Creation

His third skill had unlocked through repeated actions.

But the skill description was pretty vague. Improves the completion of created things? Han Ji-woo tilted his head and wove another ring from dungeon weeds, just like before.

Then a message appeared.

"Yeah."

The moment he answered, the weed ring sparkled with light.

This time, instead of handiwork improvement, it was Creation proficiency that had risen. He could confirm it in the message.

A name appeared above the ring. Wondering if it was different from the previous one, Han Ji-woo examined it closely.

First off, the knotted part where he'd twisted the weeds into a circle had vanished. It was smooth and seamless ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now, like it'd undergone some special finishing process. The shape was a perfect circle, and the ring's durability had increased—it didn't crumple easily anymore.

Well, I'll be damned.

For the first time since arriving here, Han Ji-woo felt a spark of genuine fun from this novel experience.

But that lasted only a moment.

...What the hell am I gonna do with a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ring?

Realizing it was ultimately pointless, his energy drained, and he flopped down—only to spring back up like he'd been shocked.

"Wait a sec, this whole place is just dirt floor."

And not just any dirt—it was slightly damp. Lying around here would soak his clothes and get mud everywhere. No way he could relax feeling this grimy.

I need somewhere comfy to crash.

As he pondered, his eyes fell on the pile of dungeon weeds still stacked high.

Maybe I can use those?

Han Ji-woo grabbed twenty weeds and laid them out in a straight line, intending to make a mat. But no message appeared like with the ring.

Does it not count if it's too sloppy?

So he fetched ten more and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wove them between the gaps. Finally, a welcome message popped up.

"Yeah."

Thankfully, light emanated from the craft this time too.

Han Ji-woo picked up the finished mat. It should have been flimsy from sloppy weaving with terrible durability, but the Dungeon Weed Mat was tightly packed without gaps and surprisingly sturdy.

Whap! Whap!

He shook it out lightly. The dirt underneath fell off, but the mat held up fine.

"Nice."

Nodding in satisfaction, Han Ji-woo spread the mat on the ground and lay down. The comfort was worlds better than the bare dirt. Sure, it was just big enough for one body, but hey, it was something. Plus, using too many weeds for a cushier mat might lead to food shortages later.

He checked the Dungeon Tree's progress.

Still a long way to go.

With that thought, he closed his weary eyes. Full belly, comfy bed—sleep came unbidden.

Was he that exhausted? From the moment his eyes shut, he slept dreamlessly for hours. It was pure bliss for Han Ji-woo.

Before being dragged here, he'd burned himself out at the company, earning insomnia just two months in—reward for his relentless grind. Crushed by work and people, he'd raced like a workhorse to become the ultimate everyman. For ten months after, deep sleep had been a stranger.

Yet now, stretching upon waking, he felt incredibly refreshed and invigorated.

"Ahhhhh! ...Huh?"

As he stretched limbs wide and shuddered in relief, Han Ji-woo cocked his head. Through half-open eyes, he saw not a star-filled night sky, but a clear blue one blazing with sunlight.

"Guess there's day and night here. Ahhh! Slept like a rock."

Thrilled from the solid rest, he checked the Dungeon Tree.

"Whoa."

No clue how long he'd slept, but the sprout seemed imminent within hours.

"Wonder what happens when the sprout pops."

As he muttered to himself—

Grrrumble.

"Ugh."

Urine hit without warning. He scanned around frantically, but no toilet in this cavern. Time was short, though.

No choice.

Grabbing a weed leaf, he hurried to the cavern's far edge and dug into the dirt with both hands—like a dog burying a bone. Form was sloppy, but priorities. No way he'd watch his own mess with eyes wide open.

He dug deep as limits allowed. By the time he couldn't hold it, the hole was about thirty centimeters deep. Should mask the smell once covered.

Squatting over the pit, he tore the weed leaf in half and rubbed the pieces together. He'd learned from eating them: tough fibers. A day-dried Dungeon Weed worked fine as TP.

Whew.

Relief sighed from him post-business.

Pat pat pat!

Han Ji-woo refilled the pit with dirt and stomped it flat. Peace restored after handling business—and a message appeared.

"Huh? Oh... yeah."

"It counts as constructing a toilet?"

Just dug a hole, did his thing, and buried it—and that qualified? As doubts swirled, the dirt where he'd gone glowed brightly.

Next instant, a rectangular hole punched through where the light had been. Peering in, he saw an impossibly deep pit.

Sniff sniff. No stench, thankfully. Creation must've deepened it nicely.

Phew, score.

He'd dreaded repeating this every time. With a shovel, he could've pre-dug deep pits, but no tools now. This perfect toilet changed everything—just cover with dirt after, and when full, make another elsewhere. Creation would help then too.

Emptied out, Han Ji-woo munched more Dungeon Weeds for breakfast.

Of the 99 summoned to Dungeon Floor 1, 84 survived the kobold fight. Yet despite clearing the quest, they hadn't descended to Floor 2, pulling an all-nighter instead.

Fear of the unknown. What monsters lurked below?

But idling was pointless. Mitchell suggested scouring Floor 1 thoroughly.

Mitchell, who'd turned the tide with Fireball, had naturally become leader.

They searched all night, prioritizing food. Any edibles hiding? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠No dice. Only quest-reward energy bars in the supply box.

Divvied up for 84, it'd last a stingy day if rationed. Tasteless fuel for survival, nothing more.

"Guess we gotta go down for food anyway."

Mitchell decided. He led them to the Floor 2 stairs—but then.

"W-wait! My stomach's killing me...!"

A pale 17-year-old girl raised her hand.

Mitchell nodded. "Handle it quick."

"B-but no toilet here..."

"Toilet? Sigh."

He pinched his brow. "You didn't think this was a vacation, right?"

Her blunt embarrassment nearly brought tears. Someone intervened.

"Mitchell, ease up. She's young; this is tough."

Seol Ara, defending her. She had Megaphone and Map skills—Map had eased the Floor 1 search. Mitchell couldn't snap at her; her skills would be vital ahead. No point in bad blood.

"Then hurry it up."

Seol Ara agreed, pondering. Make a makeshift spot? For a teen girl, even hidden, it was mortifying—especially letting it drop straight between her legs.

Then—

"Huh? Terrain changed?"

"Han Ji-woo? Who's that?"

"Anyone named Han Ji-woo here?"

Murmurs rippled as they sought him. No one answered.

"Anyway, what changed?" someone asked. Seol Ara, just in case, opened her map.

There—a toilet emoji labeled Primitive Toilet on one side.

She grabbed the girl's hand and dashed to the spot.

It's real!

A deep rectangular pit like a pit latrine. The girl could manage here.

Seol Ara handed over her TP sheets and stepped away, recalling the message.

Han Ji-woo...? No way. Couldn't be.

Han Ji-woo. One precious person in Seol Ara's life bore that name. Without him, she might not exist now. Her lifesaver.

Noon sun high, warm rays pouring down.

Munch munch.

Han Ji-woo refueled with five Dungeon Weed leaves.

Gulp!

He glanced around the dungeon. Once empty lot, now with food, bed, even toilet. Unplanned, but shaping up like a home.

And oddly, he didn't hate it.

Before the dungeon, life in Korea had never been easy. Orphan start—no parents. Raised in an orphanage by a violent teacher who beat kids "for discipline." Daily bruises; always watching his back.

Out of there, fought to eat. Landed mid-level office drone, soul-crushed.

Relatively, this felt peaceful.

But no desire to stay. Back home? Lottery jackpot life awaited. No giving that up.

Sprout should change things.

Hoping for an exit hint, he waited. The long wait neared end.

.

.

.

.

Yes!

100% hit. That instant—

Pop!

A tender green sprout poked from the soil.

With the message, the enclosing stone walls rumbled and crumbled away.