Chương 5: Chapter 4 — Apparently, the Dungeon Economy Took One Night

Jack woke on Day Two with a full Life bar and an unfinished build. The distinction mattered. He sat on the edge of the bed and opened his Status before his feet touched the floor. JACK MERCER Level: 2 Job: Warrior Life: 73 / 73 Mana: 53 / 53 STR: 23 DEX: 23 INT: 14 Passive Points: 1 Skill Gem Slot 1: Cleave Native Unique Skill: Appraisal — A Jack looked at the numbers, then down at himself. T-shirt. Jeans. Nothing on his head. Nothing protecting his chest beyond ordinary fabric.

No Dungeon gloves, no Dungeon boots, no belt, no jewelry. A Rusted Sword waited downstairs.

"Right." He had a Job. He had a Skill. He did not have a build. Not really. Jack stood and headed downstairs. The old kitchen table had become his temporary Dungeon workspace overnight. Two full F-rank Mana Stones sat inside a padded container beside the partially depleted Stone from yesterday's demonstration. The Rusted Sword rested nearby, cleaned as well as rust allowed. His phone and laptop were charging beside a growing handwritten list of things humanity had discovered in less than twenty-four hours.

Jack made coffee, then opened a blank document. He typed: DAY TWO — DEFENSIVE PRIORITIES Maximum Life on every eligible slot. Actual Dungeon armor in every armor slot. Fire Resistance. Cold Resistance. Lightning Resistance. Weapon upgrade only if efficient. Jack read the list, then added one more line. DO NOT CHASE PERFECT ROLLS.

"Important." He underlined it. Fifteen years from now, beginner Delvers would have build guides, shopping filters, standardized gear packages, training centers, equipment stores, and entire businesses dedicated to selling Level Two characters cheap sets with sensible Life and Resistance. Today, none of that existed. Jack had Cleave. He had a terrible sword. And somewhere outside his house, civilization was trying to invent an equipment market from scratch. He opened GateGuide.

The account had gotten worse overnight. Far worse. The message counter no longer bothered displaying an exact number. People had reached Level Two. That discovery had happened sometime after midnight and then spread globally with the speed of a fire in dry grass. Screenshots of the Job Selection window were everywhere. Warrior. Rogue. Mage. Jobless. Exactly as Jack remembered. So were the arguments. Warrior was apparently for idiots who had failed to understand firearms were temporarily useless.

Mage was obviously the only rational choice because magic had infinite potential. Rogue was being declared statistically superior by people who had not yet determined what a single point of DEX actually did. Jobless had already developed a small but aggressively confident community convinced that its lack of visible bonuses proved it contained a hidden ascension path. Jack closed that thread. Some things deserved to be discovered naturally. Another search caught his attention. APPRAISAL NEAR GATES Jack paused.

There were results. A lot of them. He clicked the first local post. ITEM IDENTIFICATION — $20 Near North Ridge Gate. Dungeon items only. I HAVE TO TOUCH THE ITEM. Name / rarity / level requirement. NO CURSED ITEMS. If my Skill says UNKNOWN you still pay. Jack stared. Then laughed.

"Oh, that's fast." Another listing: MOD CHECK — $10 One modifier per item. You choose what kind of stat you want checked. Armor / Life / Fire / Cold / Lightning / Damage. I cannot tell you everything. Stop asking. Another: MONSTER IDENTIFICATION Pictures accepted. Need full body visible. $5 normal monster. $25 weird monster. If it looks like a Boss don't send me a picture. Leave. Jack leaned back. There it was. The beginning. Fifteen years later, identification was infrastructure.

Today, somebody had manifested an ability that could tell him the name of a sword and immediately realized that people would pay twenty dollars for it. Jack opened another tab. This time: CRAFTING UNIQUE SKILL Results were messier. Most were people asking what their abilities did. One thread had a photograph of a Dungeon helmet. Before: Maximum Life: — After: Maximum Life +6 The poster wrote: I touched this thing and thought about making it tougher. Now it says it has more health???

My Unique Skill is called Vital Imprint. Is this permanent? Jack stopped scrolling.

"There you are." The post was local enough to matter. North Ridge again. A second post linked beneath it. Same woman is apparently doing tests near the gate today. She charged my friend $25. His boots got +4 Life. Seems permanent so far. Jack closed the laptop. Day Two had just become productive. North Ridge Gate was thirty-seven minutes away. Yesterday, the place had been an unremarkable privately operated quarry outside a small Hudson Valley town.

Today, three county roads leading toward it were clogged with pickup trucks. Jack slowed.

"Of course." He followed hand-painted signs toward a temporary parking area that had not existed yesterday. The first sign read: GATE PARKING — $10 The second: NO REFUNDS IF POLICE CLOSE ACCESS The third: CASH ONLY Jack parked. He had expected chaos. He had not expected organization. Not good organization. Not safe organization. But organization. A line of state police vehicles blocked the actual quarry road. Portable barriers and yellow tape surrounded the distant blue gate itself.

Uniformed officers stood at the controlled access point, arguing with private landowners, county officials, and several people who had apparently decided that owning a rifle also qualified them as constitutional scholars. Nobody was openly allowing random civilians through. That had not stopped an economy from forming outside the perimeter. Folding tables. Pickup beds. Camping chairs. Coolers full of bottled water. First-aid supplies. Axes. Machetes. Work gloves.

Someone was selling cheap construction helmets for four times normal retail price. Another man had spray-painted a sign onto plywood. MANA STONES BOUGHT HERE — CASH Below it: YES I KNOW GATEGUIDE SAYS DON'T SELL YET Jack smiled.

"Healthy market disagreement." There were Dungeon items too. Not many. Enough. Some had come from people who had entered before police established the perimeter. Others had apparently come from gates on nearby private properties that had not been secured as quickly. Nobody had a standardized display. Weapons lay on folding tables. Armor sat in plastic tubs. Blue Stones rested inside lockboxes. Prices ranged from almost reasonable to clinically insane. Jack stopped in front of one table.

A man in camouflage pants had arranged six Dungeon items on a blue tarp. REAL DUNGEON LOOT Rusted dagger — $700 Goblin helmet — $1, 500 Magic ring — $5, 000 Blue monster belt — $900 Rare-looking boots — $2, 500 Unknown necklace — MAKE OFFER Jack looked at the "magic ring." Appraisal. CRACKED IRON RING Rarity: Common Required Level: 1 Modifiers: None Condition: Poor Jack looked at the seller, then back at the five-thousand-dollar ring.

"What's magic about it?"

"It came out of a portal."

"Fair." Jack kept walking. A second table was more interesting. No handwritten claims. Just items and prices. Whoever was running it had apparently discovered that admitting ignorance was easier than lying. Jack's eyes stopped on a helmet. Appraisal. REINFORCED SCRAP HELM Rarity: Common Required Level: 1 Armor: 22 The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Modifiers: None Price: $30 Jack reached for it. Another hand got there first.

"I'll take that." Jack stopped. A broad-shouldered man pulled the helmet toward himself and handed the seller two twenties. The seller made change. Transaction complete. Jack stared at the now-empty space on the table.

"…Right." Fifteen years of future knowledge did not beat being second in line. Good reminder. He kept looking. A second helmet sat farther down the table. SCRAP IRON HELM Rarity: Common Required Level: 1 Armor: 15 Modifiers: None Price: $35 Worse base. Still perfectly usable. Jack picked it up. The seller, a tired-looking man in his thirties, glanced over.

"Thirty-five."

"I saw."

"You want me to tell you what it does?" Jack looked at him.

"Do you know?"

"No."

"Then probably not." The man nodded.

"Fair." Jack bought it. Next. PATCHED SCRAPMAIL VEST Rarity: Common Required Level: 1 Armor: 35 Modifiers: None Price: $60 Buy. GOBLIN LEATHER GLOVES Armor: 10 Modifiers: None $25. Buy. REINFORCED DUNGEON BOOTS Armor: 15 Modifiers: None $45. Buy. SCRAP UTILITY BELT Armor: 10 Modifiers: None $40. Jack added the numbers automatically. Fifteen. Thirty-five. Ten. Fifteen. Ten. Eighty-five Armor. Good enough. The accessories had no Armor, but that wasn't their job.

He found a plain amulet for fifty dollars and two Common rings for sixty each. None had useful modifiers. That was fine. Actually, for what Jack intended to do, it was preferable. The woman behind the table looked at the pile accumulating in his arms.

"You starting from scratch?"

"Yes."

"Warrior?" Jack looked at the sword strapped awkwardly through a loop on his backpack.

"Was it that obvious?" She pointed at the armor.

"You're buying every piece of metal I have."

"Fair." Jack paid. Several hundred dollars. Day Two prices were nonsense, but most of the items were still cheaper than what panic would do to them once people understood crafting. He carried the pile away. Then found the identification line. The sign was exactly as advertised. ITEM IDENTIFICATION — $20 MUST TOUCH NAME / RARITY / REQUIRED LEVEL A folding table stood beneath it. The Appraiser was a college-aged man wearing disposable gloves. The customer in front of him held out a Dungeon sword.

The Appraiser touched the flat of the blade. His eyes unfocused for a second.

"Goblin Short Sword." The owner waited.

"…And?"

"Common."

"And?"

"Required Level One."

"And?" The Appraiser removed his hand.

"That's it."

"You can't tell me the damage?"

"No."

"Modifiers?"

"No."

"Twenty bucks for that?" The Appraiser pointed to the sign.

"I wrote down exactly what I can do." The customer looked at the sign. Then at the sword. Then reluctantly handed him twenty dollars. Jack moved past before he laughed. The next booth was even more specialized. MOD CHECK — $10 A woman sat behind the table with a handwritten chart. LIFE ARMOR FIRE COLD LIGHTNING PHYSICAL DAMAGE One category per item. No refunds. A customer put down a chest piece.

"Life." The woman touched it. Paused.

"Maximum Life plus seven." The customer brightened.

"Anything else?"

"Ten dollars."

"I mean does it have anything else?"

"Probably."

"You can't see it?"

"I can see one thing at a time."

"Can you check Fire?"

"Ten dollars." The man stared. She stared back. He handed over another ten. Jack kept walking. Appraisal abilities really were all over the place. Some required touch. Some worked only on equipment. Some could identify a single property. Some specialized in monsters. Some returned a name and almost nothing else. Others could apparently detect whether an item was dangerous but not what it actually did. And then there was Jack. A-rank Appraisal. Items. Monsters. Materials. Gates. Full modifiers. Conditions.

Requirements. Flavor Text. Images. Recorded video. Livestreams. Jack glanced back at the twenty-dollar booth. Fifteen years from now, cheap commercial technology would duplicate most of what that young man could do. Today, he had a line. Context mattered. The crafting section looked even less professional. There was no sign saying CRAFTERS. Nobody had invented the category yet.

Instead, Jack found people standing around a woman with a folding chair, two plastic storage bins, and a piece of cardboard reading: I CAN ADD HEALTH TO DUNGEON GEAR $25 / TRY PERMANENT SO FAR Jack joined the line. The woman was maybe twenty-six. Dark hair tied behind her head. Old sweatshirt. Expression of someone who had slept very little and had accidentally become a small business owner before breakfast. The man ahead of Jack handed her a pair of Dungeon boots.

"So you make them heal me?"

"I don't think so."

"You said health."

"I said they add health."

"What's the difference?"

"I don't know." Jack did. The woman took the boots, closed her eyes, and a faint white light moved across her fingers. Appraisal caught the Skill as it activated. VITAL IMPRINT — C Unique Skill Type: Active / Crafting Effect: Adds a Maximum Life modifier to eligible Dungeon-origin equipment. Current eligible low-level roll range: +3 to +9 Maximum Life. Daily Uses Remaining: 6 / 10 Jack almost smiled. Exactly. The light faded. The woman opened her eyes. The boots changed. Jack appraised them. Maximum Life +5.

She looked at the owner.

"Try them." The man equipped them. His eyes widened.

"My Life went up."

"How much?"

"Five." The woman pointed at her sign.

"Health." Jack stepped forward when his turn came. She looked at the pile in his arms. Then at him.

"That's more than one."

"Eight." She blinked.

"Eight?"

"Helmet, chest, gloves, boots, belt, amulet, two rings." The woman looked at the equipment, then at the line behind him.

"I have six uses left." Jack checked the Skill again. She did. There. A problem. He had arrived too late for all eight. Jack looked at the equipment. He could leave two pieces unfinished. Come back tomorrow. Or find another crafting Skill that solved the same problem differently. The entire point was not to chase perfection. It was to cover every slot.

"Do six." She looked surprised.

"You don't want the best six?"

"I want all eight eventually."

"That's not what I asked." Jack looked down at the gear.

"Helmet. Chest. Gloves. Boots. Belt. One ring."

"Why the ring?"

"Because I'm wearing it." She considered that answer.

"Okay." Twenty-five dollars each. Six crafts. One by one. White light. Jack watched the rolls appear. Helmet: Maximum Life +4 Chest: Maximum Life +8 Gloves: Maximum Life +3 Boots: Maximum Life +6 Belt: Maximum Life +7 Ring: Maximum Life +9 The woman stopped after the sixth. Her Skill no longer responded. Jack checked it. Daily Uses Remaining: 0 / 10"That's ten," she said.

"Daily?" She looked at him sharply. Jack paused. Too fast.

"I mean—does it feel like daily?"

"I don't know."

"Right." She narrowed her eyes.

"You know a lot about this."

"I read too much."

"Everybody has been reading too much since yesterday." Jack considered that.

"Good point." He paid. Then went looking for someone else. The next person advertising "Health Crafting" turned out to be useless for Jack's purpose. Appraisal caught the Skill before Jack handed anything over. BATTLE PATCH — F Repairs durability damage to worn Dungeon armor. No Maximum Life modifier. The man advertising it had written MORE HEALTHY ARMOR on his sign. Technically not a lie. Jack kept walking.

Ten minutes later, he found an older man with a cardboard sign that simply read: ARMOR HEALTH THING METAL ONLY $20 Construction worker, judging from the sunburn, boots, and company logo still visible on his shirt. His Skill was different. IRON VITALITY — D Adds +3 to +6 Maximum Life to eligible metal Dungeon equipment. Touch required. Daily Uses Remaining: 8 / 8. Jack looked at his remaining amulet and ring. The ring qualified. The amulet did not.

"One ring."

"Twenty." The result: Maximum Life +4. Good enough. The amulet remained. Seven of eight. Jack looked around. He could stop. Seven Life modifiers was already better than almost anyone on Day Two. That was exactly the kind of reasoning that built sloppy foundations. He searched. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Then he found a teenager sitting on the tailgate of an SUV. No sign. His mother was apparently doing the advertising.

"My son can enhance jewelry!" The son looked horrified every time she said it. Jack stopped.

"What does it add?" The mother answered before he could.

"Health." The teenager covered his face.

"Mom." Jack handed him the amulet.

"Can you do this?" The boy touched it. His fingers glowed. Appraisal. HEARTSETTING — E Unique Skill Type: Active / Crafting Effect: Adds Maximum Life to eligible Dungeon-origin jewelry. Current eligible low-level roll range: +3 to +5 Maximum Life. Daily Uses Remaining: 3 / 5 Perfect.

"How much?" The teenager looked at his mother. She said, "Fifty." He said, "Twenty." They looked at each other. Jack handed him thirty-five.

"Compromise." The amulet glowed. Maximum Life +5. Jack equipped everything. Helmet. Chest. Gloves. Boots. Belt. Amulet. Both rings. Status. Maximum Life: 119 Jack stopped. Base seventy-three. Forty-six added. Exactly what the numbers said. Yesterday, before Warrior, he had possessed sixty-one Life. Now he had almost double that. None of the rolls were exceptional. One was minimum. One was maximum. Most lived somewhere in the middle. Perfect. Jack looked at the collection of mismatched junk covering his body.

Different materials. Different makers. Nothing matched. Fifteen years from now, he would have called the entire outfit vendor trash. Today?

"That's a start." Resistance took less work. That was one of the useful things about early elemental modifiers. The ranges were larger. Jack found the first relevant crafter twenty yards away. A man had written: FIRE / COLD / LIGHTNING I CAN PICK WHICH ONE $30 That last line had attracted a crowd. Jack waited. The man's Unique Skill was: ELEMENTAL WARD — C Unique Skill Type: Active / Crafting Effect: Adds a chosen elemental Resistance modifier to eligible Dungeon-origin equipment.

Current eligible low-level roll range: +6% to +11%. Daily Uses Remaining: 10 / 10 Jack already knew exactly what he wanted. Not perfect numbers. Not a completed defensive package. The first goal was simpler. Get off zero. He handed over the Scrapmail Vest.

"Lightning." The crafter touched it. Blue-white light spread briefly across the metal. Lightning Resistance +11%.

"Nice," the man said. Jack nodded.

"Again. Amulet. Lightning." Lightning Resistance +9%. Helmet.

"Fire." Fire Resistance +10%. Boots.

"Fire." Fire Resistance +8%. Gloves.

"Cold." Cold Resistance +9%. Belt.

"Cold." Cold Resistance +7%. Jack checked the Unique Skill. Daily Uses Remaining: 4 / 10 The crafter looked at his remaining jewelry.

"You've still got two rings."

"I know."

"You don't want anything on them?"

"Not today." The man shrugged.

"Your money." Exactly. Jack's money. Jack's build. The rings were correction slots. Low-level Rings were easy to replace, easy to carry, and one of the cleanest ways to patch whatever defensive hole appeared later. Jack did not yet know what Layers Two and Three of his private Dungeon would emphasize. Fire. Cold. Lightning. Maybe none of them yet. Burning the last flexible slots before seeing the problem would be the opposite of optimization. He would learn what needed correcting first. Then correct it.

Jack stepped aside and opened his Status. JACK MERCER Level: 2 Job: Warrior Maximum Life: 119 Mana: 53 Armor: 85 Estimated Physical Damage Reduction: 68% Reference: Standard physical hits from enemies near current Level Fire Resistance: 18% Cold Resistance: 16% Lightning Resistance: 20% STR: 23 DEX: 23 INT: 14 Passive Points: 1 Skill Gem Slot 1: Cleave Native Unique Skill: Appraisal — A Jack studied it. Eighty-five Armor.

Against ordinary physical hits from enemies around his current Level, the System estimated roughly sixty-eight percent reduction. Useful. Also dangerously easy to misunderstand. Armor did not mean every physical attack in existence got reduced by sixty-eight percent. Larger hits. Heavier weapons. Higher-Level monsters. Those pushed through the protection far more efficiently. Jack had watched beginners die because they saw a large percentage on their sheet and decided the number was a promise. It wasn't.

His elemental Resistances were simpler. Not impressive. Not finished. But no longer zero. That was enough for the first pass. Jack looked at Maximum Life again. 119. That was the part he cared about most. Damage could wait. A stronger sword would make Layer Two faster. More Life made mistakes survivable. And sooner or later, Jack would make another mistake. Everyone did. Level Eighty-Seven had not changed that. It had merely made the mistakes more expensive. A loud argument broke out near the first Appraisal booth.

Jack glanced over. A man was holding a glowing pair of boots.

"I paid him forty dollars and he says they're Common."

"They are Common."

"They glow!"

"So?"

"How can something that glows be Common?" The Appraiser looked exhausted.

"Sir, the portal is blue."

"That is different."

"It really isn't." Jack kept walking. The entire place was ridiculous. It was also familiar. Not because he remembered this exact market. He didn't. But he recognized what it would become. Fifteen years from now, a major Dungeon Camp would have proper equipment retailers. Identification stations. Licensed Crafters. Potion vendors. Medical teams. Insurance offices. Campgrounds. Restaurants. Guild recruiting booths. Transportation services. Marketplace dispatch counters. Government registration.

Today, those industries were a woman under a canopy charging twenty-five dollars to add Life to a helmet. A college kid touching swords for twenty dollars. A guy buying Mana Stones out of a pickup. A teenager whose mother had decided his jewelry Skill was a family business. Jack looked back across the parking field.

"So this is how it started." Nobody had designed the Delver economy. People had simply manifested useful abilities, noticed that other people needed them, and put up signs. Regulation would come. Licensing. Certification. Corporations. Taxes. Insurance. Arguments over who owned which gate. Probably several lawsuits nobody currently knew how to write. But first— Folding tables. Cash. And somebody asking whether a glowing ring was Rare because it glowed. Jack liked this version better than he expected.

He did not head home immediately. GateGuide had work to do. Jack returned to his truck, put the seat back, and opened his laptop. Then he stopped. His fingers rested over the keyboard. Yesterday, anonymity had mostly been an electronic problem. Metadata. Reflections. Background details. IP records he could only partially control. Today, there was a new problem. People. The Vital Imprint woman had seen his face. So had the sellers. So had the other crafters.

Anyone paying attention could remember the man who had arrived with eight empty equipment slots and systematically put Maximum Life on every one of them. If GateGuide immediately posted: I went from 73 Life to 119 today by putting Maximum Life on every slot. someone at North Ridge might eventually make the connection. Jack considered deleting the numbers entirely. That would be safer. It would also make the advice weaker.

"Fine." He could tolerate some exposure. Knowing that GateGuide had probably visited a Hudson Valley Dungeon market was not the same thing as knowing GateGuide was Jack Mercer. And it was nowhere near knowing that Jack Mercer had an unregistered Layered Dungeon inside his backyard shed. Those were the lines that mattered. No North Ridge name. No photographs of the equipment. No individual modifier rolls. No crafter names. No Unique Skill names. No face. No private gate.

Jack decided not to upload a screenshot at all. Text only. Better. He began typing. There were already too many people treating Level Two as permission to become aggressive. Warrior videos. Mage videos. Rogues testing speed. Every conversation focused on killing monsters faster. Jack had done that too, once. Damage was exciting. Defense was what got you home. He posted. GateGuide: Beginner advice for anyone who has reached Level 2: Stop prioritizing damage. Your first defensive priorities should be: 1.

Maximum Life 2. Fire Resistance 3. Cold Resistance 4. Lightning Resistance 5. Armor, Evasion, or whichever basic defensive layer your equipment supports This applies to Warriors, Rogues, Mages, and most other beginner builds. I started today at 73 Maximum Life. After putting ordinary low-level Maximum Life modifiers on every equipment slot I could fill: Maximum Life: 119 None of those rolls are exceptional.

My current defenses: Maximum Life: 119 Armor: 85 Fire Resistance: 18% Cold Resistance: 16% Lightning Resistance: 20% Against ordinary physical hits from enemies around my current Level, my Status estimates roughly 68% Physical Damage Reduction from Armor. That does NOT mean every physical attack is reduced by 68%. Armor is less effective against stronger hits and stronger enemies. Do not treat the displayed number as a promise. For elemental Resistances, don't worry about perfect numbers yet. Get above zero first.

More importantly: Do not let your Life reach zero. Life is not just a health bar. While you still have Life, the Dungeon System is protecting your actual body from much of the physical trauma you would otherwise suffer. When your Life reaches zero, that protection temporarily collapses. Zero Life does not automatically mean you are dead. It means the thing keeping you from dying just stopped working. If a monster hits you after that, you are taking the attack with your actual body. Think of it as fighting naked.

Get Maximum Life. Get your Resistances above zero. Then worry about killing things faster. Jack reread it. Useful. Blunt. Enough information to save lives. He hit Post. The first reply came in nine seconds. GlassCannonMage: okay but if they die before they hit me i don't need life Jack stared. Nine seconds. He typed nothing. The second reply arrived before he could decide whether humanity deserved him. ActuallyAlive: this mindset is why we're going to have warning labels on fireballs Jack smiled. Good.

Someone else could handle that one. Third: MathGuy1987: 73 TO 119??? THAT'S A 63% INCREASE Fourth: TankEnjoyer: WAIT LIFE CAN HIT ZERO WITHOUT YOU DYING??? Then: PanicAtTheDungeon: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE SYSTEM PROTECTION COLLAPSES Then: MedStudentThrowaway: This explains the videos. Some people take insane impacts and stand back up. Others get hit once and suddenly have actual penetrating trauma. Holy shit. Jack's smile disappeared. Yes. Exactly. That was why this information mattered.

Yesterday, people had not known bullets were ineffective. Today, plenty of people still did not understand what their own Life bar was actually doing for them. One reply gained votes faster than the rest. NewWarrior92: So Life isn't "how alive you are." It's how much supernatural protection you have left before the real injuries start? Jack replied. GateGuide: That's a useful beginner model. Another question followed. TheoryCrafter: is there a resistance cap Jack looked at it. He knew the answer.

The rest of the world did not. Yesterday's firearm advice had been immediately observable. Mana Stones could be independently tested. The mechanics of Life were already visible in injury footage if people knew what they were looking for. A precise Resistance cap was different. Nobody on Day Two needed a future constant handed to them simply because Jack possessed it. He typed: GateGuide: Not relevant to a Level 2 beginner. Get off zero first.

The replies immediately began arguing about whether that meant he knew the answer. Jack let them. He had given them enough. Before closing the laptop, he opened the handwritten Day Two notes from that morning and added three lines. DAY TWO NOTES Appraisal is already a business. Crafting became a business even faster. Never underestimate mothers with entrepreneurial instincts. Jack looked at the final line.

"Important." He closed the laptop. Jack drove home wearing what might have been the ugliest collection of Dungeon gear in New York State. Scrap helmet. Patched chest armor. Goblin gloves. Dungeon boots. A belt that looked like it had been cut from three unrelated pieces of leather. Two mismatched rings. An amulet whose previous owner had probably been a goblin with poor taste. His Rusted Sword completed the ensemble.

Fifteen years from now, a Level Two Warrior wearing this loadout would have been laughed out of a professional equipment store. Jack parked, walked into the house, and checked himself in the hallway mirror. He looked terrible.

"Perfect." He opened his Status again. JACK MERCER Level: 2 Job: Warrior Maximum Life: 119 Mana: 53 Armor: 85 Estimated Physical Damage Reduction: 68% Reference: Standard physical hits from enemies near current Level Fire Resistance: 18% Cold Resistance: 16% Lightning Resistance: 20% STR: 23 DEX: 23 INT: 14 Passive Points: 1 Skill Gem Slot 1: Cleave Native Unique Skill: Appraisal — A Yesterday morning, he had possessed sixty-one Life and ordinary clothes.

Now he had almost twice the Life, actual Dungeon armor, three elemental Resistances above zero, Warrior Stats, and Cleave. Still beginner gear. Still Common. Still nowhere near what he wanted. But the foundation existed. Jack looked through the kitchen window toward the old storage shed. Layer Two waited beneath it. Yesterday, he had gone inside knowing that one mistake could take a quarter of his Life. Today, he had room to make mistakes. That was what defense bought. Not immortality. Margin.

Jack rested one hand on the Rusted Sword.

"Now we're getting somewhere."