The moment Soren stopped through the entrance of the dungeon, his vision warped.
A heavy pressure seemed to crash down upon his body, and for a second, the ground beneath him tilted violently.
He staggered forward, one hand shooting up to clutch his head.
His breathing grew shallow as a wave of nausea crawled up his throat.
It felt like motion sickness, but on a deeper level, as if the air itself was being pushed against his body.
He grimaced.
"...Tch."
The sensation lasted only a few seconds, but those seconds stretched endlessly in his mind before finally fading.
He straightened his posture slowly and exhaled, his eyes adjusting to the dim, stagnant air of the tunnel before him.
'So this is why characters would be inflicted with a status effect on their first dungeon.'
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a small flask, taking a careful sip.
The cold water helped wash away the bitter taste of bile in his mouth.
His body felt steadier after he was done.
Once he recovered, Soren knelt down and began preparing himself properly.
From his inventory, he produced a magic lantern, a simple but sturdy device crafted with small magic stones.
He clicked the base, and a soft bluish glow filled the area.
It wasn't bright enough to give away his position easily, but it illuminated just enough of the path ahead.
He clipped it to his belt, the faint light pooling around his legs.
Then he reached into the storage space again and pulled out a thin cloth, wrapping it carefully around his mouth and nose before tying it behind his head.
The air here was heavy and faintly foul, carrying the smell of rot and wet stone, but that wasn't why he covered his face.
'Goblins, they're classified as demons rather than monsters.'
That distinction mattered.
Unlike monsters, demons retained a form of intelligence; they could plan, use tools, even fire and poisons.
That meant every breath here could be dangerous.
The thought made him tighten the knot on the cloth.
Finally, he pulled one last item from his inventory: a small, round buckler, barely wider than his torso.
He strapped it tightly to his left arm.
He hadn't used one before; until now, he had relied on magic and his own reflexes for defence, but inside these tunnels, large movements would be difficult, maybe even fatal.
Every strike needed to be precise, and every mistake could be lethal.
He took a slow breath and flexed his arm experimentally.
The shield sat snugly.
"That should do it."
Once he was ready, he glanced ahead again.
The entrance behind him was there, but he didn't even look back.
The tunnel before him stretched forward, narrow, uneven, and carved roughly through the earth.
The air was dry, with faint drips of moisture echoing from somewhere deeper inside.
Soren exhaled quietly.
'It's fine. I can handle this.'
It was his first dungeon, and though his heartbeat was calm, there was still a quiet weight in his chest, an anxious, primal tension that came from stepping into somewhere unknown.
He started walking, the sound of his boots muffled by the dirt and stone beneath him.
The tunnel was barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and the ceiling rose and fell predictably, forcing him to duck at times.
Claustrophobic didn't even begin to describe it.
Each turn looked identical to the last: damp walls, narrow paths, air so still that even breathing seemed to echo.
Yet he continued onward.
With each step, a faint, glowing map sitting in his hand was filled out.
He had resolved himself to stay here for the next few days, no matter how uncomfortable it got.
This was the best way to farm properly.
An hour passed.
The light from his lantern was the only sign of motion in the oppressive dark.
Then, faint sounds began to echo down the tunnel ahead: muttering, footsteps, and weapons clattering.
Soren stopped instantly.
He dimmed the lantern until only a faint glow remained.
'First group.'
He crouched low, steps silent as he moved forward.
After creeping closer for several seconds, the shapes came into view.
There were seven regular goblins, one hobgoblin, and one goblin sorcerer, their forms half-illuminated by a crude torch wedged into the floor.
It was a small encampment, the perfect size for a warm-up.
He took a slow breath, analysing the situation.
'The hobgoblin's the strongest. The sorcerer will be trouble if it gets a spell off…'
He quietly reviewed his available spells.
'[Ignition]? No, can't risk the fire in here. Oxygen's limited.'
'[Shockwave]? Too loud. The whole tunnel would hear it.'
'[Earth]? No good either. Could collapse the passage.'
In the end, he was left with only a handful: [Shock], [Breeze] and [Hemokinesis].
It was enough.
He lowered his stance, placing his free hand against the ground to steady his breathing.
His eyes glowed faintly crimson in the darkness.
The goblins were laughing crudely among themselves, completely unaware.
Soren raised Labrys, his handaxe, and the blade faintly flickered.
He took aim.
「Einhardt Axemanship - Crescent」
Then, his body blurred.
A flash of movement, silent and clean.
The axe traced a silver arc through the air, and the hobgoblin's skull shattered before it even had time to register what had happened.
It collapsed instantly, its weapon clattering to the ground.
The others froze for half a heartbeat, then screamed.
Soren was already moving.
He swung the axe sideways, caving in the chest of a goblin.
Another lunged from the side; he ducked, the blade passing harmlessly over his head, and countered with a sharp twist of his wrist.
Blood splattered across the tunnel walls.
One after another, the small bodies fell.
A goblin swung at his ribs, but the blow bounced off the buckler with a metallic clang.
Soren stepped into its guard and buried the axe in its neck.
He moved without hesitation, efficiently and brutally.
Then, the air rippled faintly.
The goblin sorcerer at the back raised its hands, muttering in its crude language.
A faint, purple light enveloped Soren's vision.
Everything went black.
His body tensed instantly.
He could still hear, feel, breathe, but his sight was gone.
'Curse of Blindness…'
He clicked his tongue.
He didn't panic.
Instead, he reached out his hand, channelling a thread of divine power.
"Thy suffering bound, let it be undone. In mercy's name, I cast thee free. 「Dispel Curse」"
Light spread across his body, and the curse burned away.
His vision returned sharply.
The sorcerer was still chanting, panic flickering in its eyes.
Soren didn't give it another second.
He kicked off the ground and closed the distance in a single step, driving his boot into its stomach.
The creature wheezed, doubling over as bile flew from its mouth.
Before it could fall, Soren's heel came down.
A sickening crack echoed in the tunnel.
Silence followed.
When he turned back around, only two goblins remained, trembling violently.
One dropped its weapon in surrender, but Soren's expression didn't change.
He raised his handaxe once more.
The thud of a dull blade hitting flesh and bone echoed briefly, and then, nothing.
The faint blue light of his lantern washed over the carnage.
Green blood pooled around his boots, the stench rising thick and heavy.
He stood there for a moment, watching the corpses, before quietly muttering an incantation.
"...「Clean」."
A faint shimmer rippled over him, and the blood vanished from his clothes and weapon.
Then, without another glance, he continued deeper into the tunnels.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
The night air outside the dungeon was still heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of Soren's campfire and the occasional rustle of grass in the wind.
The moon hung low above the treetops, pale and silent, its glow spreading faintly across the clearing.
Soren sat cross-legged near the flames, a half-eaten piece of bread in one hand and a strip of jerky in the other.
His movements were slow and absentminded, his crimson eyes reflecting the orange light as he chewed in silence.
The dense mana fog still filled his surroundings, but thankfully, it didn't cause any complications.
As he thought about his day, he couldn't help but think that the dungeon was more tedious than he had expected.
The Goblin King's Nest was ranked among the easiest in the country, a place new Iron-rank adventurers often tested themselves before moving on to more dangerous ruins.
But what no one mentioned was how narrow the tunnels were, or how easily those twisting corridors could throw off your sense of direction; the constant need to crouch or turn sideways just to move made every encounter a headache.
In a single day, he had only managed to raise his Points by thirty-four.
Thirty-four.
It was progress, at least measurable, but it felt painfully slow.
At this rate, even if he spent the entire remaining month grinding like this, he wouldn't reach the goal he set for himself.
He had expected resistance, of course, but this dungeon's layout was less of a challenge and more of an obstacle course designed to frustrate him.
He tore another bite of jerky, chewing without much thought.
The goblins themselves weren't that strong.
They came in groups, shrieking and charging with crude weapons, but their attacks were predictable, and their movements sloppy.
Soren could take them down with ease: a clean swing of his blade or a single well-timed spell.
The problem wasn't the enemies; it was the environment.
Tight passages meant limited room to dodge or manoeuvre.
Every fight was suffocating.
He leaned back on one hand, watching the fire dance before him.
The warmth pierced through his skin, comforting him in the cold night.
'Maybe I should've picked a different dungeon.'
The thought passed through his mind before he could stop it.
He almost laughed at himself; regret was a useless emotion.
He had chosen this dungeon for a reason.
The low risk, consistent spawn rate, and proximity to the city were key advantages.
It wasn't supposed to be exciting; it was supposed to be efficient.
His gaze lowered to the dirt, his eyes tracing the grooves left by his boots.
Morrigan's voice echoed faintly in his head, soft and steady.
– That one might be weak, but it's still a dungeon. Even low-ranked ones can be unpredictable.
He sighed.
He had been warned many times that night.
He knew that the danger was always there, even if the monsters were laughable.
All it took was a slip of focus, a bad turn, a missed sound, and he would end up just another nameless corpse lost underground.
But he wasn't about to let that happen.
After finishing his meal, Soren brushed the crumbs off his hands and tossed the remains into the fire.
The fire had burned low, the wood collapsing into glowing embers.
He grabbed a small flask of water and poured it over the flames, watching as the steam hissed softly in the air.
The clearing dimmed, leaving only the pale light of the moon to guide him.
Reaching into his inventory, Soren pulled out a compact black case, one of the few expensive items he had allowed himself to buy.
A small, faint smile tugged at his lips as he pressed the button at its centre.
With a gentle whirr, the case unfolded in an instant, expanding into a neatly assembled tent.
"Worth every coin," he murmured as he stopped inside, feeling the warmth against his skin.
The interior was snug but comfortable, big enough for one person, with just enough space to move without feeling trapped.
He unrolled a sleeping bag across the ground and began shedding his gear.
The thick cloak came off first, followed by his boots, tie and shirt.
Finally, he removed his pants, setting the academy uniform beside his bag.
In its place, he slipped into a loose shirt and soft trousers from his inventory.
The tent's magical heating slowly filled the air with gentle warmth, easing the chill from his skin.
He lay down in his sleeping bag, pulling it up to his chest as he stared at the faint glow from the magic lamp hanging above him.
'Still around a month left of summer break…'
He missed his friends dreadfully.
Soren had never viewed himself as the clingy type, but now, if someone said he was, he would struggle to argue.
A faint smile graced his face as his eyes fluttered shut, the exhaustion pulling him under.
Within moments, Soren had fallen asleep, alone beneath the stars, the Goblin King's Nest silent behind him.
————「❤︎」————