Chapter One

The New Dungeon Master

Ashvar woke with a start as he heard the words "Welcome to the dungeon, my lord" booming in his head. His eyes fluttered open as he tried to wipe the sleep from them and looked around. He was greeted by a large ornate room, complete with a four-poster bed made of what seemed to be pure gold, dressers that could only be found in a lavish Hollywood mansion, and carpets that Ashvar knew cost more than his little apartment back in Melbourne. "Where the fuck am I?" he practically screamed.

Again, the voice replied, "You are in your bedroom, master," in that same monotone tone. It creeped Ashvar out with just how lifeless the voice felt. As he stood up, a scent hit him—he wasn't sure what exactly it was, but it reminded him of death. "No, seriously, where am I? This looks nothing like my room. For starters, this fucking room is bigger than my apartment!"

"Sam, is this you?" Ashvar shouted. He waited a brief moment, trying to take in his surroundings more clearly. This time, he noticed something peculiar. There was light in the room, but as he looked around, he saw no windows or lights anywhere. "SAM!" Ashvar screamed. "If I find out this is you, I’ll kill you!" he said, his voice growing increasingly shaky.

As Ashvar looked around the room more, he began to notice other peculiarities. The room felt warm, but not too warm, and as he concentrated on the sensation, he could have sworn it fluctuated between hot and cold with his thoughts. "No, this is a dream. It can't be real. I must have been in some kind of accident while driving, or I'm just going insane... or on some drugs."

"Dungeon will open in 36 hours."

Ashvar's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "Dungeon? What’s this dungeon? What do you mean it opens in 36 hours?"

A deep voice responded from the corner, "Your dungeon will open, and you're massively behind schedule, but I should have expected that from you."

Ashvar spun around, his heart racing. In doing so, he clipped his foot on the edge of the bed and crashed to the floor. "That hurt," he said, his voice cracking with pain. The ground felt unforgiving beneath him. "Glad I tested that," he thought to himself, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"Who are you?" he asked the figure that was now moving toward him.

"I'm your advisor, sir. I'm here to guide new dungeon masters in the operation of their dungeons. Thirty-six hours, you said. That’s not a lot of time, and you're already behind schedule. Do you mind standing, sir? We have work to do."

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Ashvar opened one eye, startled to find the figure standing over him. "I do mind. My head hurts, and besides, the rug is comfy."

"Sir, I must impress upon you the importance of us getting a move on. Thirty-six hours really isn't a lot of time."

Ashvar began to sit up, feeling the room finally stop spinning. "What fucking dungeon? Who the fuck are you? Where am I? And what the hell is that voice I keep hearing?" he shouted at the figure, his frustrations finally boiling over.

"Great, I knew they assigned me to someone new, but I thought you at least knew the basics," sighed the individual. "Who did I piss off this time to be assigned here?"

"Okay, firstly, the system has picked you from wherever you come from and assigned you the title of Dungeon Master. This is your bedroom in your dungeon. It’s kind of shit, to be honest. You'll probably want to upgrade it eventually with at least some trophies and loot. Secondly, your dungeon will open in probably closer to 35 hours now, thanks to all your messing about, to adventurers who will attempt to conquer it for their own personal gain and fame. Your job is to stop them and, if you’re lucky, kill them." The man began to drop into a lecturing tone, clearly having done this before.

"H... hold on," Ashvar stumbled out. "The system? What the fuck does 'the system' mean? And what do you mean, my dungeon? This is some mistake, surely. I was a fucking shelf stacker for Coles yesterday! How do I own a dungeon? And this is a shitty bedroom? That bed is made of gold, for God’s sake! Look around—there are ornate rugs everywhere. The dressers are made of pure oak wood. The sheets are even silk!"

His voice grew more frantic as he continued, disbelief quickly shifting to anger. "Does this mean it’s real? Am I actually here or am I just more insane than I thought?" he muttered to himself.

"Please, just listen," the creature sighed, holding his head in his hand. "Okay, let’s go slowly. Firstly, I’m your advisor, Iristil. I was assigned here to help you get your dungeon open for its first delve. Don’t worry—no one is expecting it to be good. You have also been granted around 10,000 gold for mobs, traps, extra rooms to be purchased, etc. The issue is, we first have to find an item worth placing in your dungeon to make it worthwhile for adventurers..."

"Stop!" Ashvar shouted. "Slowly would be starting with how the fuck am I here? Iristil, was it? Forgive me, but an hour ago, I was in my shitty little single bed back in my shitty little apartment in Melbourne. I’m no 'Dungeon Master' or whatever you call them. I have no 'loot' for adventurers to want to risk their lives for, and I sure as shit have no desire to kill any of them!"

"Do you do this with everyone you meet, sir? Is interrupting them while they try to help you the way you normally go about it?" Iristil retorted, his voice laced with irritation, hands on his hips as he looked down at the seated Ashvar.

"Look, I know you didn't choose to be here; no one does. But you don't have a choice. Thankfully, you're an F-rated dungeon, so you don’t have many requirements to meet. Mostly, just have at least ten rooms and at least fifty mobs or traps. You can have more, though, and I do recommend it. You will also likely only be visited by F-rated adventurers—the weakest of the lot, still trying to make a name for themselves. Technically, it is possible for higher-rated adventurers to come here, but it’s very unlikely. Now, if you’ll please get up!" He practically shouted the last part while moving toward the door, which Ashvar only just noticed over in the corner of the room.

"We really do have work to do, sir," Iristil added over his shoulder in a now very resigned voice.