The dawn over Orario was gray and indifferent. The rain had stopped, leaving the slums of Daedalus Street steaming in the morning chill.
Aiden sat on the edge of a moth-eaten mattress in a room that was little more than a closet. They had paid 200 valis for the night—an exorbitant rate for a room with no lock and a bucket for a toilet, but it was the only place that didn't ask for identification.
He flexed his left hand. The bruising on his shoulder had turned a sickly yellow-black, but the mobility was returning. The internal fire in his gut—the aftermath of severing the Soma wine's chemical bonds—had settled into a dull, rhythmic ache.
"You're staring at the wall again," Lyra's voice was soft, heavy with sleep.
She was curled up under the thin blanket, her knees pulled to her chest. In the harsh morning light, she looked pale. The withdrawal from the Soma wine wasn't physical for her—she hadn't gotten addicted—but the Reverie Devil was restless. It hungered for the dreams of the city, and the slums were full of nightmares.
"I'm counting," Aiden said, standing up. "We have 1,800 valis left. A cheap sword costs at least 1,500. A potion is 500. Food is... negligible if we eat garbage."
Lyra sat up, rubbing her eyes. "So we're going into the most dangerous dungeon in the world with a stick and a prayer?"
"No prayer," Aiden pulled his hoodie on, wincing slightly. "Just the System."
He focused on the air in front of him.
[Status Check]
[Aiden Cross: Level 1]
[Str: I-0 | End: I-0 | Dex: I-0 | Agi: I-0 | Mag: I-0]
[Skill: Render (Active) - Proficiency 1.2%]
"My stats are zero," Aiden muttered. "Standard for a new adventurer. But the Devil... [Render] ignores durability stats. That's our edge. I don't need a sharp sword. I just need something that won't break when I swing it."
"And I need to make sure you don't get swarmed," Lyra slid off the bed, smoothing her rumpled clothes. "My [Gossamer] magic... I checked the description. It uses Mind (Mana). If I overuse it, I'll pass out. Ignis Fatuus isn't the risk; the risk is a Mind Down."
"We stick to the first floor," Aiden opened the door. "Five kills. Maybe ten. We gauge the stamina drain, then we get out. We pay the interest on the debt, buy real food, and repeat."
"Sounds like a grind," Lyra offered a weak smile.
"It is," Aiden said, his face grim. "Welcome to the RPG."
The market district near the Tower of Babel was bustling. Adventurers in gleaming plate armor marched in formation, boasting of their deep-floor exploits. Elves with high-grade staves looked down their noses at the common rabble. Prum supporters hauled backpacks twice their size.
Aiden and Lyra moved through the crowd like ghosts, invisible in their poverty. They bypassed the Hephaestus storefronts with their glass displays and masterwork blades. They found a "Gnome Scavenger" stall—a pile of refurbished gear recovered from dead adventurers on the upper floors.
"1,500 for the shortsword," the Gnome merchant grunted, not even looking up from his ledger. "Take it or leave it."
Aiden picked up the weapon. It was an iron shortsword, the edge chipped, the leather grip stained with old, dark blood. It was heavy, unbalanced, and ugly.
It was perfect.
"I'll take it," Aiden slammed the coins on the counter.
"We have 300 left," Lyra whispered. "Aiden, you need armor."
"No money," Aiden strapped the sheath to his belt. It felt comforting to have steel, even bad steel, at his hip. "What about you?"
"I don't need a weapon yet," Lyra said. "I found... something else."
She pointed to a bin of "misc items." Digging through it, she pulled out a small, tarnished brass bell. It had no clapper.
"50 valis," the Gnome said. "Broken chime. Useless."
"I'll take it," Lyra said. She paid the coins.
As they walked toward the tower, Aiden looked at the bell. "A broken bell?"
"The Reverie works on sound and sight," Lyra explained, turning the brass object in her hands. "I can use my magic to vibrate the air inside it. It focuses the sound. It's better than shouting my chants."
Aiden nodded. "Creative."
They reached the plaza of Babel. The tower loomed straight up, tearing the sky. The entrance to the Dungeon was a gaping maw at the base, leading down into the earth. A constant stream of adventurers flowed in and out—some laughing, some carried on stretchers.
As they stepped onto the spiral ramp leading down, the air changed.
The mana density spiked.
[Entering Dungeon: Floor 1] [System Adaptation: Devil Resonance Active.]
Aiden felt the Severance Devil wake up. It didn't roar; it hissed. The Dungeon felt... alive. The walls pulsed with a faint, bioluminescent blue light. The stone breathed.
"It hates us," Lyra whispered, gripping her brass bell. "Can you feel it? The walls... they know we don't belong."
"Let them hate," Aiden drew the rusted shortsword. "Stay close. Behind my right shoulder."
They descended into the blue-lit corridors of the first floor. The layout was a maze of pale blue rock.
Skreee.
The sound echoed off the stone. From a fracture in the wall ahead, the earth birthed a monster. A Goblin. Small, green, with jagged claws and eyes full of mindless malice.
Then another. And another. Three of them.
"Three," Aiden said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline dumping into his blood. "Left, center, right."
"I have the right," Lyra said. She raised the bell. She didn't ring it; she whispered into the hollow brass. "Sleep."
[Magic: Gossamer]
A ripple of violet air distorted around the bell. The Goblin on the right stumbled. Its eyes crossed. It swung its claw at a phantom fly, tripping over its own feet.
Aiden moved.
He didn't have the speed of a high-level adventurer. He moved with the desperate, efficient lunge of a human fighting for his life. He targeted the center Goblin.
The Goblin raised a crude stone dagger to block.
Aiden activated it.
[Skill: RENDER]
He didn't aim for the Goblin's flesh. He aimed for the stone dagger.
The Severance Devil channeled through his arm, into the rusted iron of his sword. The concept of "integrity" vanished from the Goblin's weapon.
CLANG-CRACK.
Aiden's sword didn't just break the stone dagger; it shattered it into dust. The force of the swing carried through, the iron blade biting deep into the Goblin's shoulder, severing the collarbone.
The Goblin shrieked—a wet, gurgling sound—and collapsed, dissolving into black ash. A tiny, purple magic stone clattered to the floor.
One down.
The left Goblin lunged, claws raking for Aiden's stomach.
Aiden twisted, but he wasn't fast enough. The claws snagged his hoodie, tearing fabric and drawing shallow lines of blood across his ribs.
Pain was information.
Aiden ignored the sting. He pivoted, using the momentum of the Goblin's miss. He couldn't use [Render] again immediately—the first strike had drained a chunk of his stamina, leaving his arm heavy. He had to kill this one the old-fashioned way.
He drove the pommel of his sword into the Goblin's face, stunning it, then slashed the throat.
Ash. Two down.
The third Goblin, the one Lyra had hexed, was shaking off the Gossamer haze. It looked around, confused, drool dripping from its jaw.
Aiden stepped over the ash of its kin and thrust the sword into its chest.
Three piles of ash. Three small magic stones.
Aiden stood panting, sweat stinging his eyes. His breath came in ragged gasps.
[Combat End] [Stamina: 70%] [Proficiency Gained: Render 1.3%]
"You okay?" Lyra asked, stepping up to inspect the scratches on his ribs.
"Surface wounds," Aiden checked the tears in his hoodie. "But the stamina cost... [Render] takes a lot. I felt my knees buckle when I activated it. I can probably do five or six powered swings before I collapse."
"And I used about a tenth of my Mind," Lyra rubbed her forehead. "The bell helps focus it, though. It's efficient."
Aiden picked up the three magic stones. They were small, the size of fingernails.
"These are worth maybe 50 valis total," Aiden said, weighing them in his hand. "We need two hundred kills just to pay the debt interest."
"Then we keep moving," Lyra said, her eyes reflecting the dungeon's blue light. "The walls are screaming, Aiden. They're calling for more monsters."
"Let them come," Aiden sheathed his sword, though he kept his hand on the hilt. "We need the XP."
They pushed deeper.
The first floor was a grind. They fought mostly Goblins, with the occasional Kobold. They developed a rhythm. Lyra would confuse the group, buying Aiden the seconds he needed to isolate targets. Aiden would save [Render] for weapons or armor, shattering defenses before delivering killing blows.
They killed twelve monsters. Then twenty.
By the twenty-fifth kill, Aiden was drenched in sweat, his movements sluggish. The scratches on his ribs were throbbing.
"One more group," Aiden gasped, leaning against a wall. "Then we head back."
"Aiden, look out!" Lyra screamed.
A section of the wall beside him didn't just spawn a monster; it exploded.
From the dust emerged not a Goblin, but a Dungeon Lizard. Scale-covered, low to the ground, with jaws strong enough to crush bone. It was a spawn anomaly—a stronger monster appearing on an upper floor.
It hissed, its tail whipping the air.
[Threat: Dungeon Lizard (Level 1 - High Durability)]
"It's armored," Aiden realized. His rusted sword would bounce off those scales.
"I can't put it to sleep!" Lyra shouted, backing up. "It's too angry! The Reverie isn't catching!"
The lizard charged Aiden.
Aiden didn't have the stamina to run. He had one shot.
He gripped his sword with both hands. He didn't just activate [Render]; he pushed it. He poured his remaining stamina, his fear, and the Devil's hunger into the blade.
Sever the scales. Sever the biology that binds them.
The sword glowed with a dark, jagged aura—red like dried blood.
The lizard leaped. Aiden swung.
[CRITICAL OVERLOAD: RENDER]
The blade met the lizard mid-air. There was no sound of impact. The sword simply passed through the creature's armored head as if it were made of smoke.
The lizard passed Aiden, landing behind him.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, the lizard split perfectly in half down the cranial line. It dissolved into a massive pile of ash and a medium-sized magic stone.
CRACK.
Aiden looked at his hand. The rusted iron sword had shattered. The blade had disintegrated, unable to withstand the output of the Devil's power. He was holding nothing but a leather-wrapped hilt.
"Aiden!" Lyra ran to him.
Aiden fell to his knees, his vision graying out. "Stamina... zero."
"We're leaving," Lyra grabbed his arm, hauling him up. "Now."
She supported his weight, half-dragging him back toward the exit. The Dungeon seemed to howl in protest, more shadows spawning in the distance, but they were close to the ramp.
They stumbled out of the maw of the Dungeon and into the evening light of the surface.
Aiden collapsed on the stone pavement of Babel's plaza, clutching the broken hilt of his 1,500 valis investment.
"We survived," Lyra whispered, dropping beside him, her chest heaving.
Aiden looked at the broken hilt. He started to laugh. It was a dry, painful sound.
"I broke the sword," he wheezed. "We're down 1,500 valis."
"We have the stones," Lyra pointed to his pouch. "And we're alive."
[Status Update: Aiden Cross]
[Str: I-0 -> I-2]
[Dex: I-0 -> I-1]
[Skill: Render Proficiency 2.5%]
[Weapon Destroyed.]
Aiden closed his eyes. The stats had moved. Just a sliver. But they had moved.
"Tomorrow," Aiden whispered. "We buy a hammer. Swords are too fragile."