Lucian’s mind stirred from the depths of unconsciousness, slow and disoriented, as if surfacing from deep water.
Everything felt wrong. His body was heavy, sluggish, his limbs unresponsive.
The last thing he remembered was…
A Cube.
No—not just a Cube. He had found it. Touched it. And then—
Something pulled him. A force yanking him through reality itself, twisting, unraveling—
Then nothing.
He gasped as awareness returned, but instead of warmth, he was greeted by cold, unyielding stone.
A sharp sensation registered first—the rough, jagged texture of stone pressing against his back. Then came the cold, seeping into his skin, wrapping around him like a phantom’s embrace.
Where… am I?
A dull, metallic scent clung to the air, mingling with something earthy—moss, decay… and blood? He inhaled sharply, but the air was thick, damp with moisture, making each breath feel labored. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped rhythmically, the sound eerily amplified by the cavernous walls.
His fingers twitched, brushing against the uneven stone floor. The surface was cracked and chipped, ancient, as if time itself had worn it down. As awareness fully returned, an even more unsettling realization settled in his gut—this wasn’t home.
His eyelids flickered open, revealing nothing but darkness.
For a moment, he thought he was blind, but then his vision adjusted. Patches of faint, ghostly blue light glowed along the damp walls—clusters of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the stone like veins of an alien organism. Their eerie radiance cast twisting shadows, stretching and shrinking as if the very walls were breathing.
Lucian sat up sharply, his breath coming in short, rapid gasps. His heartbeat pounded like war drums in his ears.
His first instinct was denial. Maybe this was a dream—a vivid, twisted nightmare. But the dull ache in his muscles and the lingering cold on his skin said otherwise.
His breathing slowed, but the silence that followed was worse.
The silence wasn’t empty. It was waiting.
Something felt… wrong.
A prickling sensation crawled up his spine, like unseen eyes pressing against his skin. The air felt thicker now, suffocating, charged with something unseen but undeniably there.
His breath hitched.
Then—a sound.
A soft, almost imperceptible scrape, like claws dragging over stone.
Lucian froze.
The noise was distant, barely a whisper against the vast stillness, but it sent an unmistakable chill slithering down his spine.
I’m not alone.
A lump formed in his throat. He licked his lips, swallowing against the dryness. Slowly, hesitantly, he tried to speak—to confirm his own existence.
“W-Where the hell am I?”
His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper, yet the cavern ate the sound whole, leaving behind only the steady drip… drip… drip of unseen water.
His fingers pressed against the stone floor again—deliberate this time. Feeling the solid, jagged reality beneath him.
This isn’t a dream.
Then it came.
A deep, guttural growl, so low and primal it vibrated through his very bones.
His entire body locked up, his breath caught mid-inhale. It came from behind him—not close, but not far enough. The kind of distance where if he turned to look, he might regret it.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run.
His heart lurched, hammering against his ribs. His pulse pounded in his ears. He couldn’t see it—whatever it was—but his instincts knew. Predator. Hunter. Danger.
He didn’t stop to think. He didn’t turn to confirm. He ran.
His feet slammed against the stone floor, the uneven terrain threatening to trip him, but his body moved on autopilot. His breath came in harsh gasps, but he ignored it—ignored everything except the primal command screaming in his skull:
GO. GO. GO.
The air around him felt thicker, heavier, as if the dungeon itself was swallowing him whole. The walls blurred in his peripheral vision, twisted by the faint, flickering glow of the fungi. The tunnels stretched and wound like a serpent’s gullet, endless and suffocating.
Lucian’s lungs burned as he ran, his legs screaming with every step.
No. No, this isn’t real. It can’t be.
The dungeon. The darkness. The monster.
This wasn’t London. This wasn’t even Earth.
No… no, that’s impossible.
He ran his tongue over his dry lips, trying to ground himself. But the cold air, the stone, the damp scent of moss—it was all too real.
The thought slammed into him harder than the panic itself.
I… I got isekaied?
The moment it hit, his stomach twisted in both terror and disbelief.
This was the setup, wasn’t it? Waking up in a dungeon, chased by a monster. He had seen it in anime, in web novels—the protagonist always had some cheat ability or hidden power.
But what if he didn’t?
The idea made his chest tighten. The usual rules of fiction didn’t guarantee his survival.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
This wasn’t a story.
This was real.
And if he didn’t get out of this dungeon—he was going to die.
Lucian’s lungs burned as he finally slowed his pace, his back pressing against the cold stone wall. He barely registered the discomfort, too focused on the suffocating silence that followed his frantic escape.
The growling had faded into the distance, but he knew better than to feel relieved.
His body still shook with adrenaline, heart pounding so loudly it felt deafening in the silence. He forced himself to breathe slowly—in, out.
If I keep panicking, I’ll just get myself killed.
As his vision adjusted to the dim glow of the fungi-covered walls, something in the corner of his eye made him freeze.
A pile of bones lay slumped against the far side of the tunnel, half-buried under layers of dust and debris.
Lucian swallowed hard. Human? No—too large. The proportions were all wrong, the ribcage too broad, the skull elongated.
Definitely not human.
His gaze drifted downward. Despite its crumbling state, the skeleton’s bony fingers still clutched something.
A sword.
The blade was coated in rust and dirt, its edges dulled by time, yet something about it stood out.
Why was it still intact, while the body had turned to dust?
Lucian hesitated, a deep, instinctual caution keeping his fingers hovering just above the hilt.
This feels like a trap.
Maybe it was the way the sword still sat perfectly in the skeletal grip. Or maybe it was just how eerily staged it looked—as if waiting for someone to claim it.
But then he thought about his lack of a weapon.
If another monster showed up—if that thing from before found him again—he had nothing.
Teeth clenched, he reached out.
The moment his fingers curled around the hilt, a strange sensation coursed through him—not pain, but an odd tingling.
Then—the skeleton collapsed into dust.
A silent disintegration, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment to fade away.
Lucian stared, gripping the sword tightly as the last remnants of the ancient remains crumbled at his feet.
A slow exhale left his lips.
"Damn. How old is this thing?"
The sword felt heavier than expected, but not in a bad way. It was solid, well-balanced, despite the rust eating away at its surface.
He ran his thumb along the dull edge. Not sharp, but not useless either.
If this was a game, this would be the part where the weapon’s details appeared.
Lucian gave a dry chuckle. Yeah right. Like that would actually happen—
A soft chime rang through the air.
A second later, a translucent blue screen flickered into existence right in front of him.
Lucian yelped, nearly dropping the sword as he stumbled backward. His breath hitched, heart hammering in his chest.
The glowing text on the screen pulsed faintly, words forming with smooth precision.
[Ding!]
Item Identified – [Weapon: Ancient Ruined Sword]
Rank: B (Degraded)
Condition: Severely rusted, but still retains a faint edge.
Description:
A relic of a forgotten era, this once-magnificent sword has seen countless battles and was likely wielded by a valiant adventurer who perished long ago. The blade is chipped and corroded, its former brilliance dulled by time.
Lucian just stood there, heart hammering in his chest.
The soft blue light reflected in his widened eyes.
No way. This is real.
This is a freaking system.
A game interface.
It wasn’t just some ancient relic—it had stats.
His fingers trembled slightly as he steadied his grip on the sword, gaze locked on the floating text.
If this world has a system…
His throat went dry. His mind raced.
…does that mean I have stats too?
The thought was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
Lucian hesitated only for a moment.
Then, his curiosity won over his fear.
Taking a steadying breath, he focused.
"Status."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
[Ding!]
As another blue screen unfurled before him, Lucian felt his entire world shift.
A glowing interface materialized in front of Lucian, hovering in midair with an otherworldly presence. The screen pulsed softly, its translucent blue light casting eerie reflections in the dim dungeon glow.
His breath caught in his throat.
The words slowly unfurled, as if deliberately teasing him with the weight of their significance.
[Status Window]
Name: Lucian Rengoku
Race: Human(?)
Level: 1
Class: None
Rank: No Rank
Health: 100/100
Mana: 50/50
Stamina: 100/100
Attributes:
Strength: 12
Agility: 15
Endurance: 10
Dexterity: 14
Intelligence: 13
Luck: (???)
Lucian blinked.
Once. Twice.
Then frowned.
"Are you kidding me?"
His gaze flicked from his stats to the dungeon walls, then to the rusted sword in his grip.
For the first time since waking up, a thought hit him.
I need to get stronger.
Fast.