Brandon walked for a while, estimating it had been about an hour. But considering that up until recently, an hour’s walk would’ve only covered fifty meters with his walking stick, he had no clue how far he’d actually travelled now that he didn’t need the cane.

Eventually, he came upon a sheer rock wall. It seemed way too high to climb—of course it was, what kind of idiot would try to climb that? — and off to the right, he could hear what sounded like an angry—maybe just loud—monster or animal.

"What do people call them here?" he muttered under his breath, then froze. A thought crossed his mind that he probably should’ve had sooner. "What if there are no fucking people here, and I just got shafted by something that was bored?"

He winced at the thought, realizing how long it had taken him to question this, but then again, he couldn’t exactly find a "How to Survive Being Summoned" guide anywhere.

"Though, if there is, I’ve really underestimated YouTube nowadays," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Why me?" he groaned aloud, punching the wall in frustration. "FUCK!" he yelled, immediately regretting it. "That was fucking stupid, dumbass," he scolded himself.

Then he fell silent as, in front of him, the rock wall seemed to disappear. His eyes widened. "What the fuck? Now there’s secret doors?" he complained, still rubbing his sore hand while questioning his sanity a bit more.

"I believe there was a song back home for this kind of situation. Can’t go over it, can’t go under it, gotta go through it," he muttered to himself, almost in resignation, as he stepped toward the dark cave.

He stopped mid-step. "Hey, idiot, maybe a torch?" he thought. Turning back, he spotted a large stick beneath a nearby tree. He grabbed it and, with a flick of his wrist, conjured his Flame Whip to set it alight.

With the newly formed torch in hand, Brandon proceeded into the cave, the flickering light casting eerie shadows on the walls.

As Brandon continued about 50 feet into the cave, the darkness seemed to deepen suddenly.

"Let me fucking guess," he muttered aloud, squinting into the thick shadows. He turned around and glanced back at the path he had come from. "Well, shit. I guess I'm stuck in here now," he sighed, resigning himself to the direction he was walking.

He pressed on, trudging along for about 15 minutes, his steps echoing through the eerie quiet. Then, he noticed he was approaching a T-junction in the cave. In the middle of the split stood a statue. It was about two heads taller than Brandon, with its arms outstretched in a T, almost as if pointing toward both corridors.

"Not creepy at all," Brandon muttered, eyeing the stone figure warily as he approached. The statue was crafted to look like a man, staring down at whoever stood before it. It wore a robe that cascaded down to the ground, but curiously, it wasn’t covering much else. Brandon smirked. "Unlucky, mate," he said, his voice dripping with sarcastic sympathy as his gaze lingered awkwardly on the statue's exposed... well, everything.

Brandon moved his attention upward, focusing on the outstretched arms. As his eyes locked onto the right hand, a screen flashed suddenly in front of him, and the room burst to life with torches lighting up behind the statue.

"AH! What the fuck?!" Brandon yelped, stumbling back in surprise. His feet tangled, and he hit the ground with a thud. "Ow," he muttered, wincing as he scrambled to his feet.

The screen remained, and Brandon tried to ignore the embarrassment of his fall as he read the text that had appeared:

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"Welcome to the Dungeon of the Wizard. To have met the requirements for this dungeon to open, you must have at least some experience and be on your way toward your first race level at Wizard level 10."

"Take the path to your right if you wish for little battle and prefer to focus more on the puzzles we may sometimes face. Know that the results and path choice will influence the rewards you receive. If you die, you die for good. There is no resurrection here."

"The path to your left is for those of you who would rather fight your way through multiple enemies, choosing the path of the battler. Your rewards will be more focused on combat. Should you die, you will remain dead. There is no resurrection here. Good luck on your path, traveler."

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"Race level? Wizard 10? Uhh, I think your requirements misjudged me," Brandon meekly said to the statue. There was no response.

"Great, now I'm talking to statues. That's it, I've gone fucking crazy. Great." Brandon complained as his mind returned to the message that had disappeared from his face the second he finished reading it.

"So, I'm dead if I die? There's no resurrection? That's really reassuring. Thanks," Brandon added, sarcasm dripping from his words. "I've never been any good at puzzles." He sighed, resigning himself to having to fight his way through some stupid fucking monsters that had no business existing.

"Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained," he said, trying to show fake confidence, and turned to walk down the left path—opting to test his ability to hit things with a whip.

"Ha ha ha, this should be interesting," Sulgar chuckled, his eyes gleaming as he focused on the magical screen he had summoned. Through the shimmering, ethereal surface, he watched Brandon stumble through the dungeon. "He shows promise," Sulgar added, eyes narrowing with interest.

"He did say he killed a level 4 Hollowhorn right after getting through the tutorial," Intrent observed, his tone cautious. "Though, they aren’t the toughest to kill, usually. Quite predictable, really."

Sulgar’s laughter bubbled up again. "Did you see the look on his face when he got hit the first time? Hilarious!" He smirked, leaning back and taking a sip from his drink, still observing the human through the arcane projection.

"He doesn’t even know how to access any of his screens or inventory yet," Intrent remarked, a trace of concern in his voice. "That could be a problem."

"Ha! Yeah, not a great tutorial, is it? What was it he said? They're supposed to help, not kill or something like that?" Sulgar continued, still giggling to himself as he watched Brandon’s missteps on the magical screen.

Intrent, clearly unimpressed by Sulgar’s antics, stood up. He reached for the drink that Sulgar had been savoring too eagerly. "That’s mine," he said, voice flat.

Sulgar, slightly pouting but too amused to protest, let Intrent take the drink. "You’ve had enough," Intrent replied, giving the glass a firm shake as he moved it out of reach. "Now focus on your little pet."

"Fine, fine," Sulgar replied, feigning annoyance, though he knew his friend was right. "Well now, Brandon, will you survive your first actual test?" He continued, focusing back on his projection as Intrent returned to the seat beside him.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Brandon began his walk—if you could call it walking. He wasn’t sure he could. He was most definitely trying to go as slowly as possible, hoping to find the confidence he seemed to have misplaced. As he continued, he decided it was probably a good idea to conjure his whip and barrier before proceeding. So, he did.

Brandon got about 25 feet further down the corridor before he heard what appeared to be some kind of scraping on the ground. His heart raced, and Brandon froze.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Is it too late to go and do some puzzles right now?" he muttered to himself. He began doing the breathing exercises Sarah had forced him to learn. He was loathe to admit they actually worked. Feeling calmer and thinking clearer, he summoned his distraction and attempted to get it to walk forward. It did so, and Brandon was happy with his discovery of how to use his ability—until he realized he was now effectively showing something he couldn't see first.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, feeling his cheeks go red.

"Oh, fuck it. Let's get this done," Brandon muttered and, with all the courage he could muster, walked forward, brandishing his whip. He came to a corner and turned it to see a large, half-rock, half-root enemy mindlessly scraping around the small room ahead of him.

Brandon had a thought and attempted to focus on the monster thingy the same way he had focused on the arms of the statue. To his surprise and happiness, he actually got something for it.

"Rockroot Grunt, Level 3," the screen said.

Brandon realized that with how the screen was currently positioned, if the beast attacked him, he probably wouldn't see it. So, he tried to mentally command the screen to place the name of the beast at the top of his vision so he could see around it. To his relief, it listened.

With a grin on his face, Brandon muttered, "I think I’m getting the hang of this shit."

Then, in a quick motion, he jumped to the side to dodge a line of rocks that came racing at him after the beast had hit the ground.

Eyes locked onto the creature, he cursed himself, "Kill the damn thing, then be proud of yourself, idiot," as he tried to determine the best way to take it down.

Almost as if the dungeon realized he was finally actually fighting something, it lit the room up even more than it already was. "Ow, my eyes, damn it!" Brandon shouted, shielding them from the sudden brightness. He figured the beast was feeling the same way, as it let out a low growl—or maybe a grunt—when the lights came up.

Now, with the increased light, Brandon could properly see his enemy. It was a hulking creature standing well above him, its body made of jagged rock and twisted, gnarled roots. Brandon thought it looked like one of those weird hedge sculptures, but if the artist had used rock instead of leaves. Its neck and head appeared mostly wooden, so Brandon figured that his best shot at killing it would be the same as the stupid boar from earlier—wrap the whip around and flare the fire.

He imagined the creature couldn't move all that quickly, and watching its slow movements only confirmed that. Brandon focused on its eyes, and they made him take a step back. The small green points of light radiated an unnatural glow, and Brandon felt a shiver run down his spine.

Brandon and the Rockroot Grunt circled each other, small rocks falling off of it as it moved. Brandon wasn't quite sure what the creature could do, apart from causing rocks to rise from the ground and hit him. He wanted to get a read on it before making a move.

The beast seemed content to just wait for something to happen, and Brandon grew impatient. Deciding to test his abilities, he summoned his Shadow clone next to the Grunt to see what would happen. Upon doing so, he was greeted with shards of rock protruding from the beast's body, impaling the clone. They pierced straight through it. The creature turned to look at the clone, almost in confusion.

Brandon seized his opportunity. He rushed the beast, sending his whip flying in an attempt to wrap it around the exposed wooden throat of the creature.

It turned at the last second, raising its fist in what Brandon deemed an annoyingly quick motion. His whip wrapped around the beast's upper arm, and he flared the power of the flame. Pulling tighter on the whip, Brandon was both pleased and surprised to see the weapon cut through the beast's arm. It let out a piercing shriek and retaliated by sending shards of rock flying toward Brandon.

With the whip still wrapped around the beast's arm as it fell, Brandon was too slow to avoid the incoming shards. The first one struck him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and cracking his shield. The second shard hit his arm, breaking it and sending him staggering backward from the explosion of his shield.

Brandon stood, grimacing as he looked down at his arm, a shard of rock protruding from his forearm. "Well, that hurts," he muttered, jumping out of the way as the enraged beast hurled rock after rock at him.

He quickly re-summoned his whip, the pain in his arm fueling his anger. He roared at the beast, conjured his shield once more, and charged forward, knowing that if he stayed on the defensive, eventually he would be hit by an attack too strong for his shield to block.

As he closed in on the Rockroot Grunt, it swung its remaining arm at him in a slow, clumsy punch. Brandon saw it coming early enough to drop to his knees, sliding under the attack. Once on the other side of the beast, he whipped his weapon up and caught it around the creature’s neck. Pulling hard and flaring the flame, he was met with the satisfying sound of a roar as the burning whip severed the beast’s head from its body.

"You have slain Rockroot Grunt, Level 3. Experience Gained. Wizard Level 2 Gained. Congratulations," the monotone voice announced in his head.

Brandon focused on the Rockroot Grunt's corpse, still processing the rush of the fight. "Would you like to claim your bounty?" the screen prompted.

Just as he was about to accept the prompt and claim his loot, he noticed an exclamation mark appear in the corner at the top of the screen. He focused on it, and it revealed itself to be a notification, much like one he’d see on a phone.

"Arcane Barrier unpracticed advances to Arcane Barrier Novice."

Brandon focused on the message, and the screen responded:

"Your use of the Arcane Barrier has resulted in your ability to more effectively direct its power toward where you are hit. Increases damage required to break the barrier."

"Well, that’s fucking helpful," Brandon muttered under his breath.

Brandon returned to the message about collecting his bounty.

"Would you like to claim your bounty?" the screen displayed once again.

He mentally assented, and to his surprise, the body of the beast combusted into flames. Brandon was horrified to notice that the shard of rock that had been lodged in his arm was also burning. However, he quickly realized that it wasn’t actually hurting him. The shard had disappeared along with the beast’s body, burned away in the flames.

“Well, at least something isn’t trying to kill me, I guess,” Brandon muttered, holding his hand to his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “What the fuck am I going to do about this though?” he wondered aloud, still staring at his arm, now free of the shard.

As if listening to his request, the screen reappeared in front of Brandon.

Items Received:

* 5 Grunt's Regeneration Sap

* 1 Rockroot Grunt's Hide

"Regeneration sap? Like a healing ointment?" Brandon muttered. "That's great and all, but how the fuck do I use it?" His voice rose with frustration, finally boiling over.

"Maybe I have an inventory?" he reasoned. He focused on the word in his mind, and to his delight, a screen appeared, listing his items:

Inventory:

* 1 Hollowhorn Boar Hide

* 1 Hollowhorn Boar Horn

* 5 Grunt's Regeneration Sap

* 1 Rockroot Grunt's Hide

He focused on the Grunt's Regeneration Sap, and a description followed:

Grunt's Regeneration Sap

Received after slaying Level 3 Rockroot Grunt in the Wizard’s Dungeon.

An ointment used for the healing of small wounds. 1 sap per wound.

"Now how do I retrieve it?" Brandon muttered, then blinked, his suspicion confirmed. He allowed the description to close, and the screen returned to the item list. He reached out and, after a moment’s hesitation, grasped at the item with his hand.

To his surprise, it felt solid, warm even, as the Grunt's Regeneration Sap materialized in his palm.

Brandon quickly smeared the sap over the wound on his arm, cringing slightly as he watched his flesh re-knit together before his eyes. The pain rapidly dissipated, and the wound healed as if it had never been there. The momentary disgust of watching the healing process didn't last long as relief settled in.

"Well, that's... fucking weird. But it works," he muttered, flexing his arm, now free of injury.

Brandon decided to continue past the room where he had just fought, feeling his confidence slowly build. "Maybe I might just survive this shitty cave after all," he muttered to himself, a smile creeping onto his face. He made his way down the next corridor, picking up a stick he found lying on the stone floor. He frowned, confused. If the stick had come from the monster, why hadn't it disappeared like the rest of the body?

After walking for a few minutes, Brandon stopped suddenly, his cheeks flushing red once again. "Hold the fuck on," he said, looking down at the stick in his hand. With a sigh, he conjured his whip. "Why the hell am I holding a fucking torch when I have a whip that's constantly on fucking fire?"

He looked down at the whip, and his shoulders slumped. "Thank god no one can see me," he muttered, embarrassed, as he let the stick fall to the ground. Without a second thought, he continued down the corridor, now holding his fiery whip in hand, ready for whatever came next.