Ethan descended the cracked, winding steps of the Dark Mage Tower and stepped back into the
dying sunlight. Red and purple streaks were bleeding across the sky like a canvas ripped open.
The cool breeze hit his sweaty skin, carrying whispers of leaves rustling and far-off bird calls.
He wiped his brow and exhaled sharply. "Fuck… that tower is something else."
But there was no time to relax.
He started moving toward the road that snaked through the trees, heading deeper into the
Nightweave woods. As he walked, he flicked his fingers to the side.
"System window. Open."
The familiar translucent screen bloomed into existence in front of his eyes, glowing faintly in the
dusk.
He navigated through several options, tapping a corner of the panel labeled [Shop]. A vast list of
items and prices flooded into his vision: blades, enchanted cloaks, rare herbs, mysterious scrolls
that sparkled with cryptic runes.
"Alright… let's cash in these cores," Ethan muttered.
He selected his entire loot from the Dark Mage Tower's fights—monster cores, fragments of dark
crystal, necrotic dust.
[Confirm Sale?]
Yes.
Light flickered across the screen. A cha-ching noise rang softly.
[SOLD!]
[+12,000 Gold Acquired.]
[+5 Levels Gained.]
[Level: 15 → 20.]
[You have received 15 Stat Points.]
"Not bad, not bad at all."
He opened his stats page and quickly allocated the new points:
[+10 to Agility.]
[+5 to Intelligence.]
[Agility: B → A-]
[Intelligence: B- → B]
His body felt subtly lighter. It was like an unseen weight had lifted off his chest. His thoughts felt
sharper, his focus tightening into a lethal edge.
"Perfect," he whispered. "I'll need every edge I can get."
The shadows grew longer as Ethan pressed on. Eventually, the road spat him out into a small
clearing where a few traders and locals sat around a low campfire. Sparks crackled up into the
dark canopy above them.
A bearded man, broad-shouldered, sat by the flames, chewing on a piece of jerky. Ethan
approached him.
"Hey. You know where the Lich's Dungeon is?"
The man's eyes flicked up sharply. He seemed to chew slower, as though savoring the weight of
the question.
"Why the hell you asking about a place like that, son?" His voice was rough like gravel. "That's a
cursed crypt. The ground there's poisoned. Air's thick with death. Folks who go in… they don't
come back out."
Ethan tilted his head slightly. "And why's that?"
"The Lich, that's why. Bastard used to be a high mage of the tower, years ago. Now he's
somethin' else entirely. He guards his lair with undead knights and death spells that'll peel your
skin off your bones."
The man leaned in, lowering his voice. "Even high-level guild parties vanished in there. All that's
left of them sometimes is a single boot… or a sword rusted black."
He spat into the dirt. "Mark my words, lad. You go there… it'll be your grave."
Ethan let out a low laugh and gave him a small grin. "I know, I know… thanks, though."
He turned away, his grin fading into a thin, calculating line.
'So it's exactly like the game… A fucking death trap.'
He could almost see his old computer screen in his mind's eye. How many times had he watched
forum threads about people rage-quitting because of that dungeon? How many wiped parties had
there been in that crypt?
'But they didn't know what I know.'
A spark lit in his eyes as he walked off the clearing, murmuring to himself.
"Even at level 20… I know the trick to beat it."
The path turned rockier as he continued. Trees pressed closer around him, the forest narrowing to
a dark tunnel. The air grew colder, carrying a metallic tang of moss and damp earth.
Suddenly—a rustle.
Footfalls. Fast. Light.
He halted. Out of the shadows stepped three figures. Each wore piecemeal leather armor, belts
jangling with knives and short swords. The tallest one, his hair greasy and hanging over his face,
stepped forward and grinned with yellow teeth.
"Well, well… look what we have here, boys."
One of the others sneered. "You picked the wrong road to walk alone, friend. How 'bout you hand
over all that gold you're carryin'?"
Ethan narrowed his eyes. His hand twitched to his sword hilt.
"You guys really wanna do it like this, huh?"
The bandits chuckled.
"Gonna play hero, are ya? Maybe we'll keep your corpse in the woods for the wolves."
Ethan tilted his head slightly. His lips curled into a small, deadly smirk.
"No… but I've got somewhere important to be."
He shifted his weight. The muscles in his legs coiled like steel cables, ready to spring. The bandits
barely noticed the faint glow that flickered at Ethan's fingertips, a shimmer of dark mana winding
up his arm.
The leader blinked, noticing the glint of a sword handle peeking from under Ethan's cloak.
"Wait… is that a—?"
But Ethan was already moving.