The morning after escaping the dungeon, Dustin prepared for an assault worse than what the goblins or spiders had given him. Thunderous steps approached, and he braced himself for the worst. His arsenal prepared, ready to counter whatever she threw at him.

He had the ‘Hero who saved the class’, ‘Scared son crying to see his mother’, and ‘Injured son traumatized from the event’ under his belt as ammunition, his face as the weapon. Jean threw open the curtains to see Dustin in all his glory.

“What were you thinking!” She shouted, scaring the poor nurse beside her. The nurse rushed out, shutting the curtains behind to give mother and son some space.

“Can you not shout? I still have a headache.” Dustin mumbled and winced, one hand on his head, and the other on his shoulder. He played his ‘injured son’ card first, seeing what response his mother would draw.

“Can I not-,” Jean took a deep breath in and sat down on the chair beside Dustin, hands on her forehead cupping her face.

“Ah, the worried mother card: inflict guilt.” Dustin thought, fighting the urge to laugh.

“It’s good to see you again, Mum.” Dustin said back, forcing a tear out. Like slapping down an uno reverse card, Dustin turned the guilt back onto his mother.

Jean looked up at her son and some tension relieved from her face. The news over the phone sounded dire, but he looked fine now. The culprit of her anger hid his fist pump, pushing through with his secondary play, the ‘scared son’.

His shoulders shook once or twice, and Jean could not help her instincts, leaping off the chair to hug him. She saw the suturing on his shoulder and winced, refraining from patting the burnt skin on his back.

Now that he had reeled her in, he revealed his last card.

“I didn’t want to wake you up from your sleep, sorry. I can’t tell you how I got these injuries, but they kept everyone safe, so I regret nothing.”

Jean let go of Dustin and sat back down, resting a hand on his knee. She ejected the air from her nose and nodded, looking with an intense stare at Dustin.

“I don’t know what you or the others went through, but don’t you dare me think you might have died again.” Jean said, tears staining her brown cardigan.

The words stuck into Dustin like an arrow through the heart. It was a promise he could not make, each dungeon a balance between life or death. He wanted to console his mother, promise her he would stay safe, and she had nothing to worry about.

But he couldn’t. It hurt to lie to his mother, to pretend like everything was going to be fine. He knew it was not. The least he could do was ensure her survival. Dustin reached down and placed his hand over hers, squeezing it tight.

“I’m sorry mum, I think some things are going to happen, and neither of us might be safe. But I promise, I’ll do my damn hardest to come home even if the world tries to stop me.”

Jean remained silent, sobbing for another minute before she sniffled and nodded, resting her forehead atop Dustin’s hand. He brought his other hand over and ran it through her hair, gliding through the long graying strands with love.

It felt like he had spent a longer time without his mother than he had with her and promised himself that he would spend more time with her. He could not remember what her hair felt like, over a decade ago since he last scratched her hair.

After ten minutes of silence, Jean regained her motherly glory and grilled Dustin on what had happened. The agent that had questioned him last night left him with the news that he was not to disclose any of the events, and time in a cell was on the menu if word got out.

Dustin fended off her questions, steering her clear of anything to do with Dos. Of course, as his mother, she knew his tactic. She played innocent when she asked questions about Dos, knowing full well it had something to do with his and the other students' disappearance and injuries. It was too big to be coincidental after the sudden arrival of the interface.

He pretended like the interface was still new to him, babbling on about what it could mean, why it was here, and what the status screen meant. He knew his mother had an average attribute screen, with the saving grace of an above average wisdom.

She showed her screen to Dustin, confirming that it was the same this time around. If Dustin gave her a path to follow, he would stick her as a support in the rear. He had no intention of informing her of this, nor leading her along the path. By his concerns, she could dump all of her points, if she earned any, into her constitution. Regain some of her youthfulness, and perhaps a better chance of survival when the dungeons broke out.

Dustin had the plans for constructing a safe space for her to stay, but he knew she would not accept being caged like a bird.

“Oh, I would love a balcony!” She’d say, just to be sunbaking out there when a flying monster comes by to gobble her up.

When it seemed she was growing tired of questioning him, he sent her to negotiate his discharge. He needed to train again. Even a small increase in attributes demanded a period of adjustment.

With a high level of strength, punching a wall could make a hole, but it could also break a knuckle bone.

His attributes did not increase much, but when they did, knowing his baseline with the attributes he had now meant any increases were easier to quantify and adjust to. Jean returned in short order, with a nurse tailing behind her. The nurse rattled on about Dustin’s injuries, claiming it best if he stayed in hospital for another couple of days so they could keep running tests and establish a trend.

They agreed to let him go tomorrow, with a GP check-up each week to ensure nothing went wrong. She was expecting a healthy recovery, but envenomation from a giant spider was not an everyday injury. Infection was also on the menu from the filthy environment he had fought in.

The started medical kit had done wonders to neutralize both, but he was not about to tell her that. He had informed the agent about it, claiming that it was a reward from the dungeon, the same thing Ben believed before he taught him how to purchase it. Still, it would enter the market sometime.

If humanity was consistent with anything, it was human curiosity. Even if it killed them, pioneers would purchase anything and everything from the store just to fuck around with it.

The starter medical kit had a friendly enough name, albeit a hefty price tag. He was sure that someone would stab themselves with the needle. During his remaining day at the hospital, Dustin scrolled through the Dos store in search of sales, whisking through the daily discounts section for a good deal. A couple of pages in, he ran into the first interesting item, an extendable quarterstaff.

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It offered no real additional features for combat, but was an excellent choice for those who wanted to hide their weapon. For Dustin, he could hide a quarterstaff in his inventory, and pull it out just before combat.

But Dustin remembered a saying his group had in the past, ‘If it’s in your inventory, you better not need it.’

Dustin was not useless without it, but when he needed to smack things, time was of the essence.

The extendable quarterstaff weighed the same as a metal baton used in relay races and looked similar in size. The staff extended outwards from both ends until it reached about six feet across. When resting on the floor, the tip ended just below his height. It cost 200 Dos, discounted down from 350.

He added it to his shopping cart and returned to flipping through the remaining discounted items. A quarterstaff was not a primary concern for him. He needed spellbooks. Dustin still knew how to cast spells, burned into his brain from muscle memory. But humans did not possess the ability to use magic. No matter how much he waved his hands, strained his mind, or chanted, he could not defeat the impossible.

Purchasing a spell enabled Dos to alter the human body for use of mana. The discount section for magical items was small. They were popular commodities, and there was no point in discounting something that people would buy at full price.

If Dustin was lucky, the Daily Discount, a list containing twelve items, might feature spellbooks. But the list today contained a martial arts bundle, each item geared to helping a budding fighter.

He resigned himself to scouring the regular discount section for a sneaky deal. After a futile ten minutes, he wandered across two spellbooks. The description made it obvious why they had fallen into the discount section as unwanted goods.

Crimson Sweep - 1,000 Dos

School of Haemomancy

Sacrifices 15% of maximum blood volume, producing a wave of necrotic blood magic up to 10m away. Living tissue exposed to the wave undergoes advanced necrosis.

No mana cost.

Dustin scoffed at the absurdity. The spell was a prime example of the dangers of brute forcing magic. The effects of the spell were not bad. Advanced necrosis would cause the rapid decay of tissue. If aimed well enough, it could destroy esophageal tissue and asphyxiate the victim.

Haemomancy was a dangerous game to play. It fueled spells with a sacrifice of the caster's blood. It stated ‘no mana cost’, but that was a fallacy. Many organs stored mana, with blood being an excellent container for it. By sacrificing blood to fuel the spell, one also lost mana.

Specific to the spell, and many others, it consumed ‘maximum’ blood volume. This wording implied it would sacrifice 15% of the body’s maximum capacity for blood. If one lost too much blood, the spell would destroy what little blood remained, killing the caster.

Another problem that arose was friendly fire. Wave-type spells were great for tackling a large group of enemies, but could not differentiate between friend or foe.

Dustin closed the description for the book and scowled, hoping that the other spell might meet his standards.

Wind Spike - 680 Dos

Aeromancy

Produce a 50cm long spike of wind, launching it forward. Maximum distance of 25m.

15 Mana cost

The initial description was alright, but further inspection into the spell book preview revealed why it had fallen from grace. The projectile was too long. It lacked a physical form, unlike shooting an arrow, there was no need to create such an awkward spike. The initial penetration was respectable, but the size of the object was a hindrance.

Not to mention that after the initial hit, most of the spike would dissipate. Since it did not leave an object in the body, there was no need to worry about further damage. Leaving an arrow in someone could injure them during the fight as they moved, but Wind Spike caused no such problem.

Dustin argued within his mind over the costs and benefits. He had 750 Dos at his disposal. Purchasing Wind Spike would set him back 680. A pitiful 70 left would afford him some consumables, and not much else. Non-discounted spells almost all exceeded his current budget. The few that he could afford were disappointing.

Another option existed to claim his rewards from completing the dungeon and sell them to the Dos store, but that was a waste. Items would sell for more Dos points in the human markets, or he could sell them for currency. He could get by on a less optimal spell for a future investment.

The retractable quarterstaff could also wait. He had his own quarterstaff at home already, lacking transportability, but a fine weapon.

He decided on purchasing the spell, but it would need major tweaking. Shortening the projectile length and reducing the mana cost were the two priorities.

Purchase complete. Thank you, and happy spending!

Mana aptitude increased.

What felt like a jolt of electricity raced through Dustin's body, unlocking the latent mana within his system. As the dungeons were still new, the amount of mana permeating earth was pitiful. He could feel the limited mana around him. An uncomfortable feeling, like being trapped in an enclosed space and deprived of oxygen.

It all but eliminated the ability to meditate to increase the mana pool. Meditation was the key to a sufficient mana pool. Many magicians hesitated to clear mana rich dungeons as they were an important cultivation tool. This phenomenon would not occur until over a year later, when the dungeons no longer required defeating its boss to escape. One could enter and leave as much as they liked. The caveat was that the dungeon would break or merge with Earth after being left active too long.

For some, they believed that controlling dungeons, leaving them uncleared, would stop a dungeon elsewhere in the world from appearing. The theory remained unconfirmed.

The easiest way to increase a mana pool prior to meditation was to increase one’s attributes, such as Wisdom. When increasing the Wisdom attribute, Dos would inject mana into the pioneer, increasing their mana pool. This was the same process Dustin felt, like an electric shock.

Dustin stopped the spellbook from attempting to materialize, placing it into his inventory instead. The interface had a built in reading system, allowing him access to its contents in secrecy. As Dustin feared, they developed the spell without finesse in mind. Similar to Crimson Wave, the creator of Wind Spike had brute forced their way through the spell’s creation.

The accompanying notes for learning the spell were terrible for newcomers. Prior knowledge for spellcasting was necessary to understand the concepts and terminology used. It was far from a perfect beginner spell, but Dustin was no beginner.

A blue wisp formed in Dustin’s hand, taking the form of a stylus. With a fresh notepad page open, he copied the spell over from the spellbook. For his first iteration, he focused on shortening the length of the spike. Even 25cm long was unnecessary, but it was a tall order for Dustin to remove half the length in one go with only a basic understanding of how the magic worked.

Not to mention the puddle of mana within him draining as he wrote. He broke into a sweat finishing the spell formation, his writing hand trembling and glowing a light blue. He shortened Wind Spike to 35cm, the best he could manage.

It still consumed a whopping 15 mana, enough for a single cast. His mana pool was sitting at 25. The little blue bar on the Dos interface glowed red, a sign of low mana, and Dustin sighed.

It was tough to feel so weak again, despite being ahead of the curve already. His head sank deeper into the pillow, a swipe of his hand closing the Dos interface. The hospital bed grew comfier as he drifted off.