Soren slowly looked around the administration center.
“Number 7! Give me number 7!”
“Today’s number 1!”
“Number 13, please!”
The inside of the center—especially the reception desk crowded with people—was like a chaotic flea market.
Receptionists were drenched in sweat, handing out palm-sized slips of paper, which the crowd snatched up in a flash.
Those were the room number tickets to enter the dungeon.
Soren already knew this routine from reading the guidebook in advance.
The dungeon was so massive that its end was impossible to fathom, and countless explorers delved into it every day.
Among them, many believed in various superstitions about the dungeon.
When your life is on the line to earn money, it’s natural to end up believing in at least one superstition without even realizing it.
“Give me 47!”
“Miss! I want number 8!”
“What the hell! Who took 31?!”
And of course, there were endless superstitions about the number of the “Room of Beginning” where one would enter the dungeon.
Rooms 3 and 7 were said to bring good fortune with money, while Rooms 44 and 66 were considered bad luck and should be avoided.
As someone new to the dungeon, Soren couldn’t really relate to these beliefs.
But that didn’t mean he dismissed them.
Even if the subject was a bit different, Soren was no stranger to accepting superstition—after all, he believed crows were spiritual familiars that aided sorcery.
Of course, just because he accepted it didn’t mean he understood it.
‘Maybe half of him was just going with the flow.’
“So then, now…?”
***
While observing the reception desk that was five seconds from total chaos, Soren finally turned and looked around the area.
A large hall in the administration center, often referred to as the waiting room.
It was filled with people sitting all around.
Except for the hunched-back merchants selling things here and there, most of them were likely adventurers.
Soren carefully observed these adventurers.
Some were chugging alcohol, others were checking their gear in preparation for entering the dungeon.
Among them were those who, seemingly still without teammates, stood leaning against walls or sat alone in the corners.
Those were Soren’s targets.
Once he spotted a suitable warrior, Soren confidently strode over to him.
“Excuse me.”
“Huh? What is it?”
The warrior with the fierce expression looked as brutal as his weapon.
The sword hanging from his belt looked like something you’d find in a butcher’s shop.
Its blade had jagged, saw-like edges that emphasized its brutality.
Of course, Soren hadn’t approached him based solely on his criminal-looking appearance.
”His gear is well-prepared.”
The emergency supplies on his belt were a clear mark of experience.
They were tangible evidence of how much time he’d spent in the dungeon—and how long he’d managed to stay alive.
Judging from that, this warrior had clearly been through many battles.
“Would you be interested in teaming—”
“Scram, rookie.”
And just like that, the more experienced warriors usually had no interest in partnering with novices.
Soren turned away without hesitation, having been cut off before even finishing his sentence.
He didn’t plan to argue over the man’s rude tone.
People with rough jobs usually have rough manners.
Besides, dungeon adventuring was literally life or death—harsh personalities were common in that line of work.
Still, what irked him slightly was how the man had instantly recognized Soren as a novice based on appearance alone.
“What exactly makes me look like a rookie?”
He had no regrets about walking away, but his expression couldn’t quite hide the lingering sourness.
“Are you looking for a teammate?”
“I don’t team up with noobs.”
“Excuse me, teammate—”
“Oh my, little guy. You’ve got such a cute face.”
“No.”
Even the adventurers he had carefully selected rejected his proposal outright, leaving Soren feeling increasingly frustrated.
***
After wandering the waiting room for a while, Soren eventually slumped down miserably into a corner seat.
Continuing to go around asking for teammates felt pathetic.
It was an act that only diminished his own worth.
As he sat there pondering what went wrong, Soren finally glanced around and quietly pulled out his guidebook.
[You can’t recruit high-tier teammates on your first dungeon trip. Besides, those guys already have pre-set builds. The companions you need, the ones that match your desired build—it’s better to raise them from scratch.]
In other words, you can’t expect to have it all from the very beginning.
“Exactly”. Soren nodded quietly and turned the page.
[Initial stats are important, of course, but what matters most is potential. Understanding the personality and potential of someone before accepting them as a companion is critical. Soren, trust the potential engraved in your eyes.]
At that line, Soren’s eyes widened.
It was the first time.
The first time the guidebook had shown something personal from his father.
More specifically, it was the first time it had directly addressed him by name.
The way “Soren” was written—each letter pressed firmly into the page—made it clear this guidebook was written just for him.
[Soren, trust the potential engraved in your eyes.]
He read it again.
***
With a rustle, his hand brushed over the words.
It was a phrase he couldn’t quite understand.
But as advice, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.
Letting out a sigh, Soren closed the guidebook with a decisive snap.
Of all the people scattered around him, not one showed any interest in him.
Feeling gloomy for no real reason, Soren silently glared at the surrounding adventurers.
A clumsy teenage pettiness began to bubble up inside him.
It felt incredibly unfair that no one recognized his ability.
Even his father had acknowledged his potential—’so why wouldn’t these people accept him?’
The reason was obvious.
Soren was a complete dungeon rookie, no different from any country bumpkin.
Even with a guidebook in hand, there was a huge difference between reading about it and actually living it.
In this field, experience was everything, and opportunities weren’t handed out to novices like Soren.
On top of that, Soren’s slightly awkward mannerisms made his lack of experience all the more apparent—though he didn’t realize it himself.
Teaming up with other rookies would’ve been an option, but those people had already formed groups and picked up their tickets.
“Did I come too late?”
Soren subtly shifted his steps.
Then, he approached the mage who had been standing a short distance away with his arms crossed.
The mage seemed to be quite experienced.
After all, he was holding an expensive-looking watch.
Thanks to that, Soren, who had snuck up behind him, was able to catch a glimpse of the time.
11:30 a.m.
Most explorers would already be inside the dungeon by now, or, if not, they’d be preparing their second entry by forming parties in advance for the afternoon run.
“If you’re curious about the time, kid, why don’t you just use that mouth of yours to ask? Don’t sneak a peek like a creep.”
“…Yes, sir.”
The mage, who had noticed Soren’s awkward attempt at stealth long ago, offered a sharp rebuke.
Feeling sour for no good reason, Soren trudged off toward the reception desk with sluggish steps.
‘This time, I can go alone.’
Just as you can’t expect to find a skilled companion from the start, Soren had never intended to blaze through the dungeon from the get-go.
Even if it meant wasting a week just scratching the surface, he could afford one more shot if he scraped together the rest of his money.
If things went really south, he could always take a sewer-cleaning job.
Filthy, stinking sewer cleaning.
Just imagining it made his skin crawl, but Soren wasn’t in a position to be picky.
It had been his own choice to come all the way here and suffer through this.
***
“How many in your party?”
“Just one.”
The receptionist glanced up and down at Soren, then flung a numbered ticket his way.
After countless people had come and gone, leaving only the dregs behind, there were no options left on the numbered tags for the Starting Room.
In the end, Soren was handed the least popular one—Number 66.
Of all the luck.
Soren’s first dungeon exploration was off to a rocky start.
Standing in the hallway lined endlessly with doors, Soren quietly stared at the one marked ’66’.
This was the Starting Room assigned to him.
The door was as plain and clunky as they came, yet it gave off an inexplicable chill.
Glancing briefly down the hallway, Soren grabbed the doorknob and turned it.
What he saw was a room too spacious for one person, but just right for four.
It was the room that connected the dungeon and the administration office—commonly called the ‘Starting Room’.
[No one truly knows what the Starting Room is. But it is widely accepted that, according to the setting, the Starting Room is a living being.]
The passage he had read in a strategy guide floated into his mind unbidden.
Soren furrowed his brow without realizing.
If the room wasn’t just part of the building but a living creature, that was a rather creepy thought.
‘If this thing is alive… If it’s a living being, then it must consume something and produce waste. So what exactly does the Starting Room consume?’
Uneasy, Soren scanned the room.
Then, realizing how little time he had left, he quickly stepped inside.
***
The moment he entered, the door shut on its own.
The numbered ticket in his pocket began to tremble violently.
Was this the Starting Room’s doing too—’being something close to a living organism?’
Feeling increasingly unsettled, Soren gripped the ticket tightly.
The trembling stopped immediately.
Once that unpleasant sensation passed, the room’s interior finally came into proper focus.
Because the room was designed for four people, it felt rather spacious with only Soren inside.
Not spacious enough to run around in, but still roomy.
A wooden panel attached to the wall caught his eye, and Soren slowly sat down against it.
An oppressive silence filled the Starting Room where only Soren was present.
***
There was no one to talk to.
Even if there had been, there wasn’t anything to say.
Sitting there quietly, Soren poked the wall with a finger.
“…Feels like a regular wall.”
The wall didn’t squish like flesh, nor did a sudden mouth pop out and try to devour his finger.
It was just hard and smooth, like any other ordinary wall.
Cautiously brushing his hand over the wooden surface, Soren eventually pulled it away.
Even with no one watching, the whole thing made him feel foolish.
What a ridiculous thing to do.
Clunk!
That was when the Starting Room began to change.
Soren’s gaze sharpened in tension.
The room, perfectly fine just a moment ago, began to shake with a loud, grinding sound.
Like a small earthquake, the vibrations grew stronger until Soren’s entire body was jostled.
Then, just as the intense trembling reached its peak—
Whoooosh!
A shrill, slicing wind rushed past his ears.
A crushing force pressed down on his body as if trying to drag him down.
Soren’s eyes widened as he experienced the changes firsthand.
The method by which the Starting Room entered the dungeon wasn’t something magical, like vanishing in a blink.
[When dungeon entry begins, the Starting Room descends directly into the dungeon. No one knows what happens outside. It’s not a literal physical fall, but there’s a reason they call it a ‘drop.’]
Yes—‘the drop.’
The Starting Room was now plummeting toward the dungeon like a mad thing.
Inside the violently falling room, Soren’s body began to lift slightly into the air.
The staff in his hand jabbed at the high ceiling, and his hair floated upward.
“Ugh…!”
Gritting his teeth, Soren endured the oppressive pull of gravity.
The falling speed wasn’t normal.
A sense of dread crept over him—’if they hit the bottom at this rate, they’d be shattered to pieces.’
But it didn’t last long.
The violently shaking room gradually began to stabilize.
Thud!
With one short, powerful jolt, the chaos ended.
Soren staggered to his feet on unsteady legs.
His hair was a tangled mess, and his jumbled breakfast didn’t do much for his mood either.
He leaned on his staff for balance, still trembling slightly, when the tightly shut door suddenly clicked open without warning.
Like magic, the scene beyond the open door was no longer the hallway of the administration office.
It had become a dark, cavernous passage.
It had arrived.
Soren instinctively tightened his grip on his staff.
[Do not fear the darkness that greets you when the door opens. Darkness is the first thing you must befriend.]
A lit lantern pushed back the shadows, and Soren carefully took a step forward.
It was his first step into the dungeon.