Then smiled.

"There it is." A new window opened immediately. Fifteen years ago, this screen had stopped him cold. He had been twenty-four. No guide. No veteran to ask. No accumulated build theory. No reason to know whether choosing wrong would cost him days, months, or years. Mage had meant actual magic. Rogue had sounded fast. Jobless had looked so obviously bad that half the early internet had become convinced it must secretly be the strongest option. This time, Jack read the choices once.

JOB SELECTION AVAILABLE Choose your Job. [1] Warrior Favors direct combat, physical power, durability, and weapon-oriented Skill Gems. Primary Attributes: STR / DEX [2] Rogue Favors speed, precision, evasion, mobility, and technical combat. Primary Attributes: DEX / INT [3] Mage Favors spellcasting, Mana capacity, elemental effects, and magical Skill Gems. Primary Attribute: INT [4] Jobless No Job specialization. No automatic Job attribute adjustment. Once. That was enough.

He had spent fifteen years answering this question. Thousands of fights. Bosses. Failed builds. Successful builds. Expensive equipment. Cheap equipment. Bad parties. Excellent parties. Warrior had taken him to Level Eighty-Seven. There were stronger Rogues than Jack. Stronger Mages. There were S-rank Delvers who bent the normal assumptions so badly their starting Job barely mattered anymore. Jack did not care. He knew Warrior. He knew exactly what to do with it.

"Warrior." JOB SELECTED WARRIOR Attribute adjustment applied. STR: 14 → 23 DEX: 14 → 23 INT: 14 Life: 59 / 73 Mana: 53 / 53 Jack inhaled. His missing Life had not vanished. Good. The System had increased his maximum. It had not politely erase the hit he'd taken ten seconds ago. Mana was different. Level Two had unlocked the resource itself. Warrior shaped his attributes and the final recalculation, but Mana was part of the Dungeon System, not a privilege reserved for Mages. Even Jobless would have had a Mana pool.

Whether choosing Jobless was wise was a separate question. Jack flexed his hand. No light exploded from his body. His muscles did not swell. He still looked exactly like Jack Mercer. But the relationship between his body and the world changed. The Rusted Sword no longer felt like something he had to persuade into motion. The weight remained identical. His control did not. His wrist settled more naturally behind the grip. His balance sharpened.

He shifted one foot and the rest of his body followed without the tiny argument that had plagued him all morning. Jack swung once. The sword cut through the air. Fast. Controlled. Still nowhere near Level Eighty-Seven. But finally—"There you are." Warrior. Again. Another notification appeared. SKILL GEM SLOT UNLOCKED Skill Gem Slot 1: Empty Jack's attention shifted immediately.

"And there you are." He had been waiting for that almost as much as the Job. Stats gave him more room to act. Skills changed what actions existed. Jack turned toward the Chief's remains. Two objects had survived the ash. Blue. Red. He picked up the Mana Stone first. Second fresh Stone from this run. Two full Stones now in his pocket. One partially depleted Stone waited at home. Three total. Jack stored the count automatically. Then he picked up the red crystal. Appraisal.

CLEAVE Skill Gem Rarity: Common Type: Attack Required Level: 2 Weapon Requirement: Axe or Sword Attribute Requirement: STR / DEX Mana Cost: 4 Effect: Swing your equipped weapon in a broad arc, striking all valid targets within the attack area in front of you. When dual-wielding, both equipped weapons are used as part of the attack. Jack stared at it. Then laughed once.

"You're kidding." Not because Cleave was rare. The opposite. Scrap Goblin Chiefs like this could drop several low-level Warrior Gems. Heavy Strike. Guard Stance. Cleave. Other basic skills depending on the Dungeon's loot table. None were extraordinary. But Cleave was the one Jack wanted most right now. He had spent the first Layer discovering the same problem repeatedly. Multiple weak enemies took too long to kill one at a time. Cleave solved exactly that. Not an endgame solution. Not a secret Skill.

Not a miraculous artifact placed here for Jack Mercer. Just a good roll from a very ordinary beginner loot pool. Sometimes luck was allowed to be useful. Jack checked his Mana. 53 / 53 Four Mana per activation. Thirteen uses from full even without recovery. He remembered how beginners thought about that number. Four Mana lost. Jack thought differently. If four Mana turned several attack cycles into one and removed opportunities to get hit, it was cheap. Mana existed to be spent. Jack held the crimson Gem.

The System responded. SKILL GEM DETECTED Cleave Compatible Skill Gem Slot available. Socket Cleave? [YES] / [NO]"Yes." The Gem flared. Red light broke from the crystal and flowed into his hand until the physical object vanished completely. The interface updated. Skill Gem Slot 1: Cleave Familiar. The Skill's structure settled into his awareness. Mana flow. The intended attack pattern. The arc. The System did not control his body for him. It gave him another tool. Jack already knew how to use it.

"Much better." Stone ground against stone behind him. Jack turned. The far wall of the Guardian chamber split apart. Dust fell. Two stone sections slowly withdrew, revealing stairs descending into darkness. System text appeared. FIRST CLEAR COMPLETE LAYER 1 CLEARED LAYER 2 UNLOCKED Jack used Appraisal again. LAYERED DUNGEON Status: Unclaimed Current Accessible Layer: 2 Current Threat Rank: F Known Depth:??? Total Layers:??? Origin: UNKNOWN Still unknown.

Clearing a Layer had answered nothing about why this Dungeon existed. Or why it had not existed in Jack's first life. He looked down the stairs. The Dungeon continued. One permanent gate. Multiple Layers. Increasing difficulty. Potentially years of private access if the depth was anything close to the valuable Layered Dungeons Jack remembered. He should leave. His Life was 59 out of 73. He had cleared the objective. Reached Level Two. Chosen Warrior. Obtained a Skill. Unlocked Layer Two.

There was no reason to continue. Jack looked at Cleave in his Status. Then at the stairs.

"One fight." He was still human. Testing a new Skill under controlled conditions also happened to be good practice. Mostly. Jack descended. Layer Two was recognizably part of the same Dungeon. But not the same place. The corridors were wider. The masonry rougher. Broken wooden barricades appeared along the walls. Rusted metal scraps hung from hooks. Crude markings had been smeared across the stone in black pigment. Jack stopped at the base of the stairs. Voices. Three.

Not the thin chatter of the Scrap Goblins above. Lower. Rougher. Three figures rounded the corner. Appraisal. SCRAP GOBLIN RAIDER Level: 3 Threat Rank: F Two more behind it. Same species variant. Same Level. Better weapons. Leather pieces reinforced with scraps of metal. There. That felt more like a second Layer. The Raiders saw him. All three shouted. Jack drew the Rusted Sword. At Level One, he would have backed toward the stairs and forced them into a narrow approach. Safe. Slow. He could still do that.

He didn't. The Raiders spread as they advanced. Jack backed away once. The center Raider accelerated. Too far ahead. Jack retreated again rather than engaging. The lead goblin slowed just enough for the other two to catch up. Jack moved sideways. They followed. Three enemies began to compress into the space in front of him. He smiled. Beginner Skill usage was often reactive. Monster appeared. Skill available. Press Skill. Experienced players did something else. They created the situation the Skill wanted.

The three Raiders entered the same forward arc. Jack planted his foot.

"Cleave." Mana: 53 → 49 Mana moved. The System reinforced the attack pattern. Jack swung. The Rusted Sword cut through all three Raiders in one broad arc. The first, positioned closest to the center of the strike, dissolved. The second spun sideways with a deep wound across its torso. The third staggered, one arm hanging badly. One action. Three targets. Jack stepped forward. Normal attack. Second Raider gone. Pivot. The third tried to raise its weapon. Jack cut first. Ash. Silence returned.

Jack held the sword still for a second. Then checked himself. Life: 59 / 73 Unchanged. Mana: 49 / 53 Four Mana. That was the trade. Without Cleave, three Level Three enemies would have required separate engagements and given them multiple opportunities to attack. Four Mana had bought control of the entire fight. Worth it. Jack looked deeper into Layer Two. Something metallic scraped against stone somewhere beyond the next bend. His newly improved body wanted to move. His new Skill wanted another test.

That feeling was familiar too. Level up. New weapon. New Skill. One easy victory. Then the beginner decided the Dungeon had become easy. Jack had seen enough funerals caused by that sequence. He sheathed nothing, because he still did not own a sheath, and simply lowered the Rusted Sword.

"No." One fight meant one fight. Support Gems, additional Skill Slots, and the real combinations would come later. The Dungeon would still be here. Assuming history behaved. That thought killed the remaining temptation nicely. Jack turned around. He passed through the cleared Guardian chamber on the way back. The two halves of his improvised spear still lay where they had fallen. Jack paused. He picked up the knife end. Looked at it. Then at the broken shaft.

"You did fine." He carried the knife back with him. The wooden pole could stay. Even retired weapons did not need to become litter. At the entrance, the blue gate waited. Jack opened his Status one final time. JACK MERCER Level: 2 Job: Warrior Life: 59 / 73 Mana: 49 / 53 STR: 23 DEX: 23 INT: 14 Skill Gem Slot 1: Cleave Native Unique Skill: Appraisal — A A few hours ago, he had been Level One. No Job. No Mana. No Skill. A Level Eighty-Seven mind continually asking too much of a Level One body.

Now the gap was still enormous. But it had begun to close. The first time Jack had reached Level Two, he had thought leveling itself was what made a Delver strong. Years later, he had learned better. Levels gave numbers. Jobs gave direction. Skills gave tools. The rest was knowing how to put them together. The first time, Jack had paid for that knowledge in bad purchases, wasted resources, failed experiments, and years of trial and error. This time, he already knew the meta.

Jack looked once toward the stairs leading deeper into the Dungeon. Then at the final occupied line in his Status. Skill Gem Slot 1: Cleave He smiled.

"Now the build starts."