It’s the next day, and I am ready for some good ol’ experimentation. Just me and a dungeon. Getting to know each other. I swear this is not weird.

At the hall, I spot that Attendant Ania is currently free and approach her. It’s a staple in these kinds of situations to mainly interact with one Guild employee, right. She has her hair in a French braid.

“Mr. Doe.” Her polite smile is one point three percent bigger than her average. I am practically her favorite adventurer. “What can I help you with today?”

“Morning, miss. I would like to go on my first solo delve.” My radiant smile rewards me with another point three percent.

“Certainly. Would you like me to offer a recommendation, or do you have any specific requirements?”

“Not really. I am open to suggestions.” Point five percent. I feel so much power coursing through my semi-artificial veins. Would finding something to compliment her on be appropriate. No, no. Let’s not push my luck. Pride cometh before the fall, as they say.

She pulls out a hefty tome, consisting of loosely bound pages. She opens it and starts flipping through. More pages than were initially present move from one side to the other. Right... She zeroes into a particular entry and tears it out. The paper makes a peculiar sound during the ripping process, almost like a jingle. I wonder if that’s custom? As she fully detaches it from the book, another copy materializes into the original place, only a small addition differentiates the two. Nifty.

“F-grade dungeon, set for destruction. Coalesced two months and seven days ago.” She flips the page, revealing a local map. “Located here.” She points at a glowing ‘X’, around seven kilometers from the city. Flip back. “No reported activity from the dungeon. It was scouted once before. Beast variant. Any additional information is further outlined in the entry. Is this acceptable, Mr. Doe?”

“Yes.” She hands me the page. “Thank you, miss. I’ll be quick!”

I wave goodbye, and just as I turn to leave, she stops me. “Mr. Doe, if you’d like, I prepared a little too much food bars...” She pulls out a wrapped package.

My eyes widen in surprise. “Thank you so much, Attendant Ania! You are the best!” I will use my powers only for good.

With the greatest bounty I can ever hope for securely stored inside my storage, I head out for my first mission as an adventurer.

***

After a relaxed ten-minute run, I am standing in front of the dungeon entrance. No wonder adventurers run everywhere—those that can’t fly or teleport that is—when even the lowest ranked are this fast.

The dungeon is located in close distance to a number of small villages, making a potential break risky. While most settlements have active defenses, they cannot last forever. This dungeon has been evaluated as not valuable enough to allocate resources for management. The perfect testing grounds.

I step through the gate. A crude arrow is flying towards my neck. The arrow impacts a slight shimmer and bounces off. This must be a feature of my newest acquisition. Fascinating.

Another arrow impacts my head, with five more hitting various other weak points in my armor. The shimmer has microscopic cracks. After forty-seven more arrows have been shot at me, the shimmer shatters. I raise my left bracer and block an arrow. It slides over the leather and continues on an altered course behind me. No visible marring. Quality product.

The next projectile buries itself in my eye. No major anomalies detected. Appears to be a standard magically enhanced attack, slightly more powerful than expected.

Warp test subject one. Nothing happens. It appears that the mana field of the monster has interfered with the displacement process. Findings consistent with global data. Just for peace of mind, I warp one meter to my left. Warp successful. Good.

I warp in front of test subject one and grab it by its neck. The small green monster is thrashing and snarling in my grasp. Its inadequate attacks are bouncing against my personal energy shield. What happens if I try to force the transferal. I open a warp portal that leads to one meter ahead. The Goblin is pushed against the spatial boundary. My fingers pass fine, but its skin is unable. I modify my energy field and apply equal force against its body. The test subject is destroyed. Assuming that I have mana—and I most likely do—if one was aware of the warp process, and willing, it should be carried out.

I pull out the arrow from my head and throw it at test subject two. Visual reaction time 151 milliseconds. I pluck an arrow out of the air and throw it at test subject three, repeating the process until I am satisfied. The results indicate no major deviations between individuals. Almost like a mass-produced product, they have the exact same base.

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A pulse of invisible beams stills the attacking gaggle. No loss of efficiency, these monsters appear to not be strong enough to resist laser attacks. Findings are consistent with global data. Monsters do not have any additional advantages inside or outside dungeons. As far as I am aware that is.

I unfasten my gifted spatial storage pouch. It is quite the ingenious piece of enchantment. It folds space, making the inside of the bag bigger than it should be. I drop it through an open warp portal, and it harmlessly passes through, returning to my open hand from the counterpart I positioned above. No anomalies nor degradation, enchantment works at previous efficiency. It did not behave any differently while not, supposedly, inside my mana field. From my research, a being’s mana field does not extend too much, but it does—somehow—account for equipped items.

Okay. Let’s do this. I know I don’t want to. I know there are lines I never wanted to cross. But desperation is a powerful drive, one that gnaws at the back of your mind at every moment of every day. There is no running from the inevitable.

I warp a mana crystal from one of my newest kills. Next, I select a round looking rock. With both parts ready, and in each hand, I take a deep breath and steel my resolve.

“Enchantment of Trueflight!”

I slam the two ingredients together, and the mana crystal breaks with a comical crackle. The stone is looking at me like I am an idiot. I agree with you, my inanimate friend.

I chuck the stone with reduced accuracy and observe. Absolutely nothing different happens. Wow. And I even did the whole shouting out the move. So unfair.

With low-hanging fruit taken care of and my pride wounded beyond recognition, I regard the environment of the dungeon. A very basic realm. There are some trees and plants for color but no other lifeforms. The soil is dead, and the forests are silent. The sky is empty, and the rivers are just containers filled with water. Sloppy.

I leave an observer near the exit—to notify me of any potential interruptions—and warp to the upper boundary. I touch a sky-blue surface, my hand softly sinking inside. The surface is springy, but I cannot deform it past a certain state. Hmm. I unlock any limiters and slowly increase the force applied. Alert. Pocket dimension destabilization imminent. I stop. As expected, press something hard enough and the bonds always break. Unfortunately, once the dungeon’s dimension is destroyed, any inhabitants will simply be deposited in random locations around the anchor point. You need to collapse it for the desired effect.

Full-power scan, don’t really care if monsters get cancer. Wait, can they? Perfect. Results, normal levels of cellular degradation. But no DNA, no breaks. No magic cancer for these fellas, too bad. Scans indicate expected dungeon composition. Limited dimension size, no viable materials, no hidden goodies. Just an F-grade.

I warp next to the boss and wait. The Goblin Mage nearly topples down from its wooden throne, cobbled together from twigs. It releases a piercing shriek and levels a gnarly branch at my chest. Fire gathers at the tip of the branch, charring the dry wood. With another high shriek, the thin figure, wrapped in ratty garbs, jumps up and releases the projectile.

The fireball impacts my shield. Integrity reduced by point one two percent. Full integrity restored in two microseconds. As expected, magic is unpredictable. At the current power output, my shield would have shrugged off a conventional nuclear explosion with ease.

The bundle of claws and teeth shoots blaze after blaze against me, getting more and more riled up at my apparent invulnerability. Not that it can comprehend it. It finally gets fed up enough and produces a loud bellow. All nearby goblins—who were not even moving to interfere—look at their leader. Their eyes turn red, and they start clawing at their throats. I observe with interest. They all start to fall one by one, either from blood loss, or from disconnecting something important. The pooling blood starts flowing towards the mage, gathering in a puddle at its feet. The goblin sneers, and the blood ignites. The flames are crimson and dim. The liquid fire gathers into a much bigger ball and propels toward me once again. The spell hits and explodes. The fire burns around me for a bit but eventually subsides.

The Goblin Mage does not even register its own failure. Creating weaker and weaker fireballs. After becoming utterly exhausted, it wobbles towards me and starts hitting me with its makeshift staff. Limited biological programming. But again, for this grade.

I unsheathe my new sword and admire the audible ‘schwing’ it makes. How do you even enchant that in? Khirfin really has a flair for the theatrical. Not a lot of people have the skill to do something like that.

I strike at the drained boss. The sword barely feels any resistance as it passes through grisly flesh. Pretty cool.

The exit gate opens near me. Not this time. I warp all available mana crystals and deposit them in my storage. I then warp next to the Dungeon Core, hidden away in a deep cave. It is a bumpy sphere around twenty centimeters in diameter, suspended in mid-air by nothing. There is a light glow coming from its center. The material is cloudy and speckled with particles. Compositional analysis reveals nothing again. Every one of my sensors tell me that the object before me should not exist. An aberration.

I poke it with my sword, pushing the blade a single millimeter in. The lacking glow imperceptibly dims. I press my blade through the core. The glow has been significantly reduced. I remove the blade and wait. There is slow, but visible, repair inside the hole. As expected. Given around a day, this core will be fully restored. I chip out a small piece, it evaporates into inexistence. Lame, no samples to play with. I strike it with the pommel of my sword. The core shatters into a billion grains of nothing.

The pocket dimension collapses, and I am back at where I started. My observer is next to me. Any foreign matter is unaffected. In line with my research.

Too bad one can’t just go straight to the core and destroy it. As long as the boss is alive, the dungeon can channel its immense mana pool and protect itself. To circumvent having to defeat the boss, one would need to collapse the dimension themselves. Let’s just say, if you have enough energy to do the latter, the former is of no concern.

Look at the time, it’s not even lunch yet. I’ll hurry back and surprise Attendant Ania. Might even go on another mission.