It was the dead of the night and not a single soul was in sight. Even though this was usually the time someone would spend sleeping, Oscar was doing the exact opposite.

Gradually, a large, imposing entranceway drew his eyes. It led into a building made of what seemed to be a white stone.

Unlike every other building in the immediate vicinity, the lights inside of this particular building were still on. And the lack of anything resembling a door meant that Oscar could walk right in.

And so he did.

Entering the building, it dawned on Oscar that it wasn’t actually that large of a space. Already he could see his destination, a spiral staircase, maybe large enough for possibly a dozen people to go down it at once.

The golden mark on his arm hummed at the sight.

Without a shred of hesitation, Oscar continued forward. Nothing was going to stop him—

“Excuse me, sir?”

Pausing, Oscar looked to his side. His green eyes found a young woman standing behind a countertop. She was dressed in an attire that could only be described as “uniform.”

“Yes.”

“Are you an adventurer? Only adventures are allowed into the Dungeon,” she revealed.

That’s right. This place is the entrance to the Dungeon. In fact the stairway Oscar was observing earlier was the one and only way into the Dungeon.

Oscar paused. He had only known this was the entrance to the Dungeon because Altar had told him so. However, the holy sword had failed to inform him that only adventurers were allowed in. This was probably more so simply because it simply wasn’t aware of this fact more than anything else, but he deserved at least this much.

Who even was this lady? Was there some sort of organization that governed the Dungeon? That made his job so much harder. He imagined not just anyone was allowed to be an adventurer, and wasn’t aware of there were any qualifications or anything of the such to be one.

Oscar was sure of his ability to fight more than anything else in life, but maybe there was more to being an adventurer.

With such a conundrum before him, Oscar was forced to debate his options. On one hand, he could simply tell the truth and reveal he isn’t an adventurer. Or lie, and claim he is, while simultaneously avoiding all the possible complications that will arise from not being one.

Well this isn't a contest.

Oscar turned to the young man and opened his mouth. “Yes—“

“No you’re not,” she cut him off.

“Huh?”

The young stared at him with a heavy gaze, and if it wasn’t for the absolute stoicism in her dark eyes, Oscar would’ve thought she was glaring at him. “There are exactly forty-six thousand five hundred and twenty-four adventurers in Ethos. And you are not one of them,” she stated, leaving no argument.

Left speechless by both being caught in the middle of his lie and by the woman’s frankly frightening amount of knowledge of the adventurers, Oscar was unable to string together a coherent sentence.

He was only able to utter one word.

“How?”

“The names and faces of every adventure that has ever walked down those stairs—I know them all. It is my Gift,” she answered.

Oscar blinked at the unfamiliar term, more sure than not that it meant something entirely different than what he thought.

Seeing this, the woman’s eyes seemed to twinkle as…elation filled those dark orbs. “It seems you aren’t aware of a lot,” she seemingly noted. “If you wish to become an adventurer all you have to do is answer a few questions.”

Eyebrows raised, Oscar asked, dubious, “Really?”

“Yes, really. Come,” she called him over.

Still suspicious of the entire thing, Oscar initially hesitated, but in the end he relented. If he could gain access to Dungeon now, then down the line hopefully there wouldn’t be any complications. As for the foreseeable future, Oscar planned to frequent the Dungeon more than anywhere else in the city.

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Approaching the counter, the young woman offered him a piece of paper with squiggles on it and a pointed stick with a black point.

“Simply fill out this questionnaire and after a brief review you’ll be allowed entrance into the Dungeon,” she explained.

Oscar nodded in understanding before lowering his gaze towards the paper.

It took mere seconds for his brow to furrow in confusion.

The two merely sat there, one watched the other, while the other tried to decipher whatever it was he was looking at.

“Excuse me, sir?”

There was no response from Oscar.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Is there an issue?”

Oscar looked away. “I-I don’t know what I’m looking at,” he admitted.

He watched as the woman blinked in confusion before it dawned on her, the realization clear in her expression.

“Sir, do you know how to read…or write for that matter?”

Oscar didn’t answer immediately. “My parents…they…”

He struggled to find the right words to say. And not because he lacked the information to sufficiently answer her questions, he just struggled on which version to tell her.

“It’s okay,” she said, grabbing the paper and stick. “Right, now first question. What is your name?”

It was a simple question, but it’s undeniable that he hesitated answering.

“Oscar,” he answered after a quick, practically unnoticeable pause. “No last name.”

His name is Oscar. His parents were peasants—farmers, without a shred of land to their name. And he was a farmer’s son. That’s all he was. That’s all he was ever going to be.

At least, that was until Altar chose him and he subsequently became a “hero.”

He died fighting the Demon King. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. He knows he died. That agonizing last breath was still fresh in his mind, as if it was only a few hours ago.

Then, he found himself here—in a city he didn’t recognize, in a body that wasn’t his own.

A dead man walking.

“Where are you from?”

“A farming village off in the countryside. I would like to omit the name if I can.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.”

Even though it should’ve been impossible, the memories associated with this body were prevalent in his mind. It wasn't as if there were any issues differentiating the two either. He knew which memories were his, and which weren’t.

This body’s name was also Oscar. And his parents left this world when he was just a boy, a terrible disease claiming their lives. He too was born in a farming village off in the countryside, though the name oddly eluded him.

His life was utterly normal, until he decided one day to travel to Ethos. And upon approaching the city gates, he blacked out.

And the rest of the history.

His name. His appearance. His background. They were practically identical to his own.

It was too much to be a coincidence.

“Any particular skills?”

“I’m good with a sword.”

The only difference between the two was the existence of a certain holy sword—though Oscar wasn’t sure if he should consider that an advantage of his.

Someone or something was the reason he was standing here at this moment. And he had half a mind to believe it had something to do with Altar.

He didn’t find the idea amusing—this second life given to him. Very few wouldn’t hesitate to call it a blessing.

He was one of those few.

He had died. That should’ve been it for him. He had earned his rest. So why is it that he walks among the living again?

He needed answers.

“Why do you want to be an adventurer?”

And he knew exactly where to get them.

Oscar smiled. “To explore the Dungeon.”

Ever since he’s woken up, a sort of ping has been resounding in his mind—leading him places. First, it led him to this city. Next, he followed the ping to Altar. It was then that Oscar realized that the pinging was Altar itself, communicating with him.

Now, the sword was leading him to the next destination.

The Dungeon.

It is here where Oscar is sure he will find some answers.

The young woman hummed as she jotted down a few more squiggles onto the paper.. “That’ll be all, Oscar. With that, you’re officially allowed to dive into the Dungeon. Upon your return, a guild member will issue you an identification card. Using it, you will be able to enter the Dungeon again at any time,” she informed him. “Any questions?”

“None at all.”

The young woman nodded. “Understood. I see that you’re rather…under equipped. The Guild is willing to loan you some weapons and armor. Would you like them?”

“I’ll take the armor,” he said without hesitation.

The young woman, who he figured must be a member of this “Guild,” blinked. “No weapon, sir?”

Oscar shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “No. I’ll be fine without it.”

“Are you sure?”

The golden mark on his arm hummed in agreement.

“Most definitely.”

And maybe, after all of this is over, he can finally rest.