It was a Tuesday, one like any other, where Stephen Veil woke up in the loving embrace of his favourite companion. Comtess, the magnificent rough collie she was, had the fluffiest fur to cuddle in. His day started early, around 6 am, by going out with his dog as he did most of the time. It was a routine he had ever since he lived by himself. Albeit Stephen had been living in his house since he was twenty-six years old, meaning eight years ago, one with a lawn and even a little garden, it wasn't nearly enough to satisfy the lively lady.

Their outing lasted for almost an hour. It was slightly shorter than usual, but only by a little. It mainly depended on whether he decided to walk or to run. Opposite to what one might think, they stayed longer on a run than on a walk. While a morning spent walking would last for around half an hour, if jogging, their outing would span up to an hour. This time, it was a run, thus a below-average time.

Upon returning, close to 7 am, Stephen let Comtess stay out. On the other hand, he went to take a shower, taking his sweet time as he thought about how his day would go. He was working from home as an employee for a company dealing in web marketing and for himself. In this last case, he accepted commissions from his private website and other platforms where he showed some of his works. Most of his tasks as an employee involved programming, some more focused on web design. What he liked, though, and invested most of his time in was drawing and painting. He succeeded in earning money from his creation when he was in high school. It was almost twenty years ago, considering he was already thirty-four. As for his official job, it started after a two-year diploma related to programming fourteen years ago.

Despite still thinking of himself as a young man, Stephen stayed active. His daily outings with Comtess were a must. Running also wasn't his sole workout. Some time was spent stretching and doing musculation. Although he wouldn't call himself athletic, it was enough for him to feel comfortable in his body. He was 5,8 feet, for almost 160 pounds. His looks were average, with brown and short hair, hazel eyes and a face easily dismissed among the crowd. It was easy to get accepted among friends in school, just as it was easy to disappear and not get people to care for him.

As he left the shower, refreshed and ready to start his day, he first went to his basement to put his sportswear in the laundry machine. It was when he arrived downstairs that normality broke.

Usually, upon arriving in his basement, Stephen would see a door leading to the laundry room in front of him, then, on his left, the rest of the basement. A large room with a cemented floor where Stephen had taken the habit of arranging part of his collection of armours and weapons replicas as a LARPer. Also presents were the few machines he had to make his outfits. Or to craft other stuff, although it was rarer. Various cutting tools, a blowtorch, and everyday crafting tools.

This time, however, something else occupied the room. A massive doorway could be seen right in the middle and reaching the ceiling. Its size was too large for the room, beyond twelve feet in height, as the ground below was hollowed for a couple of feet in a smooth circle less than ten feet large, with a slope leading toward the room's entrance. Moreover, its frame atop and under wasn't the same apparent thickness as on the sides. While they were about a foot and a half on its right and left, the other parts of the gate's frame were fused into the floor and ceiling, barely a foot visible.

It wasn't this impressive sight that drew Stephen's gaze. Nor was it the oddness of the gate itself, made from what looked like smooth black stone, with white luminous marbling taking the shapes of archaic runes. No, it wasn't any of that. Stephen was transfixed by the vortex of purplish energy contained within, roughly ten by seven feet. Its ever-moving spiralling light seemed to absorb everything around it. Be it other lights, sounds, or even matter, and yet it wasn't breaking the space around.

The only respite in the sudden remodelling of the place was that this strange structure hadn't damaged anything, as the middle of the room had always been left empty when unused.

Stephen, spellbound by the structure, couldn't prevent himself from getting closer. He managed to halt after his first two steps when they led him beyond the side wall of the laundry room and into his usual crafting place. He could discern a low and distorted humming from the portal by then.

As a passionate LARPer, an avid fantasy reader and a frequent gamer, Stephen took little time to think of where it could lead. The possibilities, however, were damning. Possibly literally. If going by Diablo's world and Minecraft's Nether realm, it wasn't unlikely.

The young man didn't stay put for long -yes, thirty-four years old is still young since it's Stephen's age, and he won't let anyone tell him otherwise- his feet taking him closer to this ominous portal. He couldn't say what prompted him to get closer at this time. Even later, upon thinking about it, Stephen wouldn't remember what led him to forego his sanity and not just run away. Still, he slowly got closer until all that filled his vision was the portal.

The vortex was within arm's range, humming almost an invitation to walk beyond. Slowly, in what he believed was a careful move, Stephen lifted his hand. He reached for the portal until he could feel the power drawn by the vortex on his skin, the air thrumming around it, sending shivers through the man's spine.

Then, as soon as his hand should have come in contact with the vortex, the spell broke, Stephen getting his senses back.

"BLOODY HELL!"

Stephen jumped back in fright, a blue screen having appeared in his sight, just at the forefront of the portal. The screen itself broke reality by its appearance, yet it allowed the shocked man to stop being mesmerised by the ominous gateway.

Dungeon Portal #MW-SOL-EARTH-PIGMED-QUEEN

Status: Locked (open in 42h57min)

Dungeon Breakout: 50h (Pending for Opened Status)

It took a while for Stephen to catch his breath and calm himself before he could look at the screen. The description was helpful, if terrifying, in confirming his fear about what the portal was. The timer showed that it had started this same day at midnight and would allow entrance only by Thursday 2 am. Then, he would have until Saturday at 4 am to clear the dungeon or do whatever was expected of him to prevent the Dungeon Breakout from happening.

Stephen wasn't panicking, no, not at all! Going into unknown territory and facing dangerous and potentially deadly beings? Sure, any time! As If! He might have fun playing as whatever soldier or rogue or demon juggernaut during LARPing events, but he never expected to need to fight with his life on the line. He didn't want to deal with this, not alone. Going upstairs to take his phone, Stephen dialled one of his friends, only to hang up as the ringing started.

A foolish possibility had slithered to the forefront of his thoughts, reminding him that he had unique access to a dungeon. Right in his basement. A hidden, safe-to-defend, private access to a path toward unlimited power and riches. Wouldn't it be better than dealing with all the drama when he needs to share the profits among his friends or acquaintances? Shouldn't he try to avoid a situation where he would always be the one to be blamed when someone gets hurt or, worse, dies because the dungeon is in his home? Wouldn't he want to avoid the time when, inevitably, he would be forced to give up the initiative to others and then risk his house being taken away from him? As it would undoubtedly happen when the government learned of the place.

The moment the idea of keeping the portal a secret appeared in his mind, it took root, and Stephen could not prevent himself from wondering how to make it work. He did have some time to prepare, after all. With the two timers, that was four days until the announced Dungeon Breakout.

Emboldened by this deadly and real opportunity to get inhumanly powerful and wealthy, Stephen rushed to grab some papers. Maybe not the expected reaction, considering his previous impulsive behaviour. His idea was to brainstorm everything he had and could prepare for when he decided to enter the portal.

The more obvious items were armour and weapons.

On the weaponry side of things, Stephen had access to three real iron-forged weapons he had made while participating in a blacksmithing event with other LARPer enthusiasts. A longsword, a nasty-looking dagger and a spear. He lacked the necessary tools to forge in his basement. His only way to heat metals was a blowtorch. Apart from that, he had several tools that could be converted into weapons. Some were among the ones in his basement, while most were gardening tools in a shed outside. Then there was the kitchenware.

There were different sizes of hammers, from a small claw hammer to a sledgehammer. A few crowbars, one of which was a digging bar. Four kinds of forks, with the spikes straight or in a claw, either hand-sized or long-handled. A spade and a shovel. And many metal stakes. Finally, the diverse number of knives from the kitchen were listed, though mainly those used for meat. Their sizes, of course, didn't matter, as throwing knives would surely be a boon.

Firearms would definitely have been a better alternative to any of those choices, yet he didn't own a permit for one. It wasn't something widespread in his country. The only people who went through the trouble were hunters or aficionados. Now, getting a permit would take him at least a week. And while he had some relatives who owned firearms, borrowing from them would be met with the same problem. He didn't have the time nor the justification to acquire such a weapon at this moment.

Concerning potential armour, it was more limited but also more practical. Stephen had a genuine chain mail hauberk and a gambeson. Both were long enough to cover his but. The chain mail, however, was short-sleeved. On the other hand, the gambeson included a coif, greaves and separate sleeves. He also had several armours for cosplaying, yet only one wasn't a hazard in a fight. It was a bodysuit padded with sheets of foam for a roguish character. Its defensive capability was doubtful at best.

Everything else he could think of with defensive purpose was better suited as a shield than another piece of armour. He already had a shield, but it was a cumbersome Viking shield, 85cm wide or almost three feet. And while Stephen didn't doubt that such a wooden shield could save his life, he also didn't know how the creatures he would find inside the dungeon would compare with mundane weaponry.

Because of that, he also wrote down any shield-like material he had. The first example was the metal grates on his gas stove. It seemed an excellent structure for a shield. The size and shape reminded him of Uruk-hai's hand shields. Some work would be needed, of course.

Then, there were also sheets of plexiglass and metals. What little he had wouldn't be enough to make a shield, but just having them gave him the idea.

Stephen still had the rest of the day and tomorrow to prepare. A trip to the nearest hardware store and any other shops that might provide weaponisable items shouldn't be an issue.

At around 10 am, he received a phone call from his job manager calling him, asking if everything was all right. The moment he saw who was calling, Stephen paused, letting the ringing go on several times before finally answering.

"Hello, Mr. Davis." It was his project manager. His surname was also Davis, so he insisted on being called this way.

"What do you mean you were waiting for me for the conference? Didn't you receive my mail?" Of course, he didn't since no mail had been sent. His manager, though, didn't need to know that.

"You didn't? That's weird. I'm sure I sent it yesterday. That makes things awkward for me, sir." Stephen paused for a few seconds as if looking for how to explain the situation.

"I wanted to inform you I would be resigning and wanted to arrange for it. I meant to say that I received another offer, and... the opportunity was too good to pass." This wasn't a lie, per se. Housing a portal leading to a dungeon that needed to be cleared on time or risk losing his home to humans or invaders made it hard for Stephen to refuse the invitation.

For this same reason, his job needed to be given up, as Stephen would need all the time he could to ensure his preparation was as thorough as possible. Later on, if he survived, he suspected he wouldn't need nor want to spend his time working for someone else. Until now, Stephen had been working from his home as a web designer and developer. The only contact he had with his company was via video conferences. Real-life meetings were superfluous, which suited Stephen just fine, as he also spent much time working on his projects. Half of his revenues were from personal work. Considering he had already paid for his home since he lived there, it was a comfortable income.

"I'm aware, yes, I didn't want my leave to be so abrupt either. I apologise for the inconvenience." At least at that, Stephen was sincere.

"I understand, yes. Of course, sir, I will think about it. Goodbye, Mr. Davis. It was a pleasure working with you."

While, logically, Stephen should have taken the time to settle this matter by sending the relevant documents and formalising his resignation, he didn't care much at the moment. Ensuring he took all the time he could to prepare for the trial took precedence over everything else.

The rest of his day was thus spent shopping for other tools or materials. Or anything he saw that might prove helpful if preparing for war. Stephen shortly realised that he would need to rent a van to transport his purchases. The time spent waiting stressed him. Later on, no stores were left unturned. Hardware, Hunting, and even Athleticism. In a frenzy unlike anything he ever went through, Stephen rushed along the aisles, sweeping products one after the other. He did scare a few people, and security was called at some point by an easily frightened client. It only annoyed Stephen, who by this point only thought about not having enough time.

It wasn't until he discharged all his purchases onto his basement, his garden and part of his living room that Stephen managed to calm down. The workout of jogging inside the stores and then repeatedly carrying everything he bought was enough to tire him. The fatigue thus forced him to rest for a while and think about his next move more clearly. Knowing it would be a bad idea to wield most kinds of tools in his current state, Stephen satisfied himself by making an inventory of what he already had and what he had bought.

Most noticeable purchases were iron sheets, steel wires and screws, javelins and hunting traps.

By midnight, Stephen still couldn't fall asleep. Poor Comtess could feel his stress, and despite her best attempt to uplift his mood, it only made him worry even more. Of course, the cuddles were marvellously awesome, but that never was the issue. No, Stephen's problem was whether to bring Comtess with him or not. She had been living with him since he moved in eight years ago. Stephen got her when she was just a pup. She wasn't an overly large dog, yet she would still be his staunchest ally should he be threatened.

For this same reason, risking her life was eating at him. He couldn't afford to lose her. Another of his worries was how she would be seen by whatever entities controlled those screens and the dungeon if both were the same. Should she become a monster immediately upon entering the dungeon, Stephen knew he would be devastated.

Eventually, the stress and weariness from having been moving about all day wore on him, and the young man fell asleep past 3 am.

Time until Dungeon Opening: 22h 51min

| ----- ----- Dungeon Breakout: 22h 51min + 50h -> 3 days 51min