Zone 1, Second Try: The Dungeon's First Teeth

We woke up at what could barely be called dawn and faithfully followed my words: "We won't think about the next challenge." It hadn't been long, but we used every last coin to stuff ourselves full of necessities. Tents and camping gear for the rest area. Combat consumables like portable rations, antidotes, holy water, bandages, and torch oil. Maintenance items such as whetstones, rags, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠water, and spare clothes.

If our standard-issue bags hadn't come with space expansion and fixation enchantments, we never could've packed this much. With everything loaded up, we headed for the dungeon entrance.

"Hum-hum-hummm~ Hum-hum-hummm~ Hum hum hmmm~"

Seilroom's morning was pretty chilly, but far from quiet. We'd thought we were out early, but we weren't the only hero party heading to the dungeon.

"At least four..."

"We're a stronger three than their four, and soon we'll be an even stronger four. Let's just do what we can."

"...Yes."

I liked that there was no competition over who entered first. Once you stepped through the entrance, everyone got split into different dungeons anyway.

'What difficulty did they get—medium, easy, or hard? They don't look that tense, so maybe easy.'

Who knew. Did other parties pick their difficulty like gamers choosing a leader? Or was it random? Was the dungeon reset only for me? Did it always start on easy and ramp up one step at a time?

From the scraps of info floating around, it seemed like the difficulty stayed the same until you cleared a zone, but no one knew the principle behind it.

The line shortened, and soon it was our hero party's turn. Shae, who'd been humming her signature tune just three minutes ago, went quiet. Kaya, who'd been through one dungeon run already, was fidgeting with her mace handle, tension building. I was tense too.

But there was no need to freak out before we even started. This was Zone 1. Back then, it had been a game, but I'd cleared it thousands of times. Even on final clear fails, even with garbage comps, I'd scraped by Zone 1 somehow.

The difficulty might've spiked, but my current party's top-tier. Sure, the areas after 1-3 were a worry—what changes had they undergone?—but no need to crumble yet.

"No need to tense up this early."

I lightly patted my comrades' shoulders as they nodded seriously in response, shaking off my own nerves too.

"Let's go."

To clear Zone 1 in one try (2 turns).

Stepping into the dungeon entrance, a pitch-black loading screen of nothingness swallowed the world for a moment before 1-0—the first safe zone—appeared.

Shae, new to dungeons, kept glancing around curiously despite her tension at this novel interior.

'Hits me with memories from last time. Tch.'

Suddenly isekai'd into this long-terror game world—highest difficulty, no less—I'd freaked and tried escaping reality. Kaya's blunt words had yanked me back then.

"Captain."

"Yeah."

Just those two words. The phrasing was the same, but the emotion had changed. No longer a stiff, calculating business tie—it now carried trust and positive bonds. That's why I was her captain, and a captain leads.

"Like we discussed, no letting your guard down. Advance carefully. It's a straight one-way path until the first room appears."

Shae in front (position 1), Kaya second (2), me third (3). Levels were higher now, so scouting or trap detection odds might differ big-time later, but at all Level 1, we were even. Position didn't sway probabilities much, and for ambushes, this textbook formation was best.

'What we're short on is utility and that 2% damage shortfall. Definitely need a Treasure Hunter.'

I vowed to recruit a skilled TH for the last slot after clearing Zone 1. Wishful kimchi soup again, but I chugged it down. Thoughts like that solidified my resolve to break through.

"No issues so far."

"We're just at the entrance."

The dropping brightness stat—ignored in instances—made it clear: dungeon horror was seeping out.

About five minutes in, like last time, we reached the first room.

"100% small fry ahead. Think of it as a warm-up."

I said it to ease their tension, but I double-checked our positions, specs, condition, and gear.

Kreeeeak—

The first door opened.

"Embrace the terror!"

"Ignorant mortals!"

Small fry, sure, but spotting two lay believers slammed the door shut hard.

1-1 was clearable by any scrub party—as long as you didn't solo it with an elf battle nun or something absurd. A warm-up to gauge new heroes' caliber. Weak mobs, weak rewards: par for the course. Even in luck-fucked trash games, they wouldn't dump an impossible foe in the first room of Zone 1.

But that assumption cracked.

The national rule: weakest mobs, one at a time in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠1-1. Two popped.

So we took unnecessary hits, forcing a short stall in 1-1 just to recover HP.

Mood? Newbie Shae and second-timer Kaya just figured "that's dungeons for ya." Inside, I was a mess as we walked on silently.

'Fuck.'

Coincidence? Or mirroring my mental state? Mentality dropped anyway. I saw Shae and Kaya flinch ahead. Brief, but the horror had grazed their minds.

Fine though. Just the start, and the drain was minor. A few crits would recover it.

"Aaaah!"

"Shae!"

Classic iron skewer trap. Step wrong, spike shoots from below to impale your sole, Achilles, or calf—brutal stuff.

Lucky no bleed status, but seeing Shae hit it mid-self-rationalization made me wonder if the dungeon was reading my mind to screw me.

"I-I'm fine. Just startled, not badly hurt."

"Hold still."

"Yes..."

Not a rest area, no bleed, but she was injured. Oh, 2 HP down. Heal in next fight. I scrapped that thought.

Kneeling on the icy passage, I carefully removed her left boot. Inside was a bloody mess. Her once pale, firm calf bore a gruesome gash.

The injury looked agonizing just to see, yet the message was a pathetic [HP 15/17]. Made me sick.

"Kaya."

"Yes."

As I wiped blood from the boot, Kaya silently cleaned the wound with a cloth and bandaged it carefully.

"..."

Skills would heal it flawlessly later, making this effort feel dumb. She knew that. But treat statuses meticulously, ignore pure HP loss? Not human in my book.

...Fuck, hindsight's a bitch.

Back then, I was a gamer beyond the fourth wall—cut me slack. I met Shae's odd gaze evenly and ordered advance.

Thankfully, no extra mentality drain or traps this time.

Second room. Last time, an elite mob in 1-2. Party nearly collapsed there.

'Even if the terror bird shows again, it'll be different now.'

If that ugly fucker screeched terror again, my upgraded axe, Kaya's mace, and Shae's claymore would feast. Opened the door.

"Terror! Terror! Terror approaaaaches aaaah!!!"

'No, I didn't actually want it again!'

Absurd luck. Absurd odds. Like rolling 1s forever on speed checks? Two elites in a row in 1-2? Mind-boggling.

But one difference:

"You fucking shit bastard booze-puking trash-ugly fuck where do you get off flapping that rank mouth you make me gag."

I had a berserk-swearing machine now—absent last time—and no Intimidation debuff. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Shae's Frenzy... not half bad?

"Teeeroooor!!!"

"Shut your world's-filth mouth."

The altar guardian got called a heretic last time; this was straight filth. Seemed spooked when we didn't flinch—probably my imagination.

'Specs unchanged, good.'

This thing specialized in mentality hits over physicals. Pressure to smash quick, but less fear of eating hits.

"You'll die before that mark fades, you shitty fuck."

Mark landed smoothly. Next turn was the issue.

No, this was too much.

'...Should I just empty my head?'

(The bad way.) Reality bending to dark thoughts, I let out a hollow sigh.

"Teeeroooor—!"

The terror bird hit its turn, screeching in a spine-chilling wail.

Screaming terror, it force-fed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us the real thing. Fuck.