The undulating city sloped downward the closer one got to the center.
To put it simply, it was shaped like a gently sunken bowl.
The city sat right at the bottom of that depression.
Soren walked straight toward the center.
Important facilities were usually located at the heart of a city.
And it seemed his guess was right—there were more and more pedestrians the closer he got to the center.
Soren’s first destination was the market.
At the moment, Soren had absolutely nothing.
The only food he had were two raw potatoes, and trying to survive in a dungeon with just that would be suicide.
[To survive in a dungeon, there are three essential items: a well-planned supply of food and water, a map to avoid getting lost, and some means of healing in case of emergencies.]
There was nothing Soren’s father’s strategy guide didn’t contain.
Thanks to that, Soren knew exactly what to pack and what to keep in mind.
“I’ll take this.”
“That’ll be one silver coin and five bronze coins total.”
“…Could you lower the price a little?”
“You little squirt… Fine. One silver and one and a half bronze. I’m not going any lower than that.”
By Drachma currency standards, twenty-four bronze coins equaled one silver coin.
In other words, Soren was spending the equivalent of ten days’ lodging just to enter a dungeon once.
He furrowed his brow but couldn’t push the price down any further.
Even from his own perspective, the discounted price seemed fair.
“Here you go.”
“Relax your grip, kid.”
In the end, Soren handed over the money with a heart-wrenching feeling and left the market.
He had tried so desperately to save money, but most of his wealth was already gone.
It wasn’t like he had spent extravagantly either.
Everything he had bought so far had been necessary.
It was just that Soren’s starting funds were painfully limited.
***
A bitter thought began to crawl up inside him.
At this rate, instead of making money, he’d probably end up on the streets.
Even if he became a beggar, there was still a way to survive.
The guidebook said he could always clean the sewers if he had to.
But that would be a last resort.
Clicking his tongue, Soren untied the strap of his newly bought leather bag.
Inside were seven pieces of hard bread, four leather canteens, an oil lamp and spare oil, two magical maps, three healing potions, and two rolls of bandages.
According to the guidebook, there was a chance to exit the dungeon once every week.
The supplies Soren had prepared would last exactly one week.
It was an infuriating situation.
Which meant he’d have to invest this much money every single week at a minimum.
And this was just the bare minimum.
If he wanted a safer dungeon run, he’d need to reinforce his gear.
In the end, it all came down to money.
A look of helplessness spread across Soren’s face.
“Ugh.”
He gave a small stone on the ground a sharp kick and turned with frustration.
It’s always worse to be hit when you see it coming.
Soren was feeling the same.
It hurt more knowing he was going to go broke than it would if he’d just spent blindly without thinking.
***
The road to the dungeon wasn’t hard to find.
Just following the main street down led to a certain area where pedestrians’ attire started to look noticeably different.
Take that large man walking up ahead, for instance.
Soren looked him over from head to toe.
A massive shield strapped to his back, and a short spear in hand.
‘A spear and a shield, huh.’
[When recruiting party members, make sure to examine their build. For example, it’s best to avoid warriors who use a spear and shield combo. It usually means they’re not confident in their weapon skills. A fighting style based solely on thrusts will inevitably hit a wall.]
As that passage from the guidebook resurfaced in his mind, the look in Soren’s eyes turned slightly pitying as he watched the warrior ahead.
‘Sure, it was stable enough for beginners, but if it had such a clear ceiling… what could be more despairing than that?’
Soren didn’t even need to look at the guidebook to start mentally pointing out the man’s weaknesses.
‘He’d be better off carrying several spears instead.’
‘It would be useful if he had multiple spears.’
‘That way, he could use them as throwing weapons in emergencies.’
‘Even so, the limitations would still be the same—but being a bit more versatile was better than nothing.’
As that thought settled, Soren absentmindedly clenched and unclenched his hand.
Even Soren himself wasn’t sure what kind of talent he possessed.
But his father had always told him, over and over, that he’d inherited “good stats.”
Whatever that meant, it probably implied he’d inherited some kind of talent.
To Soren, his father had always been the most exceptional man he’d known.
Though he’d spent his later years bedridden, a dungeon explorer was still a dungeon explorer—even rotten.
Of course, Soren only knew about four or five people from his father’s circle.
Among them, the best…
No.
Soren shook his head.
His father had been an outstanding shaman. Probably.
***
“Hey, kid. You heading to the dungeon?”
A dark shadow fell at Soren’s feet, and he looked up.
A massive man with bronzed skin stood there, blocking out the sun.
Soren’s gaze lingered on the tattoos running from the man’s shoulders to his bald head.
Three blade-like patterns.
‘Did they have a special meaning?’
“Yes.”
Before he could think about it too much, Soren noticed the man’s expression gradually hardening and quickly answered.
No good would come from starting a fight.
‘Who knew what would happen if he caused a scene in the city?’
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen… turning seventeen soon.”
“Seventeen? Kid, your head’s still wet from the womb.”
‘Seventeen was still considered young?’
As that thought crossed his mind, Soren’s face stiffened.
He remembered that he was shorter than most people.
No wonder everyone kept calling him “kid.”
There was a reason for it.
‘Bastards.’
As he muttered a curse under his breath, a large hand suddenly plopped down on top of Soren’s head.
It was heavy enough that his neck nearly bent from the weight.
“Listen, kid. If you’re gonna head into the dungeon at your age, at least be prepared.”
“Prepared?”
“Yeah. With the way you look now, you won’t last half a day before you’re dead.”
Soren glanced over his appearance.
A slightly worn but untorn robe, a staff adorned with crow feathers, and a shabby leather bag slung over his back.
Nothing seemed out of place.
But before he could say anything, the man leaned in even closer, casting a deeper shadow over him.
“Got enough food packed?”
“Seven loaves of bread and four canteens of water.”
“Map?”
“Two copies. Three healing potions, two bandages, and a lamp.”
“Huh, what are you? An explorer?”
“No, this is my first time going into a dungeon.”
The man scratched his shiny head and shook it side to side.
The massive axe blade strapped to his back gleamed in the light.
Soren’s eyes narrowed as he saw it.
It looked heavy at a glance, and the thought of swinging that in battle…
“Enough food, a map so you don’t get lost, and plenty of healing supplies. Rookies often forget one or two of those.”
He held up three thick fingers to emphasize his point.
Soren already knew that, but admitting he learned it from a guidebook felt a little awkward.
“If you’re going with a priest or monk, you might skip the healing stuff… no, better to just take it anyway. You never know what’ll happen in a dungeon.”
“Yes.”
“I’m only explaining because you said you’re a rookie. Well, you look like you’ll survive longer than most…”
The man’s thick eyebrows twitched.
He seemed to imagine something unpleasant, and his serious expression twisted a bit.
“Anyway, not everyone out there is like me. Most dungeon explorers are out of their minds. Always be on guard.”
“Ah, yes.”
Even without being told, Soren was already cautious.
He’d debated dozens of times whether to run away when this man first approached him.
Reading that hesitation from the start, the man let out a short chuckle and stood up.
Soren had to tilt his head far back to look at his face.
Yellowed teeth shimmered faintly in the shadow.
“My name’s Gorban. I’m a warrior from the Golden Ember Clan. We probably won’t run into each other again… but remember it anyway.”
“I’ll remember.”
“And your name?”
“Soren.”
“Oh, a shaman?”
“Yes. I’m a shaman, not affiliated with any clan.”
Gorban’s eyes widened.
Soren stared at him, unimpressed.
He didn’t seem like a bad guy, but he sure overreacted for someone his size.
“Shamans are even more reclusive than necromancers. You’re a rare one. Who’s your master?”
“My father.”
“Right. So who is he?”
Soren hesitated.
‘Should he say it?’
He did know his father’s name, but it was strange.
Even Soren suspected it was an alias.
He doubted anyone would recognize it anyway.
But then he changed his mind.
A line from the guidebook came to him.
[Some of my comrades might still be alive. Members of the same clan. I want to believe I wasn’t the only one who survived when the party was scattered.]
Maybe his father’s comrades were still alive.
Soren wanted to find them, if possible.
Even if he had nothing else to say, it felt like his duty to at least share news of his father’s death.
“Jun. It’s Jun.”
“Jun? Just one syllable?”
“Yes.”
“Huh…”
Gorban gave him a suspicious look, like he was thinking, ‘That’s obviously a fake name.’
But Soren didn’t have a clever comeback.
His father had introduced himself that way.
‘What was he supposed to do?’
“Well, fine. If you want to keep it secret, that’s your call.”
“It’s not that…”
***
“Why aren’t you coming?! Are you goofing off again, Gorban?!”
Suddenly, someone shouted from a distance.
All eyes turned in that direction.
Soren looked too.
A woman with orange hair was shouting Gorban’s name.
“Oh crap, I’m in trouble. Gotta go, kid.”
‘If you were gonna call me “kid” anyway, why’d you ask for my name?’ Soren bit back the comment and nodded stiffly.
Gorban waved enthusiastically before dashing off.
He ran toward a group that included a woman in a fine robe, the orange-haired woman, and a man with two swords strapped to his side.
Among them, the woman wearing a pointed hat turned her gaze gently toward Soren.
Their eyes met — half-lidded and lazy — and Soren instinctively flinched.
Her lips, frozen in a neutral expression, curled slowly upward.
Her slyly curved eyes stayed fixed on Soren.
He turned away at once.
It still felt like her gaze clung to his back.
”Just my luck.”
She was probably suspicious of him too.
Probably thought he was the type to make up his father’s name.
Feeling unfairly judged, Soren marched off with quick steps.
Wasting time here was no good.
***
“You shouldn’t take dungeons lightly.”
“Sure, they might hold a chance at striking it rich, but take one wrong step and you’d die the most pitiful death imaginable.”
“That’s why having party members was important.”
“To seriously tackle a dungeon, a cleanly divided four-person party was recommended.”
“Dungeon entry allowed for 1 to 4 people.”
Soren knew that rule.
It was written in the guidebook.
In the guidebook his father had written, there was a more flexible suggestion.
[If you’re just doing a cursory survey, going solo was fine. But for serious exploration, a party was best. The number of people depended on your objective.]
[One important note: trying to enter with five or more people would get you blocked at the starting room.]
No one knew why.
The guidebook just said, ‘Presumed to be a system limitation of the game.’
It was a concept Soren couldn’t wrap his head around even if he tried.
So he gave up on understanding it.
If he were a wizard, he’d probably obsessively dig into it.
But Soren was a shaman.
Understanding wasn’t his job.
Shamans didn’t need to analyze — they needed to resonate.
Rather than dissecting and understanding, they were more used to simply accepting.
Just like how humans can’t comprehend the vast laws of nature, only accept them.
“Hmm.”
Soren looked up at the bustling stone building.
At least three stories tall — one of the largest buildings he’d ever seen.
A large sign read: Dungeon Management Office.
He gave it a quick once-over and stepped forward without hesitation.
He had no reason to hesitate.
“I need money.”
He’d spent everything he had today.
Enough to make his stomach churn.
Now, it was time to see whether it was worth the cost.