Crashing through the surface of the water, the adventurer felt a wave of euphoria. The plunge into the deep oasis was invigorating. The fall from a hundred meters up was an experience he would never forget! The water was cool and refreshing, the type of chill that was welcome after a tropical day.

Gentle roiling seaweed swayed with a quiet current. Beautiful purple, green, and orange fish moved together in droves. He took this all in with glee.

He resurfaced, breaking the water with a gasp.

He was getting hungry. Understandably, the minimal fleshy interior of the fruits he had been enjoying the last day wasn't sufficient. He needed meat. And, with a careful eye on the fish swimming around in the pool, he thought he just might've found an easy source of it.

The adventurer found a sizeable rock, shattering it on the floor into jagged pieces. Plucking the sharpest edge from the debris, he reckoned it would do for a knife. Finding a good branch was relatively simple and once done, he snapped it off and began to sharpen. He was aiming for a decent spear.

The knowledge of how to do all these things seemed component to his Skill called [Survival 5]. They were something like instincts, some effect more than the quantified one the description of said Skill listed. He considered himself rather lucky to have the Skill but lost as to how he attained it in the first place. He hadn't done anything particularly of note save for searching desperately for sustenance once he arrived. It couldn't have been so simple, yet nothing else jumped out at him.

The spear came out in good quality. The branch was arguably the perfect length and heft. It was straight and sharpened. There wasn't really anything else to ask for from a spear.

He waded back into the pool, eager to test his new method of hunting.

He dived deep, spear in hand. Golden irises regarded the schools of fish, his spear calmly tracked potential prey as they parted around him. Thrusting with all his might, he was able to push through the watery resistance and managed to impale something. The fish wriggled desperately, but its blood had already begun to produce wisps of red in the clear blue.

His breath leaving him, he began to swim upwards with the fruits of his labor. The sunlight streamed through the surface of the water like a wavy beam. It struck something shiny, metal. Unnatural.

He broke through with a gasp. He briefly dunked his head back in, eyeing what he previously saw. The reservoir was deeper and wider than its surface initially implied. In fact, should he swim too far he'd have nothing but underwater cavern to bonk his head on whilst trying to get fresh air. But, at an angle to the pool's surface, there indeed was something of interest.

It looked like a hatch. Metal.

His stomach growled though, taking his attention away. It was something possibly intriguing. He wondered if his [Island Explorer] effects were kicking in.

He had a fire going in no time. He was able to crudely gut the fish on a flat slab of stone. This was mostly guesswork and he simply removed what looked inedible, leaving only the clean white meat of the fish. After all was said and done, he had probably a filet the size of his hand.

He charred it slightly, cooking it by the water. He admired the glistening juices of the fish. The smell was intoxicating and he wondered briefly if there was anything more wonderful in life. Of course, there was, and it was tasting it. The fish exploded with flavor in his mouth like nothing he had ever experienced. Admittedly, he had not experienced much, but he enjoyed the slightly-too-hot fish with the enthusiasm of a starving man.

The man's attention then moved onto the shiny oddity he had spotted earlier. 

After a few test dives, he was comfortable in his ability to at least get a closer look. He did just that. He began by diving deep initially, saving his energy until he neared the middle of the underwater cavern. The tallest of the seaweed gently brushed upon his legs and he began to kick, propelling himself forward. He drifted forwards smoothly his pace only interrupted by swift kicks.

The sunlight still filtered through the water at an angle. It was indeed some type of hatch. It was built right into the rock, making it all even more peculiar. It looked unnatural, almost artificial. Had someone created this here?

His feet found the ocean floor. Sandy. Clouds of it plumed upward as if he had just landed on the moon. He felt his chest tighten but knew he had some time still. 

Drifting closer, he realized the hatch wasn't even rusted. It looked brand new. Not shining, obviously, since it was still covered in sand and dirt. The sunlight earlier had caught it at just the right angle before. It had a circular handle. Small extensions spaced evenly protruding from the circle. Handles, he guessed.

Finding his grip on two of the handles, he heaved, muscles bulging. Suddenly, the hatch took over the motion twirling violently enough that the man had to release his hold. The hatch exploded open in a burst of bubbles and water rushed in dragging the man into the opening. He was able to grab hold of his spear through the rushing current.

His chest burned. He reached out, managing to grab the lip of the hatch and released it immediately when he noticed it slamming shut. He was in a small room, panicking. No air. Stuck underwater. 

Then the water level lowered and he took a huge breath, finally able to look at his surroundings.

Cold metal. A far cry from the warm tropics he had been in only moments before. Absently, he felt at the walls they were cool to the touch, smooth. His heart beat in his chest.

Hidden Dungeon: [Sunken Submarine] (Scarce)

A decrepit wreck of an old marine vessel. Once crewed by many capable [Sailors] it has since fallen to the sea's embrace. Parts of the enormous vessel now house various aquatic and amphibious creatures. Huge portions of the submarine were lost to water, others still enjoy the presence of air. 

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He blinked at the prompt, nodding and assimilating the information. Before he could even begin cautious scouting, another prompt appeared.

Dungeons

A dungeon is an entire territory accessible by a single point in space. They are filled with danger as well as riches. Often, these dungeons garner a particular characteristic or theme throughout them. Naturally occurring dungeons enrich the environment they are found in and function separately from regular space. However, they may have notable effects on their location depending on the dungeon's influence. They form in places of importance, grandeur, secrecy, meaning, glory or otherwise. 

The man nodded once more. It seemed this vessel must've been something of note. What did it mean by riches though? He wondered at that, though he was already inclined to explore further. Such was his nature.

His inquisitive nature examined the previous prompt further. He was able to recall it perfectly, the screen even appearing in front of him once more. Oddly, the screen was bright but did not glow. It didn't even seem to affect the environment at all. He waved a hand through and it rippled through the screen as if it were a body of water. 

In particular, he examined the Hidden adjective, then again at the Scarce tag that was found in parentheses. He had seen similar tags and he presumed they had some meaning, some type of categorization.

Hidden 

The Hidden modifier applies to Objects, Instances, Items, Dungeons, Skills, Titles, Attributes, etc, that are generally unknown, secretive, undiscovered, or otherwise unseen. These described with the Hidden modifier are often enhanced in terms of benefits or rewards. Additionally, the levels of danger are often escalated.

His interest was piqued, no doubt. So he was somewhere unknown, undiscovered. He still wasn't sure what rewards entailed, or danger, for that matter, but he was determined to at least explore this Dungeon. Perhaps it had something to do with the category tags he'd been seeing?

Rarity

Rarity reflects the difficulty of obtaining. It is representative of a thing's particular value and adeptness of function. Rarity is based on a number of factors. These include natural occurrence, existing amount, interest of said thing, value, quality, uniqueness, and a number of additional factors. The levels of Rarity are denoted with a color code. Common, Uncommon, Unusual, Scarce, Rare, Epic, Mythic, Legendary, Relic, Ancient

It made more sense to the man now. Apparently, [Survival 5] was only a Common Skill. However, his [Island Explorer] was an Unusual Title. He didn't particularly have a good reference other than the categories he was given. All he knew was that this [Sunken Submarine] was rarer than both, meaning it would be more dangerous and additionally, more rewarding.

He would explore slowly, unsure of what that meant.

The room he found himself was all cold metal. A blinking light bathed the room in an artificial glow. Not all the water had drained, there was still enough to submerge his feet. He spotted small guppies swimming around his feet. 

The hatch above him, the very same one that had spat him out into this room, looked to be sealed. He didn't imagine reopening it with all the water on the other side would be particularly pleasant. That left him only one option.

There was a door on the other side of the room.

Opening it was done in a similar way to the hatch. The Dungeon seemed quiet and inactive. But then vigorous splashing echoed from the empty hallway. Then silence. Ominous. The man kept moving, not liking the pressing feeling of the cold metal walls. His spear moved ahead of him.

The hallway was an empty one. It served only to branch into more rooms. Or it did. Huge sections of what should've been rooms, just judging from the structure of the vessel, were ripped apart leaving huge chunks of the submarine missing. Pools of dark water resided where the wreckage should've been, the submarine's structure disappearing from view only inches below the surface. 

A frog leaped onto the metal hallway, having emerged from somewhere below. It hopped in place, once, twice. Then turned around, tilting its head at the man. It must've been up to his knee, the mere size of the creature gave him pause. He hadn't encountered anything as large up so close.

A tongue larger than what should've fit in its mouth launched toward him. He cried out, sending sharp rebounding echoes across the rippling water. The tongue retracted lashing at his sides with barbed spikes.

Injured, he retreated, confirming the wound was only surface level. His eyes fixated on the frog, watching its mouth. 

He heard a wet slap behind him. Another frog, a mild green color mixed with silver. It hopped in place, once, twice. The man had already ducked to the side. Its tongue occupied, the man stabbed the frog in the face, spurting red blood on the thin surface of water that covered the hallway.

He kicked it off his spear.

He ducked through the door to a larger room. He gripped his spear tightly, waiting. Standing by the door, he simply waited for the creatures to hop around the corner. He heard more wet slaps. The unmistakable sound of frog legs slapping the thin veil of water covering the exposed hallway.

A frog hopped into view. It hopped in place to turn around. The man speared the creature in the mouth right as it opened it. There was no chance for its tongue to even emerge. He removed the spear with a wet sucking noise and stabbed it in the head once more. Blood diffused into the water.

He eyed the blood warily before he realized some of it was his. 

Shocked, he checked his side realized he was indeed bleeding profusely. He could've sworn that it was only surface level. Then again, most of that had simply been from his judgment of the pain. With a start, he came to a conclusion. He couldn't even feel it.

He took care in his movement, moving his spear to his left hand. His injury was further jostled by the motion of his right arm, it wouldn't do to aggravate it further. The room was one undamaged by water, a section he deemed to be one of the places in the submarine that was actually dry. It was a large room with a bed and cabinets.

A red cross was plastered over one of the cabinets. He barely thought of its meaning before he tore it open, finding useless glass bottles. He needed some type of wrap, some kind of-

Item: [Healing Potion] (Rare)

A single dose of healing draught able to recover potentially lethal injuries, toxins, or poisons. To be applied directly on a physical injury if necessary, or imbibed if applicable towards a general affliction.

The glass bottle had some thin red liquid, its viscosity was thinner than even water. He popped the cork on the small bottle. His vision was getting hazy. He sat down on the bed, his blood was all over the floor. He needed to close the door first, less something finds its way in.

He wobbled, moving through a haze that threatened to blackout his entire vision. His hand found the handle of the door and he swung it shut, hearing it latch into place. He slipped on the wet floor with a grunt. He landed heavily on his back. He barely felt anything. 

The bottle. He needed to open the bottle. No, he had already opened it. He had spilled it on the floor. There was less than a third of it left. He poured it on his wound, hoping he didn't miss it.

Blackness took him.