Mischief lay curled beneath tangled roots, ribs pressing sharp against his skin. Hunger gnawed at his insides—a dull, familiar ache. His mother was gone. Food was scarce. His limbs, weaker by the day. When the sky darkened and the forest went silent, he thought, at last, he had starved to death.

His animal mind struggled to grasp what was happening—until a mysterious voice spoke in words he somehow understood, promising that the world would be different now. If he survived and grew, the voice said, he would one day comprehend more completely.

Yet as the darkness lifted, Mischief felt a deep, unfamiliar energy coursing through his frail body. The forest around him looked different—colors sharper, scents more vivid, as if everything had been quietly remade. An unexplained hunger drove him to keep moving, guided by a faint echo of that voice urging him to survive.

At fourteen months old, Mischief’s mother had left him to fend for himself. So, when he caught sight of a strange, two-legged creature in the woods, curiosity mingled with hunger.

He had never seen an animal like this—slow, clumsy, covered in odd, patchy fur.

Intrigued, he followed it silently, until foolishly he stepped on a branch by accident, drawing the creature’s attention. For a moment, Mischief froze, unsure if it had seen him. But when their eyes locked, he knew he’d been discovered. He charged.

The thing was lumbering but managed to stumble out of reach. Mischief’s predator instincts took over—as the creature exposed its back—and he leapt for the kill. At the last instant, it spun around and planted itself, catching Mischief’s face in its hands. His teeth snapped uselessly at empty air, inches from a killing bite. Then, with surprising strength, the creature hurled him away.

He landed hard, pain lancing through his body. A broken branch or sharp rock protruded from his ribs, and Mischief lay in a daze, limbs unresponsive.

Nearby, the strange creature bled freely. Mischief had hurt it—badly. A sad consolation. But then... the scent of blood thinned. The wounds were closing. No licking, no cleaning. Just... sealing. As if the injury had never been there at all.

How?

Through half-lidded eyes, Mischief watched. The two-legged creature thrashed, tearing at the smaller monsters with wild, desperate strength. Chaos Spawn clung to him, biting, clawing, but he didn’t fall. Not for long. He would drop beneath the writhing mass, then moments later, stand again—wounds vanishing as fast as they appeared. It was too much for Mischief to understand.

Then the creature approached him, holding a big stick. In that instant, dread coiled through Mischief’s gut like a serpent. He could barely lift his head, and the sight of the raised weapon made his fur bristle in terror. Weak and pinned by agony, he shut his eyes, bracing for the final blow. Would this be the end?

Mischief tensed, bracing for the final blow. But it never came. Instead, the creature made strange noises, then knelt beside him. A firm but careful grip, a sharp tug—pain flared, then faded as warmth spread through his ribs. The wound sealed itself—no blood, no ache, only confusion.

Mischief lay still, dazed, as the creature rummaged through the fallen monsters. They vanished in pieces. Then it returned, making more strange noises.

A new scent caught his attention—raw meat, piled high in an unearthly heap. It smelled foul but his hunger made it appealing. He would have to walk past this strange creature to get closer to the scent.

His instincts told him to run. But there was no threat—just something strange. Something new. His muscles stayed taut, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. Yet, as he passed, he hesitated. Then, on impulse, he nudged the creature’s hand. A gesture of trust.

The meat was unnaturally sweet and barely edible but hunger made it satisfying.

Moments later, he caught wind of fresh prey nearby. Leaving the strange creature babbling behind him. More little monsters appeared. Mischief pounced into a frenzy of killing, showing this odd newcomer how to dispatch smaller beasts.

In time, the trial dungeon rewarded Mischief with a title called Interpreter, granting him the power to understand spoken language. The two-legged animal revealed himself as a human named Layton. Mischief listened as the human seemed surprised that Mischief was now comprehending his words. Mischief was also surprised.

Layton didn’t have long to speak before a towering monster called a Chaos Spawn Champion—a foe that threatened them both arrived. Laytong had given brief instructions that Mischief understood words that indicated an effective hunting strategy.

Mischief worked with Layton to bring down the large monster. Hunting together, bleeding together to achieve a great kill. The fight left something in him. A warmth he couldn’t name—fleeting, like water slipping through his paws.

With each kill, something shifted. The world was no longer just fangs and hunger. It had rhythms. Meaning. A shape he could almost understand. The runt was gone. Now, he was faster, stronger, more than he had ever been before. The system had given him proof. A name. Titles.

Titles Earned:

* Follow the Leader – Be the first beast to slay a monster on a newly inducted world. (+2 to each stat)

* A Path Paved in Blood – Be the first beast to slay 1,000 monsters in a newly inducted world. (+5 to each stat)

* Man’s Best Friend – Work in unity with a human to clear a trial dungeon. (+5 Wisdom, +5 Intelligence, +5% to each)

The voice’s promise echoed in his mind: If he survived, if he grew, he would understand. And so far? Every step proved that promise true.

-

When I asked Mischief if I could fight the dungeon leader alone, I half-expected him to get annoyed. But if he was, he didn’t show it. He just walked by my side as we reached the final chamber.

The room was smaller than the previous caverns and strangely empty, aside from a stone table, a single chair, and a squat, armored goblin hunched over a meal. The thing was mid-bite, tearing into a chunk of greasy, unidentifiable meat. Fat and blood dribbled from its lips as it blinked at me in surprise.

It barked something in its garbled language, eyes narrowing—but I was already moving.

I closed the distance in a blur, aiming to end the fight before it started. My foot slammed into the edge of the stone table, flipping it hard enough to crack the ground as it landed.

I’d hoped to catch the goblin off guard—maybe pin it beneath the table, but the thing was faster than expected. It scrambled backward, yanking a weapon into its grip: a nasty-looking flail with three spiked balls and a handle made of bleached bone. Rusty iron armor covered its body, giving it the appearance of a medieval knight who had been left out to rot.

The goblin’s beady eyes locked onto mine. We sized each other up.

Unlike the Chaos Spawn Champion, this goblin wasn’t a hulking brute. It was barely taller than the average goblin—maybe five and a half feet—but its presence was different. There was no reckless charge, no mindless screaming. It rolled its shoulders, adjusted its stance, and began swinging its flail in slow, deliberate arcs.

This thing knew how to fight. I circled right, looking for an opening.

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The goblin didn’t wait. It lunged forward and swung—a vicious, unpredictable arc.

I raised my spirit sword to block.

Bad idea.

The chains wrapped around my blade instantly, and before I could even think to react, the goblin ripped it from my hands and flung it across the room with a rattling clang.

Shit.

The goblin didn’t let up. It whirled its flail in a relentless, rotating pattern, advancing on me like a walking blender. I backpedaled fast, barely keeping ahead of the spiked balls smashing into the stone floor.

This wasn’t just some random monster swinging wildly. It was forcing me into a pattern.

And if I didn’t break it, I’d eventually run out of room.

I considered trying to tank a hit with Weak Barrier, but there was no guarantee it would hold. And even if it did, I’d still be fighting unarmed.

Instead, I kept moving—using my superior speed to kite the goblin, keeping its attention locked on me while I subtly maneuvered closer to my sword.

It didn’t realize its mistake until I lunged, rolled, and grabbed my weapon. It was an awkward maneuver–unpracticed–but it worked. And I had my sword again.

Now it was my turn.

I fell back, out of reach, gripping my sword tighter.

The goblin, still twirling its flail in a protective pattern, grunted and took a step forward. The chains spun in wild, looping arcs, forming a barrier of steel spikes.

Annoying. I needed more reach.

That’s when I remembered my Fighter ability—Piercing shot. I had yet to use an ability from my fighter class.

I focused my energy, extended my sword—and a shimmering, ethereal blade exploded forward, stabbing straight through the goblin’s armor.

It froze.

Dark, thick blood spilled from the hole.

I fired three more shots, each one punching deeper, until the flail’s spinning slowed… then stopped. Using piercing shot had a noticeable effect on my endurance. Good to know. Spells mana. Skills endurance

The goblin choked, staggered, then collapsed onto its face.

You have killed Level 14 Goblin Boss. Level Up.

Healer Level 15 – Choose a new skill.

Congratulations! Dungeon cleared.

Rewards Calculated.

Rewards based on contribution. Calculating contribution... Calculation complete.

Rewards:

* Small bag of dimensional holding (holds up to 20 unique slots)

* 15 Universal Bronze Coins

Bonus Objective Completed:

* Uncommon Blacksmithing Set (can craft up to uncommon grade, limitations based on user skill)

Hidden Objective - Perfect Run (completed dungeon without losing any HP while also completing all bonus objectives)

* Reward: Iron deposit (common) upgraded to Mineral deposit (uncommon)

I stare at the notification for a moment. I blink.

"Wait… that was a hidden objective?"

I read it again. Then again. One hit and I wouldn’t have even known. How many more of these are out there? Plus I had taken PLENTY of hits on my barrier. Apparently those didn’t count.

I won’t get answers until the next dungeon, so I set those thoughts aside and focus on the rewards.

The bag of holding is first. I grab a loose coin, tap the bag—Poof. Gone.

I blink. “Okay, that’s… stupidly convenient.”

I toss a few more things in, experimenting. No weight increase. No need to physically load it up. My inventory just absorbs them.

"Alright, yeah. I love this thing."

Next, I inspect the 15 Universal Bronze Coins.

Universal coins are the standard currency in the Universe. Bronze is the lowest unit.

So… Earth money is officially useless now. I stare at the tiny pile. My entire net worth is now 15 bronze. I’m officially broke on a planetary scale. “Great. That’s just fantastic,” I mutter, half-amused and half-annoyed.

Then comes the blacksmithing set. At first glance, it has everything one would expect—a set of hammers, tongs, and even a basic forge kit. I tap my fingers on my leg, wondering, “…What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” I have zero experience with blacksmithing.

Maybe I can sell it later or trade it with someone who actually knows how to use it? Thankfully, I can store the entire set in the bag of holding—each piece taking up one slot—but for now, I’ll just let Mischief carry the bulk of the loot.

Finally, the hidden reward. The notification explains that an Iron deposit has been upgraded to a Mineral deposit (uncommon).

At first, I’m confused—is this a physical item I carry? Some kind of blueprint? After re-reading the description, it clicks: the dungeon itself altered an existing iron deposit. I rub the back of my head in disbelief.

“So dungeons can actually… change the world?” I muse. That’s a big deal. If this affects local resources, it might influence the territory I can claim later. I make a mental note to investigate further once I’m less busy.

With the rewards sorted, it’s time to focus on progress. I allocate my newly earned skill points—+5 to Agility, plus bonus points to Agility and Intelligence. Reaching level 15 granted me another spell slot, and after scanning my options, I decide on Weak Healing Wave. For now, it’s just Mischief and me—but I know it might soon be more than that.

Just as I finish adjusting, I notice my stats look a bit higher than expected. I check my titles—and sure enough, there’s a new one:

Dungeon Savant – Be the first human to have a perfect dungeon run on a newly inducted planet. (+3 to all stats, +3% to all stats.)

I smirk. So the system really rewards being first, huh? If that’s the case, I need to start thinking bigger. I’ve already cleared a dungeon; maybe I can claim a territory next. I set my sights on that goal as my next priority.

Finally, I walk over and loot the Goblin Boss. It drops the usual coins, but also a crude bone necklace, its flail, and a set of battered armor. I quickly decide the armor is useless and leave it behind, but I keep the flail—learning it’s called the three-balled flail.

It’s one step above crude, much like my leather jacket. The last item is a small chest, identical to the one I received in the trial dungeon—but this one is full of iron ore. I try to stash it away, but it won’t budge, so I lug it under my arm.

With the dungeon complete and all the items gathered, Mischief and I leave the tunnel and head home.

-

Mischief and I sat around the fire.

The tutorial was over. One dungeon cleared. In just over two days, I had two classes, a mountain of stat points, and had already eclipsed Level 10.

Not bad.

Except—I’d also nearly died at least three times. A sobering thought.

And yet… why did it still feel too easy? I frowned, staring into the flames.

It sounded insane to even think it. I’d been thrown into a completely new reality, faced monsters, nearly got torn apart, and survived by the skin of my teeth.

So why was I still standing? By all logic—by all probability—I should be dead.

I glanced at Mischief. He flicked an ear, watching the fire.

“What did you think of that last dungeon?”

He cocked his head slightly. I exhaled. “Didn’t it seem… too easy?”

Mischief blinked, tail curling.

“A dungeon packed full of goblins,” I continued. “We cut through them like butter. It felt like… I don’t know. A warm-up.” I shook my head, then poked the dying fire with a stick.

“Even the leader. I was faster. I was stronger. I was even a higher level. And you? Don’t even get me started. The fight would’ve been over in seconds.”

The big cat studied me for a long moment. Then, finally—he shrugged.

That almost made me feel worse. And what was the deal with the classes? Why would monsters have that?

I raked a hand through my hair. “I just expected the new world to be more… dangerous.”

The words felt wrong even as I said them. I had nearly died multiple times. But that was just it.

Nearly.

Not once had I truly been in a position where there was no way out. No fights had been unwinnable. That was too convenient.

I shook my head. “And another thing—have you seen any monsters outside of the dungeons?”

Mischief hesitated. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

I frowned. That was… weird. But was it actually weird?

I mean, I’d been thrown into dungeon runs back to back. Maybe I just hadn’t spent enough time outside of them to see the bigger picture. Maybe the world worked this way.

Maybe I was overthinking it.

I exhaled, stretching my legs toward the fire, trying to let the warmth settle my nerves. It was probably nothing.

But the more I thought about it… the more I wasn’t so sure.