Days slipped by like a slow-moving river, each one eerily similar to the last. Shirou's life had settled into a monotonous rhythm. Wake up, eat at the same food stall near the corner alley, head to the job site, earn his money, and return to the inn. Rinse and repeat. If there was one thing he was consistent at—besides staying alive—it was avoiding Miss Flora, the innkeeper with a nose for secrets and a voice like a war trumpet.
He even tried hitting the gym a few times, motivated by the hope that training might improve his combat proficiency. But the result? Nothing. Not even a flicker of growth. His stat bar hadn't budged. No matter how many crunches he did or how many dumbbells he lifted, it became clear that physical training without actual combat experience wasn't enough to level up. Fighting dummies didn't trigger the system. Real danger did.
Still, today was different. The dull routine hadn't dampened Shirou's mood. In fact, for once, he felt… alive. There was a spark in his eyes and a spring in his step. Even his co-workers noticed it.
"You seem to be in a good mood today," one of them said during their midday break.
"I am," Shirou replied, barely able to hide his grin.
Nobody could guess why. But Shirou knew.
Today was the day.
He moved like a machine on overdrive, handling crates, swinging tools, cleaning equipment—doing the job of three men at once. Even Darwin, the grizzled supervisor who never gave compliments, was stunned.
"Already done?" Darwin raised an eyebrow. "Even with Shirou on the team, we've never wrapped up this early."
The sun was still up when Shirou dusted off his hands. "Okay boss, I'm heading out."
"Wait, I didn't even give you your payme—" But before Darwin could finish the sentence, Shirou was gone. A blur shooting toward the exit.
"What's gotten into him?" Darwin muttered.
Shirou dashed through the streets like a man on a mission, weaving past carts and townsfolk. His feet practically flew, fueled by anticipation. Soon, the familiar silhouette of the inn appeared ahead.
He stopped just outside the front door and narrowed his eyes. "Now… to face my greatest enemy."
He whispered the name like it was cursed. "Miss Flora."
But he wasn't foolish enough to barge in through the front. No, not today. Shirou had planned for this. The window to his room on the second floor was unlocked—on purpose.
He took a few steps back, inhaled sharply, then dashed forward and leapt, grabbing the edge of the window ledge with one hand. With practiced agility, he pulled himself up and tumbled inside, landing silently on the wooden floor.
He stood up slowly, dusted himself off, and turned to face the centre of the room. His pulse quickened.
"It's almost time."
Shirou extended his right hand, palm open and facing upward. Sparks of blue light crackled above his skin, gathering rapidly into a solid shape. Within moments, the familiar blue glow of the Dungeon Key shimmered in his hand like a crystal of condensed energy.
A holographic countdown hovered above it.
[Time remaining: 0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 11 seconds]
He stared at it, hardly blinking.
These last few days had crawled by, each second dragging like an anchor through the sand. But now…
4
3
2
1
[You are now able to use the Dungeon Key.]
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Finally."
He lifted the key, pointed it toward the air, and twisted it like he was unlocking a door that wasn't there. Instantly, the space around the key distorted. The air bent, shimmered, and cracked like glass being pulled apart. A swirling portal of blue energy opened in front of him, humming softly.
Shirou stared at it, his smile growing wider. "Get ready to face the wrath of Shirou!" he declared, striking a dramatic pose with his arm raised.
Then he blinked.
"…Wow. That sounded way cooler in my head."
He glanced around, cheeks flushing slightly. "Hope nobody heard that."
He stepped into the portal.
The moment he emerged on the other side, the heat hit him like a punch to the chest. Thick, dry air clawed at his throat, and sweat began forming almost instantly. The ground beneath his feet was rough, jagged rock. Bursts of lava hissed from glowing cracks, and far in the distance, a massive volcano rumbled like a sleeping beast. The sky was red with smoke.
[System Notification]
[You have entered the 21st Floor.]
Shirou grinned as he pulled his sword, Emberstorm, from his inventory. The blade gleamed, its hilt glowing faintly with fiery energy.
"Let's see what you can really do."
[Defeat the Molten Creepers]
"Mmm. Creepers, huh? Get ready to be sliced up."
Just then, movement caught his eye. From the cracks in the ground and the sides of jagged cliffs, insect-like creatures began crawling out. They looked like oversized cockroaches, their bodies glowing faintly with molten heat.
Above each of them floated the label:
[Molten Creeper – Level 27]
Shirou lowered his sword slightly and made a face. "Bugs… Really? Ugh. Change of plans—no slicing. Long-range attacks only. Slicing can wait."
But the creepers weren't waiting.
They rushed him from all directions, legs skittering across rock with terrifying speed.
"Emberstorm—Crimson Arc!"
He swung the blade. A wave of crimson flame burst from its edge, slicing through the air and crashing into the nearest creeper's neck. It shrieked but didn't fall.
Shirou clicked his tongue. "Tougher than they look."
Lightning crackled beneath his feet as he leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding a creeper lunging from behind. He twisted mid-air and swung again.
"Crimson Arc!"
This time, the arc struck true, severing the bug's head clean off.
[You have defeated the Molten Creeper]
He hit the ground running and kept his distance, firing arc after arc of flaming energy.
[You have defeated the Molten Creeper]
[You have defeated the Molten Creeper]
[You have defeated the Molten Creeper]
More creepers poured from the walls, even dropping from above. Shirou ducked instinctively, feeling the wind from their fall graze his hair. He raised his left hand.
"Fire Release—Great Fireball!"
A massive sphere of flame surged forward, colliding with a creeper mid-pounce. It screamed as it was engulfed in fire, its body curling and burning into ash.
[You have defeated the Molten Creeper]
Then he felt it—movement behind him. Another creeper, too close.
Too late to dodge.
But Reflex kicked in. His body moved before his mind did. He spun around and struck.
"Emberstorm—Flame Edge!"
His sword tore through the creature's chest—but it burst with a wet, sticky explosion. A translucent fluid sprayed all over him.
Shirou froze.
"…Yuck."
The goo stuck to his arms and clothes like honey. "What even is this stuff?"
The creeper collapsed, twitching.
[You have defeated the Molten Creeper]
[You have leveled up]
He stood there for a moment, covered in bug slime, his sword dripping with insect guts. Then, slowly, his expression darkened.
"You ruined my outfit," he muttered.
His hand tightened around Emberstorm.
"That's it."
A dangerous grin spread across his face.
"Now you'll know true fear."
And then he moved.
What happened next on that floor could only be described as one thing—
A massacre.