Chapter Four

When I woke up, I expected to see the familiar sewer and water pipes overhead. I expected the smell of my damp basement. I expected to hear the low hum of my computer to the left.

Instead, I saw white.

White ceiling. Clean light.

Right. Dungeon.

For half a second, I’d hoped it had all been a bad fever dream.

I focused on the timer in my vision.

Safe Room

Time Remaining: 3 hours 40 minutes

I’d only slept for three and a half hours.

And yet, I felt like I’d slept for a day.

I made my way into the main area and looked around.

No guide.

Did she just… disappear when I slept? And did she have a name? Or was she just Guide forever?

I shook the thought off and started opening cabinets and drawers. I already knew which drawer the silverware was in, but this time I checked the cabinets above the counter.

That’s when I saw them.

Several golden potions lined up neatly on the shelf. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, glitter swirling lazily through the glass.

I picked one up.

There was a small label on the bottle.

Minor Healing Potion

That was it.

In the cabinet, there were five more.

I moved them all into my inventory.

Once they were stored, I focused on one, and a window appeared.

Minor Healing Potion

This potion will heal 20% of your health over 1 minute. Drinking more than one within 1 minute will have diminishing returns. Drinking more than 3 within that time will cause Potion Sickness.

I blinked.

Man, I’m glad I read that.

I stared at the words for a second longer.

Potion sickness?

What does that even do?

I looked at the window for another second.

Maybe I should ask the Guide later.

I shrugged and walked over to the fridge. “Bacon and eggs with toast. And coffee.”

When I opened it, I was surprised again to find everything there. The plate was steaming.

The coffee sat beside it.

Popping a piece of bacon into my mouth, I looked around the room. The longer I stayed in here, the more uneasy I was getting. Don’t get me wrong, it was perfect. That was the problem. Something about it felt… off.

I shrugged and took a sip of my coffee.

I hadn’t said how I liked it.

And yet it was exactly how I liked it.

That worried me, too.

“Um Guide,” I hesitantly said.

She appeared beside me instantly.

Even though I’d called her, I still jumped, sloshing coffee onto my shirt.

She looked down at the new stain on my shirt, then back up at me.

“Yes, David, are you ready to assign your points now?”

“God damn it,” I shouted, holding the shirt away from my skin. “How does that fridge thing know how I like my coffee?”

I just stared at her, my mind caught between continuing with How does it know my preferences? and MAGIC unit?

After a few seconds, curiosity won.

“MAGIC unit?”

She looked at me like I should already know what it meant, then nodded.

“MAGIC. Manifestation and Gastronomic Invocation Construct. It manifests what you desire. I won’t go into detail about how it works.”

“That’s fine,” I said, the other question vaporizing. I don’t think I actually wanted the answer to it.

“How do you assign points, and what would you advise?”

She tilted her head slightly to the left, like she was looking at something I couldn’t see. She did that a lot. As if displays existed just beyond my perception and she was scrolling through them.

“Points may be allocated to Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma.”

She put her hands together and leaned just a bit closer.

“I would put at least two points into Wisdom. That is my recommendation. Beyond that, you will have four points to spend. I suggest putting one in each stat other than Intelligence and Charisma. Those stats are fine. You are decently intelligent and attractive, though I don’t see it.”

I just blinked.

Again, she’d caught me off guard.

Was that sass?

Or would you call it snark?

Then something caught my attention that I hadn’t noticed before.

Lying on top of the cabinets was a book.

Its title read:

Champion Dungeon Battle Journal for Champion David Long

“The fuck is that,” I said, reaching up and pulling it down. “When was this written?”

His eyes drifted back to the beetle, and before his mind could fully assemble the horror of it, he heard the sound first—chittering, a slick and intimate slurping that clung to the air like damp rot—its massive body bouncing and twisting in obscene contentment as it fed, blissfully unaware of his presence, which was fortunate, because the creature was enormous, the size of a large dog, its carapace a glossy abyss of black broken by blood-red, wavy stripes—one slashed down its spine, another coiled near its rear like a mark of gluttony—while hairy antennae bobbed and trembled as it worked at something obscured beneath its bulk, something he could not quite discern until he edged closer, breath shallow, boots whispering against stone, and saw it—saw the corpse—the beetle gnawing methodically at a goblin whose head lolled at an impossible angle, jaw slack, one eyeball having slipped free of its socket to swing pendulously with each wet bite, and his stomach revolted violently enough that he gagged, “Ugh—” he clamped a hand over his mouth, too late, because the beetle froze mid-chew and then turned, spinning toward him with dreadful immediacy, and in that instant he understood with crystalline certainty: Oh shit. I’m going to die. It rushed him in a thunder of scraping chitin, and he screamed, stabbing blindly, but when the dagger struck its armored shell it rebounded uselessly, skittering across stone with a ringing betrayal as it flew from his hand and slid behind the charging horror, and a notification did not so much appear as invade his mind—Carrion Beetle has been afflicted with Decay. Time Remaining: 54 seconds.—while the creature hissed and chittered, antennae whipping like furious lashes as he stumbled backward, pleading silently for the DoT to finish what he had so incompetently begun, until his heel caught and he fell hard, the stone slamming breath from his lungs, his hand striking something rusted and splintered—a spear—and he seized it in blind desperation just as the beetle lunged again, shoving the shaft between them as it crashed against the point and drove him backward with crushing weight, heels scraping uselessly against stone until his back struck the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth, the impact splintering through bone as he braced the spear defensively and shouted in panicked fury, “I’m going to die, this is it!” he waved the shaft wildly. “I’m going to get eaten by a fucking beetle!” and the creature reared, looming, before lunging one final time, the butt of the spear jamming solidly against the wall behind him so that when the beetle hurled itself forward in unstoppable momentum, it did the only thing left for it to do—drove itself cleanly and irrevocably onto the waiting point.

“I fell on my ass,” I said, staring at the book in horror. “And the beetle committed suicide on a spear. That’s what happened.”

“These books,” the Guide began, “are meant to be shared with other Champions. Some Champions rely on these books.”

“Yeah, nope,” I said, tossing the book onto the counter. “I am not sharing this pontificating litterateur’s wet dream with anyone.”

She smiled and stepped toward the rug.

“Good. Too many Champions become enthralled by these journals’ retellings. Many do not survive.”

I followed her and looked down at the rug.

“I assume I should sit here?”

“I would suggest that you sit the first time you assign points.”

“So,” I began, looking at my status screen, “two in Wisdom and one in everything else? How do I assign them?”

“That is my recommendation, yes.” She nodded. “All you have to do is focus on the stat you wish to assign a point to.”

Deciding I’d put points into Wisdom last, I focused on Strength and assigned a point.

My muscles rippled across my body. It didn’t hurt so much as it ached.

You know that sharp, involuntary jolt when a muscle spasms? That sudden tightening that makes you suck in a breath?

It felt like that.

Everywhere.

For a split second, every fiber in my body clenched at once, tightening, thickening, then settling into something denser. Heavier.

I exhaled slowly, flexing my fingers.

Okay.

That was… noticeable.

Looking up at the timer for the safe room, I decided I needed to get this ball rolling.

Safe Room

Time Remaining: 2 hours 43 minutes

I went ahead and dropped the points into Constitution, Dexterity, and Agility.

And then I endured it.

It felt like I was being twisted into a pretzel from the inside out. My arms and legs pulled tight all at once, tendons drawing inward as if someone had grabbed invisible wires and yanked. My wrists and fingers contracted and released in rapid succession, knuckles popping, joints rolling through their full range whether I wanted them to or not.

My spine arched. My calves seized. My shoulders locked and then snapped loose again.

There was no sharp pain. Just relentless pressure. Adjustment.

Recalibration.

When it finally stopped, I sagged forward, breathing hard.

I was sore everywhere, like I’d pushed through the worst workout of my life without warming up first.

I pushed myself to my feet, sweat clinging to my skin from the ordeal. My shirt stuck to me as I walked into the bathroom.

I turned toward the mirror. Last time, I’d avoided looking at myself.

I peeled the damp fabric off and tossed it into the hamper.

For a moment, I just stood there.

I looked different.

Less skinny. Not bulky, not exaggerated, but filled out. My shoulders were broader, arms more defined. There was visible muscle where before there had mostly been bone.

Subtle.

But undeniable.

I flexed experimentally, watching the muscle tighten beneath my skin.

Yeah.

That was new.

I made my way back to the rug.

Looking at the Wisdom stat, I swallowed.

I wasn’t looking forward to this. Re-evaluating my life wasn’t exactly high on my list of enjoyable activities. I had made some pretty terrible choices.

But I had committed.

I focused on Wisdom and assigned the points.

When it hit me, I was surprised.

My life moved past in quiet scenes. I watched myself make dumb choices.

But I didn’t feel shame for dropping out of school.

Instead, I felt the emotions that had led me there. The constant, dull hum of why bother.

And for the first time, I understood why that feeling had taken root.

I was never pushed to succeed. I blamed myself for how I felt, and yes, a lot of it was mine. But a lot of it was simply me not standing out. Not being noticed.

I saw it clearly.

Kids bringing in polished science projects, parents hovering nearby.

And me.

By myself.

A potato battery and an LED.

It didn’t work.

I hadn’t known I needed a galvanized nail and copper to make it function properly. I had stuck a couple of forks into it instead, wires wrapped clumsily around the handles.

I remembered standing there, watching the others demonstrate theirs.

I’d felt like such a failure.

But then I understood something else.

My parents had worked hard. Long hours. Exhausted hours. I hadn’t exactly been the easiest kid to guide either.

It wasn’t neglect. It was limitation.

And then Sarah.

The breakup.

I expected guilt.

Instead, I felt something unexpected. Relief. Not for me. For her.

She had moved on.

I wasn’t sorry in the way I’d imagined I would be. I didn’t collapse under regret. I just felt… clarity. I felt bad for her, for the time she had spent trying to build something with a version of me that wasn’t ready to be built with.

There was no anger left in it.

No defense.

Just understanding.

When I opened my eyes, the room hadn’t changed.

But I had.

I felt lighter. Clearer.

My guide had been right.

I had needed this.

I sat there for a while, staring at the rug.

The weave didn’t look any different than it had before. Same muted pattern. Same coarse fibers.

But I wasn’t staring at the rug.

I was staring through it.

Eventually, I pulled my status screen up again to see what had changed.

Status

Name: David Long

Classification: Champion

Class: None

Level: 2 – 545/900

Health: 98/98

Mana: 30/30

Strength: 5

Constitution: 7

Dexterity: 8

Agility: 8

Wisdom: 4

Intelligence: 8

Charisma: 9

Luck: 12

Will Power: 7

Skills:

Acrobatics: 5

Breathing: 1

Cooking: 1

Defense: 1

Evasion: 2

Fire Starting: 1

Running: 1

Tumbling: 2

Achievements:

First Strike

You have struck your first blow against an invader as an unintegrated citizen. Congratulations. This achievement nominates you as a Champion of your world.

First Portal Closed

You are the first to close an invader’s portal while being a level zero unintegrated citizen.

Punching Up

You have defeated an invader or monster significantly higher level than yourself.

You must be stronger than you appear.

Domino Effect

Through extraordinary circumstances, your strike against an invader or monster resulted in multiple deaths.

You must be a pool shark.

I pushed myself to my feet and looked around the room. Then I glanced up at the timer.

Safe Room

Time Remaining: 1 hour 41 minutes

I looked back at the Guide and smiled.

“You know what this place needs? Furniture. And I think I may know where to get some.”

The Guide tilted her head slightly to the left.

“Please tell me you aren’t thinking of doing something ill-advised.”

I smiled, already wondering what I might be able to find in the dungeon.

“Maybe. But if I leave early, this room won’t seal, right?”

She just stared at me for a long moment.

“No, it will not seal. However, the time remaining will freeze. I’ll note that if you find another safe room, the remaining time will be added to the standard eight hours.”

I nodded.

I placed my hand on the door.

For a moment, I looked back at the room.

Then I pushed it open.