Frank shut the door behind him with a quiet thud, tossed his dungeon-scarred coat onto the chair, and exhaled into the familiar hush of his flat.
The quiet was short-lived.
His terminal was already glowing—soft blue pulses spreading across the screen like ripples on still water. Notifications blinked along the edge like a heartbeat.
He walked over, boots still tracking dried cave dust across the floor.
Dimensional Trading Console – Online
New Notifications: 81
→ Orders: 57
→ Messages: 13
→ Reviews: 11
→ Market Tier: Rank Up – Underground C-Tier Vendor
→ Recommendation: Prepare for Multi-Nodal Access
Frank raised an eyebrow.
"Seventy orders? Since this morning?"
He tapped the orders open. The list populated immediately:
4x Combat Utility Belts
2x Silentstep Boots (Enchanted, Earth-fabric hybrid)
5x Rune-Locked Supply Cases
8x Emergency Signal Glyphs
1x Camouflaged Field Tent Kit (with stealth cloth overlay upgrade)
Custom request: "Durable gear satchel. Must resist acid, fire, and low-tier curses."
He muttered, "That crawler run's already circulating."
The scroll requests were climbing too—low-tier dimensional casters, support hunters, even an untagged guild scout had picked up two Safehouse Marker Tokens.
Frank switched tabs.
[Review Surge – 11 New Ratings | Avg Score: 4.8 ★]
Most-used tags: "Reliable," "Understated Genius," "Efficient Trader," "Doesn't Waste Words."
He half-smiled. "Glad my personality's marketable."
Then a new alert pinged.
[Bulk Order Request Received – Dimensional Client Verified]
Order Contents: 25x Modular Supply Frames (Tier I), 10x Magnetic Arc-Locks, 5x Basic Hidden Compartments (Encrypted Access).
Client Class: Vanguard Scout, External Node – Tier 1 Access.]
Frank leaned back.
"First bulk dimensional buyer…" He whistled under his breath. "Alright."
He pulled open his internal stock spreadsheet. Numbers flickered across the screen—low on frame pieces, out of durable snap-rings, two days left on his batch of stealth netting.
"I need to expand inventory. Fast."
He grabbed a stylus and dragged a list into view.
Restock Priority
Arc-Locks
Compact Shelter Kits
Spell-resistant bags
Anti-trace charm clusters
Dimensional-safe currency packs
Expand production node? Buy into auxiliary storage?
Another tab blinked.
[Message – Juliet Saine]
> "How's the empire coming? Rumor says you're outselling half the black market."
"Also, I may or may not have name-dropped you to a B-tier vendor."
"Don't die. Drinks soon?"
Frank smirked and replied:
> "Still breathing. You're paying."
A final alert flashed across his terminal.
[Trader's System Alert: Dimensional Tier Assessment in 3 Cycles]
Prepare Your Catalog. Competition Expanding. Visibility Enabled.
Frank leaned against the worktable, one hand resting on a half-finished arc-lock case. His terminal blinked with another incoming order.
"Sixty... two," he muttered. "You people really like your hidden compartments."
He didn't move right away. Just watched the order queue grow. Survival gear, stealth kits, more field-grade cloaking bands.
Across the room, his system pinged softly.
[Reminder: Advancement Deadline – 7 Days Remaining | Objective: Solo Dungeon Completion – E-Rank Minimum]
Frank sighed.
He muttered to himself, "Fifty reviews, a bulk client, trending gear tags—and I'm still an F."
He tapped his stylus against the table, then crossed to the display and flicked open the current dungeon registry. A rotating list of open gates appeared, filtered by difficulty.
"Let's see…" He scrolled past the overcrowded ones, the flashy, high-traffic gates teams loved to stream from.
His eyes landed on one.
[Mirefang Catacombs – E-Rank]
Status: Under-cleared | Biome: Wet Cavern | Hostiles: Muckspawn, Rot Ghouls, Trap Sigils]
Solo Survival Rate: 12%
Frank tilted his head. "Low traffic, high hazard, no audience... sounds perfect."
His terminal pinged again. A message from Juliet.
> "Heard you've got your hands full with fame. Hope your ego's handling the altitude."
"Also, I found an E-Rank with no guild presence. Want it?"
Frank smirked and typed back:
> "Already picked one."
"Solo."
"Tell the others not to cry when I pass away."
A pause. Then Juliet's reply came fast.
> "You're insane."
"And I respect that."
"Don't get killed."
Frank chuckled under his breath.
He tapped the Apply for Entry button beside Mirefang Catacombs.
A blue confirmation ring blinked.
[SOLO DUNGEON INITIATED – DEPARTURE IN 12 HOURS]
He stood up straight, cracked his knuckles, and muttered, "No team. No cover. No potions. Just gear and grit."
Crossing back to his shelves, he started assembling his kit. Arc-locks. Rope charms. Signal glyphs. Cloak sealants. Knife oil.
Everything he'd built so far—he'd tested with backup.
Now he'd see if it held alone.
He checked his bag again, then glanced at the screen one more time.
"Time to trade safety," Frank murmured, strapping on his belt, "for progress."
He stepped into the prep chamber, lights flickering overhead as the dungeon gate link began to charge
The dungeon gate shimmered with faint, dusty light as Frank stepped through.
His boots hit solid stone. The air was stale, tinged with mildew and old decay. Moss crawled along cracked walls, and brittle bones were piled in forgotten corners.
[Dungeon: Forgotten Burrow – F-Rank]
Objective: Eliminate all hostiles | Estimated Duration: 30–45 minutes]
Frank adjusted his gear strap and muttered to himself, "Should be quiet. Small run. Just enough to warm up."
He pulled a collapsible sigil rod from his belt and tapped the wall behind him. A basic exit marker flashed into place.
"Rule one," he said softly, "never assume you'll walk out the same way you came in."
He advanced slowly, checking corners. The first two creatures came quick—gnaw-beasts, thin-limbed and eyeless, skittering low across the stone floor. Frank rolled left, let the first lunge past him, and stabbed low into its underbelly. The second caught his armguard, but a quick backstep let him slam it with a reinforced baton.
"Okay," he exhaled, standing over the twitching bodies. "Still got it."
He moved deeper. The tunnels narrowed. Cracked tiles lined the floor—he tapped one with the end of his blade and heard the faint click of a pressure plate.
"Yeah, no thanks."
He marked the safe tiles with chalk and continued, every movement measured, precise.
In the third chamber, the scent changed.
Frank slowed, eyes narrowing. "What is that…?"
The growl came from above.
A shape dropped from the ceiling—larger than expected. Its limbs were longer than a standard crawler's. Its back twitched with glowing red veins.
"Mutation," Frank breathed. "This wasn't in the dungeon registry."
The variant crawler hissed and charged.
Frank barely blocked its lunge. The impact knocked him back, and his blade skittered across the floor.
"Great," he muttered, dodging a second swipe. "And I just waxed this coat."
He backed into the corner and scanned the room—cracked walls, a weak support beam overhead, old stones stacked unevenly.
Then he smiled.
"Let's see how much weight you're carrying, big guy."
He bolted left, grabbed his grappling rod from the side strap, and fired it into the far wall. The line pulled tight. He swung just as the crawler leapt.
It followed—too fast.
Mid-air, Frank reached into his pouch and threw a weighted hook at the support beam. It snapped.
Stone and dust crashed down as the beam collapsed. The ceiling fell—right on the crawler's back.
The monster screeched once—then silenced under debris.
The rubble settled in a cloud of dust and grit.
Frank stood over the collapsed pile of stone and twitching crawler limbs, his breath fogging faintly in the dank air. The creature gave a final shudder beneath the rubble and stilled.
His system pinged softly in his ear.
> [Dungeon Cleared – F-Rank Instance]
[XP Gained: 340 | Stat Points Earned: +5]
Frank let out a slow breath and muttered, "Well... that's one way to repurpose interior design."
He sheathed his shortblade and took a knee beside what was left of the variant crawler. Its outer shell had cracked where the debris had slammed down. He pried off one glowing claw and slipped it into a pouch.
"Unregistered variant, undocumented mutation, solo takedown," he listed aloud. "That should at least be worth a raised eyebrow at the board."
Another ping followed.
> [Rank Evaluation Progress Updated]
[Optional Challenge Unlocked: Solo E-Rank Dungeon | High Visibility]
Frank tilted his head, reading it twice. "Visibility, huh? Didn't think the system had a sense of humor."
He rose, rolling his shoulder. "Alright then. You want flash? I'll give you finesse."
He pulled up his stat screen, allocated two points to Agility, two to Perception, and tucked the fifth point aside. "One for emergencies. Like... mutant mud serpents or a second collapsing ceiling."
He walked toward the glowing dungeon gate slowly, but with a new steadiness in his step.
As the exit light hummed louder, he muttered to himself, "No potions. No team. No second chances. Just prep and precision."
He stopped just before the threshold and looked back at the broken stone floor.
"You're not Juliet," he said aloud, softly, "you don't burn through a dungeon."
Then he smiled. "You plan your route, you work the corners, and you survive."
His system chimed again—like it was listening.
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Getting sentimental now?"
He tapped the air. "Queue next run."
The screen responded:
> [Next Available Solo – E-Rank: Mirefang Catacombs]
[Departure Slot Reserved – 18 Hours]
"Eighteen hours," he repeated. "Just enough time to repack, rebuild, and sleep like someone who doesn't plan on dying tomorrow."
He stepped into the gate light, eyes steady, voice low.
"You've got seven days, Frank. One dungeon. One rank."
Then, with a dry smirk, he added, "Let's go sell the impossible."