"Why hasn't little Kell come back yet…?"
Mara's voice trembled despite her effort to keep it steady. She stood just outside the dungeon entrance, hands clenched tightly in front of her, eyes fixed on the monolith at the center of the clearing.
The dungeon guard beside her let out a quiet sigh and replied with practiced calm, "Madam, please don't panic. His light gate is still glowing."
He raised a hand and pointed.
At the center of the area stood a tall black monolith, its surface smooth and unnatural, etched with faintly glowing symbols. At its heart hovered a translucent, gate-like light—soft, steady, unmistakably alive.
"As long as that light remains," the guard continued, "it means the challenger is still alive inside."
Mara swallowed hard. "But he still hasn't come out," she said, worry seeping into every word. "What if he's injured? What if he can't move? Isn't there some way to send someone in to bring him back?"
The guard shook his head.
"No, Madam."
His tone hardened—not out of cruelty, but familiarity.
"This is a dungeon, not a labyrinth. Entry rules are absolute. Only those who enter together may leave together. Once someone enters alone, no one else can follow—not until they exit… or disappear inside."
He paused briefly before adding, more quietly, "Those are the world's rules."
Annoyance flickered through his mind, though it didn't show on his face. He had seen this scene too many times. Mothers. Lovers. Friends. All waiting. All hoping.
And too often—waiting forever.
This particular dungeon had claimed more lives than any other nearby, precisely because it was labeled an F-rank starting dungeon. Newcomers underestimated it. Overconfident youths entered alone.
Many never returned.
Mara's anxiety only deepened.
It had been over half a day.
Kell had gone in without telling anyone. By the time she learned of it, the gate had already accepted him.
Too late.
She clasped her hands together, nails digging into her palms.
"Please…" she whispered. "Please be safe. Just come back alive."
Prayer was the only thing left to her now.
Then—
The monolith flared.
Light surged outward, the calm glow suddenly brightening into a sharp radiance. The air trembled. Space itself seemed to fold inward.
Mara gasped.
The guard straightened instantly.
And in the next moment—
A figure was expelled from the gate, landing heavily on the ground before it.
The light dimmed.
Silence followed.
Mara's eyes widened as she rushed forward.
The man—no, the boy—looked utterly haggard. Most of his upper garment was gone, torn to shreds, leaving his torso exposed. His body was lean, compact, sculpted with hard-earned muscle that hadn't been there before.
Dried blood stained his remaining clothes.
Dust clung to his skin.
Yet—
There wasn't a single open wound on him.
No limp.
No stagger.
He stood there calmly, breathing evenly, holding a book in one hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Kell!"
Mara's shout cut through the lingering haze in Kell's mind.
He had barely stabilized himself after being expelled from the dungeon when hurried footsteps rushed toward him. His senses were still adjusting—space felt slightly misaligned, sound arriving a fraction too late—when a mortal woman suddenly filled his vision, her face lit with raw, unrestrained relief.
Before he could react—
She threw herself at him.
Kell stiffened as a tight embrace wrapped around his body, far stronger than he expected from a mortal. Her arms locked around him as if afraid that loosening them would make him disappear again. His attempt to speak failed immediately, his mouth pressed awkwardly against her chest.
"Kell… oh my little Kell," Mara cried, her voice shaking. "Thank the Lord, thank the Lord you're alright. What would I have told the little ones if something had happened to you? What would I have done if I lost you?"
She held him there, unmoving, as though anchoring him to reality.
Kell stood frozen.
His mind raced, but no answer came.
This woman… is important to the original owner of this body.
That much was obvious.
But beyond that—
Nothing.
No memories surfaced. No emotions resonated. There was no instinctive recognition, no sense of familiarity. Just a stranger clinging to him with desperate relief.
'This is troublesome,' he thought.
He had ensured this outcome himself.
A pure reincarnation required a pure soul. Memories—especially those saturated with mortal attachment—were impurities. The reincarnation stone had done exactly what he demanded.
Which meant he stood here now, wearing another life's body, unable to respond to the bonds tied to it.
His original plan had been simple: leave quietly, disappear, observe this world from a distance.
That plan shattered the moment she embraced him.
Gradually, the pressure around him loosened. Kell took the opportunity to step back, creating a small but necessary distance. He looked at her properly now—eyes red, face worn with anxiety, relief still trembling beneath the surface.
An unfamiliar sensation tugged at his chest.
Guilt.
"…Um," he began, then stopped.
Deception would only complicate things further.
"…I'm sorry," Kell said carefully, his expression hesitant. "But I don't know who you are. Could you tell me… who you are?"
Mara blinked.
For a brief moment, confusion crossed her face. Then she laughed weakly, mistaking his words for an attempt to calm her.
"Alright, alright," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm not angry. But please don't do something like this again, okay?"
She reached out and held his arm, grounding herself. "We were all worried—especially little Sofia. If you keep running off like this, you'll only give us more things to worry about."
'Sofia?'
Kell's thoughts paused on the unfamiliar name.
'Another attachment.'
Was she the reason the original owner came here? Desperation? Responsibility?
His gaze drifted past Mara's shoulder.
Behind her stood the monolith and the now-dim gate, silent and unmoving. The structure reminded him of a sealed realm entrance, yet something about it felt too orderly, too artificial.
'Is this the entrance of the secret realm?' he wondered. 'And that monolith—what purpose does it serve?'
Curiosity stirred again, as it always did.
Unfortunately—
Mara grabbed his hand.
"Come on," she said, tugging him forward. "Let's go. Everyone's worried, and no one's eaten because of you."
She didn't wait for a response, already pulling him along.
Kell almost resisted.
Almost.
But he stopped himself.
'I lack information, ' he reasoned. 'And this identity—this "Kell"—is my only anchor for now.'
Reluctantly, he followed her steps.
For the moment, adaptation was wiser than escape.
Just as they were about to pass through the checkpoint, the guard suddenly froze.
His gaze dropped—not to Kell's face, but to his hand.
The color drained from the man's face as his eyes widened in naked horror. Slowly, his arm rose, finger trembling as it pointed back and forth between Kell and the object he held.
"Y-you…" the guard stammered. "How…? Alone? How?"
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes glued to the book in Kell's grip. The words came out broken, almost unwilling. "That… that book—"
Kell paused, confused by the sudden shift.
Beside him, Mara frowned. "What?" she snapped. "Don't tell me you were expecting him not to come back."
Her voice carried a sharp edge now.
The guard immediately shook his head, almost violently, but his finger never stopped pointing. "N-no! I mean—s-skill book—! How? How did he—?"
The man looked on the verge of collapse, fear and disbelief tangling together.
Kell glanced down at the item in his hand, then back at the guard.
Before he could speak, Mara noticed it too.
Her eyes widened. "Kell… where did you get that?"
He followed her gaze, finally understanding the source of their reactions. Calmly, he answered, "I got it after killing that bigger green, human-shaped thing inside."
Then, after a brief pause, he added, "And this isn't a skill book. It's a spell book."
He corrected her deliberately. If she was going to find out later anyway, there was no reason to hide it now.
The moment the word spell left his mouth—
The guard nearly jumped out of his skin.
"S-spell?!" he yelped. "Green human thing?! Are you talking about the Dungeon's Killer—Goblin Shaman?!"
Kell turned to look at him properly now.
Mara did the same, her confusion deepening. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "Is that… impressive?"
The guard shook his head frantically. "No—! I mean—yes, but that's not even the point!"
He took a step closer, eyes burning with urgency as he stared at Kell. "Your name is Kell, right?"
Without waiting for confirmation, he rushed on, words tumbling over each other. "Would you like to join the Fiery Rabbit Guild? We're the largest guild in this town. We control two D-rank dungeons, four E-rank dungeons, and ten F-rank dungeons—six of those are starter dungeons!"
His tone shifted completely, fear replaced by feverish enthusiasm.
"If you join us, we can give you a twenty percent discount on dungeon entry fees, and we'll only take two percent tax instead of the usual five! I can even call the guild manager right now so you can discuss terms properly!"
He sounded less like a guard now—
And more like a desperate merchant who had spotted a priceless treasure.
Kell listened quietly, but his attention drifted elsewhere.
'So this place is called a dungeon,' he noted.
And from the guard's words, there were many such dungeons scattered around this town, each divided by rank.
'F-rank being the most common… D-rank the rarest among those mentioned.'
That alone told him enough.
Lower the rank, weaker the danger.
His thoughts shifted again as the guard kept talking about guilds.
'Guilds… similar to sects,' Kell concluded. 'They control access, distribute benefits, and take a portion of the gains.'
Different names.
Same structure.
'Five percent by default… two percent if affiliated.'
Kell's eyes narrowed slightly.
'The rules of cultivation may change,' he thought, 'but the way people organize power never does.'
For now, though, he remained silent—observing, absorbing—
And letting the guard talk himself breathless.
----
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