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Chapter 1: The Improviser's Gambit
The world didn't end the night the Dungeons appeared.
It paused, blinked, and muttered, Well… guess we'll see how this goes.
At exactly midnight, glowing doors ripped themselves into reality. Their hum vibrated through the air, making the hairs on Rocky's arms stand on end. By morning, the word Dungeon had replaced weather as the most discussed topic on Earth. And by nightfall, the rules were clear: if you don't enter… you're useless.
"If nobody goes inside," Mr. Hale said dryly in class the next day, "cities die. Permanently."
The class went silent. Rocky stared at his desk, mind racing. Great. One night, and the world's already trying to kill me. Typical.
Only the Awakened could enter Dungeons. Hunters were given an interface, stats, and a class—the new measure of human worth.
"Tomorrow's Awakening Day," Tommy said behind him. "I'm calling Warrior. Easy contract."
"Mage," Lena countered. "Big damage, money money money."
"What about you, Rocky?" Jace asked.
Rocky tilted his head. "Anything that doesn't scream 'please sponsor me, I'll die first.'"
They laughed. Lena snorted. "That's like cheering for the losing team."
Yeah, Rocky muttered to himself. Well, at least the losing team learns how to survive.
The hallway after school was a futures market for human potential. "B-rank dungeon clears pay insane," Dylan was saying, kicking a locker for emphasis. Rocky almost made it to the exit.
"Hey, Rocky!" A shove sent him into the metal locker with a sharp ring. "You excited for tomorrow? Or you gonna awaken as civilian class?"
"Spectator class," Victor laughed. "Can't touch anything, just commentary."
Rocky straightened his jacket. "I'll make sure to wave to all of you from the back lines while I survive the apocalypse."
He exhaled slowly as they walked away laughing. One chance. That's all I need.
—
The gym the next morning looked like a summoning ritual gone corporate. Runes glowed, mana hummed, and sponsors watched from behind glass like investors at a bloodsport.
"Step forward when your name is called."
One by one, students mounted the platform. Light flared. "Warrior-Class Awakening!" Cheers. "Mage-Class Awakening! S-tier potential!" Gasps.
Then—"Rocky."
A few students turned. "Oh." "That Rocky?"
He stepped onto the platform. The runes glowed. Paused.
"Uh… is it buffering?" Tommy whispered.
Rocky smirked. "Funny. I think the system just remembered me."
The verdict appeared in stark, public text:
Class: Jobless
The silence lasted half a second. Then the gym exploded.
"NO WAY!" "Bro unlocked hard mode IRL!"
Victor leaned over to Dylan. "He's gonna cry, right?"
Spoiler alert, Rocky muttered. I'm not crying. Not today.
Jobless. No bonuses. No path. EXP gain so slow it felt personal. A death sentence.
Then he noticed the smaller, personal text only he could see:
Compatibility: Universal
Skill Acquisition: Unrestricted
Fighter skills. Mage spells. Assassin movement. Healer formulas. All of it.
There was one condition: to use a skill, he had to understand it. Not copy. Not button-mash. Understand.
"So basically," Dylan snorted from the crowd, "you gotta be smart. RIP."
Rocky leaned back, chin raised. "Or I could just outthink everyone."
No applause followed him as he stepped off the platform.
Then the system shifted. New text, urgent and personal:
First Ability: Unassigned. Condition: Trial Required.
The runes beneath him detonated with blinding light.
"Hold on—!" the instructor shouted.
The floor disappeared. Victor's voice echoed, "Welp, that was quick."
And Rocky fell.
—
He hit the dungeon floor and rolled. The air smelled of blood, ozone, and fear. A creature scuttled from the shadows—dog-sized, all teeth and malice.
"Cute," Rocky said. "Deadly… cute."
It lunged. He dodged. Barely.
[Skill Required: Survival Instinct. Objective: Understand.]
A HUD hint flashed: Tip: Understanding is key. Every skill has a cost and a trigger.
The dungeon threw everything at him. Wolves, spiders, living lightning, shadow tendrils. He had no skills, only instincts and a desperate, rising comprehension. He watched a wolf's lunge—saw the kinetic transfer. He observed a wisp's spark—glimpsed the mana conversion. The System fed him data.
[Pattern Recognized. Attempt Synthesis? Y/N]
"Y," he grunted, yanking shadow from a crumbling wall and whipping it forward in a crude imitation.
[Synthesis Successful: 'Shadow Lash' (Improvised). Efficiency: 37%. Understanding Increased.]
He wasn't fighting. He was reverse-engineering. A Mage's shield was beyond him, so he used a Fighter's footwork to deflect with stone. A Healer's mend was a mystery, so he applied a Rogue's evasion and the principle of triage. He was inefficient, exhausting, and utterly unpredictable.
The floor boss emerged—a jagged crystal colossus, molten energy bleeding from its cracks, a small army swirling around it.
"You… dare… challenge… me?!"
"Challenge?" Rocky spat blood, skidding across gravel. "I'm taking notes."
The boss's rage turned the chamber into a hellscape. Lava geysers. Crystal hailstorms. This was the final exam: Adapt or die.
Rocky stopped trying to use "skills." He started demanding solutions.
"Need a gap closer!" The System highlighted thermal drafts. He used them as stepping stones.
"Need area denial!" He shattered crystals to cool lava flows.
He was no longer a Jobless. He was an Improviser.
With a final, screaming effort, he saw the boss not as a monster, but as a system of flaws. A unstable core. Predictable rage. Glowing weak points.
He didn't launch a glorious combo. He executed a Cascading Failure Protocol.
1. A kicked shard (Fighter) jammed a magma vein.
2. A stolen shadow (Rogue) blinded a sensor-eye.
3. A focused scream of will (the idea of a Mage's spell) hit the core at its resonant frequency.
The boss didn't explode. It unraveled into sand and glass.
Silence.
Rocky stood knee-deep in ash, battered and spent. The System window appeared, clear and profound.
[Trial Cleared. Rating: SSS (Synergistic Survival & Synthesis)]
[True Class Designation: The Apex Improviser.]
[First Ability: 'Mimic's Insight' (Passive). Deconstruct witnessed abilities to accelerate Understanding.]
A door of light appeared. Not back to applause, but to a sterile recovery room, then a silent hallway leading to the school's back exit. The message was clear: Your show is over. The world has moved on.
He stepped into the afternoon sun. The air felt thin. His interface was his secret.
[Rocky - The Apex Improviser. Lv. 1]
[Title: System's Wild Card (Hidden)]
A sleek black car pulled up. The window slid down to reveal a man with slate-gray eyes.
"Rocky. The corporate sponsors saw a failure. Our sensors detected a quantum shift in mana coherence." His voice was flat. "The Silas Foundation monitors anomalies. We clean up problems." He offered a plain white card with a number. "Call when you're ready to understand what you are. Before less patient people find you."
The car ghosted away. Rocky left the card on the pavement.
Home was a small, quiet apartment that felt like a past life. As he slumped against the door, a ghostly notification bypassed his laptop's security.
[From: ???]
[Subject: Welcome to the Game.]
[Message: The board just got a new piece. The other players have noticed. Your move, Improviser. Try to stay interesting.]
Rocky looked from the screen to his reflection in the dark window. The smirk that finally appeared wasn't the defensive one from school. It was sharper. Hungrier.
He had no sponsors, no guild, and a power that demanded he outthink reality itself. The bullies thought he was gone. The hidden players thought he was a piece on their board.
They were all wrong.
"Okay," Rocky said to the waiting night, to the humming dungeons, to the invisible war he'd just stumbled into. "Let's play."
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(Chapter 1 End)