When Su Luo awoke again, the world around her had dissolved into an endless expanse of white.
She sat up, her breath catching as she noticed three doors standing before her, stark against the blank void.
The doors were black, each adorned with distinct, colorful patterns.
A spark of memory flickered in Su Luo’s mind, sharp and sudden—she recalled the intricate designs etched into the gray houses from before.
Those patterns, she realized, must be clues for what lay ahead.
She paused, considering her options.
If she hadn’t noticed those patterns earlier, she’d be left to chance now, a one-in-three gamble.
Not terrible odds, perhaps, but they could also test her luck.
“Tch,” she muttered, shaking her head.
She had no interest in revealing just how unlucky she could be.
With a steady hand, Su Luo pushed open the door in the center, its pattern matching the one from the gray houses.
Beyond it swirled a vortex of deep blue.
She pressed her lips together, took a breath, and stepped inside.
A wave of dizziness crashed over her, and she pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to steady herself.
Fragments of memory teased at the edges of her mind—something familiar, yet elusive, like a dream slipping away upon waking.
One thing was certain: she had once known exactly what she was doing here.
Now, for reasons she couldn’t grasp, that clarity was gone.
“Well, that’s convenient,” Su Luo thought wryly.
Amnesia could level the playing field, keeping those with too much experience from dominating the game.
As for her performance so far, she was quietly pleased.
She hadn’t faltered, had stayed cautious, and had likely done well enough.
With fragments of her memory restored, the unknown felt less daunting.
Su Luo’s nerves steadied, and she tapped the [End Dungeon] button floating before her.
Instantly, a system prompt chimed:
‘Ding! Congratulations, player, for clearing the first stage of the initial dungeon with a [Perfect Evaluation].’Â Â
‘Unlocked Class: Priest (Shadow Priest).’Â Â
‘Rewarded Initial Skill: Healing Bolt – Restores (or drains) 100% of target’s mental value as health (Cooldown: 5 seconds).’ Â
‘Congratulations, host, for gaining +10 initial health.’Â Â
‘Congratulations, host, for obtaining the hidden dungeon item: Sword of Light [Common] (Upgradable).’Â Â
‘Congratulations, host, for earning a hidden reward (choose one):’Â Â
‘1. Conceal the hidden item.’Â Â
‘2. Mental Value +5.’Â Â
‘3. All Attributes +1.’
The flood of rewards left Su Luo momentarily dazed, but as if on cue, a rush of memories surfaced, clarifying one thing: mental value and attribute points were valuable.
Very valuable.
The first option was clearly for those who preferred to play the long game, hiding their strength to catch others off guard.
The second and third options both boosted attributes, though the second offered fewer points.
Quality over quantity was the rule in games like this, so between the two, she’d pick the second.
But the first option tugged at her instincts.
A wooden sword as a hidden reward?
That had to be rare.
Her newly surfaced memories held no trace of such an item, which meant it was likely coveted—and vulnerable to theft if others knew she had it.
The “upgradable” tag on the sword intrigued her further.
An evolving weapon was surely rarer than attribute points, which, while precious, could likely be earned elsewhere.
A gamble, perhaps, but one worth taking.
With a decisive tap, Su Luo chose the first option.
The moment she did, the wooden sword flared with blinding white light.
When the glow faded, it had transformed into a necklace, a silver cross pendant gleaming at its center, adorned with a tiny, diamond-shaped ruby.
Su Luo lifted the cross, and with a thought, it shifted back into a sword.
No longer wooden, it was now a sleek silver blade.
The hilt, carved with an intricate design of a dragon and phoenix entwined, was made of some unidentifiable material.
A matching ruby gleamed at the crossguard, its crimson hue shimmering against the silver blade and dark hilt.
Both edges of the sword were razor-sharp, its straight blade tapering to a deadly point.
It was a weapon built for versatility—capable of slashing with either side or piercing armor with a thrust.
Su Luo’s lips curved into a delighted smile.
The sword was simple yet elegant, perfectly suited to her taste.
She nodded in approval, transformed it back into the necklace, and slipped it around her neck before glancing back at the system interface.
Another prompt appeared:
‘[Please register a game name] (up to six characters).’
Without hesitation, Su Luo said, “Lost.”
‘System: Registration complete.’
Why “Lost”?
Her name, Su Luo, carried a story.
An orphan, she’d been found as a baby beneath a tree at the orphanage, surrounded by autumn leaves.
The director, surnamed Su, gave all the children her surname.
Another child was already named Su Ye—”Leaf”—so she became Su Luo, for the fallen leaves.
“Lost” captured that moment of being abandoned, hidden among the foliage.
With her name set, Su Luo turned her attention to the rewards.
She was familiar with the Shadow Priest class from past online games—a versatile role that could both heal and harm.
Curiously, she couldn’t recall anyone else having this class.
She’d have to ask around later, discreetly.
A Perfect Evaluation sounded impressive, though its exact significance was unclear.
For now, she’d have to wait and see.
The 100% efficiency on her initial skill likely tied to her evaluation, but too many questions remained unanswered.
“So much I still don’t know,” she sighed.
A new system prompt sounded:
‘ “Prepare to enter the second stage of the initial dungeon. [Click to proceed.]” ‘
Su Luo took a deep breath and tapped the button.
Another wave of dizziness washed over her, and when it cleared, she stood at the entrance of a charming little park, its greenery vibrant under a soft sky.
Five or six others were nearby.
Before she could speak, a bespectacled man stepped forward.
“You’re the sixth to arrive. I’ll call you Number Six. You look like a newbie, so hang back for now. Once everyone’s here, we’ll explain the rules to all the newcomers.”
Su Luo nodded, murmuring a thanks, and began scanning her surroundings.
She glanced at the open iron gate behind her and reached out, only to feel an invisible barrier.
As expected.
A heavyset woman with curly hair chuckled nearby.
“Don’t bother. I’ve tried a dozen times. We’re not getting out that way.”
Su Luo turned to her.
The woman slapped her forehead and grinned.
“I was the first here. Call me Number 1, or my game name: SlightlyChubby. What’s yours?”
“I’m Lost,” Su Luo replied, then No. 1 added, “That last dungeon was tough. All those bugs—I nearly lost it. Then three doors appeared, and I picked one. Ended up with an ‘Unqualified’ evaluation. You?”
Su Luo’s mind worked quickly as she answered, “I got ‘Qualified.'”
If there was an Unqualified rating, Qualified made sense.
By extension, there might be Good, Excellent, and—given her own result—Perfect.
Her Perfect Evaluation was likely something special.
And it seemed the doors only appeared when a player could no longer endure.
“My skill’s only at 60% efficiency,” SlightlyChubby groaned.
“I’m doomed!”
Su Luo’s thoughts raced.
If Unqualified was 60%, Qualified might be 70%, with Good at 80%, Excellent at 90%, and Perfect at 100%.
Time to test her theory.
“I’m only at 70%,” she said sympathetically.
“Guess we’re in the same boat.”
SlightlyChubby nodded, sighing.
“My parents probably figured I’d only manage this much.”
Su Luo raised an eyebrow.
A second-generation player, spilling information so freely?
She must’ve been sheltered.
As they chatted, six more people arrived, bringing the total to twelve.
One caught Su Luo’s eye—a strikingly handsome boy in black, his short sleeves revealing toned arms and a glimpse of collarbone at his round neckline.
She felt a flicker of recognition, as if she’d seen him before.
He scanned the group with a quick, indifferent glance, then, after listening to the bespectacled man, was assigned Number Ten.
Without a word, he found a corner and sat down.
The others whispered in awe at his looks, and Su Luo caught SlightlyChubby swallowing hard beside her.
A translucent blue panel appeared before Su Luo.
Glancing around, she saw the others looking down, likely at their own interfaces.
She followed suit.
‘[Ding! The dungeon will begin in five minutes. Please prepare.]’
Once everyone had read the message, the bespectacled man—Number Two—spoke up.
“We have six newbies: Numbers 1, 4, 6, 8, 9, and 10. Number Three and I are partners, official Master-tier players. We’ll each take two of you. Who’s in?”
Su Luo hesitated for a moment before raising her hand.
Years as an orphan had honed her ability to read people, and Number Two’s calm demeanor and subtle confidence suggested he was reliable.
To her surprise, the handsome Number Ten raised his hand as well.
Su Luo grinned inwardly—main character energy, or maybe just side character vibes.
Either way, she wasn’t complaining.
Number Two nodded, and he and Number Three led Su Luo and Number Ten to a corner to explain the rules.
“First, check your tasks.”
Su Luo opened her system interface, and a task list appeared:
‘1. Kill all monsters (Mandatory).’Â Â
‘2. Personally kill five common monsters (Mandatory). Reward: +1 Health.’Â Â
‘3. Achieve 200 healing output (Mandatory). Reward: +2 Health.’Â Â
‘4. Personally kill one elite monster (Optional). Reward: +3 Health.’Â
‘5. Personally kill the dungeon Boss (Optional). Reward: +5 Health.’
Su Luo looked up to find Number Ten already finished.
Number Two spoke again.
“Report your class and your evaluation from the last stage.”
“Priest,” Su Luo said.
“Qualified evaluation.”
The two veterans’ eyes lit up at “Priest.”
Number Ten glanced at her before speaking.
“Assassin. Qualified evaluation.”
The veterans nodded.
“When we encounter monsters, everyone uses their first skill. When a monster’s low on health, stop attacking and kill them in this order: Two, Three, Six, Ten.”
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