Chapter 1. Prologue

James Costello sat on the steps to his University's Library with his phone to his ear.

"Yes, I understand. Thank you, Ma'am. I'm on my way to the hospital now," James said. He hung up the phone and let out a heavy sigh.

His Grandfather, Marcel Costello, had been in the hospital for the last six months due to lung cancer. James had asked him to quit smoking many times over the years, but his response would always be the same thing.

"Smokin' is one of the few things I got left sunny, and I'll be damned if I stop now!" he would say with his deep, gravelly voice.

To be fair, before his diagnosis about one year ago, the old man had been a paragon of health. One would never have expected the geezer to go through a pack of cigarettes in only a day or two.

However, it seems that his bad habits finally caught up with him; at the ripe age of 78, Marcel Costello passed away—on his grandson's 20th birthday, no less. James was planning on visiting him after his last class this afternoon, but it was too late now.

Standing up from the steps he was on and walking towards the nearest stop for the Public Bus that ran through the campus, James began to run through the list of things he'd need to prepare now that the old man was finally gone.

'First, I'll have to go to the hospital and get the old man's death certificate. Then, I should stop at his law firm and make sure the will is sorted out properly. Then… I guess it'll be time to start prepping for the funeral.' He thought.

James let out another sigh. He and his Grandfather had seen this coming for quite some time, so they had both been preparing, but it still hurt. James was alone in the world now; his grandpa was the only relative he had left. His parents died when he was still a child, and his other grandparents died long before he was ever born. The only reason he even knew what any of them looked like was from the old family photos his Grandfather kept.

James pulled his phone out as he walked and scrolled through his call history until he found who he was looking for. After a few rings, someone picked up the phone.

"Hello, Bentley and Sons Law Firm. This is Ashley. How may I help you?" the secretary said in a chipper voice.

"Hey Ashley, this is James Costello, grandson of Marcel Costello. Can you put me through to Bentley Senior, please?" James said. Since Mr. Bentley had 2 sons, both of whom worked at the firm with their father, it was easy to talk to the wrong Bentley unless adequately communicated.

"Of course, Mr. Costello. Please wait just a few moments," she responded. James kept walking until he reached the nearest bus stop. He glanced at his watch and guessed the bus should arrive in about five minutes.

James scanned the area around the bus stop while waiting for Mr. Bentley to pick up the phone. The area was completely devoid of people. Almost suspiciously so. It was just past noon on a Wednesday, and James was still on campus grounds. There should be people everywhere, walking to classes or waiting for the bus like him. But James couldn't see a single other soul anywhere.

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James started sweating and felt his heartbeat quicken as his anxiety increased. This day was bad enough already; freaking out over such a non-issue was not something he needed right now. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths in and out in the pattern his Grandfather taught him.

'Focus, James, you must take things one step at a time. This may be the worst birthday ever, but as long as you take care of everything that needs to be done, things will work out just fine. Get the death certificate, get to Bentley's, and take care of the will, then get back to the apartment so you can start preparing for the funeral.'

This was something his grandpa had taught him. If he ever felt overwhelmed, he needed to take a deep breath and close his eyes. He would then go over every little task that needed to be done step by step, focusing on what needed to be done and taking it one step at a time until a complete plan was formed.

James' grandpa taught him a lot of things. Sometimes, it felt like he was preparing James for some apocalypse. He taught James kickboxing and jiu-jitsu and took survival classes that taught things like making a fire, setting small traps, skinning and cleaning animals, and figuring out how to purify dirty water.

His Grandfather called these "basic life skills" and would always say something like, "One day, you'll thank me for forcin' you to take all these classes." James was still waiting for that day.

Above everything else, though, the most helpful thing his Grandfather taught him was the breathing exercise he was using now. Anytime James felt nervous before a kickboxing match or a final in class, he would close his eyes and follow the breathing pattern his Grandfather had taught him so many years ago. It never failed to clear his mind and help him focus on doing what he needed to do.

James opened his eyes, finding his mind calm again, only to see a strange black cloud on the ground before him. It only looked about the size of a manhole cover, but as James watched, it quickly grew and was getting alarmingly close to James.

He took two quick steps back, but the black cloud, now the size of a small car, had covered twice the distance in that short time. Looking closer at it, James could see tiny sparks of electricity jumping from one part of the cloud to another. He didn't know what the hell he was looking at, but James was sure it wasn't good.

The black cloud was only about five feet away now. Before James could react, it suddenly surged out and engulfed him. Moments later, the cloud dissipated like it had never been there—along with James.

***

Meanwhile, in a dark space, deep underground

A ball of glowing light, approximately the size of a basketball, was hovering in the center of a barren room. The room had no windows or doors, and the walls appeared to be made of stone.

The ball of light, no, the Dungeon Core, floated idly while monitoring each floor of its being. While the core was relatively small, it could monitor each floor of its dungeon on a screen displayed before it; like changing channels on a TV, it could flick between one floor and the next.

The Dungeon Core resided in a small chamber hidden on the bottom floor of the dungeon. In its century of existence, no other being has ever entered this room.

Ding!

An alert came in that the Dungeon Core had set, and begun populating its interface. The Dungeon Core checked it and began to quiver with glee.

Since its failure 20 years ago, it has been biding its time, waiting for another opportunity to present itself. And finally, here it was.

[Connection to a Parallel Earth re-established]

[Searching the world for compatible targets]

[Searching…]

[Searching…]

[Target Located!]

[Would you like to summon the human ‘James Castello’ to the dungeon?]

[Yes or No]

‘Yes.’ The Dungeon Core selected.