Into the depths and an egg worth a fortune
The sun barely rose when I stepped out of my house, locking the door behind me. My garden was silent, the young shoots barely peeking through the soil. I whispered a quick prayer for them to grow strong.
Today wasn't about crops. It was about survival.
It was time to go into the Dungeon.
Orario's massive Tower of Babel rose high into the clouds, a testament to the gods' influence and the city's unmatched power. But below it, in the dark, twisted labyrinth of the Dungeon, that's where real strength was forged.
I made my way to the Guild building first. My ID card in my hand, slightly wrinkled from being tucked into my pocket too many times.
The front desk worker, a tired-looking woman with a perpetually exasperated sigh, nodded, checking my card before rattling off the usual entrance process.
They barely noticed the fact that I had no armor, no weapons.
I was going in with my fists.
As I turned to leave, something gnawed at the back of my mind.
Monsters.
I knew how they fought barely. I'd battled a few on the road with the merchants, mostly small-time bandits or territorial beasts. But what else lurked below? What did they do? How many types were there?
How could I survive if I didn't even know what I was fighting? The thought alone was a cold dread that settled deep in my stomach.
I turned on my heel and asked the receptionist, "Is there a library?"
She raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something that looked like surprise in her otherwise dull eyes. "Most adventurers don't bother. Just jump in, you know? But yes, Guild Archives. Down the street, a big building with silver doors." Her voice held a hint of amusement, as if the very idea of an adventurer studying was outlandish.
The Guild Archives were massive, nearly rivaling the Guild headquarters itself. Bookshelves lined the stone walls, towering high, filled with old tomes, maps, records, and volumes cataloging everything from divine history to alchemical formulas. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and dust, a stark contrast to the humid, bustling streets of Orario.
I searched until I found a section marked: Monstrous Taxonomy. My fingers, usually adept at tending soil, fumbled with the heavy, leather-bound books.
Book after book, page after page, I studied. I devoured every description, every sketch, every known weakness.
Goblins: quick, clever in groups, weak alone. Cowards if outnumbered. Aim for the throat or legs. Their clubs were rudimentary, easily dodged. They relied on sheer numbers and surprise.
Kobolds: dog-like monsters, stronger than goblins. Their leaps at the throat were terrifyingly fast, their claws sharp. Avoid their pounces, strike the ribs where their hides were thinnest.
Needle Rabbits: deceptively fast, their fur bristled with sharp quills. A quick dodge and a precise strike were key before they could launch their projectiles.
War Shadows: ephemeral beings, almost ghost-like. Physical attacks were less effective; they were weak to light or focused attacks. A tricky one, but not something I expected to encounter on the upper floors.
Killer Ants: large, armored, with powerful mandibles. Their weak points were the joints of their legs and their undersides. A hard hit to the head could stun them, but their chitinous shells made direct blows largely useless.
I memorized everything I could until my head pounded, a dull ache behind my eyes. I felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. Knowledge was power, and I was arming myself with it, even without a blade.
As I left the Archives, the sun was higher, casting long shadows. I noticed a group of adventurers gearing up outside a nearby shop.
Backpacks overflowing with supplies, healing potions clinking, weapon sheaths gleaming, and food packs carefully tied.
Smart.
My own preparedness felt laughable in comparison. I found a small vendor nearby, his stall overflowing with various adventurer essentials.
I bought a compact leather backpack, just enough to carry a few potions, a meager food ration, and the magic stones I'd earn. I looked at the rack of swords.
Cheap iron.
I remembered how one had cracked during my last fight, a desperate skirmish with a pack of wolves. It had shattered, leaving me vulnerable. I shook my head.
My fists would do. My body knew how to move on its own now. I could feel it, a nascent instinct that hummed beneath my skin, sharpened by years of hard labor and recent, desperate fights.
I returned to the Dungeon entrance. The guards, now more accustomed to the steady flow of adventurers, barely glanced at me as I showed my ID.
I took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. I stepped forward
and descended.
The moment my feet hit the First Floor, a coldness spread through my bones. Not from temperature, but something deeper, more ancient. The Dungeon was alive. Breathing. Watching. The air itself seemed to hum with a latent energy, a palpable presence that pressed in on all sides.
The natural light from the entrance quickly faded, replaced by the faint, eerie glow that emanated from the very walls, illuminating the twisting passages in a perpetual twilight.
A growl.
I turned.
Six goblins came charging from the shadows, teeth bared, clubs in hand. Their eyes, beady and malicious, fixed on me. They were small, no bigger than a child, but their numbers gave them a savage confidence.
I didn't think.
My body moved. It was an instinct, a blur of motion honed by the desperation of past encounters and the raw, primal urge to survive.
The first goblin leapt at me, its rusty club swinging in a wide arc. I ducked low, spinning on my heel. My elbow, a hardened weapon, slammed into its ribs. Bones cracked with a sickening sound, and the goblin crumpled.
I caught the second by the arm as it swung its club, twisting sharply. I heard the snap of bone, a high-pitched squeal of pain, then launched a powerful kick into its stomach. It flew backward into the wall with a sickening crunch, leaving a dark smear.
The third and fourth came together, a chaotic flurry of small, green limbs.
I flipped backward, a desperate, untaught maneuver, dodging both strikes by a hair's breadth. As I landed, I drove my foot into the jaw of one. Its head snapped back, mouth wide in a silent scream, before it dropped. I grabbed the last one, its eyes wide with fear, and slammed it headfirst into the ground. Blood and ichor sprayed across the rough stone.
The final two hesitated, their crude clubs held loosely.
Big mistake.
I charged, a raw roar tearing from my throat. I leapt and drove both feet into one's chest. The impact sent it flying backward, a limp sack of green flesh.
Before it even hit the ground, I twisted mid-air, a strange, fluid movement, grabbed the last goblin by the throat, and slammed it down with a final, guttural roar of my own.
Silence.
Breathing heavily, ragged gasps tearing through my lungs, I stood over the pile of corpses. My knuckles were bloodied, raw, and bruised, but not broken.
My body buzzed with energy, a strange, exhilarating current that sang through my veins. It felt right. This brutal dance, this fight for life and death, it felt like what I was meant to do.
Then I remembered: the stones.
I pulled my dagger, a short, practical blade that was the only weapon I'd allowed myself, from the side of my pack and started extracting. It was a crude process, tearing open the monsters to reach the glowing core.
Each monster had a glowing crystal in its chest. Faintly blue, warm to the touch, pulsing with a faint, internal light. I pulled six out, one for each fallen goblin, and dropped them into a small, cloth pouch tied to my belt. They clinked softly, the sound of nascent wealth.
Deeper.
The path twisted and turned, each passage looking much like the last, a monotonous labyrinth of rough-hewn stone. The air grew thicker, heavier, carrying the faint, sweet scent of decay and something else… something ancient and unidentifiable.
Cracks ran through the walls like dark veins, and my footsteps echoed too loudly in the oppressive quiet. I strained my ears, listening, my senses sharpened by the recent battle.
Then
Another roar, this one deeper, more guttural than the goblins'.
Seven goblins this time, their numbers bolstering their courage.
And three kobolds, their canine snouts twitching, their claws already extended. They were larger, leaner, and moved with a predatory grace the goblins lacked.
They surrounded me, flanking me from both sides, their eyes gleaming in the Dungeon's dim light. There was no escape.
I grit my teeth, a fierce grin stretching across my bloodied face. "Let's dance."
The goblins, as expected, came first, a wave of green fury. I sidestepped one, its club whistling past my ear, caught another mid-leap, and used its momentum to slam it into the third.
My heel cracked the skull of the fourth with a satisfying crunch.
A kobold, faster and more agile, came at me, claws ready to tear.
I ducked, spun, and slammed a fist into its ribs. It yelped, a high-pitched, dog-like cry, and lunged again, desperate.
I caught it by the throat, my fingers digging into its windpipe, and choked the life from it before hurling its limp body into another goblin, sending them both sprawling.
I felt a club smash into my back, a searing pain that flared through my nerves. I gasped, stumbling.
I rolled forward, came up in a crouch, and uppercutted the nearest attacker, a goblin that had closed in. Blood flew from its mouth as it was lifted off its feet.
Another kobold, silent and swift, scratched my arm, its claws leaving burning trails across my skin. I kicked it in the knee, hearing the sickening crunch of shattering bone, then grabbed its jaw and yanked it sideways with a vicious twist. It fell limp, its eyes vacant.
Only two left, a single goblin and a single kobold. They stared at me, fear flickering in their eyes, the primal pack instinct broken.
I roared, a sound that was less human and more beast, born of exhaustion and triumph.
They hesitated.
Too slow.
I leapt into the air, spinning, a whirlwind of motion. I delivered a double-kick, one foot crushing the goblin's ribs, the other sending the last kobold flying across the corridor, a crumpled heap against the far wall.
I panted, my body aching, my muscles screaming. Blood dripped from cuts on my arms, my knuckles throbbed, but I was alive. I was winning.
I gathered the magic stones. Ten more into my pouch, making the bag feel significantly heavier. Each glowing stone was a testament to my survival, my strength. The light from them seemed to pulse with a greater intensity now.
I looked at the dark passages ahead, then back toward the faint light from the entrance. My body was battered, but my spirit was surging. I turned, a new resolve in my steps, and started making my way back toward the surface.
The Dungeon was a dangerous place, but I was learning. I was fighting. And I was winning.
Chapter: The Golden Feather and Valis Rain
It had been a long morning in the Dungeon.
After my last battle with the goblins and kobolds, I continued exploring the First Floor, staying cautious but curious.
My pack was growing heavier with magic stones, each pulsing faintly through the leather. I didn't know how much they were worth, but something told me today would be my first payday.
As I turned a corner into a wider chamber, I saw it.
Not another goblin.
Not a kobold or even a War Shadow.
But something far more majestic.
A large bird with brilliant, fluffy yellow-green feathers strutted silently across the stone floor. Its body shimmered in the dim light, almost glowing. It moved with the confidence of something that feared nothing, not because it was strong, but because it never had to fight.
My breath caught in my throat.
A Jack Bird.
A rare Dungeon monster. Not aggressive. Almost mythical. Fast so fast, most never got close. But it's a drop item? Guaranteed. And worth at least 1,000,000 valis.
( image here )
(and i looked it up and I didn't see it so I was going to put a image up closest thing I can imagine it is)
I crouched low.
One step.
Two.
Its head twitched.
I froze.
It turned to run.
I exploded forward.
My body blurred. My blood sang.
It zipped left, then right like a lightning bolt made of feathers.
But I was faster.
With a roar, I leapt. My foot slammed into the wall. I bounced off it like a spring, angling toward the Jack Bird's path.
It juked left.
I twisted mid-air, landed hard, and rolled forward. My palm scraped the stone floor, sparks dancing.
And then
I reached out.
Fingers closed around a leg.
It let out a squawk that echoed through the corridor.
I flipped it onto the ground with a brutal thud.
Silence.
It disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind a shimmering golden feather with crystalline tips.
I picked it up slowly, awestruck.
Even now, I could feel the magic thrumming through it.
After extracting a few more stones from lesser monsters, I decided it was time to return.
I made my way back to the surface, body sore, knuckles bruised, but heart full.
At the Guild Exchange, I waited in line, backpack over my shoulder. When it was my turn, I placed the stones and Jack Bird's golden egg on the table.
The clerk's eyes widened.
"Where-Where-where did you find this?" she whispered.
"First Floor," I said. "It ran. I caught it."
"You caught a Jack Bird?"
I nodded.
She shook her head in disbelief and started calculating.
Magic Stones: 19 total small-sized ones from goblins and kobolds. Each averaged about 200 valis.
19 × 200 = 3,800 valis
Jack Bird Feather: Estimated value 1,000,000 valis (Guild's listed price)
Total before tax: 1,003,800 valis
10% Guild fee: 100,380 valis
Final amount: 903,420 valis
"Here's your payout," the clerk said, sliding me a large pouch filled with stacked valis notes and a few gold coins. "You… might want to get a vault."
I blinked at the weight of the pouch.
I was rich.
For now.
My stomach growled.
I walked straight toward the nearest food stall street. The scent of roasting meats, warm bread, and spicy skewers hit me like a spell.
I stopped at a quiet stand where an old lady served bowls of rice topped with grilled meat and sauce.
"I'll take two," I said, placing down a few valis.
She looked surprised. "Adventurer appetite, huh?"
I smiled. "Something like that."
I sat on a bench, bowl in hand, and devoured every bite. The savory taste of meat mixed with the sweet tang of sauce and fluffy rice was the best thing I'd had since arriving in Orario.
When I was done, I sat back, the weight of everything hitting me.
The battles.
The blood.
The Jack Bird.
I had survived.
I walked home slowly, the streets buzzing around me, the pouch of money tucked deep inside my backpack.
At home, I locked the door, placed the pouch beneath the floorboards, and collapsed onto my bed.
Sleep claimed me before my head hit the pillow.
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If you like this chapter please tell me because I adding more detail in it, and it makes sense to me If it didn't make sense to you, then i'm sorry and give me some tips if you can thank you and if you want to know anything, please tell me here-->
What should he do with the money
A. Save it
B. Upgrade his garden
C. your ideas with the most likes
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