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dreamer prowess
the dungeon begins

the dungeon begins

It was 12:00 pm, the middle of the day when everything suddenly shifted. Jonathan had been lying in a sterile hospice room for what seemed like an eternity. Two months. That’s how long it had been since the accident. Two months since he had lost the use of his legs. He had been unable to move them since the doctors first told him that there was little hope of recovery. The feeling in his legs was gone, replaced by an agonizing numbness, as though his lower body had ceased to exist. The idea of ever standing again, of walking again, had felt like a distant fantasy.

But now, in that seemingly ordinary moment, everything changed.

The first thing Jonathan noticed when his eyes fluttered open was that he was standing. He wasn’t lying in the cold, white hospital bed anymore. He was standing on his own two feet, without any aid or support. His hands instinctively reached out to grab the bed rails as if to steady himself, but there was nothing there. No nurses, no doctors, no machines or hospital equipment in sight. Just him, standing, on his own. His heart raced in his chest. How was this possible? For the past two months, his legs had been entirely useless, incapable of movement. He had even been told by specialists that there was a very slim chance he'd ever walk again. Yet, here he was, upright.

His mind spun with disbelief. Jonathan tried to take a step, hesitantly lifting one foot off the ground. To his amazement, it moved, effortlessly. His legs, which had been so lifeless just moments ago, now obeyed his every command. The feeling returned to his lower body in a strange, almost surreal rush. He stood still for a moment, letting the sensation flood his body, his heart still beating wildly. It felt real—too real to be a dream.

Confused, he glanced around. His room was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar, dimly lit space. The walls had a strange texture, not like the sterile white of the hospice but more like the rough stone of a dungeon or cave. The air was cool, but it wasn’t the kind of crisp chill one would find in a hospital. There was a faint, musty smell, like an old, unused cellar. Jonathan’s mind raced to make sense of it. Was this some kind of hallucination? Was he still in the hospice, drugged up and imagining all of this?

His gaze shifted around the room. There were others here with him—people who were just as confused as he was. Some of them were standing, while others seemed to be sitting or lying on the cold floor. None of them looked familiar. Jonathan tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. He was too stunned to do much else than stare at his surroundings.

Five or ten minutes passed in tense silence, the only sound being the shuffling of footsteps and the murmurs of the other people in the room. Then, suddenly, a message appeared in Jonathan’s field of vision. It was like a translucent screen had materialized in the air before him. He blinked in surprise, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, but the message remained, glowing softly.

"You have entered a beginner rank dungeon."

Jonathan's heart skipped a beat. He didn’t understand. What did it mean? A dungeon? Was this some kind of virtual reality? He had heard stories about games and simulations where people could be transported to alternate worlds, but it seemed so far-fetched. Could this be real? And if so, what did it mean for him?

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Without thinking, Jonathan raised his hand and interacted with the message. As his fingers brushed the screen, the words shifted, expanding into an explanation.

"A beginner rank dungeon is the easiest type of dungeon, followed by intermediate, journeyman, semi-master, master, and grandmaster. The survival rate of level 1 adventurers is approximately 90% per floor."

The message seemed to explain the setup of this strange new reality, but Jonathan couldn’t make sense of it. What was a "level 1 adventurer"? What was a dungeon? And why had he been brought here? The idea of being in a “dungeon” was jarring—nothing about the situation felt dangerous, at least not yet. But the fact that the message mentioned “survival rates” made Jonathan uneasy. His pulse quickened as he scanned the room once more. The others were still confused, murmuring among themselves. Some seemed to be in shock, while others looked angry or fearful. Jonathan felt a sinking sensation in his gut. There was something deeply unsettling about this place.

As he continued to absorb the information, another thought struck him. Was he still paralyzed? Could he still move? He took another tentative step forward, testing his legs once more. He felt the solid ground beneath his feet, the familiar pull of gravity, but nothing else felt the same. He was standing, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was a kind of energy to this place, a presence that seemed to hum in the air, like the anticipation before a storm.

For a moment, Jonathan simply stood there, trying to gather his thoughts, when another message appeared in front of him. This one seemed to be directed at the entire group, as it was displayed in the same way, floating in mid-air for everyone to see.

"Welcome to the Dungeon."

"You are now adventurers, and your objective is to survive and progress through the dungeon floors."

"Each floor is more challenging than the last, and the dangers increase accordingly. To survive, you will need to work together and be prepared to face both monsters and environmental challenges."

The message continued, outlining basic instructions and rules for those who were now trapped in this dungeon. Jonathan felt a sense of dread settle over him. How could this be happening? This was real—he was no longer in the hospital, and there were no doctors or nurses to help him. This place, this dungeon, whatever it was, was now his reality.

A chill ran down his spine as he realized he wasn’t alone in this strange world. The others—his fellow adventurers—were just as confused as he was, and some of them appeared to be even more frightened. A few were already moving toward the exit, eager to escape, but there was no exit. Only a long hallway leading deeper into the dungeon. No one knew what was on the other side.

For a moment, Jonathan considered turning back, finding a corner to hide in and hope that everything would return to normal. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He had no idea what kind of power had brought him here or how to escape, but one thing was clear—he had to keep moving forward.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what lay ahead. Despite the confusion, despite the fear, Jonathan felt something stir within him—a determination he hadn’t felt in months. He was standing again. His legs, once useless, were working. It didn’t matter what this dungeon was or how he had ended up here. All that mattered was survival.

The others slowly began to gather, some forming small groups, others standing apart, unsure of what to do. Jonathan didn’t have the answers, but he knew one thing: he wasn’t alone in this. He couldn’t let his newfound ability to stand go to waste. Whatever this dungeon was, whatever awaited him, he would face it head-on. There was no turning back now.

As he moved toward the center of the room, a new message appeared in front of him, one that set his heart racing even faster.

"You have entered the Dungeon."

"Your first challenge will begin shortly. Be prepared."