He was a man in his mid-twenties who had just taken shelter after returning from a failed interview. Finding a job was tough these days. He had applied to dozens, yet only landed three interviews. From the looks on the interviewers' faces, he already knew—another rejection.

Now, stuck beside his motorcycle as the rain poured, he scrolled through his phone, escaping into isekai stories.

"Reincarnated as a vending machine? Man, they’ll isekai anything these days," he muttered, scrolling past another novel.

Lightning flashed. Thunder growled. The air smelled of wet asphalt and fried bananas from the vendor next door.

"Guess I’ll read one more chapter…"

The roadside shelter was packed with people waiting for the rain to pass. Office workers checked their phones, students slurped instant noodles from a stall, and an old man muttered complaints about the weather. The air was thick with the scent of wet clothes, fried snacks, and exhaust fumes from passing cars.

Near the edge of the shelter, a young woman around his age stood with two small children pressed against her. They clung to her jacket, their faces half-hidden as she murmured reassurances. She gave them a small, tired smile, gently rubbing their backs. He glanced at them briefly, then returned to his phone.

‘Damn, my friend had a kid now, and here was a woman his age already taking care of two.’ He thought. Meanwhile, he thought himself that couldn’t even land a job. A bitter chuckle almost escaped him, but he swallowed it down, shoving the thought aside. No use dwelling on it.

He glanced at his phone again, scrolling mindlessly. Another isekai story popped up—some guy getting reborn as a powerful noble. Must be nice, he thought. Outside, the rain kept falling, the world moving forward while he remained stuck in place.

A loud screech tore through the air, followed by the deafening roar of an engine. His head snapped up just in time to see it—a massive truck skidding out of control on the slick road, heading straight for the shelter. People screamed, scattering in all directions as tires screeched against the pavement.

His instincts kicked in, and he moved without thinking, already stepping toward safety. He was young, fast—he could avoid it. But just as he turned, his eyes caught a small figure on the ground. One of the children had fallen, frozen in terror as the truck barreled toward them.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. He lunged back, arms outstretched, grabbing the child and shoving them toward safety. Relief barely had time to settle in his chest before—impact.

A crushing force. A flash of pain. Then, nothing.

Nothing.

No light, no sound, no sensation. Just a vast, endless void.

So that’s it, huh? he thought. Maybe there really is no afterlife…

He wasn’t sure how long he drifted in that emptiness. Minutes? Hours? An eternity? He had no body, no breath, yet his mind remained, thoughts spiraling in the silence. Was this all that was left of him? A lingering consciousness floating in the dark?

Then—something. A feeling. A shift.

Slowly, his awareness sharpened, and for the first time since the accident, he saw something. A faint light flickered in the darkness, like a notification on a screen. Then, a voice—no, not a voice, but words forming directly in his mind.

[Congratulations, you have become the first dungeon to be granted to the world.]

…What?

[Welcome to the Dungeon System.]

Wait. Hold on. Dungeon?

His thoughts raced. This had to be a mistake. He had read enough isekai novels to recognize a system message, but those guys always got reborn as overpowered heroes, demon lords, or at least a damn human!

Sure, there were some absurd reincarnations—people turning into swords, vending machines, or even slimes. But a dungeon? That wasn’t just weird, that was straight-up unfair! How was he supposed to do anything without arms or legs? Without even a mouth to scream in frustration?!

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Desperately, he tried to move, but there were no arms, no legs—nothing. Instead, his vision expanded, stretching unnaturally, as if his very existence had changed. He could see the rocky cavern around him, the damp walls, the eerie blue glow of crystals embedded in stone.

A terrifying realization hit him.

He hadn’t been reincarnated as a person.

He had become a cave.

No, no, no. This has to be some kind of joke.

He tried to move—nothing. Tried to breathe—nothing. He didn’t even have lungs to inhale with! Panic surged through him, but what was he supposed to do? He was just here, existing.

Okay, calm down. Let’s think this through.

He had died. That much was obvious. But instead of disappearing into nothingness, he was… what? A dungeon? A cave? What even was a dungeon in this context?

Wait. If this is a system thing, there has to be a way to check my status, right?

In every isekai story he had read, the protagonist always had some kind of status screen. Maybe if he just…

Status?

[Displaying Dungeon Status.]

Oh. That actually worked.

[Dungeon Status]

Name: Ordis

Type: Primordial Dungeon (First of Its Kind)

Rank: 1

Core Integrity: 100%

Mana Reserves: 0 / ??? (Capacity Expanding)

Territory: 3 Floors (Expandable)

Dungeon Energy: 0 (Accumulates Over Time)

Dungeon Abilities:

* [Core Absorption] – Convert materials and energy into dungeon growth.

* [Environment Manipulation] – Alter dungeon layout and terrain.

* [Summon Minions] – ?? (Locked)

* [Trap Creation] – ?? (Locked)

* [Dungeon Expansion] – Absorb and grow larger over time.

"Wow, it's really here. Huh... I really was reborn as a dungeon."

The words hung in his mind, surreal yet undeniable. Floating before him, as clear as day, was his Dungeon Status. The proof that this wasn’t a weird dream or some bizarre near-death hallucination. This was real.

"I often read isekai stories, but I never thought I would experience something similar. And not as a hero, a noble, or even a damn slime—but as a cave. I even have a new name."

He sighed, or at least, he tried to. But there was no breath, no chest rising and falling, no mouth to let out the frustration building inside him. Just thoughts, raw and unfiltered, bouncing endlessly in the void of his mind.

"I don't know if I should be happy about this… since, well, I'm really dead."

That thought stung more than he expected. There was no going back, no waking up in a hospital bed to find out it was all some near-death experience. His body—his human body—was gone. Flattened, even. He should have been terrified. He should have been grieving.

And yet…

"Hah… Mom’s gonna be sad, huh?"

His mother. His family. The people he left behind. He could picture her now, her tired but warm smile, the way she’d always nag him about eating properly, about getting a stable job. She had already worried so much about him when he was alive. Now, he'd gone and died before her.

"Sorry, Mom. I really am the worst."

There was a pang of guilt. But at the same time, something strange stirred inside him. Something… exciting.

"But… to be honest, I’m kinda thrilled about this."

He hesitated, as if admitting it was some kind of betrayal. But there was no denying it—this was fantasy made real. A world of magic, of systems, of something beyond the mundane struggles of job hunting and paying rent.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt free.

The weight he had carried for years—the silent, exhausting burden—was gone. Before he had even started his desperate search for a job, he had spent years tending to his sickly father, watching over him, caring for him, all while knowing deep down that no matter how much effort he put in, the outcome would never change. His father had fought bravely, but illness was a cruel opponent.

And in the end, it took him.

That was why his résumé had that glaring gap. Why every interview felt like an uphill battle. Nobody cared about the struggles he went through—only that he had been inactive for too long.

But now? Now there were no résumés. No hiring managers sizing him up like he was already a failure. No more waking up every day feeling like he had already fallen behind.

No more rejection emails. No more awkward interviews where the interviewer already looked bored before he even introduced himself. No more pressure from society to get a stable job, climb the corporate ladder, and pretend to enjoy it.

No more bills. No more rent payments looming at the end of every month like some executioner’s blade. No more stressing about whether he had enough money left for decent food or if he’d have to settle for instant noodles again.

No more pointless social obligations, fake smiles, or distant relatives asking him, “When are you getting married?”

"Hah. I don’t even have a body anymore, Auntie. What do you say to that?"

The past still lingered, a shadow in the back of his mind, but… for the first time in years, he didn’t have to carry it anymore.

He was free.

He wasn’t some nameless cog in a machine anymore, just another faceless worker struggling to make ends meet. He wasn’t even human anymore!

He was a dungeon. A primordial one. The first one.

There was no boss above him, no bills to pay, no expectations to meet. He could do whatever he wanted—grow stronger, shape his own world, maybe even mess with the humans that wandered in.

For the first time, life wasn’t about survival.

It was about possibility.