Oni took one last bow on stage before the curtains closed, the horned bear and his animated show Delver’s Tube ending with a swish of the red curtains.

Once the show ended, in its place was a blue screen labeled LEADERBOARD in white text.

Below it were several lines.

001 Zack Baker

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His name was first on the list and all the other slots were blank, logically because there were no other initiates at the moment.

Being first on the leaderboard felt satisfying even if there was no competition, but Zack also felt a conflicting sensation of discomfort having his name plastered on a public leaderboard. For some reason, it made him feel exposed, like having a big target on his back even though there was clearly no one aiming for him at the moment.

Just one of his hunches again. A gut feeling.

Maybe one of the side effects of having died so many times across so many timelines. Taking that into account, he wondered if there’d be a way to conceal his identity for the future.

Now that the show had ended, the ride was rather quiet besides the metallic rattling that came with the trip. The monotonous silence gave Zack time to ruminate on what he’d just learned. He quickly checked the time remaining till destination, and saw that there were still a few minutes left until the train would reach Wharf Street Station.

Zack mentally reviewed Oni’s lesson the same way he usually prepared for an exam. He was a good student through and through, and so he paid attention to and soaked up everything that Oni said despite the rather distracting visual effects of the show.

One thing was absolutely certain after listening to Oni’s lesson–he needed to be back here next Friday at the same time, and he had to be prepared. If the world was going to be irreversibly changed, and monsters were going to be involved in that change, Zack needed to take every opportunity to exercise his privilege to train, and prepare to hell and back for the camping trip of his life. Food, water, supplies, weapons… everything. This was going to be the camping trip of the apocalypse.

He needed experience, he needed levels, he needed training, and most importantly, he needed information. These stellar memory fragments… they not only showed quirks in the dungeon’s design that a novice would never be able to discover on their own, but they also showed real people and events. Even his own death.

The Fool was right. This [??] ability that granted him the stellar memory fragments was going to be the difference between life and death for himself and those around him.

Speaking of, he needed to make a few phone calls once he got back to the surface. He had to warn his buddy first, and possibly anyone else who’d believe him. His family was a problem as well, since even if they believed his word, there was no way they’d survive a night in the underground.

The train has arrived at Wharf Street Station.

Please watch your step as you exit the train.

Zack Baker stepped off the subway car and onto the platform that began it all, and the train behind him left just as fast as it arrived, leaving him alone on the platform where his gym bag from earlier quietly sat like a sunken potato by the ledge.

Well that was fast. Didn’t even give me a second to say goodbye.

Something was strange though.

He looked around, immediately realizing that all of the rubble and debris from earlier had disappeared, and the fractures in the wall caused by the earthquake were all gone. The station looked completely normal, as if nothing had ever happened. The black stuff was gone too. All evidence of what had transpired had been wiped clean.

Zack swallowed the urge to question his sanity and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Still no signal, just like before.

He grabbed his gym bag and hoisted it over his shoulder, then walked tentatively towards the staircase, remarking that everything looked brand new, although the cigarette butt from earlier was missing. He took his first step onto the stairs, half expecting there to be some kind of trick like back in the dungeon.

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There was no trick, just a regular staircase leading into and out of a metro station. Zack ascended the stairs, the bright stars in the sky visible up in the distance between rainclouds. He emerged from the station and saw that the yellow police tape was now gone, now replaced by a simple A-frame out of order sign, like the ones used to caution people about slippery surfaces.

That single out of order sign was demeaningly subtle given the hell that he’d just been through. And more importantly, it made him seriously question if anything he’d just gone through was real. Had he just fallen into the station, hit his head, and experienced a fever dream?

…

Well, there was one way to find out for sure.

“Inventory.”

Standing by himself in the rain on Wharf Street at around two in the morning with just a damp gym bag over his head to shield himself from the drizzle and a broken street light to keep him company, Zack Baker discovered that he definitely did not hallucinate the last five hours of his life as a runic blue inventory screen appeared before him.

There it was. Proof that he wasn’t dreaming, and that the world had irrevocably changed.

“Since I can access the inventory, can I do this?” he mumbled, grabbing at the stack of lesser health potions in the second slot.

A healing vial appeared in his hand.

The vial, which did not look one bit out of place within the dungeon, now felt like a foreign entity sitting in his hand. It didn’t belong in this world, and yet here it was.

“So if I can take things from the dungeon out, I can put things from this world in right?”

He tested it out, hoisting his gym bag into the inventory and putting it into the sixth slot.

The bag disappeared into the screen, and a small rotating image of it appeared in the sixth slot.

Zack raised his eyebrows in surprise. So he could carry a lot more items than before in this storage space. Very interesting. He played around with the bag slot in his inventory, realizing that he could inspect the bag from all angles or even zoom in if he wished.

“So if the inventory works, how about regen?”

He quickly sprinted under a nearby bus stop to get out of the rain and took a look around to make sure nobody was watching him. Then, he drew a machete from his inventory. Again, the giant machete looked entirely out of place on a modern street corner, so he didn’t want to let anyone see him. Zack gingerly poked a hole in his shirt, and then waited.

Slowly but surely, the hole in his shirt began to mend itself, the fibers closing in on themselves and rearranging until they were back to normal.

“Holy shit.”

A smile spread on his face. This was amazing. He felt a bit guilty smiling like an idiot when he knew that the implications of having dungeon mechanics appearing in the real world were horrifying, but on the flip side... he now had special powers.

I mean, what kind of person doesn’t dream about having powers when they’re a kid? I used to wish I could go invisible back in second grade…

It was a normal reaction, Zack told himself, and he had every right to be excited about his newfound powers even if he wasn’t in second grade any more. Now that he’d established that his experiences were real, he needed to talk to Hugo Bones.

He sent his old friend a text even though it was two in the morning, knowing that that bastard definitely wouldn’t be asleep yet.

Need to talk. Urgent. Meet me at Café Dolce.

Less than a minute later, Zack’s phone began to buzz.

“Zack?” answered Hugo through the phone in an incredulous voice. “Are you okay man? What’s going on?”

Music and drunken chatter came from the other end of the phone, since Hugo had taken a job as a bartender at a shady place in downtown Vermillion. Hugo had always been a bit of a drifter, so that kind of thing was par for the course for him. His family background was even worse than Zack’s, and his deadbeat dad left his mom to raise him alone when he was only five years old.

But he was loyal to a fault. Zack knew that no matter what happened, he could trust Hugo.

“Just head over here. We need to talk.”

“Shit, it’s not gonna be easy to duck out right now, we’re at our busiest hour right now,” Hugo replied, the clink of glass audible over the phone. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

Zack thought about it for a moment. The horrors of the last hour were already melting from his mind, replaced by the serenity of regular, mundane life, where the only thing he had to worry about was someone trying to steal his wallet or a drunk driver hurtling down the street and not monsters out to tear him into shreds.

How bad could it be to just talk to him tomorrow?

It sounded fine, but… what was this lingering uneasiness?

“No,” Zack replied, making up his mind. “We have to talk tonight, now. I’ll fill you when we’re there.”

“Alright,” Hugo replied, sounding worried. “I’ll be there soon.”

Zack exhaled, relieved. It felt good to know that he had someone who had his back no matter what. He made his way over to the destination, taking a towel out of his gym bag and using it to cover himself from the rain as he sprinted over. Cafe Dolce was one of the spots that Zack usually met Hugo at, since it was located conveniently close to Barracuda Bar, the bar that Hugo worked at.

He felt lighter than ever before, a bounce in his steps. He noticed that after jogging for minutes, he didn’t feel a single bit of soreness or strain. Leaving the wharf area and entering the downtown, he made a left on Fisherman’s Avenue and sprinted down the street. There were still quite a few people walking around at this hour, mostly leaving nightclubs and other similar establishments.

He saw his buddy standing by the entrance of the cafe, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Hugo had dyed blonde hair and ripped jeans, still wearing his bartender’s outfit of a dark vest over a blue dress shirt. A hint of a sleeve tattoo could be seen under his cuffs.

“Told my boss I was going out for a smoke break,” Hugo said as Zack approached. “If we need more time I’ll tell him I’m puking. Seriously though, I was making a killing today in tips. So, what’s up? Just got back from the gym?”

Zack shook his head, motioning him to follow. “Not here.”

Hugo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The two of them entered the cafe, and Zack grabbed a triangle sandwich from the counter and slid it onto the cashier’s counter wordlessly.

“That’ll be three dollars,” the tired looking middle aged manager said.

Zack swiped his card, then grabbed a booth seat in their usual corner near the window. Hugo sat down across from him like usual. The reason Hugo recommended this place in the first place was that the manager of Cafe Dolce never asked questions about what his paying customers talked about, and Hugo’s conversation topics were rarely suitable for polite discussion and likely to raise red flags.

He glanced out the window, then at the manager behind, who was quietly cleaning the counter with a handkerchief. Then, he looked at Hugo, who was waiting for him to speak.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m going to tell you a story that’s going to sound a little crazy, but I’m going to need you to believe me.”

“But before that, please watch.”

Hugo’s gaze was transfixed as Zack took a knife from the table and pressed it gingerly on his forearm. Then, he pressed a bit harder. Then even harder.

A trickle of blood dripped down from Zack’s forearm, causing a concerned Hugo to leap from his seat with a yelp.