Chương 3: The Parking Lot Was Harder Than the Dungeon

Matt stood in the bright, aggressively lit lot of the used auto dealership with his hands shoved into his pockets. The morning air was already warm, carrying the distinct scents of hot asphalt, engine grease, and freshly washed cars. In front of him sat the 2021 heavy-duty pickup he had bookmarked the night before. It wasn't lifted, painted matte black, fitted with glowing mana strips or armored doors, or sitting on oversized tires beneath a bumper covered in dungeon stickers.

It was gray, stock, reliable, and boring. Exactly what Matt wanted. The salesman beside him—a man in his fifties wearing a polo shirt stretched a little too tight across his stomach—gave the truck's quarter panel an approving slap.

"Dungeon circuit?" Matt looked at him.

"That obvious?" The salesman laughed.

"You're twenty-eight, buying a heavy-duty pickup with the factory tow package, and you're parked right next door to the RV dealership." He pointed across the access road.

"Not exactly a state secret, kid."

"Fair." The man leaned against the truck.

"First rig?"

"First anything."

"Ah." There was something about the way he said it that told Matt this conversation happened several times a week. Maybe several times a day. Fifteen years ago, buying a truck and driving around the country to enter monster-filled holes in reality would have been the kind of lifestyle that got someone an intervention from concerned relatives. Now there were financing and insurance packages, dedicated roadside assistance, Camp memberships, YouTube channels, and probably dating apps. Matt hadn't checked that far.

"Anything I should know?" he asked.

"About towing?"

"About not killing myself while towing."

"That too." The salesman spent the next fifteen minutes going over brake controllers, turning radius, tongue weight, cargo distribution, and the weight-distribution hitch with sway control already included in the towing setup. He finished with the important fact that backing up a trailer had apparently been designed by God specifically to punish pride. Matt listened. He'd worked in logistics. Weight limits and cargo distribution weren't new to him.

Actually maneuvering a twenty-foot trailer with his own vehicle was another matter entirely. The purchase itself was painfully easy. He signed, transferred thirty-five thousand dollars out of the severance money, and a few electronic forms later the salesman handed him the keys. Matt stared at them for a moment. A few days ago, he'd been debating whether spending fifty dollars on delivery food was irresponsible now that he was technically unemployed. Now he'd bought a truck before lunch. That seemed healthy.

He drove it across the access road to the RV lot. The travel trailer was exactly as advertised: twenty feet long, one previous owner, twenty-two thousand dollars, and nothing luxurious about it. Matt stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals and old fabric. A small permanent bed occupied the rear. There was a compact kitchenette with a two-burner stove, refrigerator, sink, and just enough counter space to prepare food if the person preparing it had no ambition whatsoever.

The bathroom was cramped but functional, with a shower, toilet, and tiny sink. Across from the kitchen was a fold-down dinette table that immediately registered in Matt's head as a desk. Laptop, monitor, maybe a second monitor if he mounted it on the wall. There were cabinets overhead and locking storage compartments built beneath the bed. Dungeon Gear storage, according to the dealer.

Apparently reinforced cabinets had become a selling point after too many delvers discovered that putting swords, axes, and loose mana crystals into normal RV storage had consequences. Matt walked from one end of the trailer to the other. It took about six seconds. It was tiny and basic. And the more he looked at it, the more he liked it.

"I can live in this." The RV dealer, an older woman carrying a clipboard, looked up from the inspection checklist.

"That is generally the idea." Matt nodded.

"I walked into that one."

"You did." She pointed toward the locking compartment beneath the bed.

"Previous owner was a delver. Reinforced chassis, upgraded electrical, extra external storage, and the interior outlets are already surge-protected for Dungeon Camps."

"That matters?"

"You'd be surprised what happens to cheap electronics when somebody brings an unidentified lightning-affinity item into the site next door." Matt looked at his future desk.

"Good to know." By eleven in the morning, the paperwork was finished. The hitch was secured, the title documents were in his glove compartment, and Matthew Hayes was officially the owner of a truck and a very small house with wheels. He climbed into the driver's seat and looked at the trailer through the mirror.

"Right." Truck. Trailer. Dungeon. There was one thing missing. Everything he needed to survive the dungeon. He also still technically had an apartment. Matt had no intention of terminating the lease, selling all his furniture, and declaring himself permanently nomadic before he had killed a single monster. This was still an experiment. If he hated the circuit three months from now, he wanted a normal home to return to. He made a quick stop there before leaving town.

Clothes, laptop, documents, toiletries, chargers, bedding, and enough ordinary belongings to live in the trailer for a month went with him. The couch, television, kitchenware he didn't need, and everything else stayed exactly where it was. Road trip first. Life-changing relocation later, if ever. ◆ If dungeons had created a new economy, Delver Outfitters was one of its cathedrals. Matt stopped just inside the entrance and stared.

The place was enormous—not large like a sporting goods store, but large like someone had taken three warehouse stores, a Bass Pro Shop, an Army surplus depot, and a fantasy armory and welded them together. Signs hung from the ceiling. WEAPONS — F THROUGH C ARMOR FLASKS & CONSUMABLES RANGED SKILL GEM STORAGE AR / IDENTIFICATION CRAFTING MATERIALS Farther down, beyond a security checkpoint: B-RANK & ABOVE — AUTHORIZED SALES Matt wasn't even slightly tempted to walk over there. Not yet.

The first aisle alone contained more swords than he had seen in his entire life: longswords, shortswords, sabers, rapiers, axes, spears, and maces. Dungeon-produced guns sat behind reinforced glass farther away, each tagged with stat requirements and ammunition compatibility. A normal Earth-manufactured firearm would do essentially nothing to a Dungeon monster. That had been established painfully quickly during the first year.

Bullets could hit them and explosives could throw them around, but neither mattered much if the weapon itself had no Dungeon-origin mana interaction. The same applied to knives, swords, and practically every other conventional weapon. An ordinary steel blade might as well have been a particularly expensive stick. Dungeon-made equipment was different. Matt walked to an open counter. A bored-looking employee with messy dark hair glanced up from his terminal. His nametag read JARED.

"I need a beginner setup." Jared looked him over: plain T-shirt, khakis, brand-new truck keys clipped to his belt, no scars, and no equipment.

"First dungeon?" Matt sighed.

"That obvious too?"

"We get a lot of guys like you."

"Guys like me?"

"Recently quit something, bought a truck, watched too many dungeon videos." Matt stared at him. Jared shrugged.

"Am I wrong?"

"…No."

"Got a Job?"

"Not yet."

"Level?"

"One."

"Any actual weapon training?"

"No." Jared nodded as if that was the answer he expected.

"Preferred style?" Matt glanced toward the walls of weapons.

"Melee, probably. Something simple."

"Good. Then don't buy anything exotic." Jared came out from behind the counter and grabbed a heavy rolling cart.

"People waste stupid money on their first setup. Don't."

"That was approximately my plan."

"You'll outlevel most Level One equipment before you've had time to get emotionally attached to it." They stopped at a rack of one-handed swords. Matt looked between them and the nearby axes and maces.

"Why sword?"

"Because you said simple, not because a sword magically teaches itself." Jared tapped the rack.

"These are cheap, balanced, common as dirt on the beginner market, and every major Camp has instructors who can teach the basic cuts. Good reach without being stupidly long in a mine, easy to carry, and if you decide you want a shield later, your other hand stays free." He nodded toward the weapon racks.

"Hatchet works. Mace works. Spear works if the Dungeon gives you room. Black Hollow has a lot of tunnels. A basic one-handed sword is boring, but boring is useful." That sounded reasonable. Jared pulled one free.

"Standard Common longsword. F-rank drop. Refurbished, inspected, certified." Matt took it. The weight pulled unexpectedly hard against his wrist—not outrageously, just more than movies made swords look.

"Contacts?" Jared asked.

"Need those too."

"Try these." He handed Matt a sealed package. Matt opened it, stepped over to a mirror, and inserted the thin AR contacts. A short calibration sequence flickered across his vision. DELVER ID CONFIRMED IDENTIFICATION MODULE ACTIVE RECORDING AVAILABLE Matt looked at the sword again. IRON LONGSWORD Rarity: Common Item Level: 1 Required Level: 1 Required STR: 12 Required DEX: 10 Physical Damage: 8–13 Matt moved the sword. The floating information followed it.

"Oh." Jared grinned.

"First identification?"

"Yeah."

"Everyone does that."

"What?"

"That little 'oh.'" Matt ignored him and examined a few more swords, comparing different damage values and requirements. Then a blue-named weapon caught his attention. REINFORCED LONGSWORD Rarity: Magic Item Level: 3 Required Level: 2 Required STR: 15 Required DEX: 12 Physical Damage: 10–16 Modifier: +8% Increased Physical Damage Matt picked it up. Jared immediately took it out of his hand.

"No."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking about buying it."

"I was looking."

"You're Level One."

"I'll be Level Two soon."

"And then you'll find something better." Jared put the sword back.

"Starter lesson. Don't spend real money chasing low-level upgrades unless you've got a reason. Your first few levels go fast." Matt looked at the Common sword still in his hand.

"So this?"

"Cheap, effective, legal, and you'll feel nothing when you replace it."

"Sold." Jared tossed it into the cart.

"Armor." They went through the same process. Matt ended up with a reinforced chest piece, bracers, boots, a lightweight helmet, and a utility belt. Nothing matched particularly well or looked particularly heroic. It looked exactly like what it was: mass-market equipment intended to keep beginners alive. Jared dropped three red flasks into the cart. Matt picked one up. BEGINNER LIFE FLASK Restores Life when consumed. Cannot restore physical injury after Life reaches zero. Matt read the second line twice.

"That warning really needs to be there?"

"You would be amazed."

"I probably wouldn't."

"Good." Next came a pack of Portal Scrolls. They were cheap enough that Jared added several without asking.

"Keep at least two on you."

"Why two?"

"Because the first one is always the one you discover you left in the trailer." Matt nodded.

"That sounds depressingly plausible." Jared leaned against the cart.

"Listen." His tone had changed—not dramatically, just enough.

"First time in, right?"

"Yeah." Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"Life gets low?"

"Portal."

"You get separated and don't know where you are?"

"Portal."

"Something feels wrong even if you can't explain why?"

"Portal."

"Boss fight turns into a circus because somebody decides they're the main character?"

"Portal." Jared nodded.

"Good." He pushed the cart toward checkout.

"You're not proving anything in an F-rank. You can go back in five minutes later. The Dungeon isn't going anywhere." Matt looked down at the glowing scrolls.

"Got it."

"Everybody thinks the danger is monsters."

"It isn't?"

"It is. But beginners are usually worse." That was comforting. At the register, Matt watched the total climb as the sword, armor, helmet, contacts, Life Flasks, Portal Scrolls, cleaning kit, scabbard, storage cases, and several miscellaneous supplies Jared insisted he'd eventually need were added. It wasn't cheap, but compared with the truck and trailer it barely moved the needle.

He loaded everything into the truck and trailer, checked the hitch and sway-control setup one more time, then punched his destination into the navigation system. BLACK HOLLOW MINE, WEST VIRGINIA The route appeared. Matt smiled. This was the part he'd actually been looking forward to. ◆ The highway unrolled in front of him. For the first hour, Matt was too busy worrying about the trailer to enjoy anything.

Every lane change required thought, every turn required more space than his instincts expected, and every time a truck passed him at speed the trailer shifted just enough to remind him that his apartment was following six yards behind him. Eventually, though, he relaxed. The pickup handled the load easily, the radio played quietly, the weather was clear, and for the first time since leaving his job, Matt had somewhere he was actually going. Not somewhere he had to go. Somewhere he'd chosen. He stopped for fuel.

A twenty-something woman at the next pump was filling an SUV that had two long weapon cases strapped to the roof rack. Her small trailer had a faded sticker on the back. MY OTHER HOUSE IS AN A-RANK DUNGEON Matt read it, then looked at the very small trailer it was attached to.

"Ambitious." At another stop, he ate a burger while watching three guys in partial armor argue beside a motorhome about whether a spear counted as oversized luggage for airline travel. Nobody around them cared. That was the part Matt still wasn't used to. The strange had become mundane. He got back on the road. As West Virginia drew closer, the traffic subtly changed. A pickup towing a teardrop trailer passed him, followed by another.

A huge Class C motorhome rolled along in the right lane with reinforced exterior storage, while a beat-up van ahead of Matt had a half-dozen Dungeon stickers layered across the rear doors. CLEARWATER CAVERNS — F RED FANG DEN — E MOUNT MERCY — E I SURVIVED THE GOBLIN MINES Under that, in smaller print: AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY F-RANK STONE Matt laughed.

"Let me guess where you're going." A few miles later, a highway sign settled the question. BLACK HOLLOW MINE DUNGEON ACCESS — NEXT EXIT Fifteen years ago, a road sign directing ordinary drivers toward a monster-filled spatial anomaly would have triggered military roadblocks and international panic. Now there was a McDonald's logo beneath it. Matt took the exit. The highway narrowed into a winding mountain road. Dense trees closed around him, then the road crested one final hill.

Matt instinctively eased off the accelerator.

"… Okay." He'd seen videos. Videos had lied. The Dungeon Gate itself was impossible to miss: a vast cobalt vortex churning at the base of a jagged cliff, blue light spilling across the valley even in daylight. Yet somehow the Gate wasn't the first thing that held his attention. The campground was. Except calling it a campground felt dishonest. The Black Hollow Dungeon Camp occupied most of the valley floor, packed with rows upon rows of trailers, RVs, motorhomes, trucks, vans, and temporary cabins.

Paved internal roads crossed the site in a rough grid beneath streetlights and directional signs. Golf carts moved between food trucks, a laundromat, a clinic, a grocery store, a repair shop large enough to service trucks, and a bar whose outside patio contained at least twenty people wearing armor. A glowing sign advertised: TODAY'S F-RANK STONE RATE Nearby, an electronic board displayed: FASTEST BOSS CLEAR TODAY INSTANCE 88 — 7: 41 A banner stretched across one equipment shop. LEVEL 5?

STOP WEARING LEVEL 1 GARBAGE. FREE IDENTIFICATION WITH PURCHASE. A woman in chest armor walked past carrying a laundry basket. Two children chased each other between trailers while a man cleaned a spear beside a folding grill. Somebody had set up a table selling homemade jerky under a sign reading: DUNGEON SAFE. PROBABLY. Matt slowed the truck.

"The Black Hollow Dungeon Camp isn't a camp." It was a town. A town that existed because several thousand people wanted to walk through that blue Gate. Matt followed the signs. NEW ARRIVALS → A guard booth stood beside a striped barrier. An older man in a faded baseball cap leaned out the window as Matt rolled up.

"Hey! Parking?"

"Yeah."

"Monthly?"

"Probably." The man glanced toward the trailer.

"Nine-fifty for one month. Twenty-four hundred if you want three." Matt blinked.

"Three months?" The man laughed.

"Yeah. Though if you're still running an F-rank three months from now, you're doing something wrong."

"That's what I was thinking."

"One month?"

"One month."

"Up front."

"Card okay?"

"Card's fine." Matt handed it over. The terminal beeped. $950. 00 — PAID The man handed him a brightly colored laminated placard.

"Put this on your dashboard where we can see it from outside."

"Got it."

"Site G-214. Full hookup. Power and water on the left." Matt looked through the windshield. Rows disappeared into rows.

"…G?" The manager grinned.

"This place is big."

"No kidding."

"Don't get lost."

"In the campground?"

"Camp's more crowded than the Dungeon." He paused.

"Funny, right?" Matt looked at the people walking between food stalls and trailers.

"Actually, yeah." He started to roll up the window.

"Hold up." The manager leaned closer.

"First dungeon?" Matt sighed.

"First one." The man's expression became slightly more serious.

"You know the rule?"

"If anything feels wrong, Portal."

"Good." He tapped the edge of Matt's door with his clipboard.

"And no starting shit over Bosses."

"Wasn't planning to."

"Boss competition makes people stupid. Somebody gets there first, somebody gets the kill, somebody doesn't like their share, suddenly everybody forgets we're in an F-rank full of teenagers." Matt nodded.

"Got it."

"Talk to people. Help somebody if they need it. Don't be an asshole."

"I can manage that." The man's smile returned.

"Then welcome to Black Hollow." The barrier lifted. ◆ Finding G-214 took ten minutes. Parking in G-214 took considerably longer. Matt had understood the explanation at the dealership. Understanding had not translated into competence. He pulled forward. Turned. Checked the mirrors. Backed up. The trailer immediately moved in the wrong direction.

"Okay." Forward. Reset. Again. Worse. By his third attempt, a man at the neighboring site had pulled a folding chair into a better viewing position. He wore full Dungeon armor except for the helmet sitting on a cooler beside him. He cracked open a beer. Matt rolled down his window.

"Enjoying the show?"

"Little bit."

"Helpful."

"Turn the wheel opposite where you think."

"I am."

"No, you're thinking too hard." Matt stared at him.

"That isn't advice."

"Sure it is." Attempt four. The trailer ended up at an angle that looked physically disrespectful. The neighbor took another drink. Attempt five. Matt stopped, put the truck in park, and lowered his forehead against the steering wheel. There was a knock on the passenger window. The neighbor stood there.

"Want a spotter?" Matt raised his head.

"…Please." Two minutes later, with somebody actually directing him, the trailer slid neatly onto the gravel pad. Matt killed the engine. Silence. The neighbor nodded.

"Not bad."

"That was terrible."

"Everybody's terrible the first time." Matt climbed out. The man lifted his beer in salute.

"First dungeon?" Matt looked at him.

"Apparently everything about me says first dungeon." The neighbor laughed. Matt hooked up the electricity and water, set the wheel chocks, and checked the trailer level twice because he'd paid too much money to discover gravity at three in the morning. Finally, he stepped inside. His trailer. His site. G-214. For the next month, this was home. Matt opened the equipment cases. Chest armor, bracers, boots, belt, helmet, longsword. He dressed slowly, checking every strap the way Jared had shown him.

Two Life Flasks went on the belt, a Portal Scroll where he could reach it with either hand, and one backup inside a protected pouch. His AR contacts were already active. He looked into the tiny bathroom mirror. A few days ago, he'd been a mid-level logistics employee whose most dangerous daily activity involved driving to work. Now he had a sword.

"Well." He adjusted the belt.

"Let's see what happens." ◆ The walk to the Dungeon Gate took less than five minutes. That alone felt absurd. Matt had spent most of his life imagining dangerous places as distant places—mountains, war zones, deep wilderness. Now a dimension full of monsters was closer to his front door than his old apartment had been to the nearest convenience store.

The staging plaza around the Gate was packed with teenagers, young adults, middle-aged couples, groups of friends, a father and adult son checking each other's armor, a woman carrying a bow while talking into a livestream, and two college-age guys arguing about whether one of them had remembered lunch. Not elite soldiers. Not chosen heroes. People. A lot of people carrying weapons, admittedly. Matt approached the entrance interface. His contacts linked to the Gate.

BLACK HOLLOW MINE Available Instances Instance 121 — Delvers: 34 — Boss Alive Instance 122 — Delvers: 27 — Boss Defeated Instance 123 — Delvers: 19 — Boss Alive Instance 124 — Delvers: 41 — Boss Alive Instance 125 — Delvers: 12 — Boss Defeated Matt looked between them. Nineteen would probably offer cleaner routes and less competition, but he hadn't chosen Black Hollow for clean routes. He'd chosen it for people. COPY. Matt selected Instance 121. Confirm? Yes. The Gate shifted subtly. Matt took a breath.

He'd spent the last two days making increasingly ridiculous decisions. This was the first one that involved walking directly into a supernatural portal.

"Alright." He stepped through. ◆ For half a second, direction stopped making sense. Then his boots struck stone. Cold air touched his face. Matt opened his eyes. A mine tunnel extended ahead of him. Heavy wooden supports held up rough stone, old rails disappeared into the darkness, and blue crystals embedded in the walls provided enough light to see comfortably without making the place feel anything like daylight. His contacts updated.

Location: Black Hollow Mine — Instance 121 Communication: Active External Position: Black Hollow Mine Entrance Matt looked around. He had expected silence. Dripping water, maybe ominous monster sounds. Instead— Clang. A shout. Someone laughed. Farther down a side passage, something exploded with a flash of orange light. Matt blinked.

"Huh." It sounded less like a haunted mine and more like an unusually dangerous construction site. He followed the main route. Two minutes later, he saw his first actual Dungeon fight. A young man—nineteen, maybe twenty—was fighting a Goblin Miner. The goblin was short, green-skinned, ugly, and carrying a rusted pickaxe. The young delver blocked a swing with his shortsword. The impact nearly knocked the weapon from his hand, but a faint amber glow flashed around his fingers and his grip locked.

Matt's interface immediately appeared. UNIQUE SKILL OBSERVED Sure Grip — E Eligible for Copy Copy? [YES] / [NO] Matt stopped.

"… Already?" He selected Yes. COPY COMPLETE Sure Grip — E Stored Unique Skills: 3 The Skill details opened. SURE GRIP Rarity: Unique Skill — E Type: Passive Skill / Utility / Combat Effect Objects intentionally held by the user become significantly more difficult to dislodge from their grasp through external force. Flavor Text Your weapon is useful only for as long as it remains in your hand. Matt smiled. Three. He didn't equip it. Sure Grip could sit safely in storage until he needed it.

The young delver finished off the goblin, and Matt continued walking. He hadn't even been inside five minutes. Choosing a crowded Instance had been the right decision. The deeper tunnels were still busy. Matt passed a woman whose hands briefly ignited while she fought a Stone Beetle, a man who appeared to throw a knife and somehow pull it back into his hand, and someone else crossing a narrow gap with a leap that looked suspiciously too long for a normal human. Matt watched everything. No COPY prompt.

Maybe he hadn't clearly observed the actual activation. Maybe some abilities exceeded C-rank. Maybe some weren't Unique Skills at all; Dungeon builds used Skill Gems too. Already, Matt could see the problem. He wanted to know what everything was. Two days ago, he hadn't cared. Now it bothered him that he couldn't collect them all immediately. He turned into a quieter side tunnel and finally found something nobody else was already fighting.

Twenty feet ahead, a creature the size of a large dog gnawed on a piece of glowing rock. Matt's contacts identified it. CAVE RAT Level: 1 It looked like a rat designed by someone who hated rats. Armored ridges ran along its spine, and its incisors were long enough to make Matt reconsider the usefulness of the word beginner. He slowly drew the longsword. The steel scraped against the scabbard. The rat's head snapped toward him. Red eyes. A hiss. Then it charged. Matt's heart rate immediately spiked.

He'd watched fights, played games, and seen thousands of monsters killed on video. None of those things prepared his nervous system for several dozen pounds of aggressive teeth sprinting directly at him. Matt swung. Too early. The blade clipped the armored back instead of biting into the body with a metallic screech. The rat slammed into him. Matt staggered as something struck his shin. His Life bar flashed and a narrow chunk vanished, but there was no torn flesh or broken skin.

When he looked down, his armor was scratched while the leg beneath it felt completely normal. The rat turned. Matt stared for half a second.

"So that's Life." The protection wasn't metaphorical. The attack had reduced the gauge without actually injuring him. The rat charged again. This time Matt waited. One step. Swing. The longsword struck the neck. The blade went through. The Cave Rat dissolved into gray particles. Cave Rat Defeated Experience Gained Matt remained standing there with the sword raised, breathing hard.

"…That's it?" The silence returned. He checked his leg again. Nothing. The famous slogan came back to him. F-ranks are safer than walking. Matt looked at the spot where the rat had vanished.

"Still sounds stupid." He paused.

"…Slightly less stupid." He pulled one of the Life Flasks from his belt. His Life was nowhere near dangerous, but Jared's advice had made sense: better to learn what a tool did when nothing was going wrong. Matt took a small drink. Warmth spread through him and the missing portion of his Life gauge refilled. Nothing physical healed because nothing physical had been injured.

"Okay." He replaced the Flask. Now he knew. The second Cave Rat was easier. Matt waited for the charge and killed it with one cleaner swing. The third went down the same way. Not because Matt had suddenly become talented. They were Level 1 monsters in a Dungeon built for beginners. Still— it was fun. ◆ Twenty minutes later, Matt killed another Cave Rat. This time something remained after the gray particles vanished. A jagged blue stone rolled across the floor. Matt crouched and picked it up.

His contacts identified it. F-RANK MANA STONE It was warm, with a faint vibration pulsing through the crystal. Matt turned it between his fingers. This little blue rock was part of the economy he'd spent fifteen years taking for granted: power grids, hospitals, transportation—everything built around mana. Matt dropped the Stone into his loot pouch. His first Dungeon loot. That felt more significant than the actual monster. The next encounter was a Goblin Miner. It charged with the pickaxe raised.

Matt planted both feet and activated Anchored Step. The C-rank Skill settled through him. The goblin hit. Matt didn't move. Not one inch. The difference was almost comical. Matt brought the longsword down. The goblin vanished. Goblin Miner Defeated Experience Gained A second Mana Stone remained. Matt picked it up.

"Two." He kept going. Another Cave Rat dropped nothing. Neither did a Stone Beetle. The next Goblin Miner left him a third Mana Stone. Matt dropped it into the pouch. A clear chime rang inside his head, different from every sound around him. His interface flashed. LEVEL UP Matthew Hayes has reached Level 2. Matt stopped.

"There it is." A second window opened immediately. JOB SELECTION AVAILABLE [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.

Matt stared at the fourth option.

"…Jobless?" A few days ago, he'd been unemployed. Apparently the System was willing to make it official. He focused on the option, hoping for more information. Nothing.

"No bonuses?" Nothing.

"Special hidden build?" Still nothing. Matt narrowed his eyes. Somebody somewhere was absolutely running a Jobless build purely because people had told them not to. Probably thousands of people. That did not mean he needed to become one of them without knowing why. He looked through the other choices more carefully instead of selecting the first familiar word. The descriptions all said favors. None said restricts.

Warrior favored physical combat and weapon Skills, but nothing in the System text said choosing it would prevent him from using a spell later. Mage favored spellcasting, but it did not say a Mage was forbidden from picking up a sword. The Jobs appeared to shape bonuses and attribute growth rather than permanently erase entire categories of Skills. That mattered. COPY made specialization unusually complicated.

Matt had no idea what Unique Skills he would acquire a month from now, much less a year from now, and locking himself out of half the System before he knew what existed would have been ridiculous. Fortunately, that did not appear to be what the choice was asking him to do. So what did he actually have right now? A longsword. Armor. Anchored Step. No Spell Skill Gem. No ranged weapon. No reason yet to build around INT. Rogue was interesting, especially if he later found movement Skills.

Mage might become extremely interesting the moment he found a spell worth building around. Even Jobless was interesting precisely because it looked so unhelpful. But interesting wasn't the same as useful. Right now, Warrior matched what he was actually doing. And if his build changed later, his Skill options were still his Skill options. Matt selected Warrior. JOB SELECTED WARRIOR Attribute adjustment applied. STR: 14 → 23 DEX: 14 → 23 INT: 14 Life: 73 / 73 Mana: 53 / 53 Matt inhaled sharply.

The change wasn't theatrical. His muscles didn't visibly swell, his armor didn't explode, and he remained Matthew Hayes. But the relationship between his body and everything around it changed. The longsword wasn't physically lighter, yet it took noticeably less effort to control. His armor seemed less cumbersome, his balance sharpened, and when he shifted his weight his body responded immediately instead of a fraction of a second later. Matt flexed one hand.

"Okay." Another notification appeared. SKILL GEM SLOT UNLOCKED Skill Gem Slot 1: Empty Matt's attention immediately moved away from the attribute changes.

"…Nice." There it was. His first actual Skill Gem slot. Empty. Which was unacceptable. But first—he heard scratching farther down the tunnel. Another Cave Rat emerged. Matt smiled.

"Convenient." The rat charged. His first fight had required two swings. This one didn't. Matt stepped forward faster than he expected, but the movement remained controlled. The sword came around in one clean arc and the Cave Rat vanished before it managed to reach him. Matt stopped with the blade extended. He looked at the sword, then at the spot where the monster had been.

"… Okay." Warrior mattered. A lot. For the first time, Matt understood why delvers talked about Jobs as the actual beginning of a build. Level One had felt like a civilian carrying Dungeon equipment. Level Two Warrior already felt like something different. And this was one level. Matt checked the time. A little after one in the afternoon. His new Status made him want to keep going. He felt stronger, faster, and better than when he'd entered, and now he even had an empty Skill Gem slot demanding to be filled.

The obvious response was to stay another hour. Maybe two. Maybe until evening. Matt stared down the tunnel. Then sighed.

"No." He already had three Mana Stones, one new Unique Skill, Level Two, a Job, and a successful first Dungeon run.

"No reason to get stupid on day one." Matt took out a Portal Scroll and broke the seal. Blue light spiraled outward. A Portal formed in front of him. He stepped through. ◆ Sunlight. Matt blinked as warm air replaced the cool mine. He was back in the return zone beside the Dungeon Gate. People appeared from Portals around him every few seconds.

Some were laughing, one man was loudly complaining about a Rare helmet someone else had won from a shared kill, a woman sat on a bench cleaning mud from her boots, and three teenagers were comparing Skill Gems while a food truck employee shouted that lunch specials were half-price for anyone still wearing Dungeon armor. Matt stood there for a moment. It felt normal. Aggressively normal. Like a factory shift ending or construction workers breaking for lunch. Except the workplace was another dimension.

"Okay." Matt looked back at the Gate.

"I really like this." That realization surprised him more than the Dungeon had. He walked across the plaza toward the fortified building he'd noticed earlier. A neon sign above the entrance read: MANA STONE EXCHANGE Inside, the process was almost insultingly efficient, with separate lines by rank, automated scanners, and digital price boards. Matt joined the F-rank line. It moved quickly. When his turn came, the clerk behind the counter took one look at him.

"First run?" Matt closed his eyes for a moment.

"That obvious?"

"Brand-new armor." The clerk pointed.

"Brand-new belt." Another point.

"Three F-stones." Matt looked down.

"Fair." He placed the Stones on the counter. The clerk fed them into a scanner. Numbers appeared.

"Standard grade. Nothing unusual."

"Good or bad?"

"Normal."

"I'll take normal." The screen turned toward Matt. MANA STONE SALE Gross Value: $52. 71 Mandatory Dungeon Resource Tax — 5%: -$2. 64 Net Payment: $50. 07 Matt looked at the tax line.

"Five percent?"

"Yep."

"That's the whole Dungeon loot tax?"

"Yep."

"No income tax afterward?"

"Not on registered Dungeon-origin loot sales." Matt stared at him.

"I understand why people do this now." The clerk laughed.

"You made fifty bucks."

"It's the principle." The payment transferred directly to Matt's account. $50. 07 It was lunch money compared with his hundred-thousand-dollar severance, but Matt still looked at the transaction confirmation longer than necessary. He had walked into a Dungeon, killed monsters, picked up three glowing rocks, and walked back out. The rocks had become legal US currency. The loop was real. Fight. Loot. Sell. Upgrade. Go back. The exact thing he'd spent years enjoying in games.

Except now his house was parked five minutes away. The clerk noticed him staring.

"Disappointed?" Matt smiled slightly.

"Actually, no." ◆ Finding G-214 was much easier on foot. Matt walked through the Camp with his helmet under one arm. Now that he wasn't worried about towing several tons of trailer through the place, he could actually look around. A repair shop had three delvers waiting outside with damaged weapons.

Someone sold grilled meat from a trailer converted into a food stand, a group of four sat around a folding table arguing about tomorrow's Instance selection, and two sites down from his somebody had hung several freshly cleaned pieces of armor from a portable rack. His neighbor was still outside. The beer was gone. Now he was cleaning a large axe.

"How'd it go?" the man asked.

"Level Two."

"Nice."

"Didn't die."

"Always a strong opening." Matt pointed toward the trailer.

"Also found my site again."

"Bigger achievement." Matt laughed. He unlocked his door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. Silence. His silence. Matt removed his chest armor and bracers, unbuckled the sword belt, and placed the longsword carefully on the dinette table. Then he opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. It was cold. Not quite as cold as he wanted. Perfect Temperature. The bottle chilled another few degrees in his hand. Matt drank.

"Still a good Skill." He sat down and opened his Status. His eyes skipped past the numbers he had already seen and went straight to the line that mattered. Skill Gem Slot 1: Empty"Need to fix that." Through the trailer window, above the rooftops of the neighboring RVs, he could see part of the cobalt glow from Black Hollow's Gate. People were still walking toward it, while others were walking back. Three Mana Stones, one new Unique Skill, one Level, a Job, and fifty dollars before mid-afternoon.

Matt drank the perfectly chilled water and looked toward the Gate. Not bad for a first morning.