When Stephen woke up on Wednesday, it took him a while to remember the events that happened the day prior. The first irregularity was time. It was already 11 am. Much later compared to any other day. Yet he still felt tired, like he had a horrible nightmare he had forgotten about. The other unusual thing, while directly linked, was that Comtess wasn't trying to drag him out of his bed for once. While it did happen sometimes, it was rare enough for Stephen to know it meant something caused her low mood. Usually, in the morning, she bounced around and wanted to go for a run. The last time she left him to sleep was when Stephen sprained his ankle, and she had understood he wouldn't be taking her for a walk. She was smart like that.

When Stephen's memory of the previous day's events finally sprang to his mind, he panicked once more. There is nothing like a good old impending world threat to ruin your tranquil routine lifestyle.

By the time he could regain his wits, his only thought was about how much time he had wasted by oversleeping. From this moment onward, Stephen looked at the list of all the items he had prepared. When making an inventory last afternoon, he mostly looked at what he had but didn't sort them depending on their uses. He thus started doing that to be more efficient in his preparation, wondering how to best gear himself for delving.

What kind of weapon should he be using? Would it be better to take a sword whose length makes it usable in most environments, with the advantage that he did have some amateurish training with it? Or should he use a spear since putting as much distance between him and his foes was safer?

But then, a bow, crossbow, or any ranged weapon would be even better. Except he never had any training with those. He could buy a crossbow, supposedly. Unless there was a need for a permit to own one? It was a hunting weapon, after all. Although, if he needed a hunting permit, he might as well take a rifle! Better range, deadlier, and easier to carry ammunition.

This last idea was quickly scratched out as Stephen realised the chances for firearms to be turned into useless metal sticks were much too high.

Another simpler ranged weapon would be a sling, though Stephen needed to know how good his aim was. The same could be said of throwing knives and axes. Many weapons would be more a liability than an asset, depending on what lay beyond this portal.

His dilemma over using ranged weapons, and more explicitly, throwing weapons, revealed another problem. Since they're one-handed weapons, he could carry a shield. Of course, this wasn't the problem; it was more the opposite. Stephen remembered clearly how difficult it was to coordinate your arms while fighting when you use both independently. Fighting with two one-handed weapons, or just a weapon and a shield, was stupidly tricky. Similarly, fighting with a two-handed weapon was just as challenging.

The more Stephen thought about what weapons to use and which would be the best to give him the best chances of survival, the less confident he became. Yet, he didn't stop his preparation. One reason was that he often was stubborn about things in an unhealthy way. The other was that yesterday's blue window told of a rather long timer until all hell broke loose. To be allowed more than two days of preparation, then just as much until potential enemies appeared on Earth, was very convenient.

There could have been monsters coming out of the portal immediately as it appeared. Or for the cooldown to be the same for both entry and Breakout. Even the fact that there was a system prompt upon getting closer was surprisingly safe. Now that he could think clearly, Stephen was aware that the screen appearing when it did most certainly saved him from being sucked, completely unprepared, inside the portal.

All of that convinced Stephen that he had his chances of seeing things through. Only that he wasn't sure how yet.

By 4 pm, Stephen had roughly arranged the best options among all items he had previously put aside to gear himself up. Several of them had a note for when modifications could be made or when those items were supposed to be used as materials.

On the defensive side of his gears were arranged: His Viking shield, a note pointing out that adding a thin sheet of metal at the forefront might be a good idea despite the increase in weight. There was also the chain mail, gambeson, assorted accessories, and skin-tight suit. Then, boots, with a note on the ones used for cosplay, to remind him that they might not be the most practical and needed to be tested. On the other hand, hiking boots were a safe option.

For the weapons, the choices were harder to make. Stephen was still struggling between his sword, his spear, or to favour an axe. The sledgehammer and all hammers were cast aside, as despite their practicality, they seemed unwieldy to Stephen. Being limited to blunt damages also appeared to be a bad idea. Inversely, all weapons small enough to be thrown were to be considered. That meant the kitchen knives, hand axes, and the dozen javelins he bought the day before.

Gardening tools were mostly put aside, however, as Stephen realised that they wouldn't be practical to use despite their potential.

He at least had some modicum of experience wielding a spear, an axe, or a sword, thanks to his role-playing shenanigans. But adapting at the last minute to use a makeshift weapon like those tools would be the worst idea when his life was on the line. The only exception was the forks, for which Stephen only had to hammer the spikes on the one shaped like a claw to turn it into a harpoon. He did the same to the hand-size one since swapping the head to another handle was easy. This was another reason he only considered some of his tools. Most others required him to make adjustments, up to welding pieces of metal to improve their durability in the coming fights. It was also because of that reason that his idea of making a smaller shield was put aside. He had an idea on how to craft such a shield, heating plexiglass and moulding it around the metal grate, then affixing a handle. But it would be rushed work. Even with the leeway he had been granted, Stephen needed more time.

At around 6 pm, Stephen finished making the needed modifications to the few concerned items. His shield and new harpoon/trident. Most of his time was spent screwing the metal sheet onto the shield, as he had to disassemble part of it beforehand.

Satisfied with his preparations and proud that he should be ready for tomorrow, Stephen went for a walk, bringing the delighted Comtess. She could feel something was troubling her master, and while she knew to stay out of his way when he was storming about during the day, it was different now that his attention was on her. She kept running around him, bringing him sticks and stuff that he could throw away for her to get back. And being her usual cheerful self.

When he came home, Stephen was much more relaxed, his worries about the coming delve at the very back of his mind. That's why he got so mad when he nicked his fingers while preparing his dinner. And also why he threw away the knife in his hand and smashed his fists on the kitchen worktop. Stephen remembered one crucial fact.

He forgot to prepare a first-aid kit or anything to use when he would inevitably get wounded.

Stephen's outrage at his stupidity echoed in the neighbourhood, his dinner forgotten. He didn't care. Any confidence he had about his situation was gone. Then he realised he also needed to prepare other things besides first aid. Items that were unrelated to fighting. Food rations, water, and tools like torches and ropes.

He didn't know how long he would stay beyond this portal or if he would ever return, yet he hadn't prepared anything beyond fighting purposes.

His sudden awareness of his very probable death sent shivers down his spine. It was like getting through a sudden cold shower, the reality of his situation catching up with Stephen. That's not to say he intended to change his mind about keeping the dungeon existence to himself.

Instead, he should ensure he checked twice, thrice or even more times if he was ready to delve into the unknown. He had blindsided himself during his first brainstorming into considering only fighting gears. Now that he thought about it, he was too focused on fighting monsters and not on having to survive in hostile and alien territory. Both could lead to the same result, but the road was very different.

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, Stephen sought the help of a reliable, if chaotic, ally. Internet.

Sure, answers would need to be filtered, but in this case, Stephen believed it better to have too many answers than to forget something again. And if a website recommends he take a hairbrush or a potted plant, he would know not to listen to that advice.

Following this rough wake-up call, Stephen returned to his preparations, sweeping the upper part of his home. Each item was carried into his living room so he could see everything at once. By dusk, around 10 pm, Stephen had arrayed everything he found that could be needed.

The first item on the list was a medium-large 40L backpack. Then food (cereal bars) and water (aluminium 1L flasks), enough for 3 days. Following that was what triggered him earlier: a first aid kit with disinfectant, alcohol, bandages (lots of them), sewing string and needles. A note was made to see if finding a surgical stapler was possible. Less essential, but necessary, was a notebook and pencils if he needed to make a map or to record things. A lamp torch and a pair of binoculars were also put aside. That was for what would fit inside the backpack.

Apart from that were all the items which would be needed but weren't vital. Stephen could cast them aside if the need arose. For this purpose, two duffel bags were taken out. They would be filled in one part with a few meters of ropes, a few hand torches with a bottle of oil and a lighter, a pickaxe and a shovel. Another bag would contain traps, from conibear and bear traps, and wires to make snares. Then, the javelin he had bought would be strapped to this bag. There were also another two empty duffel bags for eventual loot.

After checking another few times to see if he could think of something else, Stephen went downstairs to check on the portal. He remembered a quote from Sun Tzu: "Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories." This led him to think about the portal's name, which might've been a hint.

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

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Status: Opened

Dungeon Breakout: 5h 52min 4̴̩̆6̸̢̚ sec

The first part seemed obvious, referring to Earth, the Solar system, and the Milky Way. Following that, the two other words were less evident. Pigmed Queen was a bizarre tag for a name, and Stephen could only think of it as a hint. Even if the word he had in mind when reading this was 'Pigmy' and not 'Pigmed', he didn't know if it was an actual word. Looking for its meaning revealed that pigmed had nothing to do with pigmies but pigmentation. However, it was a made-up word. Considering it was an alien portal, most likely not caring much about Earth culture, Stephen wasn't willing to throw away the possibility. He better be ready should he need to face pigmed races, pigmy races, or whichever way they were designated.

On the other hand, he wasn't sure how he could improve his odds against small-sized enemies. The only thing he could think of was to ensure he didn't get surrounded, as that would spell his doom. Favouring the spear instead of the sword would help. As would using long-range weapons. Despite the choice of weapons, it had more to do with how he should fight than preparations.

Believing he had done everything possible to increase his odds, Stephen sat on his couch with Comtess, cuddling her as his mind wandered about how tomorrow would end. He realised he wouldn't see his friends, family, or even Comtess again if he failed.

"I must be crazy, still thinking about going there despite knowing I might die, ah?" At that, Comtess whined, lifting her head from his lap and looking at him.

"I'm sorry, girl, I might have to let you down."

Prompted by his current mood, Stephen took out his phone and dialled a number, not knowing what would come from it. He only knew he wanted to talk to that person for a last time should tomorrow turn wrong.

"Hi, Ava, I'm not calling too late, am I?"

"Steve? That's a surprise for sure."

"How are you doing ?"

"Swamped. I still need to prepare things for Friday's celebration. There are already too many people who changed their minds because they wanted to come but can't, or couldn't come but now want to. It's a nightmare. ...You're not calling for that, are you?"

"Friday? What's on Friday? No, wait, I'm sure I know."

"You forgot? Woah..."

"Damn, we're already Wednesday. Is it your birthday? I mean, your birthday, of course. Nope, I remember. Of course, I do."

"You forgot... And my birthday's the less important part."

"It is?"

"Uh uh."

"Mm, am I supposed to know?"

"Considering you did send me an email saying you would be there, yes, I believe you are supposed to."

"Uh."

"Very eloquent, Stephen."

"It must have slipped my mind; I had a rough day. If I sent you an email saying I will come, then of course I will."

"Good to know. At least you didn't call this late to tell me you weren't coming. Thanks for small mercies!"

"Ah ah. No, I was just... reminiscing? I was curious about how you were doing. And missing our school days."

"You're weird, I mean, weirder than usual. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I missed you, that's all. Have a good night, Ava. Take care of yourself."

Stephen didn't wait for her answer, hanging up immediately after. He, for one, was a bit embarrassed about how it went. Should he still be there by Friday evening, he would get the chance to have a less awkward conversation with her. Ava, or Octavia if going by her proper name, was the girl he had had a crush on during most of his high school years. Or rather, the girl he had a fixation on since high school. While they kept in touch occasionally, it was mostly by phone. They did met once in a while, a couple of time a year that is, at most. For Stephen, it was nice to hear she hadn't changed.

As for the event he forgot about on Friday night, checking his emails gave him the answer.

As she said, her birthday was a convenient date for an event just as significant to her. Octavia was working as an architect, having pursued such studies since out of high school, and had finally the means to open her company. It would be dealing in real estate. A few of her colleagues from University and other acquaintances with whom she had worked before were putting their trust in her by becoming her first employees. The opening ceremony would also be the venue for her company to publicly sign a contract with the mayor for a project to revitalise the city.

By 11 pm, Stephen found himself too stressed to fall asleep. Even Comtess' fluffiness failed to soothe him. He busied himself by writing letters to the people he cared about, putting down his feelings on paper. His fears and worries, his regrets and shameful acts, his love for them, his hopes. It was oddly therapeutic. However, he was emotionally spent and fell asleep on his desk by the time he was done. The last written letter was imprinted on his cheek.

Downstairs, in the basement, the whirring of the portal's energy shifted for a moment, at 2 am precisely. Its purplish colour changed to a lighter shade, turning blue, then green. Should someone have put their hands close enough to touch either the energy or the stone containing the portal, they would have made appear a similar screen to the one Stephen prompted the day prior. Yet, with one crucial difference.

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

Status: Opened

Dungeon Breakout: 49h 59min 59 sec