The First Plunge

Bennett's original plan was simple enough: find a place in the outer district, just inside the walls of Dungeon City.

Or rather, that had been the plan.

"Good grief. You won't find anything inside the walls with that kind of coin."

"..."

Reality, as always, had other ideas.

Prices in Dungeon City were far steeper than Bennett had anticipated. He had worked as a mercenary for ten full years. While he was hardly sitting on a mountain of gold, by mercenary standards he was reasonably well-off. Outside Dungeon City, that is. In a boomtown where wealth poured in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠continuously through the portals and the local economy was inflated beyond reason, his savings fell woefully short of securing even a modest roof within the inner ramparts.

"Outside the wall should be doable, though. How does that sound?"

"Outside the walls..."

"Ah, don't get the wrong idea! It's not lawless out there. Sure, it's not quite as secure as the inner city, but guards run regular patrols, and the district is managed pretty well. As long as you steer clear of a few rough corners, you'll be fine. It might be the outskirts right now, but give it a bit of time and it'll practically be the new city center."

"...Is that so?"

"Do you have any idea how many people flood into this city every single day, looking to strike it rich and turn their lives around? The original fortress couldn't handle the sheer population boom, which is why this massive sprawl cropped up outside the gates in the first place."

Normally, urban life revolved entirely within the protective embrace of stone ramparts or wooden palisades. Dungeon City was different. Beyond the walls lay an outer city every bit as vast as the one enclosed within. That explained why Bennett hadn't passed through any massive gates upon his arrival; he had never set foot inside the actual fortress to begin with.

In the end, Bennett settled on a modest dwelling in the outer city. Had he pushed his finances to the absolute brink, he might have scraped together enough for a cramped room within the walls, but—

"Cough!"

His sister's illness demanded a safety cushion. He could not afford to spend his last copper.

"Sorry, Bennett... You had to settle for this because of me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bennett replied, gently shaking his head. "Coin is something I can always earn back."

"Still..."

"Your health comes first."

He was not merely saying it to comfort her; he meant every word. Having lost their parents at a tender age, Bella was the only family he had left in this world. For her sake, there was very little he would not sacrifice.

"I'm heading out to buy some food."

"All right!"

As Bennett stepped across the threshold, a sudden shudder ran through his body.

His heart hammered violently against his ribs as an inexplicable jolt of electricity surged through his veins. It was a private wave of sensation, invisible to the outside world and contained entirely within his flesh. Though not an overwhelming tempest, it was a sensation entirely foreign to anything he had ever felt.

Once the trembling subsided, Bennett opened his eyes. In the interim, the translucent text before him had refreshed.

Even without the necklace urging him on, venturing into the subterranean dungeons was already non-negotiable. His priorities were crystal clear:

1. Keep Bella's condition stable while searching for a cure.

2. Amass the wealth and strength necessary for vengeance.

3. Deal as much damage to the Drake Family as humanly possible.

Bella might have viewed things differently, but every one of those three objectives was paramount to him. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠To achieve any of them, he had to survive the dungeon and return alive. And returning alive demanded thorough preparation.

"Anyone here?"

A dwarf sprawled across a makeshift cot yawned wide enough to crack his jaw.

"Don't take commissions from humans. Dwarves only."

"I'm an exception."

"Bullshit, get the hell out of—"

Bennett flicked a small medallion from his coat. Caught off guard, the dwarf instinctively snagged it out of the air.

The moment the dwarf caught sight of the engraved name and the distinct maker's mark, the dismissive scowl vanished from his face.

"You're the bastard who pulled Balduin out of the fire?"

"Name's Bennett."

"Tch. Nuisance."

Grumbling, the dwarf dragged his stocky frame off the cot and extended a calloused, soot-stained hand.

"Braxton. What do you need?"

"Maintenance."

"Maintenance?"

Rather than waste breath on explanations, Bennett let his gear speak for itself. He reached beneath his roomy overcoat, drew out his concealed weapon, and set it squarely on the workbench. The dwarf's eyes widened.

"What in blazes... Where'd you get this?"

"Balduin forged it for me."

"...That crazy bastard."

"From what I can tell, the feed mechanism is corroded."

Braxton slipped on a pair of thick magnifying spectacles and began scrutinizing the mechanism. He shook his head with an irritated grunt.

"Corroded feed? That's the least of your problems. The whole assembly's riddled with micro-fractures and stress damage." Braxton raised his head, fixing Bennett with a piercing glare. "You swung this thing around like a club, didn't you?"

Bennett remained silent. Braxton clicked his tongue loudly.

"Treating a precision ranged weapon like a bloody cudgel. Of course it's falling apart! I'll have to tear the whole damn thing down, inspect every single gear, and replace the worn parts."

"How long will that take?"

"A few hours. What's the rush? Heading into a dungeon?"

Bennett gave a firm nod.

"I also need spare bolts and magazines."

"Don't have any drum mags on hand. Only box magazines."

"Those will do."

"Fine, come back in a bit. And for the love of the forge, oil the damned thing once in a while!"

Leaving the workshop behind, Bennett made a beeline for the Dungeon City Mercenary Guild. True to its reputation in a city brimming with opportunists, the guild branch was colossal, dwarfing the headquarters of most nations' capitals.

"Welcome! How can I assist you today?"

A female receptionist greeted him with a bright, professional smile.

"I'm here to collect the guild's starter provisions."

"Ah, your first time heading into the dungeons! Right away! May I see your mercenary plaque for verification?"

The receptionist took Bennett's plaque, her smile freezing for a brief instant as she registered his rank. Composing herself quickly, she turned toward the filing cabinet behind her and pulled out a slim booklet.

"May fortune favor your return!"

Bennett found an empty seat in the ground-floor lobby and flipped open the booklet. Tales of Dungeon City circulated far and wide across the continent, but word-of-mouth accounts were notoriously riddled with exaggerations and outright lies. While Bennett had gathered information through reliable underground channels prior to his arrival, reality was starkly different from what he had heard. Some rumors were flat-out fabrications; others were simply outdated as the city shifted and evolved.

The guild's pamphlet was rudimentary, but for a newcomer taking his first steps into the city, it offered solid foundational knowledge. Its primary drawback was its brevity.

Whenever a topic started touching on anything critical, the text cheerfully advised the reader to open their coin purse.

"Excuse me, friend."

Bennett looked up from the booklet. A man was watching him with an easygoing smile.

"Are you planning on diving into the dungeon soon?"

"..."

"Our group is preparing to enter on the next rotation. Seeing you study that handbook, I figured you were a first-timer like us. We're currently looking for an extra hand to round out our party."

The man was not alone. Behind him stood a yellow-haired female archer and a quiet, stern-looking man. Counting the speaker, they formed a trio.

"The guidebook mentions a four-person party offers the best balance and safety margin. We're looking for one more reliable comrade. Would you be interested?"

The handbook indeed recommended squads of three to five members to handle unexpected threats.

"We plan on starting with the Easy difficulty first..."

"My apologies," Bennett interrupted, offering a polite nod. "I already have a party."

"Ah..." A flicker of disappointment crossed the man's face, quickly masked by an awkward smile. "Understood. Safe travels."

The trio turned and made their way out of the guildhall. Watching their retreating backs, Bennett closed the booklet and rose from his seat.

"I bought extra medicine, just in case."

Bennett secured the pouch of medicinal herbs firmly around Bella's waist, then held out a second pouch. It was smaller than the first, but far heavier.

"And this is your emergency coin."

"Bennett, it's not like this is your first time heading out on a job. I know how to look after myself. Could you stop treating me like a child?"

"If you want me to stop treating you like a child, recover quickly and get on your feet."

"Ugh, low blow."

Bella pouted, then suddenly stepped forward and threw her arms around him. Warmth seeped through his coat.

"...Be careful out there," she murmured softly. "You know you're all I have, right?"

"Worry about yourself."

"Wow. That really hurt my feelings."

Bennett gently patted her back, gathered his packed gear, and stepped out into the streets.

Though it was his first excursion into the dungeons, navigating to the entrance required no map. Waves of heavily armed men and women laden with packs were all marching in a single direction. Following the stream of people led him straight to his destination.

The structure radiated an eerie, foreign aesthetic entirely alien to the continent's architectural styles. This was Pioneers' Hall, the nexus housing the dungeon portals. According to the guild manual, the building had been constructed in imitation of the ruins found within the dungeon world itself.

Passing past heavily armored sentries, Bennett stepped into a cavernous expanse. It was a massive staging hall, vast enough to accommodate thousands of scavengers at once. And scavengers were not the only ones occupying the floor.

"Grab a spare dagger before you dive! You'll thank me later!"

"Liquidate your spoils with the Sylvia Firm upon your return! Top market rates guaranteed!"

Makeshift stalls and trading booths lined both flanks of the hall. The hawking merchants pitched aggressively, yet none dared step into the scavengers' path or make physical contact. They knew all too well that scavengers on the verge of entering a rift were wound tighter than a drawn bowstring.

Of course, not every merchant possessed good judgment.

"Piss off."

"Gah!"

A few pushy vendors who overstepped their bounds only backed down after catching a backhand across the jaw. It might have seemed like an excessive reaction to an outsider, but Bennett understood the tension intimately. Even with ten years of brutal mercenary warfare under his belt, his own pulse thudded with nervous anticipation.

A magically amplified voice echoed across the vaulted rafters. The gathered scavengers checked their weapon straps, adjusted their packs, and tightened their armor in grim silence.

5

4

3

2

1

A blinding flash erupted before the gathered crowd. A sudden gale whipped outward from the center of the hall, snapping the cloaks and hems of thousands of scavengers.

"I-It's open!"

Just as the shout rang out, two portals of distinct hue materialized before them.

One portal burned emerald green; the other shimmered deep azure. Suspended above each swirling vortex, luminous red digits ticked backward in unison.

The moment those timers reached zero, entry into the dungeon would shut down completely. From that point on, the exit would not manifest until five days had passed. Once opened, the exit remained accessible for precisely twenty-four hours before sealing shut, after which the portal would cycle into an entirely new dungeon.

"Let's move!"

"...Move out!"

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠waiting scavengers surged forward like a breaking dam. Heavy footfalls thundered across the stone flags—a chaotic cadence laced with urgency, raw tension, frantic excitement, dread, and greed. Bennett fell into stride with the flow of bodies, arriving at the threshold of the green portal within moments.

Without a shred of hesitation, he stepped through.

ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧn̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥt͖͖̠̬͛ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟...

In the next breath, Bennett found himself standing on unfamiliar ground.

He knew instantly that he was no longer on his native continent. A sickening stench assaulted his senses—a foul mixture of burnt chemical soot, rotting filth, and stagnant, stale air that clung to his throat like grease. It was the complete antithesis of the crisp, clear atmosphere of the Lancelot Continent. Merely breathing the air made him realize that this was the corpse of a ruined civilization. Pitch-black darkness enveloped everything, making it impossible to see an inch ahead.

"...Department store?"

Though written in the common script of the continent, the word was completely alien to his vocabulary.

Before Bennett could begin sweeping the dark surroundings, his body suddenly locked up.

That familiar, intoxicating rush washed over him once more. A profound sense of fullness saturated his physical vessel from the core out. While similar to the sensation he had experienced upon securing the room, this wave ran deeper, leaving behind a richer, more potent resonance.

Bennett slowly clenched and unclenched his fist. As he tested the newfound vitality thrumming through his sinews, fresh letters coalesced in the dark before his eyes.