“UI, Card Eject.” He heard a soft click near his right ear. Reaching up, he felt the exposed end of the Before You Begin, card. The system had had a different name for the device, but it was clearly a solid state memory drive of some sort, and in his mind, that translated as card. So he’d changed the command in the setup menu.

He pushed the card back in until it slotted home. This time the voice remained quiet. He thought, very deliberately, UI, Card Eject. The click was repeated, and the card popped partially clear. He grinned in spite of himself. That’s what reading the manual did for you. He didn’t really have to vocalize the commands so long as he could maintain the clarity of mind to order them mentally.

He placed the card into the final slot in the wallet. He wanted it to be where he could find it easily without having to thumb through a bunch of other cards. At least until he got more of the instructions memorized.

Now, where was it.... There. Bladed Combat. He took a deep breath and slotted the new card home behind his ear. The now familiar flash of vertigo, even more severe this time, and when it passed, what? He looked around. Nothing obvious had changed. Shrugging, he stood and reached for the sword and dagger. He felt a rush of electricity race through him as his hand closed around the wire wrapped grip of the bilbao. Again as he took hold of the maine gauche.

Blood racing, he effortlessly flashed through the nine basic guards and the nine basic attacks for the rapier. And then he repeated the basics for saber. He could fence! With or without the secondary weapon, he knew the feel, the cadence, the lot.

He laid the sword back on the table and, taking a breath, ejected the card. Picking up the sword again, he tried the guards. And nearly twisted his wrist. So. Not like Neo in the matrix, then. He’d need the card slotted, at least initially.

He thought he’d read in the manual that they were teaching aids. Maybe, as time went on, he’d begin to retain what they were imparting. Hopefully. For now, though, he’d only the benefit of one card at a time.

He left the Bladed Combat card out for now, thumbing through the others in the wallet. Basics of Dungeon... he drew in a breath. Not that he was particularly surprised, of course. Where else did he think he was? Basics of Dungeon Navigation. The second one was labeled Dungeon Bestiary. The third was Dungeon Survival. Combat Archery was next, and finally, Harvesting and Collection.

He tried to decide if it was odd that he hadn’t run across any character creation information in any of the documentation thus far. He’d half figured he’d get to give himself a name and allocate stat points. Maybe even give himself a new—

Both hands shot to his face, searching for features. Whew! He’d thought for a second there.... But, yes, he had a face, although, he realized, he had no more idea what it looked like than he knew.

Anyway, no character creator. Nor had the status screen displayed more than his basic level and what he was sure were his hit points. Not that it mattered, he supposed. Nothing he could do about it. But this place had odd gaps in its engine.

He put the Bladed Combat card into its pocket and withdrew the navigation card. He was going to do some studying before touching that label. He doubted he’d have time to swap out cards if he ran into anything interested in eating him, so he’d want the combat card activated before he ported out of here, or whatever the hell this system did when he was finally ready to leave his nice, safe prison.

As suspected, following the bout of vertigo, his mind was filled with a plethora of fresh knowledge, much of it vaguely familiar. Additionally, there was a book. He snagged a hank of dried meat from his bag and settled in to learn. It was a distressingly short tome. Apparently, whatever had plunked him down here didn’t want it to be too easy.

The bestiary was next. He heaved a great sigh as the window opened. The damn’ pages were blank. He knew this one. They’d populate as he encountered the entries out there on the other side of the wall. Probably a little at a time, only revealing a sufficiency of useful information after he’d fought enough of whatever that he no longer needed an entry. He stopped himself halfway into the act of hurling the card across the room. Tucking it very deliberately back into its pocket.

Dungeon Survival was slightly more useful. It was a guide to edible flora, where to find potable water, and a section on how to determine if eating a particular creature would kill or sustain you.

As he was going through the survival guide, he started to fidget. He took another look around the room. Still no entrances or openings of any sort. But there was one corner that was covered in suspicious stains from about waist level down. Shaking his head, he hauled himself up and shuffled over.

* * *

He was drawing the maine gauche even as the vertigo subsided, expecting to have been dropped into the middle of a horde of nasties. Instead, he found himself in the center of a wide, featureless, and dimly lit corridor. Mostly featureless. Those same orbs that’d illuminated the room he’d awakened in lined the walls, well separated and in inadequate number. And in more than a few cases, broken.

He strained to see into the distance, turning in both directions. Nothing. Aside from the glowing orbs, the walls were clad only in moss and the slimy green trails of perpetual condensation. He could see no trace of where he’d come from or how he’d managed the passage.

He brought up the map. Huh. He could see a woefully short section of the corridor he was in and, off to his right about twice the width of the corridor in distance, the square of the room. For what good that did. The voice had warned him once he’d pressed his hand into the glowing sign that he should be certain he was ready, as he’d not be able to return.

Now what?

He brought up his freshly configured HUD, stripped of most of the original status screen’s content. Just the compass pip, his health, and, down in the right corner of his vision and shrunk down, his equipped items. He turned in place three hundred-sixty degrees, looking for a hint of change in the direction pip. Nope.

He brought the quest UI out, hoping it might have changed once he left the starting room. Nope. ‘Conquer the Dungeon,’ that was it. Not very specific. He ran a hand across his face, growing more and more frustrated. He remembered Redmond giving him crap about newer RPG games. Bragging that, in the old days, there was none of this holding your hand malarkey. You figured things out on your own.

“Screw you, Redmond,” he muttered to himself.

Something came to him. A memory from a long time ago, about the minotaur’s maze. The original Greek myth, not out of a game. Keep to the left. That’s the way you conquered a maze. It was worth a shot, although he doubted anybody who had anything to do with this mess was a classical Greek scholar.

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He hadn’t taken three steps before he spotted the first set of eyes. Glowing red, close together and down close to the ground. A second pair of eyes quickly followed, followed by another. And another, until the corridor was filled with them. Hundreds, maybe.

He swallowed, or tried to. His throat was suddenly dry. The eyes, still well back in the darkness beyond his sight, but they were creeping slowly closer. What was he supposed to do against that? He had all of twenty-four arrows, assuming he could hit with each and every one. That left a whole lot of critters still to be dealt with.

The sword wouldn’t be any better. Sure, he wouldn’t have to worry about ammunition, but his new sword knowledge assured him that he wasn’t likely to tackle that many without running his blade into the ground often enough to eventually render it into a vaguely sword-shaped club.

Looking anxiously around, he saw no hint of deviation in the corridor. No alcoves, no doors, not even any supports. In other words, nothing to get his back against to at least keep whatever those things were from getting around behind him.

He took a careful step back. Not too quickly. He didn’t want them to get the idea he was running, lest they charge and pull him down by sheer weight of numbers.

He was straining his eyes ‘til they ached, trying to discern what they might be. Not that that mattered, either. In that number, even mice would be likely to gnaw him down to bloody bones in half a heartbeat. And then he saw something.

Not what he’d expected, nor something he’d ordinarily be happy about. A slightly raised section of floor, just a shade darker than the surrounding stones. That was a trigger. Even as that realization was working its way into his brain, he was sliding the bow off his back and drawing an arrow from the quiver. The archery card was still in the wallet in the bag, but he wouldn’t need it for this.

Now he took a step forward. Then another. He wanted to be closer. He wasn’t altogether that good.

He had no real idea what sort of trap it was. There’d been hundreds of traps catalogued in the survival guide, and more trigger types than traps. He didn’t really care. With luck, it’d be a nice deep pit trap.

The first of the swarm was creeping close enough for him to start making out features. Rats. Great big rats. Like swamp rats, but with jutting fangs and ridged crests on their heads, and there were a frickin’ sea of the little bastards! Row upon row upon row of them.

He could feel the sweat breaking out beneath the brim of the hat and he licked dry lips. Every fiber of his being was screeching for him to run, but the grown up part of his mind knew better. He nocked the arrow and held the bow at low ready. He wouldn’t draw until they were close enough. He didn’t have the strength to hold the draw all that long.

Seeing him standing stationary, the nearest rats quickened their pace. Like they were trying to goad him into turning tail. They couldn’t be that smart, could they? Those behind matched their leaders’ pace, and in an instant, the whole horde were charging him flat out.

He hauled in a great breath and raised the bow. He drew, took his sight and released, before letting that breath out in a whoosh!

The rats ignored the single arrow, eyes only on their impending meal. The torrent of flame gushing from walls and ceiling along a five foot stretch of corridor the instant it struck the raised stone got their attention, though.

Blue-yellow flame engulfed the first wave, and all hell broke loose in the no longer dim corridor. Flaming rats broke in every direction, oily gray fur aflame, skin bubbling, eyes burnt away. Many died on the spot, the initial conflagration immolating them before they could realize their peril. Others turned about, racing back into those being pushed along by the pressure of the swarm, igniting their fellows in their mad flight. Some few continued their charge, although whether they were still attacking or were simply fleeing the searing death behind them was uncertain.

The now familiar voice buzzed in his ears, clearly heard even above the roar of the fire and the tortured squealing of the rats. And it was very distracting, setting his teeth on edge.

“You have gained 2 experience points,” it said. “You have gained 2 experience points. You have gained 2 experience points. You have gained 2 experience points. You have gained 2 experience points. Youhavegained6experiencepoints. Youhavegained2experiencepoints. Youhavegainedtwoexperiencepoints. YouYhaoveugahinaedv2eexpgeraienicenpoeindts2.Yeouxhapveegariniede2enxpcereiepncoepioinntts.sY.ouYhaoveugahinaedv2eexpgeraienicenpoeindts6.Yoeuhxavpegeairneid2eexnpecrieenceppooinits.tYso.uYhoauvheagvaeignaeidn2eedx2peexrpieerniceenpcoeipnotisn.tYYsoouuhhaavveeggaaiinneedd22eexxppeerriieenncceeppooiinnttss....”

He put a hand to his head, grimacing even as he stabbed and kicked at the few rats that made it to him, stumbling and near dead. The UI was calling them scits, but he wasn’t having much luck reading it , so he wouldn't know that until some time later.

The flames only lasted fifteen seconds or so, but the voice droned on interminably, continuing long after the last of the smoldering skits had stopped moving

“...YYoouuhhaavveeggaaiinneedd22eexxppeerriieenncceeppooiinnttssYso.uYhoauvheagvaeignaeidn2eedx2peexrpieerniceenpcoeipnotisn.tss— You have reached Level One. You have achieved status: Dungeon Diver; your path to glory begins now. You have gained the title: Incinerator. All-flame based effects received inflict 5% less damage. All flame-based attacks inflict 5% more damage—

“...YouYhaoveugahinaedv2eexpgeraienicenpoeindts2.Yeouxhapveegariniede2enxpcereiepncoepioinntts.sY.ouYhaoveugahinaedv2eexpgeraienicenpoeindts6.Yoeuhxavpegeairneid2eexnpecrieenceppooinits.ts— You have reached Level Two. You have earned the title: Ratter; all attacks against rodent type monsters now deal plus ten percent damage. +10% immunity to all rodent borne diseases.

“Youhavegained2experiencepoints. Youhavegained6experiencepoints. You have gained 2 experience points. You have gained 6 experience points. You have gained 2 experience points. You have gained 2 experience points.”

He took a knee in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by the charred corpses of the swarm, head ringing from both the roar of the trap and the voice ringing in his head. There had to be a way to turn that thing off!

He took a knee in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by the charred corpses of the swarm, head ringing from both the roar of the trap and the voice ringing in his head. There had to be a way to turn that thing off!

The cadence of the experience call offs gradually decreased as he kept a careful eye on his surroundings, and, more importantly, a careful ear. He wasn’t sure whether he was in the clear yet. He could hear the terrified squeals of fleeing rats diminishing in the distance. He kept a deliberate focus on the sounds, alert to any change suggesting they may have decided to turn around, however unlikely that might be.

While he listened, he surveyed the battlefield. The corpses on his side of the trap were still smoldering. But they were doing something else as well. Slowly, glittering particles were wafting up from their still forms, sparkling lights dissipating slowly as the animals seemed to fade from existence.

A quick glance showed that those on the far side of the trap were engaged in similar activity.

Disturbingly, no such light show was affecting those rats that had been caught within the field of the trap. Because there were none. Not even soot shadows on the flagstones remained. Of his arrow, he thought he might see a glimmer of sheen where the arrowhead might lay.

He took a deep breath as he regarded the seemingly bare walls. That hadn’t been a low level trap. Not like anything he’d ever seen in a video game. Nothing like catching you on fire for a few seconds, swill a potion and you’re good. That sucker would have fried him like a crematorium, bones and all.

He glanced unconsciously in the direction of the room he’d awakened in. he’d been trying to tell himself that this whole thing was some sort of dream, but the charade was wearing thin. He was experiencing smell, taste, and, recently, an uncomfortable amount of heat. His hand went to the card reader. And pain.

There wasn’t any sort of VR he was familiar with that rendered this kind of fidelity. So. He was here, then. Really here. In a freaking dungeon. With no clue as to why, how, or what he was supposed to do. And it was trying —seriously trying— to kill him! The hell kind of devs put five hundred strong rat swarms and a fatal trap fifteen feet from the spawn? That was horrible game design!

Eyes still on the wall hiding the room from view, he wondered what would have happened if he’d stepped on that tile. Would he have awakened back in the room none the wiser? Would he have remembered? Would he have to retrieve his gear, or would it have respawned with him? Would he have awakened at all?

Nothing in the manual had specified what sort of conditions existed in here. It could well be a roguelike, where dead was dead. And, given the disclaimer, he doubted he’d wake up leaning on his jackhammer like nothing had happened. Maybe in here, dead was just... dead.

A shiver ran through him, rattling his bones. Whether or not that was the way it was, it would be the prudent course of action to treat it as such. He didn’t have to like it, he just had to survive it. Right?