It took several days to reach the city with the dungeon.
Going down the hill and walking through the forest path for about two days, you’d come across a main road.
From there, it was just a matter of following the road to the city.
While walking through the woods, Soren kept his eyes glued to the strategy guide.
At night, he’d have a simple meal, then read the guidebook by the light of the campfire.
[The dungeon is divided into the upper, middle, lower, and bottom layers. Each of these may contain multiple sub-levels inside, but the basic structure of any dungeon consists of only these four layers.]
Being able to learn something before experiencing it firsthand is a tremendous blessing.
Especially when it’s a dungeon you’re throwing your life into.
Soren was already several steps ahead of the average beginner adventurer.
But Soren didn’t get arrogant over such things.
No matter how much you know, it’s meaningless if you can’t use it in the right place at the right time.
Thankfully, the guidebook was fairly easy to understand.
Sometimes it was hard to imagine the layout of the dungeon, which made things frustrating, but overall, the content was easy to digest.
And something easy to understand is something easy to make use of.
[From the middle layer and beyond, you need a Mastery Orb to enter the dungeon. This orb can only be obtained by defeating the boss of the previous dungeon level.]
“Middle layer…”
Soren recalled a memory from his childhood.
He had been ten years old when he saw his father’s drunken, unfiltered face for the first time.
That was also the day he heard the story about a companion lost in the so-called “middle layer.”
[He was a good man. Two years older than me… our clan’s best tank.]
Dungeons were that dangerous.
No matter how skilled you were, one wrong move and your life could be gone in an instant.
And now, Soren was walking straight into such a place of his own will.
He had to keep that fact in mind.
Yet death was already a half-numb concept to Soren.
All life is conceived, born, buried in the dirt, with flesh and guts scattered, returning to nature.
Even the finger of his father that Soren had tossed to the crows held that meaning.
A body returned to nature, and the beast that came to greet it was merely receiving its payment for the service.
Crows were clever birds.
They would remember Soren’s action.
He still found it hard to fully believe in things like spirit beasts aiding in rituals and such, but he figured he had nothing to lose.
Eventually, the campfire died down.
That was a sign it was time to sleep.
The forest wouldn’t welcome an artificial fire.
At least, that’s what Soren believed—and felt.
Soren spent three or four days in that same pattern.
He’d read the guidebook at night before bed, and at dawn, continue his journey.
***
And so, walking diligently, Soren eventually saw a massive wall shimmering in the distance.
The Winding City.
The place where the dungeon was.
His destination.
He tilted his head for a moment at the name “Winding City,” which sounded rather unusual.
But it didn’t take long for Soren to realize why it was called that.
“Oh…”
As he entered the city, Soren let out a small exclamation, taking in the view of the city laid out across gentle rises and dips in the terrain.
‘The city winds.’
True to its name, the Winding City had been built along the twists of a river.
The river curved with such sharp, dramatic turns it was almost shocking—like a snake coiling, ready to strike.
It wouldn’t be strange to call it the Winding City or even the Serpent City.
Soren stood still for a moment, quietly admiring the view, then took a step forward.
Walking down a slightly steep slope, he almost felt as though he were being sucked into the heart of the city.
Brightly colored fabrics strung between buildings caught his eye.
They seemed to be meant for shade.
As Soren walked beneath them, he absentmindedly looked around, taking everything in.
A city he’d never visited before.
A daily life he’d never experienced before.
It was the busiest and most chaotic place he had ever seen.
“Fresh fish! Cheap and tasty!”
“Fine fabrics here! Perfect for custom-made clothes!”
Soren’s lips curved slightly into a smile.
The scent of people was everywhere.
It felt completely different from the damp, chilly air of the cabin he was used to.
A refreshing change.
Of course, getting too absorbed in sightseeing could be dangerous.
Putting aside his impressions of the city for the moment, Soren pulled out a worn pouch from inside his coat.
A pouch that spread out flatly in his palm. Inside, he had only a few silver and copper coins.
Soren wasn’t completely clueless about the ways of the world.
At the very least, he understood the value of money.
It was something he’d picked up naturally from occasional trades with herbalists and merchants near his home.
‘A week…’
Judging by the amount, he figured he could last about a week at a decent inn.
Not exactly generous.
A week.
That was all the time Soren had to make some money.
No one would stop him from sleeping on the streets, but someone might take issue with his pouch running dry.
And for someone as cautious as Soren, sleeping rough wasn’t an appealing option.
“I’m broke.”
Soren was once again struck by the realization that he wasn’t just poor—he was the poorest of the poor.
It wasn’t exactly surprising.
His father hadn’t left behind much money.
Still, it was absurd.
The strategy guide clearly detailed the dungeon all the way to the bottom floor.
Which meant, at some point, Soren’s father must’ve reached the lowest level of the dungeon.
And if he had such information yet failed to plunder the dungeon, there were only two possibilities—he was either a fool or incompetent.
But the father Soren remembered was neither.
That made it even harder to understand.
His father hadn’t seemed like the type to struggle with dungeon exploration, ‘so how had he left behind such scraps?’
Stories of adventurers striking it rich in dungeons were often exaggerated but still spread like wildfire.
Soren had caught wind of them too while chatting with merchants and herb gatherers—lucky ones who’d found treasure and completely turned their lives around.
In contrast, Soren’s life was actively going down the drain.
”It’s fine.”
Though briefly flustered, Soren quickly regained his composure.
Money could be earned.
What he needed right now was an inn to stay the night, and a way to make money as soon as possible.
“Excuse me, sir.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“Is there a cheap and decent inn around here? I’m new in town.”
Finding an inn wasn’t difficult.
Just grabbing someone who looked relatively free and asking got him a few names thrown his way.
People weren’t heartless, after all.
Something like that, they were usually willing to share.
“If you turn into that alley over there, there’s an inn called ‘The Sleepless Fairy.’ Two copper dracmas a night, meals are half a coin extra.”
Two copper coins a night, two and a half with meals.
It was cheaper than he’d expected.
With that rate, he could probably last not just a week, but three.
“The owner there’s got a real nasty attitude though. Only takes dracma coins—”
“I’ve got dracmas. Thank you.”
“Alright then, kid. Take care.”
***
Finishing the conversation, Soren headed straight for the alley.
The moment he turned the corner, he was met with rows of mysterious, closed-up shops lining both sides.
It was suspicious that they were all shut tight in the middle of the day, but Soren pressed forward without a word.
The inn jutted out halfway down the alley.
The sign depicted a fairy lying face-down.
After giving it a quick glance, Soren entered without hesitation.
“Two nights.”
The man at the front desk—who looked like a grumpy, bearded fellow—was wiping a plate as he eyed Soren up and down, then sneered.
“Six coins. Eight if you want meals.”
“I heard it was two coins a night.”
“Damn it, which bastard was it this time? Must be desperate to ruin my business.”
Soren easily avoided getting ripped off and took the room key, heading up to the second floor.
The room was much cleaner than he’d expected.
You could see the cramped alley out the window, which was a bit of a downside, but at least the sky was still visible.
As long as he could see the sky, it was fine.
Soren was thinking just that as he leaned against the window frame, staring blankly outside.
Caw!
Suddenly, a crow swooped toward him.
A feather fell out from between its flapping wings, and before he could even register what happened, Soren caught it mid-air.
“Thanks.”
A fresh crow feather was a valuable material.
Because crows were so intelligent and cautious, getting fresh feathers from them wasn’t easy.
That made this encounter all the stranger.
‘What kind of cautious crow would just fly straight toward him like that?’
As his thoughts reached that point, Soren squinted suspiciously and stared at the bird.
The crow, in turn, tilted its head, staring back at him.
In its sleek, glossy eyes, Soren saw his own distorted reflection.
Caw!
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the crow flapped its wings and flew off.
Soren watched its disappearing silhouette in disbelief.
“What the heck was that?”
But he didn’t have time to dwell on it—his eyelids were already starting to droop.
He hadn’t slept properly in days, after all.
After quickly washing off the grime at the well behind the inn, Soren collapsed onto the cheap bed.
The sun was just starting to set.
Skipping dinner felt a bit like a waste, considering he’d paid for it, but he was far too tired to eat.
Nothing would go down at this point.
“Tomorrow, I’ll look into the dungeon—”
Before he could even finish planning the next day, Soren’s consciousness was swept away into deep sleep.
***
Something was very wrong.
Soren rubbed his dry eyes, frowning.
He’d woken up five times during the night, and the fatigue had accumulated into a foggy, even heavier kind of exhaustion.
The reason for his constant interruptions was simple.
The alley where the inn was located turned out to be a red-light district.
There was a reason all those shops were closed during the day—brothels didn’t do business in daylight.
It made sense in hindsight, but this was Soren’s first time staying in a red-light area.
The drunken shouting from the alley, the moaning of women coming from the room next door—it was nothing short of hell.
There’s always a reason behind a cheap price.
The inn’s low cost came with a catch.
The walls had no soundproofing whatsoever.
This place was nuts.
When Soren descended the stairs, face twisted in discomfort, the bearded innkeeper smirked and looked at him with mocking eyes.
To be fair, from the innkeeper’s perspective, Soren must’ve seemed like an idiot.
Most customers here were drunks or prostitutes—’what kind of clueless kid booked a room for himself?’
Soren sighed and took a seat at the table.
He considered firing back at the innkeeper’s smug face but decided against it.
“Eat up, kid.”
“…Thanks.”
At least the food was decent.
For half a coin covering three meals, it was surprisingly good.
It was just that the sight of others sluggishly eating around him killed his appetite.
The suffering of a hangover was still a distant concept for Soren.
After finishing his meal quickly, he packed up his things and left the inn.
The sky above was clear and wide, with sunlight pouring down.
Soren stood for a moment, basking in the warmth of nature’s grace, then started walking again.
He had food and shelter now.
Next, he needed a way to sustain this life.
In other words—he needed income.
And he had already picked a suitable source of income.
‘Dungeon.’
If he was fated to enter the dungeon anyway, then he might as well start with it from the beginning.