The golden rays of the sun shone down as Fable laid on the ground, his ethereal form nestled in the lush grass that surrounded a pristine lake. The water's surface glistened like a mirror, reflecting the vibrant hues of the sky above. Fable stared at the clouds, his mind wandering through the events that had led him to this moment. He thought about the game of Dungeons and Dragons, the laughter and camaraderie shared with his friends, and the tender moment he had shared with Nirvana. A pang of sorrow filled his heart as he recalled the depths of his depression and the boy who had thrust him into this strange new reality.
Fable turned his attention to the ethereal blue window hovering in front of his face. Golden text shimmered on the screen, posing a question that would determine his fate.
[Would you like to bind with the Dungeon Master system? Y/N.]
He hesitated, his mind grappling with the weight of the decision. In the end, he turned on his side, intending to take a nap, unsure if sleep was even possible in his current form.
Time passed and clouds drifted lazily across the sky as animals came and went. The sun began its slow descent, painting the heavens in a breathtaking array of oranges and pinks.
As twilight arrived, Fable frantically scratched his head with both hands, frustration boiling over into a scream that echoed across the tranquil lake. He rolled onto his back, opening his eyes only to find a grazing deer. The animal, oblivious to his presence, continued to munch on the grass that occupied the same space as Fable's head. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes once more as he recalled the Book of Ascension and the cryptic words spoken by the boy: "...the story has already begun..."
"The story... huh," Fable muttered to himself. Slowly, he opened his eyes, expecting to see the sky, but instead found himself staring into the deer's large, brown eyes. Frustrated, he shouted, "D*mn it!" as he sat up, facing the system window before him. With a sense of resignation, he relented to the situation, uttering a single word: "Yes."
An invisible golden energy, visible only to Fable, swirled around him before entering his body. A system message appeared before his eyes.
[Congratulations to the host for binding with the Dungeon Master System.]
[Analyzing Host Characteristics.]
[Compressing.]
[Removing irrelevant data.]
[Initial Setup Complete.]
[Would the host like to view the status window?]
"Yeah," Fable responded, adjusting his sitting position as he prepared to examine the information.
The previous messages vanished, replaced by Fable's status window.
Name: Fable Song
Age: 15
~~~~~~~~~~
Level: 1
Experience Points: 0/100
~~~~~~~~~~
Race: Spirit
Core Type: Mortal Core
~~~~~~~~~~
Soul Points:
Soul Collection: 0
Fable carefully examined his status window, muttering quietly to himself, "What, no attribute or skill points?" He turned his attention to the bottom of the screen, thinking, 'Well, whatever.' Curiosity piqued, he asked the system, "What is soul collection and what are soul points?"
[Soul Collection refers to the accumulation of souls from defeated creatures. Each soul collected increases the host's Soul Collection by one point. These points can be converted into Soul Points at a rate of 1 Soul Collection point to 5 Soul Points; Soul Points are essential for creating dungeon-related items, creatures, and locations and the Soul Collection is essential for gaining Experience Points]
After reading and understanding the system's explanation, Fable turned around and looked directly at the deer still eating grass behind him. "So, If I kill this deer..." he began, not finishing his sentence.
The deer hurriedly stopped eating and looked up, observing its surroundings. After a while, sensing no danger, it returned to grazing.
[Apologies Host, the system will be more clear in the future. Only Intelligent Races or Creatures of Power, such as demons or magical beasts, will have their souls collected after death.]
"I see," Fable muttered to himself. He paused as a new system window popped up on the side.
[Message from Admin: Would you like to open? Y/N]
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Fable's expression darkened slightly, wondering what the boy wanted now. In a slightly annoyed tone, he said, "Open it." All current system windows vanished, replaced by a large window displaying a message:
Message from Administrator:
Hey Fable, how's it going?
I pre-wrote this message when I created the system, so FYI (For Your Information), I'm not stalking you. But I'm almost 95% sure that you're still sulking around to the point that you could cause 1 or 2 filler chapters, and that's not good; so I've left you a present. You're welcome in advance. :)
Fable's face grew darker. What did he mean by sulking? He wasn't sulking. And a gift? He was sure it wasn't anything good. As his thoughts finished, he noticed a timer counting down at the bottom of the message.
10…
Fable stared at the number, unable to see what the gift was or any name or description available. He asked the system about it.
7…
[The admin has left a note attached to the gift. Would the host like to view said message? Y/N]
5…
Fable felt something was off. Why didn't the system just explain the note? Why waste time? Something wasn't right. He hurriedly responded, "Yes."
3…
[Surprise, it's a starter pack to help you get settled in!] A flurry of confetti and streamers blasted out, covering Fable and the nearby surroundings. The deer, startled by the sudden appearance, jumped around before running off into the distance.
1…
Fable, now with an extremely dark and ugly expression, hurriedly told the system to close the message and cancel the starter package the boy had prepared. However, before he could finish speaking...
0…
The system window disappeared. All the animals in the surrounding area, with the exception of those in the lake, suddenly died. The air grew stale as Fable realized what was happening. "Sh*t."
[Congratulations Host, 59 souls have been added to your Soul Collection.]
Fable was confused. "But didn't you say..." However, another system message interrupted him.
[Congratulations Host, you have been granted the status of a Dungeon Core.]
Still perplexed, Fable tried asking the system a question, but the messages kept coming relentlessly.
[Congratulations Host for changing your race into a Dungeon Spirit.]
[Congratulations Host for receiving 500 free Soul Points.]
[Congratulations Host, your Soul Collection was rounded up by 1; you now have 60 Souls]
[Congratulations Host, you have received a Dungeon Alter.]
[Host, please be aware that your Dungeon Alter has been forcefully placed.]
In the midst of Fable's confusion, as he struggled to keep up with the barrage of messages, he noticed an altar materializing out of thin air. The scene took on an oddly majestic appearance, even with the view of the animal corpses scattered around. As Fable took in the surreal scenery, a new system message popped up, clearing the previous notifications. "Please name the Dungeon Alter."
He pondered for a moment, seeming to calm down quite a bit despite the small amount of chaos that had just unfolded. After all, one couldn't be sad, irritated, confused, and surprised all at once.
Fable looked around, thinking to himself that this scene seemed like it was straight out of a horror story or a scene that would appear in one of his Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. The thought struck him—Dungeons and Dragons, DnD campaigns. The scene looked like it had been painted by a bard in one of his campaigns, a storyteller who enjoyed sharing tales of different legends he had witnessed.
Fable paused, considering potential names for the altar. "Legend Alter," he mused. "The Legendary Alter, Alter of Tales." He felt he was getting close, but the names didn't quite sound right.
As Fable pondered potential names for the altar, he found himself drawn closer to it, his mind lost in thought. With each step, the weight of his earlier depression seemed to lift, replaced by a growing sense of purpose. He walked slowly, his ethereal form gliding over the lush grass, the gentle breeze caressing his face as he mulled over the possibilities.
Halfway to the altar, a memory from his Dungeons and Dragons campaign resurfaced, and with it, a twinge of melancholy. In that particular session, Jin had played the role of a bard—the bard of a thousand tales, a storyteller who claimed to speak only truth. Yet, as the game unfolded, it became clear that the bard was a master of deception, weaving lies and half-truths into his every word.
Fable's mood sank once more as he relived the memory, the joy of playing with his friends now tinged with a bittersweet ache. He questioned the importance of naming the altar, wondering if it truly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Lost in thought, he made his way to the base of the altar and sat down, his gaze drifting upwards to the vast expanse of the sky above.
"A bard who lied about his thousand tales..." Fable muttered to himself, the words hanging in the air like a half-formed riddle. Suddenly, his eyes widened as a realization struck him. If someone lied about a story, wouldn't that make it a work of fiction?
Fable's mind raced, grasping at the edges of an elusive thought. What would one call a tale, a legend that was fictional? A myth? No, that wasn't quite right. It was something else, something that danced just beyond the reach of his understanding.
In that moment, the memory of the mysterious boy squatting beside him in the pouring rain, holding a bucket of popcorn, flashed through his mind. He could hear the boy's voice, echoing through the depths of his consciousness, calling out his name, 'Fable.'
With a sudden burst of energy, Fable leapt to his feet, a mixture of frustration and self-deprecation washing over him. Was he an idiot, or was he just plain stupid? He hoped it was neither, for he had always tried to avoid using such a word, lest people think he was referring to himself in the third person.
"Fable!" he exclaimed.
"The word is fable, so... Fable Alter." He paused, shaking his head. "No, that sounds no better than Legend Alter."
He paced back and forth, his ethereal form leaving no footprints on the lush grass. Suddenly, he stopped, a grin spreading across his face. "Legend, legendary... I've got it!" He turned to the system and declared, "I'll name the altar 'The Fabled Alter.'"
[Congratulations, Host, on becoming the owner of The Fabled Alter.]
[Congratulations, Host, on becoming the master of the Fabled Dungeon.]
[Congratulations, Host. As the clearing outside has not been claimed by any organization, it will be included as part of your dungeon. Level 0 of the Fabled Dungeon has been created.]
Fable stood stunned, his mouth agape. "Wait, system, did you just say..." Before he could finish his sentence, a new system message popped up, and Fable found himself teleported to the bottom of the altar steps, standing next to a floating white orb.
[WARNING: Your dungeon currently has no floors. Please immediately create the first floor of your dungeon! Failure to do so could result in the destruction of your core, resulting in a permanent death!]
Fable glanced at the floating white core beside him, then back at the message. A flicker of confusion crossed his features, but it was quickly overshadowed by a growing concern. The thought of dying, of not being able to fully enjoy his new transmigrated life, weighed heavily upon him. His mood darkened, and for a fleeting moment, a small flicker of black and red light pulsed within the dungeon core.
"No." his voice tinged with a dark and menacing tone, "So long as I can destroy this Minor Reality, dying would be more than worth it."