Many cultures ascribe great importance to what a newborn baby sees when it first opens its eyes. They believe that during those few moments right after birth, the nascent soul is at its most tender and impressionable. And even a stray glance may determine the trajectory of its owner’s future.

Some traditions call for the room where the birth is to take place to be carefully arranged. Removed are the richly ornamented drapes and tapestries, lest the child develop a weak mind and fondness for luxury. Others go a step further, and to assure that their progeny grow into powerful warriors, they stock it with weaponry - such rooms are arrayed at every corner with fearsome swords, long pikes, and battle axes.

Alex was born on the back of a wagon.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of oak barrels filled with pickled herrings and large wheels of cheese.

His father, Vasil, often reminisced about that caravan. The local lord happened to be fielding a military expedition at the time, and didn’t even haggle, agreeing to buy everything at asking price.

“What blessed days, those were…” he’d sigh wistfully.

Although Vasil wasn’t familiar with the aforementioned traditions, he always considered the birth of his son to have come under auspicious circumstances. It was clear to him that his son was destined to follow in his footsteps and become a merchant.

Alex’s earliest memories were that of life on a trade caravan.

The steady rocking of the wagons as they trundled across uneven roads. The whinny of horses. Men and women arguing with each other.

It wasn’t much different from sharing a single house with thirty other people. As well as all manner of livestock.

However, unlike a real house, this one moved. The scenery plodded past you at a languid pace.

Leading a caravan was a demanding job that didn’t leave Vasil with much spare time to groom his son. Still, in the brief moments of respite between one broken axle and another argument that needed mediating, he’d pour all his efforts into educating Alex on all manner of things that a merchant must know.

Which towns specialized in textiles and which were known for metalworking. Where wheat was cheap and where one could sell it for many times its value.

Vasil had spent his whole life accumulating this precious knowledge. Alex would spend many hours listening to his father as he reduced the greatest cities of the realm to mere transit points, differentiated from one another only by the supply and demand for particular commodities.

Anything that had to do with numbers posed an even greater challenge. Calculating the profitability of an investment was a crucial skill for any merchant, but it proved to be an insurmountable obstacle for Alex. A single glance at his father’s ledger, its pages filled with unending rows of numbers scribbled down in tiny font, was enough to make his vision swim.

Thankfully, the caravans were usually accompanied by another caste of people, separate from merchants and their families.

The adventurers.

It was from them that Alex had learnt about the true wonder and mystery of the world. Towns, which he might have known for their competitive prices on processed wool, would reveal themselves to be fantastical places, hiding dungeons filled with all manner of terrifying monsters.

Furthermore, he’d never seen a single adventurer carrying an abacus. In fact, he was quite sure most of them couldn’t even read.

Alex knew he had found his calling.

Vasil was predictably against his son’s newfound interest. He only relented when his second son, Lecho, had proven himself to be much more talented in the family trade. There was only one condition that his father wouldn’t budge on.

“Alex, you’re my firstborn son,” his father said, with a solemn look on his face. “If you’ve really set your mind on becoming an adventurer, I shall support you to the best of my abilities.”

“But if you’re going to do it, then you’re going to do it right.”

“Commoners might believe that awakening to the system is what sets someone apart from other people, but that’s utter drivel. Towns are full of former serfs and beggars who’d managed to get a few levels, but everyone with half a brain knows that they’re the same scum they always were. I’m not going to see you risk your life only to become a meatshield in some lord’s army.”

“If you’re going to pursue the path of strength, then I don’t allow you to aim for anything lower than a titled knight.”

Alex’s eyes shone when he heard his father’s words. Not only will I never have to pour over the registers again, but dad is going to support me! The truth was, Alex wasn’t making his decision lightly. He knew how important it was to his father that he became a merchant. It was possible that his dad would consider him a failed investment and cut him off.

“I will start asking around for a suitable adventurer to take you in as his apprentice. We’ll also have to outfit you with proper armor and weaponry.”

The grin on Alex’s face was so wide it threatened to break his face in half.

“But most importantly, I’m going to hire you a tutor to start teaching you the High Tongue. It’s the shared language of all the nobility on the continent. Unless you master it, you will never become more than a sword for hire.”

And so began the long days of arduous education. His father wouldn’t relent, so instead of exploring the dark dungeons, Alex was forced to conquer the obscure grammar and intricate syntax of the high tongue.

There was little reward for his efforts. If there really were nobles looking for an opportunity to converse with a commoner, Alex had never come across one. The vision of balls where dukes and princes would strain themselves trying to get into his good graces had so far never materialised. The only place where he uttered anything in the high tongue, was the house of his tutor. There, he’d recite the mind bogglingly boring fixed phrases, waiting for the time that he’d be free to leave.

Until today.

Alex stared with shock at the goblin in front of him.

“..can”

“you..”

“...understand me?”

The way the goblin spoke was unpleasant to the ear. Lispy. As if its throat wasn’t suited to produce the proper sounds. The creature stood unsteadily, gasping for air between each word. Alex wasn’t sure if it was about to collapse to the ground or lunge itself on him.

“Yes, I can understand--” Alex started saying and paused, stumped with how he should finish the sentence. Consternation was painted on his face.

It must be known that the high tongue was a very hierarchical language. It put great importance on the relative status between the speakers. A grammatical error wouldn’t just make you look foolish, but could be construed as a deliberate affront to the person you were addressing.

The only problem was, Alex didn’t have a clue how he should address the blood soaked monster in front of him. It wasn’t a situation that came up in his lessons.

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Still, he certainly wasn’t planning on making the goblin wait. His hesitation lasted less than a breath.

“Yes, I can understand you... sir,” Alex finally managed.

Marcel blinked. His mind was currently in turmoil. He was barely withstanding the combined forces of the dungeon’s will and his own insatiable hunger, both commanding him to devour the boy kneeling in front of him. But when he heard the teen’s reply, he was flabbergasted.

Did... did that boy just call me “sir”? But he looks at least 5 years older than me!

The shock was so sudden that it briefly broke Marcel free from the struggle in his mind. His mind whirred as he found himself in the same spot as Alex.

His tutor had always strived to impress on him that etiquette wasn’t some set of pointless rules designed to constrain him. Quite the opposite, Marcel was taught this knowledge so that he could feel relaxed and confident regardless of the social situation.

But, much like Alex, his lessons didn’t prepare him for his present predicament.

Alex nervously studied the goblin’s reaction. The prologing silence, broken only by the harsh sound of the monster’s labored breathing, sent shivers down his spine. He quickly corrected himself.

“Your grace, I--” he started, but then Marcel finally decided on a suitable response.

“Worry not, sir. I promise you this with my honor as a knight, that nothing shall befall you while you remain under my care. Though the grace of gods have deemed it you should fall by my sword, I shall not besmirch your honor. You will find nothing but comfort and hospitality until the day your family offers a suitable compensation for your freedom,” Marcel recited flawlessly.

Alex’s eyes almost flew out of their sockets.

It was word-for-word the same expression that he himself had to repeat time and time again back at his teacher’s house. It was used when interacting with captured enemies of similar standing.

Thankfully, the advantage of the fixed expressions came to the fore. Alex didn’t need to consider anything else as he replied without thinking.

“You honor me with your consideration, sir. I can only praise the gods, for I see that the champion they have chosen is true and just, upholding the proper manner. I swear not to bring shame on my house and promise to return all the consideration I’ve been shown.”

Marcel was excited. It was the first time that he actually spoke with another human. His lips naturally curled up in a wide smile.

The sight of the goblin baring its teeth made the blood coursing in Alex’s veins freeze.

Marcel didn’t realise his captive’s distress. He continued, “Might I be honored with the esteemed sir’s name?”

“I am Alex… son of Vasil,” Alex replied with great discomfort. He was painfully aware that his status was far from enough to permit anyone to call him ‘sir’. Thankfully, the goblin didn’t seem to mind much.

“Tell me, sir Vasil, do you know of my family, Deschain.”

Alex felt like crying. Did that crazed goblin mean the other monsters living in the dungeon? How could he say that he had already slaughtered three of them in hopes of awakening to the system?

“No… sir, I haven't had the pleasure. You are the first.”

A frown crossed Marcel’s face. When he realised that he could communicate with the teen, he couldn’t stop his hope from reigniting. If he was in a territory under the influence of his grandpa’s family, he could reach out for help. But probing the teenager didn’t reveal any salient information, except for the fact that he was so far from home that not even the names of the neighboring kingdoms had rung any bells.

Marcel fell silent as bitter disappointment washed over him. He couldn’t prevent a slip in his concentration and the call of the dungeon didn’t miss the opening.

Slay the intruder.

Fulfil your purpose.

The pressure was terrifying. It wormed its way into Marcel’s brain, but it didn’t try to control him directly. Instead, the dungeon reached out for its captain. The goblin created to defend it.

Marcel’s perspective started to change. He could no longer read the expression on the boy’s face. In fact, he was no longer able to even tell his age.

Laying in front of him was an intruder. And all that his posture revealed to Marcel, was that if he thrusted the dagger into his throat, the man wouldn’t be able to dodge it in time.

“No!” Marcel shouted.

He fell to his knees and closed his eyes. He tried to control his breathing, but it was far more difficult than usual.

Alex stared dumbfoundedly at the goblin.

Just a second ago the creature was about to lunge itself at him. Alex was positive about that. But at the last moment, it let out a loud cry and collapsed to the ground.

The creature’s body trembled all over. It huffed and puffed. Its eyes were closed. It seemed to be on the verge of going insane.

Alex couldn’t help looking over to the hilt of the sword in his hand. He wasn’t able to draw it before, but the situation changed. The goblin was clearly unstable, probably unable to move.

If he were to extricate himself from this situation, there wouldn’t be a better opportunity.

As his thoughts moved in that direction, he couldn’t stop a flicker of greed from igniting in his mind. The goblin had a skill, it revealed it in its battle with his master. If he were to slay it, not only would his chances of awakening to the system be increased, but he could receive a special skill in one fell swoop.

Not to mention its ability to speak the high tongue with such fluency. He thought. I’ve never heard of a skill like that, but if I could get it, I wouldn’t have to continue my language lessons!

Alex abruptly twitched as something wet touched his leg.

The blood oozing from the massacred body of his master had reached the place where he laid. It soaked into the leg of his trousers and started climbing up.

The courage that was building up in Alex’s heart was immediately extinguished.

Meanwhile, Marcel had barely managed to push back against the forces trying to dominate his mind. His advantage was paper thin, and demanded total concentration. He couldn’t even open his eyes.

“How…”

“...escape…”

“...dungeon...”

He finally managed to spit out.

Alex hesitated. Given the state of the goblin, he didn’t want to agitate it any further. Still, it was probably better to answer than wait for the creature to completely lose control.

“Sir,” he started. “Monsters can’t ever escape their dungeon.”

The call of the dungeon in Marcel’s mind was so loud it was almost deafening. But in this instant, it grew silent, letting the voice of the teen be heard without obstruction.

Marcel roared, as the grasp he had on his psyche slipped.

“But!” Alex quickly added seeing the violent reaction his words provoked. “If no one manages to conquer a dungeon within a certain time, a dungeon break occurs! The dungeon disappears and all the creatures it created are released!”

“When..”

Alex didn’t answer. The truth was, he didn’t know. He could lie, but the dread that unstable goblin inspired in him made him too anxious to try any tricks. Also, he was fearful that revealing this information would make him no longer useful.

Instead of lying, Alex decided to just lay out everything he knew. He hoped that at least as long as he kept talking, the goblin wouldn’t attack him.

“Sir, the dungeon we are in is a so-called ‘tamed dungeon’,” Alex started explaining. “Unlike normal dungeons, this one will possibly never undergo a ‘dungeon break’. The local baron has hired an adventurer who possesses a special skill allowing him to interact with the dungeon core and reset it when it becomes unstable.”

“I’m not sure when the reset occurs, but it should be once every few months. At the start of each cycle the monsters are rather weak, so the city sends in the convicts and the poor to level them up a bit. This is the phase we are at right now. My master and I were only able to get in after paying an exorbitant sum of gold. And even then, we had to abide by a strict quota.”

“A week or two from now, when the monsters grow more powerful, the soldiers of the baron’s army will start coming in to train. And when they finish, an elite troop under the adventurer’s command will enter to restart the dungeon again.”

The goblin didn’t respond.

Cold sweat started running down Alex’s back as he realised that he might’ve been too frank in his explanations.

“S-so..!” he rushed to add. “So if you manage to stop them from restarting the dungeon, you will be free to leave!”

“Adventurer… how... strong…”

“The man you killed...” Alex started, careful to avoid glancing at the remains of his master. “Was in the middle of bronze rank. That adventurer should be at least silver rank.”

Marcel wanted to continue questioning the teen, but everytime the boy opened his mouth, he’d hit Marcel with another revelation that shook his state of mind. If this continued, he wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer. And he didn’t wish to become a beast in front of a person who treated him with dignity and respect.

“Leave…” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Alex almost couldn’t believe his ears. The goblin’s voice was so faint he feared he had imagined it.

“Leave!” Marcel roared.

For a moment Alex was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to get up. The muscles in his legs had turned to jelly. But when the goblin roared at him, the sight of its dark teeth had given him the kick he needed.

Marcel sat on the floor. The moment when he let the intruder escape was the most difficult, but now that the distance between them was increasing, the call of the dungeon lessened.

“Alex, son of Vasil!” he shouted into the dark corridors.

“My name is Marcel Deschain!”

“Please, visit me again!”