Chapter 14
Avan stirred awake, the soft moss beneath him cradling his body in a cool, earthy embrace. He stretched, joints popping with a satisfying crack, and blinked into the dim yellow glow of the *Tower of Akkalon*’s hidden chamber. The stone walls loomed solid and unyielding, the starry rune-light overhead casting faint patterns across the floor. It wasn’t luxury—no plush beds or roaring hearths—but it was enough, more than enough for a guy who’d roughed it under tarps as a boy scout back in Frankfurt. He grinned, memories flickering: whittling tables from logs, rigging chairs with rope and branches. If I snag an axe, I could drag some wood down here—make this a proper camp. He punched the air, a playful fist-bump to no one. “Back to the roots, baby!”
Horny snoozed in a fluffy heap by the bed, white fur rising and falling with lazy breaths. Avan’s *Celestial Dungeonheart* sphere pulsed faintly, the ten-meter radius threading mana through the room, keeping the rabbit’s presence a steady hum in his mind. First, though, he had a goal: master those monk stances from the murals and unlock the healer class the *Bookworm* had hinted at. The library’s intact tomes called to him—history, systems, secrets—and he rolled to his feet, snagging a *Golden Meaple* from his pack. The fruit’s sweet juice burst across his tongue, *Celestial Affinity* (Lv. 2) tingling as it synced with his core, a morning ritual to kickstart the day.
Flask in one hand, fruit in the other, he stepped into the larger library hall, the air thick with dust and mana. Finishing the *Meaple* and gulping water, he eyed the shelves—rows of preserved books glowing faintly under protective runes. Order first—sort, then read. He hauled the readable volumes to the stone table, stacking them with care, their covers etched with unfamiliar script. *Identification* (Lv. 2) flared: Ancient Aorian runes, translatable. “Weird,” he muttered, brow furrowing. Not English, not German, but I get it. Magic brain tweak when I landed here? Handy—no translator needed. He smirked, testing a thought. Could write English as a cipher—keep notes private. He tucked the empty diary aside for later, sorting history from manuals.
The history pile towered—tomes of Aorus, this strange world split into continents, mostly uncharted. He’d woken on Eos, a heart-shaped land of elves in the Everforest’s east, dwarves under the northeast’s Dragonpeak mountains, humans scattered across two-thirds, and beast-kin near the southern Voidesands’ brutal deserts. Kingdoms like Thalia mixed humans and beast-kin, while Haipu in the west enslaved the latter, its plains a stark contrast to the Talamar river splitting Eos in three. Cyntha, he pieced from a faded map, sat west of the Everforest, east of the upper Talamar. Five hundred years old—could be way off now, he mused, shuddering. Elves’d skewer me if I’d wandered too far east. Lucky break.
Setting history aside, he grabbed a system manual, its leather worn but intact. It detailed overlays he’d already fiddled with—resizing windows, digging deeper by focusing on terms, muting chimes for later. New info sparked his interest: elements—fire, water, air, earth as basics; lightning, lava, plant, storm as advanced; celestial and dimensional at the core, blending all. His *Golden Meaple* had infused him with celestial mana, a rare feat tied to dungeons like this one. Bathe in lightning for that element? Insane—but doable. He smirked, closing it, eager for the last two books.
One outlined supernatural meditation—philosophies of spirit and soul the monks had debated, promising faster regen for health, mana, and stamina. The third, a dungeon guide, lit his eyes up. Ten levels: the first, a sprawling forest with *Hounds*—solo-stalking dogs with sharp sight and hearing, no smell; the second, *Kobolds* with crude weapons; third to fifth, traps and critters; fifth, a tutor’s test. Beyond that, chaos—unstable, impractical. Hounds first—then the class. He rubbed his hands, grinning, then froze. “Shit—notifications!”
*Chime*
Pain Resistance has reached Level 3!
Pain Resistance (Lv. 3): Greater endurance against physical discomfort.
*Chime*
You have defeated a [Goblin Brute]!
*Chime*
Your group has defeated a [Fodder Goblin]!
*Chime*
Your group has defeated a [Fodder Goblin]!
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
*Chime*
Your group has defeated a [Fodder Goblin]!
*Chime*
Your group has defeated a [Goblin Brute]!
*Chime*
Congratulations on reaching Level 11!
For leveling up, you gain 5 free stat points.
Please distribute your free stat points in your Status.
“Level 11—nice,” Avan muttered, pulling up his interface mentally, the overlay shimmering before his eyes. Five goblins from the cave fight—enough for a jump. He scanned his stats, unchanged since Level 10: Strength 15, Dexterity 25, Vitality 15, Intelligence 10, Wisdom 5, Spirit 5. Hounds need strength and toughness—Dex is solid. He dumped 3 points into Strength, 2 into Vitality, feeling muscle tighten and energy surge.
Avan Leaf
Level: 11
Free Stat Points: 0
Element: Celestial
Class: Celestial Dungeonheart (Human)
Subclass: -
Stats
Strength: 18
Dexterity: 25
Vitality: 17
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 5
Spirit: 5
Primary Resources
Health: 135
Stamina: 170
Ambient Mana: 75
Passive Skills
Pain Resistance: 3
Steady: 2
Celestial Affinity: 2
Identification: 2
Dungeon Sphere: ?
Tracking: 2
“Better,” he said, flexing his arm, the claw wound’s ache dulled by *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3). Horny stirred, one eye cracking open with a lazy tilt. “What, no breakfast?” Avan teased, crouching. Does he even eat? Dungeon critter now—maybe mana’s enough. He scooped the rabbit up, its horn glinting, and grabbed his spear, the backpack slung over one shoulder. “Let’s dive in, buddy.”
The tunnel sloped downward, birdcalls echoing faintly, growing louder as he descended. His sphere hummed, mana thickening, until he crested a ridge overlooking a vast forest—trees sprawling kilometers wide, a crystal-studded ceiling mimicking a night sky. Humid air hit him, rich with life—bugs chirping, leaves rustling—a stark shift from the library’s silence. “Awesome,” he breathed, sinking to the ground, Horny plopping beside him. The moment sank in—Eos, Aorus, a world so vast he was a speck in it, yet so alive he felt every pulse.
Will Mom and Dad miss me? he wondered, staring into the green expanse. Divorced forever, both living new lives—we barely talked. And my Friends? Online bros, mostly—might not even notice my absence. The Job sucked honestly—no loss there. Always wanted to travel, code my own game… Can I go back? Keep this magic? And return here? His mind spun, then settled on Yue. Hope she’s okay in Cyntha. Cool girl—feels like a little sister, weirdly. Too much to see, do—strength, sights, food, people. He stood, resolve firm, and started down the path, Horny trailing.
The forest swallowed them, dense and vibrant. Horny rubbed a tree, cat-like, and Avan chuckled, gathering mushrooms and purple flowers with *Identification*: Edible, properties unknown. Spear in hand, he tracked a stream’s burble, predators likely near water. At the tree line, a waterfall roared, mist cooling his face. A black shape flickered across the river—a *Hound*, brown-dotted, drinking. He crouched, spear ready, watching its fangs gleam. Showtime.
He tossed a stone rightward—thump—and the *Hound* perked, leaping the river to investigate. Avan crept forward, but a twig snapped. AGAIN? It spun, snarling, and he steadied, *Steady* (Lv. 2) locking his grip. The *Hound* lunged; he thrust, Strength (18) driving the spear through its snout. It yowled and retreated, blood streaming from the small wound. Avan charged in, leaping to slam the spear down into its chest, but all he managed was some ribs cracking. Still, it was enough. The *Hound* wailed, then fell still. He yanked the weapon free, panting.
*Chime*
You defeated a [Hound]!
*Chime*
Congratulations on reaching Level 12!
For leveling up, you gain 5 free stat points.
“Hell yeah,” Avan grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. He cleaned the spear in the river, the blood swirling away, then glanced at the *Hound*’s corpse. Skinning comes later—I need a sharp edge for that again. Gave my daggers to Yue. He dragged the body back up the slope, Horny hopping behind, and returned to the dungeon’s hallway. The blue-lit corridor felt stark after the forest’s vibrancy, but he pressed on to his temporary room, dropping the *Hound* near the moss bed.
Camp’s got tools—axe, maybe a sword. He grabbed his backpack, spear in hand, and headed out, exiting the dungeon into the surface clearing. The pyre’s ashes lay cold, a grim reminder, but he turned west—his starting point two days ago—using the sun to gauge direction. West to the camp, east back here. The forest stretched quiet around him, *Tracking* (Lv. 2) picking up faint trails—his own, days old—guiding him past the temple ruins, their stones unchanged, and up the cliff he’d tumbled down fleeing the wolf.
Sliding down the slope, he hit the camp, and the stench slammed into him—rotting flesh, blood, decay. He gagged, bile rising, and spat sideways, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Eugh—fuck,” he muttered, forcing himself forward. The dead adventurers’ gear lay scattered, and he rummaged through it, *Identification* pinging: Short sword, worn but functional; axe, sturdy; bedroll, intact. He snagged the sword—better than nothing—stowing it in his pack beside the spear, then grabbed blankets, clothes, two more flasks, and the axe, its weight a promise of crafting. I am stronger now, too—and can carry it all. Strength (18) made the load manageable, and he shouldered multiple packs, a mule laden with loot.
Whistling to Horny, who’d trailed him silently, he turned west again—no, east now—back toward the dungeon. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows, and he trekked steady, the forest alive with distant rustles. More bags, more stash—smart move Avan. The cave entrance loomed ahead, and he stepped inside, the familiar hum of mana welcoming him back to his new home, Horny hopping at his heels, ready for whatever came next.
