Starting from the Tutorial! (3)

The dwarves, busy shuttling between the mine, the temple, and the forge as they crafted swords, felt a vast presence descend from the heavens. They could sense it clearly — The Great One Himself was watching them.

After a short while, a corner of the empty clearing began to tremble, and the earth split open.

KRA-KOOM—!

A building rose, cleaving the ground as it emerged.

Opus Fallac, the first worker, who had already witnessed one of The Great One's miracles, managed to keep his composure. Sedus and Trivius, seeing such a sight for the first time, nearly fainted from sheer shock.

"H-hey! Look! A building just came up out of the ground!"

"The Great One, have mercy…"

"Quiet, the both of you. What is this clamor before The Great One's miracle?"

Opus Fallac calmed his flustered brothers with a dignified air, then offered a brief prayer.

Once the commotion settled, the three dwarf brothers returned to the mine and set to work digging ore with renewed vigor.

Clang—

Clang—clang—

Only the steady ring of pickaxes echoed through the empty mine.

Perhaps their tireless labor for their god had pleased Him?

Vitality flooded the dwarves' hardworking bodies, and they felt themselves grow lighter. No — it wasn't just a feeling. Their bodies truly became faster and more agile.

Their steps from the mine to the temple flew as if they had wings, and the hammers that struck the long swords came down light and swift.

"Ah! The Great One has bestowed His grace upon us!"

"We praise You! We praise You!"

The dwarves offered prayers of gratitude for their god's blessing and worked their hands even harder.

After clocking out, I lay down on my bed to rest and logged into the game for a bit.

"Oh, so there's a speed buff."

Watching a thirty-second ad applied a two-hour speed buff to the workers. There was something oddly hypnotic about watching those little shorties zip around even faster.

I was idly watching the dwarves when a notification popped up — an adventurer had arrived at the inn.

The Reputation system had unlocked. It looked like selling weapons to adventurers consistently would gradually bring higher-grade visitors to the inn.

Swipe—

Slide—

I opened the inn management window and found a human adventurer sitting alone in a chair in the otherwise empty inn.

"Guess I'll sell this guy a long sword."

I tapped the exclamation mark floating over the adventurer's head. A simple profile appeared along with a sell button. I dragged a long sword into the empty slot and hit sell.

The adventurer, still spouting garbled dialogue, took the long sword and vanished from the inn. Judging by the context, it was probably a thank-you or some kind of evaluation of the blade.

Figuring the next adventurer would take a while, I used the gold I'd accumulated to upgrade the mine.

"Wonder what kind of ore I'll get once I unlock the next floor."

So far, B1 had only produced Crude Copper, so I was hoping for a new material item.

Ba-bam—!

Mine Floor 2 unlocked, and after a short wait, a message window appeared announcing a new item.

Following Crude Copper, Crude Iron had unlocked. Being low floors, every material came with a prefix that made it sound pretty pathetic.

"It'll give me better materials later on, right?"

I still had a little gold left after unlocking the mine floor, so I scrolled down the weapon list looking for something new to unlock.

"Guess it'll have to be a dagger."

The only thing I could afford was the Short Dagger. Everything else cost way too much — those would have to wait.

I used Crude Iron 2/2 to craft a Short Dagger. A brief animation of a hammer clinking away appeared, then vanished.

Ba-bam—!

The newly crafted item dropped into my inventory. Out of habit, I locked it, then set the dwarves to craft the newly unlocked Short Dagger and the Old Long Sword at a 1:2 ratio.

"Iron takes a bit longer to farm than copper."

I watched the dwarves bustle around for a while, then closed the game and went to sleep.

Hans was a farmer.

Born the son of a farmer in a small village, he would have died a farmer too.

"Shit, shit…"

But he had wanted a change that would rewrite his life. He sold every farming tool he owned, bought a single worn sword, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠left home.

"Where the hell even is this place, damn it…"

He hitched rides on wagons, slept rough along the highway, and finally reached a great city, where he immediately registered with the Adventurers' Guild and became an F-Grade adventurer.

And so the great journey of Adventurer Hans seemed ready to begin.

It might have, if not for the sudden dungeon collapse.

"They said it was a verified safe dungeon…!! They said all I had to do was pick some herbs inside!"

It was a minor commission — a dungeon where herb gathering was possible. The moment Hans stepped inside to collect herbs, the floor gave way, and he plummeted into some unknown place.

"Th-this fucking—!"

Consumed by fear and panic, Hans raged for a long while before finally exhausting himself.

Gulp—

Once the heat drained from his head, his thoughts began to turn again, little by little.

I was carrying out a commission officially registered with the Guild when I went missing. Herb-gathering jobs usually wrap up within half a day, so if I don't show up for a few days, the Guild will start to wonder.

Besides, this is an officially designated herb dungeon — people come and go all the time. Someone will find the hole soon enough.

With that thought, Hans felt a little calmer.

Four days passed.

"Why hasn't anyone come yet—!!"

Surviving four days on water dripping from the ceiling, Hans had reached his limit. Hoping for help from the Guild or the outside world was no longer realistic. After four days, he finally understood — he would have to get himself out of this.

Gulp—

"…This place is creepy as hell."

Ahead of him yawned an empty void like the open throat of some monster. To Hans's eyes it looked like a road straight to hell — but whether he starved here or became some beast's meal, dead was dead either way.

"Damn it. Die this way or that way…"

Fortunately, the worn sword he'd always worn at his hip out of pure vanity still hung there, and its weight was a comfort.

Hoo—

Hans let out a long breath and walked forward on trembling legs.

Step—

Step—

Unable to see even an inch ahead, he kept one hand on the wall and walked slowly. In that bone-chilling silence, only the soft sound of his leather boots on the floor filled the space.

Hoo—

Hoo—

Hans forced his shaking breath steady against the tension and fear, pressing slowly onward. How long had he walked? At the end of that path, a light began to appear.

"Ah—ah! I'm alive! I'm alive!"

A light in the middle of an unknown dungeon was a bizarre situation by any measure, but Hans was far past the point of rational judgment. Starvation, extreme stress, and raw tension had narrowed his vision to a tunnel.

"I'm alive! I made it! Hey! There's someone he…re…"

Hans sprinted toward the light — then slowly came to a stop as he saw what it really was.

Even he could tell it was blatantly out of place in the middle of a dungeon, and even through his narrowed vision, something about it felt wrong.

"…An inn?"

At the end of the path stood an inn. It looked like any ordinary inn you might find anywhere, and from inside drifted the smell of delicious stew and fried chicken.

As if it were beckoning him to come in.

Anyone could see it was suspicious and uncanny.

I'm starving to death!

Four days without food — the smell alone made Hans's eyes roll back. He threw the door open without hesitation and walked inside.

There was no one in the inn. On an empty table sat warm chicken stew, fried chicken, roasted potatoes, and a mug of beer.

"Food!!!"

Hans dropped into a chair and ate like a madman, washing it down with beer.

Buuurp—

After stuffing himself for a long while and letting out one thoroughly satisfying belch, Hans finally came back to his senses.

He had just eaten every scrap of suspiciously prepared food in a suspiciously placed inn. A chill of fear ran through him.

What if this is an inn for monsters or the dead?

It might be one of those inns from the fairy tales of his childhood — the kind used by monsters and ghosts. Terror began to take hold. He needed to get out of here, fast.

What's that sword?

As he turned to leave, a single unfamiliar blade caught Hans's eye.

Even to a country bumpkin who knew nothing about swords, this was no ordinary weapon.

It wasn't ornate, but the grip was worked with delicate carvings that spoke of its maker's skill. The blade itself — whatever it was forged from — gleamed with a soft golden light, its edge so keen that just looking at it made him feel as if he'd been cut and started bleeding.

This was clearly a masterwork, forged by a great smith pouring their heart and soul into every strike. If Hans lived out his life as a farmer, he could work four hundred years without rest and still never afford a blade like this.

Hans stared at it as if entranced — and then greed seized him.

…If I take this sword right now, no one would ever know, would they?

The owner might be a monster. Or a ghost. The sword itself might even be cursed. But Hans slowly reached out and took hold of the blade.

The moment his hand touched the sword, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a vast voice filled his ears.

Hans could not so much as flinch before the great voice that resonated through his very soul.

But he understood. The owner of this voice was an immortal of a different order entirely — something on par with a god.

In a trembling voice, Hans forced the words out.

"…A-as You will… so shall it be."

Fwaaah—!

With those final words, a blinding light erupted from the sword — and Hans closed his eyes.

"…Huh?"

When he opened them again, he was standing outside the dungeon, staring blankly into space.

In his hand, only the golden blade remained, its edge gleaming proudly — proof that none of it had been a dream.