When Stephen had been preparing yesterday, he believed he would be there waiting for it when the portal finally opened. He would have been fully geared, ready to enter an unknown world.

His current situation couldn't be any further apart from his predictions.

At the time the dungeon had been opened, at 2 am, Stephen was still sleeping. It wasn't by any means a peaceful sleep, however. If his night had started in an exhausted state, now, as he woke up five hours late, he felt dread. He was still groggy, his night plagued by visions of his eventual failure or that of his close ones, mourning him and admonishing his recklessness. Yet, it was drowned by the dread of knowing a portal already existed in his basement, one that, soon enough, would allow hordes of otherworldly creatures to invade Earth.

For every hour he missed after its opening was less time to prevent the Dungeon Breakout from forming.

The mad rush that followed was watched worriedly by Comtess. The little miss knew something wrong was going on that would put her master in danger. She didn't have the means to do anything, Stephen having taken precautions so she couldn't enter the basement. Her only way of letting the human know of her intent to help was to lie down in front of the door leading downstairs. Then she kept watching him, whining when he entered her sight.

After taking a shower and wolfing down a small breakfast, Stephen could only look at his faithful companion with regret, sadness and shame. Regret because he couldn't bring himself to bring her with him, scared of what might happen to the dog once inside the dungeon. Sadness because, for all his preparedness, he had no idea if he would survive. And shame because he would force her to stay away, to watch him go without being given a choice.

As he put down his backpack and the other bags he had with him -he had left them upstairs yesterday night- Stephen went closer to Comtess, her whining getting louder as he did so.

"I'm sorry, girl, I'd like to bring you with me, but you can't come."

He cuddled with his dog before carrying her and going towards the garden. While he couldn't bring his companion with him in the dungeon, he also couldn't bring himself to let her stay inside the house with no one to care for her. She would have to wait outside as he intended to lock his home. Either until Stephen came back, alive and victorious, or until people realised he was gone and they took her away. To a new home or an animal's centre was up to fate, but at least alive.

Comtess' whinings as he carried her out, then the noise of her claws scratching at the door once he went back inside tore at Stephen's heart. His only relief was the awareness that she would be safer away from him, no matter how selfish it sounded. And it was selfish since a good part of his decision was due to the worry that Comtess might be turned into an agent of the dungeon as soon as they entered.

While he might have ensured she didn't become a danger to him, he certainly couldn't hurt her. At least not physically, given he was already hurting her by forcing her to stay outside the house.

Not much later, Stephen was again in front of this ominous portal. He saw the changed colour of the vortex, a deep shadowy green, proving to him before he checked that the portal had changed. This time, though, he was fully equipped, ready to brave the unknown.

For his armour, he had chosen to take most of what he could: the skin-tight suit padded with foam on a first layer -which, given it was made out of sportswear, shouldn't be too suffocating- the gambeson, and finally, the chain mail. He was still worried about the heat, yet couldn't justify not taking the added protection of each layer. It was better to survive, albeit with severe dehydration, than to die because of a lack of armour.

Apart from the armour, Stephen carried his shield on his left arm and his spear on his right. A machete was sheathed to his back -the shortened length preferable to the sword he had- its handle accessible by pulling sideways in a reverse grip. A sling was dangling on his hip with ammunition in his backpack's side pockets. Several knives were also arrayed on his arms and legs, while more were stored in the other side pocket of his bag. A backpack that was ready to be dropped at a moment's notice, as were the other duffel bags he dragged behind him on a wheeled tray.

Left behind, on the nearest table from the portal was his phone and a pack of water bottles, as well as a note:

"On Thursday, 8 June 2028, past 8 am, I, Stephen Veil, have left Earth through this portal before you. If you decide to enter, ensure you're heavily armed and aren't alone. Best of luck."

Going through the energy vortex was oddly swift, Stephen feeling as if he had wafted through a cold curtain of dense water. What welcomed his sigh on the other side was a vast room, seemingly square-sized, around ten meters per side, though only five meters in height.

Stephen didn't have much time to observe the space as a couple of blue screens appeared in his sight, similar to the one that informed him of the Dungeon Portal status.

Achievement: Be the first in your world to enter a dungeon.

Rewards: Delayed until completion of the main quest.

Main quest: Explore and survive

Objective: Find the entrance to the next floor and either enter or come back.

Rewards: Time until Dungeon Breakout will be delayed; others

Although slightly startled by their sudden appearance, Stephen got over it quickly, the strangeness of the moment already diffused by all that had happened until now. He was more interested in the contents of those two screens.

First was the fact that no one before him had entered a dungeon. He believed it to be a good thing, as it proved his choice of not letting others know of the place and using the portal for himself worked in his interests. He had, from now on, access to a unique advantage. He also didn't believe for one second that this portal would be the only one to appear. That would go against all scenarios imagined. If a dungeon had appeared along with a system, chances were high that the rest of the world would experience the same changes or were already going through them.

The delay in the rewards, though, was infuriating. It would've been an excellent advantage before entering the actual part of the dungeon. To be informed he was eligible for rewards yet had to survive this trial to receive them was just evil. At least he didn't know what he missed exactly; that might have made it worse.

Then was the objective of the main quest. It was good news as it meant Stephen wouldn't have to clear the floor. It also meant there were other quests to complete. Regular mundane quests, or hidden ones. A possible presence of non-hostile beings in the dungeon was also implied, and maybe even a safe zone. After all, if there weren't people delivering the quests, how would Stephen be aware of them?

Lastly, the reward of being able to push back the time of the Dungeon Breakout. This last fact was something Stephen had thought was a given since it was one of those things that always happen in stories. To have it confirmed was reassuring. It also reminded him that he should know better than base reality on works of fiction. It might have worked this time, but it didn't mean it would always be true. It made his hope for NPCs, or a safe zone cut short. And to consider that it was better to expect the worst than hope for the best.

Once Stephen had digested the news from those two screens, he turned around, wondering if such a panel would also be prompted when touching the entrance. It allowed him to see the change he missed in the portal occupying his basement, although in reverse: the vortex within this archway had switched to a purplish hue, with hints of blues and green still dispersing at its core. The sight was mesmerising, bringing Stephen back to the moment he saw the portal for the first time. At least this time he wasn't as entranced by the phenomenon.

It was enough to let Stephen know he would most likely be prevented from returning. Yet not enough to prevent him from trying anyway. Unsurprisingly the path was barred. What surprised him was the change to the blue screen before him.

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

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Status: Locked - Main quest uncompleted

So there was the good news of knowing what to do to be granted passage to his home. And there was the bad news. Clearing the first floor. By himself. Stephen, of course, was aware it was what he had put himself to do. To be reminded of it so blatantly while cutting any path of retreat was still unpleasant.

Still, the message wasn't wrong; Stephen had to move forward. Towards the unknown and first to the other gateway glimpsed before being hindered by the systemic screens.

As he considered the room where he was, Stephen saw it was made of black marble, obsidian, or a similar material. And while there wasn't any visible light source, Stephen had no trouble seeing what lay inside the room. Or rather, in seeing that the room was bare of anything. Its only noticeable features were the two gateways facing each other.

Both were embedded in the wall, occupying more than half its height and a fourth of its width -three meters by two meters and a half. Both were just as ominous as the other, albeit in different ways. The door was engraved with snakes and obscure sigils, the meaning escaping Stephen's understanding. The engraving of a sword, split in two by the door's seam, was in the middle, the sword's handle being the link between the door knobs. Stephen believed it to be an engraving, though the longer he looked at it, the more his doubt grew. It was very life-like, as were the snakes, so he tried not to ponder too long over their exquisite craftsmanship.

His focus shifted to the sigils, similar to those he saw previously on the portal. He was tempted to stop there and copy them in his notebook but knew time was ticking, and the sooner he could complete the main quest, the safer his home would be.

From what the main quest told of either returning here or entering the portal to the next floor, Stephen knew he would return the same way. By then, he would have the chance to copy those symbols.

Stephen expected some resistance from the doors when he tried to open them, but they were surprisingly light, or rather, he didn't have to spend any strength pushing them. It wasn't bad for him, as he wouldn't have wanted to exhaust himself by opening those massive stone doors before a fight. Going by their thickness, it wasn't very likely he could push them.

What greeted Stephen's sight beyond those doors was a cavern or, more precisely, an underground gallery. It was only large enough for two persons to move unhindered. The rocks making up the place were light sandy, illuminated by patches of fluorescent moss. It was a gentle light, a milky pale blue that highlighted the humid surroundings. With several stalactites and stalagmites growing here and there, Stephen was quickly reminded of the limestone caverns he had previously visited.

In the distance, he could hear some noises, like a screeching sound. He knew he was familiar with it but couldn't pinpoint where he had heard those before. Knowing there were enemies not far from him was still enough reason to drop the bags he had with him. Both those he was dragging and his backpack. Then, since he believed the noises were from some animals, albeit of unknown species, he decided to ignite a torch. Less for the light it would provide, as the local mushrooms were enough, but more in the hope that the creatures would get spooked by the fire.

Thus, his spear was put aside for the moment, the many protruding rocks also making it unwieldy. Stephen then started taking cautious steps toward his first foes, a buckler shield in his left hand and a torch in the other. He would still be able to draw out his machete when needed.

Time seemed to stretch for much longer than reasonable, and despite knowing he was moving forward, Stephen still felt the screeching to be as far as they were when he started. It was nerve-wracking. The gallery turned left or right as he advanced, reducing his line of sight.

Stephen had trouble not yelling in surprise when the first shadow was cast on the walls. It was a fast-moving thing, most likely flying. As he got closer, Stephen finally was able to see his foes. Bats. Although going by their sizes, they weren't inoffensive. Their body was the size of a fist, while their wingspan was slightly past a meter. It was much less frightening than whatever otherworldly monsters he might have been forced to fight. The space where they were flying was a small cavern, enough to let two of the eight bats in the cave fly unimpeded. Emboldened by the normalcy of his foes, Stephen lost most of his worries. He still advanced slowly, but more because of carefulness than fear.

The first bat dove at him, attracted by the stronger light of his torch, letting Stephen see its large fangs extending from its flat face. More by reflex and fright than any semblance of competency, Stephen smacked it upfront with his torch, the beast crashing down before him. Stephen then crushed it beneath his boot, hoping a crushed spine would be enough to finish it. The noise of bones breaking was enough to let him know it was at least immobilised. The strident screech the bat let out as he did so was much less pleasant, even loud enough to hurt Stephen's ears.

In response, another three bats came at him. Behind, the other four bats, despite having woken up, were still immobile, watching warily.

The one already in flight was the first to arrive, Stephen hiding behind his shield in surprise. The bat held onto the edge, giving the immature delver the idea of crushing it against the wall. While it worked, partially since the bat wasn't quite dead yet, it also had the downside of letting him open to the other bats, which he tried to frighten by waving his torch. The results were disappointing as none of the bats were scared away, but the fire damage when Stephen hit them was promising.

The two bats had part of their wings burnt, forcing them to stay on the ground. One still managed to latch on his leg, proving to Stephen that he should consider them a threat until their death. His feat of dealing with this first group was enough to prompt the four other bats to join the fray.

By the time they arrived, Stephen had already killed another two bats: One was the bat that was grabbing his shield, whose body fell limp after the third time he bashed it against the wall. The other was the one latched on his leg, which Stephen smacked and burned with his torch.

As the other bats arrived, Stephen tried the same strategy but mostly hid behind his shield while waving his torch randomly. He could guess their position from the scratches he could feel now and then on his arm and from the shadows on the ground. He wasn't very successful, yet he still landed a few lucky blows. When Stephen landed the tenth hit with the torch, its fire went off. Leaving the man with only a crude club in hand. He was tempted to drop it and instead draw out his machete but thought better of it, not wanting to remain unarmed for any time. He was mainly worried he would drop his weapon while unsheathing it.

Although dealing with the remaining bats was a chore, Stephen still prevailed with only a few wounds to show for it. A few scratches along his arms, the claws from the beasts having reached the space between the pieces of his armour. His arms were only protected by gloves and bracers, the sleeves of his gambeson covering only half of his upper arm. Stephen had to let go of his shield and remove some pieces of his armour to tend to his wounds.

He used that time to reflect on how the fight went and how much he was fumbling around. Stephen wasn't proud of his performance and was aware of his luck for not facing more dangerous foes. And while he wasn't sure how much better he could do the next time, at least he knew what enemies he would need to fight and how they would attack him.

As such, he decided to drop his shield for now and wield a torch and his machete instead. If he still had to fight bats, moving and striking quickly rather than being burdened by the shield's weight was better.

Before he donned back his armour, though, Stephen took the time to loot the bats. Riches were one of his reasons for braving the unknown, after all. He might as well ensure he collected everything he could. He had no idea what parts were the most useful, but for this, he was willing to trust fantasy lore. As such, he cut apart the wings and fangs that were still intact, putting them in a pile on the side.

It might not make sense to take those steps now rather than on his way back. Yet Stephen wanted to calm down some more before engaging in another fight. He also wanted to ensure he would use as little time as possible when returning, as he would likely be exhausted or, worse, wounded and needing to get back outside the dungeon as soon as possible. In the end, he also took this opportunity to gather the bags he had left at the start. While bats might be the only foe he would have to fight, he wasn't willing to bet on it. The closer access he had to his other weapons and equipment, the better.

The cavern where he met the eight bats was empty of anything but mushrooms, another gallery being the only way forward. From beyond, the screeching of bats could be heard. At least this time, Stephen knew what to expect. He kept walking, his torch in his left hand, his machete in the right, ready to face whatever challenges the dungeon would have for him.