- Rating: T
- Categories: M/M, Gen
- Fandom: Solo Leveling - Chu-Gong
- Relationship: Sung Jin-Woo/God Statue
- Characters: Sung Jin-Woo, God Statue
- Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, AU - Canon Divergence, Trapped, BAMF Sung Jin-Woo, Interspecies Romance, Canon-Typical Violence
- Status: Complete
- Wordcount: 13943
- Published on AO3: 2021-11-17
Notes: This fic is currently being rewritten. This is the old version. This is 3 chapters that I smushed into one post, because I can't be bothered with it ;) Also AO3 has categorized this as Sung Jin-Woo/The Architect. This is incorrect. I've not read the whole novel, so maybe I'm wrong, but at least in this fic, the god statue is sentient with its own consciousness. So the pairing really is SJW/that really huge and terrifying god statue with the horrifying smile. Just so you know.
Disclaimer: I do not own Solo Leveling or any associated trademarks.
Summary: In which Sung Jin-Woo doesn't get out of that first Double Dungeon.
C1
Sung Jin-Woo awoke to darkness. A suffocating darkness, the kind that smothered you as you tried to fall asleep and gave you nightmares. Surrounding him as securely as the covers he slept under, it crept below his skin and made a home there.
He shivered where he laid, debating internally whether he should open his eyes or not.
It was cold; a shudder traveled through his whole body as he attempted to push himself into a sitting position while his eyes blearily looked around, unable to see anything but inky blackness. His entire body ached, all the way down to his bones, and for a moment he didn't know where he was or how he got there.
It was dark and cold and he was shivering. For some reason, when the toes on both of his feet moved, he was struck by a feeling of strangeness. And while sitting up was not painful exactly, it left him grimacing at the stiffness of his joints and the pain as he moved them.
He cracked his neck as he moved, his hand resting on it and giving it a gentle squeeze. His legs curled up below him as his fingers poked at the harsh surface he'd been lying on, trying to determine where he was. He wasn't hurt, he didn't think; certainly, he wasn't in any pain. But he could swear that there was something he was supposed to know, something that should have been obvious to him.
His fingers continued to poke at the uneven surface of the stone, the coldness from it seeping into his bones. ...The cold stone. Cold. Stone.
Ah, yes, he remembered now.
The Double Dungeon.
"Fuck," Sung Jin-Woo spit out.
His arm snapped back, his breaths loud in the darkness as he attempted to hear anything. With a barely muttered curse, his fingers fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a flashlight seemingly too battered to still be functional; but it was an object made for Dungeons. Though it looked like it would fall apart at the drop of a hat, it still flickered on when he pressed the button. The light slowly and weakly punched back the darkness, giving a narrow view of his surroundings.
Sung Jin-Woo saw it all clearly—the blood on the floor, the statues standing at the walls, the altar he was sitting on. But—there were no bodies. Almost the entire party had been decimated, yet there was not a single human body part that he could see.
He slowly changed his position until he was sitting on his knees, stretching out his back as he tried to make himself taller, and gazed out. He wasn't sure what would happen if he left the altar. No matter which direction he turned the flashlight in, the result remained the same. No bodies. Only blood, blood, and some more blood.
Sung Jin-Woo was still here.
Alone.
"Does this mean they got out?" he mumbled to himself.
It had to. The missing bodies should mean that Hunters had gone through and collected the bodies for their families. It should mean that the Dungeon had been defeated, the Boss should be dead and it should no longer pose a threat to society.
That didn't explain why Jin-Woo was still here.
If they'd collected the bodies, then they should have collected his as well. Even if they thought he was dead, he should have been dragged out with the others. Unless the Dungeon had started to close while they'd working and there simply hadn't been time? That was the only real reason he could think of.
So. Sung Jin-Woo was trapped in a Dungeon. One that likely had been closed and defeated and no longer had access to the human world. And he was alone. On his own. With only the few things he'd had on his person still with him. The fact that his leg had magically been healed wasn't even good news. It only meant that he might die here with an intact corpse. Assuming that the statues didn't come to life and kill him again.
Right. Because they had done that.
Killed him, that was.
His energy left him. Collapsing back down on the altar that was still covered in his blood, his fingers curled into tight fists as his breathing sped up. The flashlight dropped from his shaking fingers and slipped to the floor, colliding loudly with the stonework in the otherwise silent chamber. It echoed, the sound causing him to flinch.
What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
(He didn't want to die.)
Jin-Woo closed his eyes and tried to calm his rapid heartbeat down, the beat pulsing through his veins like an ominous metronome. There was no way that he could succeed, but he made a valiant attempt. His hand pressing down harshly on his chest, his fingers bunched up the bloody shirt he was still wearing that hung in tatters around him, torn up from the attacks he had suffered. It seemed like it might break apart in his hand—both his heart and his clothes.
He forced his trembling legs up and hugged his knees to his chest, shoving his head down between them and just—breathing. Breathing was good. He should keep doing it.
A snort escaped him, his eyes beginning to water. He sniffled, his nose stuffy and blocked as he breathed in through his mouth. The shaking held his body trapped, his hands hurting from how tightly he squeezed them.
None of this made any sense. The bodies were gone and he was still here and that—that could be explained. He could force it to make sense, he could force himself to understand it. But the rest—a leg healed so well that his fingers clawing at the skin where the pants had been cut off couldn't even feel a scar? There was a cut right through his shirt and his jacket where he'd been stabbed cleaned through by. A spear. Or a sword, he didn't remember. Regardless, it had cut through him like a knife cutting through butter.
He should be dead. He should have been cleaved in half. He should have been nothing but a rotting corpse his sister would cry and weep over. This should not... he shouldn't be awake. Alive. Breathing, and healed, and whole.
He didn't know how long he spent, sitting there in the darkness, hugging his knees and desperately keeping his eyes closed. Forcing his breathing to be slow and steady, and not the hitched breaths they would be if he allowed himself to cry. The pressure on his chest only increased as time passed, a hollow kind of pain that left him shuddering.
Maybe he was hoping that it was all a dream. Maybe he hoped that when he opened his eyes again, he'd be in some hospital somewhere, with his sister once again scolding him for getting hurt. Maybe he hoped that if he only waited, someone would come back for him.
Opening his eyes again, he was still here. In the Dungeon.
(Alone.)
Though he'd carelessly dropped it, the flashlight still lit weakly. How far did it go? Four meters max, the lighting just petered out. Not even enough to see a single statue. Stupid of him really; sight was important. If he could see his enemies, he could hide from them. Figure out how to beat them without getting into a direct fight—those, he could hardly ever win. But at least the flashlight was still on, letting its faint light stare out into the darkness.
Maybe he should just turn off the light and wait for his eyes to adjust to the pitch-black darkness. To do that, all he had to do was leave the altar. Just... uncurl his legs and set them down over the edge and then they'd touch the floor and he—no. No, he couldn't do it yet. First, he should do something about the floating, transparent message in front of him. It'd been there ever since he woke up, after all, and showed no sign of disappearing. He'd probably just hit his head—but to heal his body and not his head?
So, then. To deal with the floating box and text. That moved when he moved his field of vision and always stayed right in front of his eyes. Because that made sense.
Messages, it said. Unread.
Like the video games that Jin-Ah enjoyed playing.
His hand went right through the screen when he tried to touch it. Floating softly in front of him, the box was blue and taunted him with its text. There was no button to press anyway, but he tried regardless. Nothing he did had any effect on it. Finally, he muttered, "Open."
It flickered. Blinked. And then new text was written on it.
Two message titles. One about a player and another about a daily quest. Both marked as 'unread'. Both moving to always stay right in front of his gaze, no matter which direction he looked at. Both just sitting there, silently. Jin-Woo wasn't sure he even wanted to know what was happening anymore—not that he'd ever had any idea in the first place. Nobody did, really. The whole business with Dungeons and Hunters and Awakened was a mystery that still went unsolved.
But this. He thought that this was far more mysterious than anything that'd ever happened to him.
Three more screens burst to life before him and stared him straight in the face. 'Notice' was written on the top of each one and they all carried different messages. That "Player" thing again. And the System. It was mentioned in two different messages, so it had to be important. A penalty. That meant... punishment. If he didn't comply with the System (which was presumably the thing shoving transparent screens in his face) then he'd be punished? And lastly, a reward.
His gaze flickered from the Notices and back to the Message screen. Jin-Woo was fairly certain that this had something to do with that thing he'd seen right before he'd died. Something about a secret quest and becoming a player.
"Open," he said and new information was displayed on the screen. The daily quest: 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and 10 kilometers of running. This was apparently training to "become a formidable combatant". And because good things never happened to be him without a catch, there was a caution note at the bottom. A punishment for failing to meet the goal. And a clock, slowly ticking away.
As a last resort, Jin-Woo rubbed his drooping eyes.
Nothing changed.
"Fuck," he swore again.
(This was... a little too elaborate to be a hallucination of his. Why would he even hallucinate something like this? He hadn't played a single video games in years.)
In his haste to reach the flashlight, he hung his arms over the edge and stretched them as far as he could, until more of him was hanging over the edge of the altar than was still on it. His fingers reached and reached and reached, until finally, the tips of his nails scratched the flashlight. Grunting from effort, he slowly managed to squeeze out another inch and grab ahold of it.
Exhaling softly, he scooted back and sat upright again, holding the flashlight close to his chest. His head was still full of the images of what the statues had done to those who disobeyed the rules. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that if he stepped off the altar, if his foot touched the floor, he would be torn in half, like so many of the others.
Pressing his hand over his eyes and clenching them shut, his breath hitching in his throat, he waited until his breathing was somewhat steady again before he used the flashlight.
Gazing out into the abyss, the flashlight barely showed a fraction of the same nightmare-inducing chamber he remembered. Statues that he couldn't even see with this flimsy light, cracked stonework with moss and weeds peeking through them, and of course—blood. So much blood.
He gulped and bit down on his bottom lip, curling his body tighter together, feeling his shivering starting up again. (Like it had ever really stopped.)
He couldn't stay on this stone altar forever. If he tried, it simply meant that he'd starve to death here. Or die of dehydration. (God, did he even have any water?) He was screwed no matter what he did, no matter where he went. And besides, the altar... the altar couldn't actually protect him, that had already been proven. Hadn't he been on the altar when he got stabbed? He wasn't safe here. Even if he stayed put and didn't move a muscle, he wasn't safe.
(He was tired. Exhausted. It felt like he'd only been awake minutes at most, and yet. And yet, he had to fight to stay awake. His eyes drooped, his legs so weak they surely wouldn't hold his weight. But he couldn't fall asleep. He couldn't be unconscious here. He couldn't.)
Biting his lip, he looked at the quest info again. It was still staring at him. Just sitting there without doing anything, the clock still ticking down. Moving without regard for his feelings.
How long had he been unconscious? How long had it been since the Dungeon had been cleared and the others left? How long had he slept here? How long had he been unsafe?
He pulled on his hair until the pain made him gasp. Letting go, Jin-Woo forced himself to think. He didn't want to die. He hadn't wanted to die then, enough to accept this "player" thing, and he didn't want to die now. And sure, he was presumably trapped in a Dungeon, but there must be a way to survive in here. Or there wouldn't be any monsters. There had to be food and water and, and something to make fire out of. Survival had to be possible, or this made even less sense than anybody had ever suspected.
It was just... well, this wasn't an ordinary Dungeon, was it?
Smacking his lips together, Jin-Woo slowly rearranged his body on the altar again, wincing at the stiffness that still plagued him. His trembling limbs were weak and flimsy and his skin stung where it met the cold stone.
He looked out into the darkness again. Then, inch by painful inch, he lowered his feet to the floor. Flinching when the tips of his toes made contact with the floor, he waited with bated breath and shaking legs for something to happen, staring wide-eyed at the stone floor.
Nothing did. So he carefully scooted over the last bit of the edge and then he was standing on the floor, on two shaky legs, one of which was only partly clothed. Jin-Woo breathed out a shuddering breath and stopped in his tracks. He shone the flashlight around with a deathtrap on it, trying to spot anything moving. But the light didn't reach far enough. He couldn't see anything.
Straining his ears, he did his best to listen; he'd always had very good hearing ever since his Awakening. But it was—silent. Quiet. Not so much as a peep to be heard.
He gulped again, swallowing a whole mouthful of saliva. There wasn't even much of it, his mouth was incredibly dry. Rubbing his eyes, he licked his lips and took his first uncertain step. Then his second. Third. Fourth. Fifth.
Tenth.
Still, nothing was happening. He could hear nothing. No statues were moving. So he partly turned toward the large doors into the room and stared at them with tired eyes. There were statues there that he'd seen kill those who got too close. Would they kill him too? If they were simply inactive now, would they activate if he stepped too close?
(What did monsters do, when their Dungeons weren't open?)
But they weren't moving. Nothing was moving. So it... it should be fine. There was nothing in this room that could help him survive anyway; no food or water or even wood to fuel a fire. He couldn't survive long in here. So he had to leave. He had to take the chance.
And anyway, everything he'd seen indicated that the statues killed quickly; they crushed you under their feet or split you in half with their weapons. Those were much quicker deaths than starving and dehydration.
He couldn't wait for a rescue. He couldn't stay here and starve. With those options out, he didn't exactly have any choices left, did he?
So Sung Jin-Woo, the weakest hunter of all mankind, took a deep, shuddering breath.
And then he ran.
The wind whistled at the speed he was going, beating against his body like a wall. His feet slapped against the ground, one shoeless and the other in a shoe on the edge of falling apart. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, his eyes veering wildly around him, trying to spot any oncoming statues in the hope he would be able to avoid them.
He picked up speed the further he went and then he was just. There. At the doors. And the statues next to them hadn't moved.
And of course... of course... the doors didn't open.
Of course.
(That would have been too easy, wouldn't it?)
His fist fell on the door, the sound echoing loudly. Again and again, he hit it. It didn't make a dent in the door, and as time went on, his vision grew hazier and hazier as his eyes watered. His nose clogged up, his breath hiccuping in his throat. He kicked the door, and it didn't even shake. He threw his whole body-weight against it and it felt like breaking a bone. He leaned his head on it and felt his tears dripping from his eyes, down his cheeks, and falling on the ground.
His fist continued to beat against it, his eyes so hazy he could see nothing, his nose so stuffed that even sniffling accomplished nothing, his heartbeat so loud that he could hear nothing else. It was just him, and the door.
Eventually, he had no energy left. His tears dried out and his strength left him and he collapsed to the floor against the door. Listlessly he gazed out, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and the gloom.
Now, he could see the statues standing still along the walls, the god statue sitting proud on its massive throne.
His stared at the god statue, his body limp against the door. It was a giant, dwarfing every other statue effortlessly. Jin-Woo shuddered at the memory of its face, at that hideous grin. Its eyes shooting fire and the gleeful look on its face when people died. At the way that it had stepped on a human being for worshipping another god. And now it sat there, back on that throne, motionless. Waiting for something that Jin-Woo couldn't divine.
He looked at it for lack of anything else to do. Everything... everything was over.
And then—it stared back.
"Shi—!"
Jin-Woo swerved his gaze away and counted his deafening breaths. It did nothing for him, so he gave that up and settled for holding his breath. His quivering hand over his mouth, his painfully wide eyes stared at the floor. He didn't want to look back. He didn't want to see that horrifying expression again; it would already be stuck in his nightmares forever (if he ever managed to fall asleep again). He didn't want to see.
If he just closed his eyes and refused to acknowledge what his senses were telling him, it might all go away. It might all disappear.
But... It did not. Reality didn't work like that. Jin-Woo's reality didn't work like that. Instead, Jin-Woo's gaze slowly inched its way back across the distance, because curiosity had always been a vice of his. Raising his eyes that last bit of distance, he held his breath for so long that his chest burned **from lack of air.
He stared up into the abyss and the abyss gazed steadily back at him. And grinned.
His heart stopped in his chest.
It jump-started and then beat a mile a minute. Thudding loudly in his ears, all that he could hear was the sound of himself—muffled breathing behind his hand, his heartbeat, his chattering teeth. His eyelids trembled as they begged him to close his eyes. He should. He should. He should not be seeing this. He should close his eyes and it would all go away.
It took him a disturbingly long time to realize that that loud peeping sound was his own keening. He held his breath again—it only made the pain in his chest grow.
The god statue stared at him, its giant eyes pinning him in place like a fly on the wall. (Could he hold his breath until he passed out? It felt like he was on the edge of passing out.) The eyes were huge and intense and staring straight at him and he could vividly remember how the fire had shot out of them and murdered people.
It was not... This was not... He couldn't... breathe. He had to breathe.
Jin-Woo managed to take another shuddering breath and it felt like the air would freeze in his lungs. The statue was just staring at him. But, somehow, that was worse than when it'd been smiling so horrifically. Its emotionless face frowning down on him was beautiful—too beautiful. It should not look like that when he knew that it was a murderous god that demanded praise, and obedience, and worship. It should not be pretty. It should be horrifying.
It was not.
(He'd thought that when he first entered this room too, however long ago it was. The god statue sitting on the throne had the kind of serene beauty he was used to seeing in paintings. But it should not exist in real life, and it should not be killing things with a grin so ugly and murderous and horrifying that he half wanted to gauge out his own eyes.)
Jin-Woo couldn't keep holding his breath, despite his persistent attempts. Eventually, he had to let his mouth go and frantically breathe in huge gulps of air as he attempted to stay awake. He couldn't fall unconscious here. He had no idea what the statues would do to him if he did. There were too many what-ifs. Too many risks. So he had to breathe, no matter how painful it was.
And he had to... he had to stand up and search for anything that could help him survive. Food, water, just. Something to light a fire with. He had lighter, but it wouldn't do a lot of good without something to fuel the flames. And the chamber, was it airtight? Was there only a finite amount of oxygen in here? If so, he couldn't risk lighting a fire.
He shivered. His hand gripped his bare foot under him and he felt it tremble in his grip. The god statue was still staring at him, but he couldn't afford to wait for it to stop. He had to stand up.
He had to walk. He had to.
Jin-Woo managed to push himself into a standing position, still leaning against the door. His legs trembled beneath him, his hands clammy and shaking where they pressed against the door. He forced himself to take breath after breath and to pull his gaze away from the god statue. He couldn't look at it; it was like it took over his every thought when he did. It distracted him, the thoughts of what it could do to him on a simple whim.
On shaky legs that barely managed to bear his weight, Jin-Woo made his way back out into the chamber. His throat was so dry it hurt, and his knees ached from how much they'd shaken today. The flashlight was gone from his grip, lying somewhere uselessly on the stone floor. His breath shuddered in his lungs, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that he was surprised he didn't taste blood.
He felt unsteady, unmoored.
There were still transparent screens in front of him. Floating quietly, a clock that was still counting down. Should he... do something about those? That thing about a punishment, it made his skin itch. It was probably just a hallucination or an illusion, but if it came from the god statue then... he would definitely be punished if he didn't complete the 'quest'. And 'punishment' would likely mean death.
And it wasn't like he was a stranger to exercise. He trained regularly so that he would at least be strong enough to bash at a monster with a club. And he had to be fast enough to run away. Sure, he didn't run 10 km when training, but he was still pretty good at sprinting short distances. Or he wouldn't have survived half the Dungeons he'd been in.
"Should I do them now?" he asked himself, the sound echoing in the chamber, just to hear something other then his breathing.
He peeked back at the god statue out of the corner of his eye and saw the still way it stared at him. ...Yes, he probably should, before the time elapsed and it killed him.
How in the hell the god statue had the power to do this to him, he didn't know. He didn't particularly care. Maybe it really was a god, in whatever world it came from. Maybe the sacrifice on the altar had done this. Maybe this was all a game to it, amusement until the next time unprepared Hunters found their way to this Dungeon.
His brain was tired, exhausted from all the thinking it had been forced to do lately. The stress made him restless and listless and filled him with a need to do something to relieve it. And searching this place for survival tools wasn't likely to accomplish anything, not from what he'd seen before and not from what he could see now. So perhaps he should deal with the 'quest' first and hopefully, the exercise would clear his mind.
A hundred push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and running... It should clear his mind nicely. Letting all his worries go because he'd be so sore and exhausted from the training that he wouldn't be able to think anymore seemed like just about the sanest thing he could do right now.
So Jin-Woo retreated to a corner where there was no statue looming over him threateningly. He was achingly aware of the gaze of the god statue on him (it felt like a fire was lit where the gaze was) and he couldn't stop himself from looking over every few seconds, to make sure that the statue wasn't grinning. If it grinned, he thought, that probably meant it would kill him. Or he would have to bow to it and sing its praises or something. But it would be horrible and humiliating and there wouldn't be a way out of it.
Soon though, even the persistent gaze of the terrifying god statue left his mind. The exercise did what he'd hoped; emptied his mind of all superfluous thought. Huffing and puffing and sweating so much he would be worrying about the loss of water if his mind wasn't preoccupied with "hurts, hurts, hurts, did it always hurt this much?!" as he forced himself to complete the last kilometer of running.
Even though he'd stopped feeling his legs a while back and was pretty sure that if he stopped running, he'd collapse and be unable to get up for a whole week. Or a month. A long time, anyway.
His mind was blissfully blank though, despite the way his body hurt. He was fine with this; he could worry about survival once he was sure that the imminent threat of death was gone. And as he'd so desperately hoped (and dreaded) once he'd finished the last bit of training, the quest info changed.
But at that point, he had already passed out.
Jin-Woo woke up shuddering. Curled into a tight ball, he was shivering on the cold stone floor. It took him a moment, wherein he blinked blearily into the darkness pressing down on him, before he remembered what had happened.
He stumbled to his feet.
His eyes had, at some point, grown accustomed to the darkness. Staring around himself, he felt his heart slowly start to pick up speed. There was a pressure to the air that he associated with Dungeons, the pressure of an environment positively covered by mana. Involuntarily, he took a step back.
Jin-Woo gripped the torn shirt over his heart, feeling the beating heart below the skin. His eyes swiveled around and he tried to get a clear picture of where he had collapsed. He remembered running, remembered his muscles straining, remembered the pain of putting his body through training beyond what it could withstand. His legs had almost felt like they were tearing to pieces under him before he'd lost feeling in them entirely.
But—he was feeling fine.
He had no memory of finishing his training, no memory of how he had fallen to the floor. No memory beyond the agony that coursed through his veins as he forced himself to keep going, the unknown of what would happen to him if he stopped forcing his feet forward. There had been a desperation to his every thought, his every movement.
He should hurt too much to move. He shouldn't be able to stand, not after training that intense when he'd already been halfway to collapsing from shock and horror and grief. His legs should be jelly, his thoughts useless. But he was standing on two perfectly fine legs. There was not a cramp to be felt. His muscles felt fine*—more* than fine, even. He felt refreshed like he'd even showered before going to bed.
His body was stiff, yes, but it was the stiffness that came from sleeping on literal stone. It wasn't the agony his body should be in after what little he could remember of the workout he'd endured on pain of actual death.
He took a tiny step, staring at his foot the entire time, just to test his legs. Just to see if they still worked. But like everything else here, he couldn't explain how they seemed perfectly alright.
The transparent screens were still there, right in front of him. Jin-Woo licked his dry lips and wondered at his hunger—his lack of it. Oh, his stomach was empty and he certainly wanted to eat something. But it wasn't the deliberating hunger that he should be feeling. It had been days since he'd eaten; maybe even more. Who knew how long he'd been unconscious after he was killed. So he should be starving. His stomach should feel like it was trying to eat itself out. Something in him should recognize that feeling of acute hunger, of not having eaten for too long. Yet, here it seemed, there was a but.
But he wasn't hungry. But he felt well-rested, even though he'd had nightmares that sent his pulse racing. But he wasn't hurt, even though he literally ran himself into the ground yesterday. The only thing that was even the slightest bit abnormal was his dry lips and the thirst he could feel in the back of his throat.
Yet, even that wasn't at the level he would have expected.
(Should he take this as a blessing? Should he give praise to the gods? Should he think a miracle had occurred? Should he go down on his knees and pray?)
Jin-Woo dragged his focus away from the screen in front of his face and refocused back on what was happening here and now. He couldn't afford to think of such things right now, no matter how much his fear curiosity ate at him. He had to focus, concentrate, on what needed he to do to ensure his survival.
After all, he had a sister to return to. A sister that depended on him. A sister that he refused to leave alone in the world, with only a comatose mother to accompany her as she became an adult.
He turned around yet again, walking over to a wall in the large chamber. Now, not burdened by panic and heart-stopping fear, Jin-Woo noticed that it was even larger than he remembered. Not that weird when he thought about it; the statues (not to mention the god statue) were gigantic. In order for them to be able to swing humungous weapons around unimpeded, there had to be plenty of room for them to move.
When he reached the wall, he put his vulnerable back to it. The fact that he was surrounded by enemies was the kind of knowledge that ate away at him. The fact that he couldn't leave the chamber, that he was trapped here forever until he could break out made his throat clog up. He curled his hands into tight fists, his fingernails harshly cutting into his skin.
Pushing back the feelings threatening to drown him, he very carefully didn't look at the god statue as he checked what possessions were on his person. Not the flashlight, he'd lost that at some point. But he had a pocketknife, a knife sheathed on his back, a small bottle of water in a pocket.
Looking at it, it was truly tiny. His fingers could curl effortlessly around the bottle and it wasn't even full. There couldn't be more than two deciliters of water in there.
His eyebrows slowly furrowed, the further he got into the search.
Finally, he was looking down on the truly pitiful collection laid out by his feet. He crouched down and tried to spread them apart, so it would look like he had more possessions. It didn't help.
He buried his head in his hands and muttered, "What am I going to do?"
It was a question that he had no answer to. It was a question that made him want to lay back down on the floor and curl into a ball again. He wanted to close his eyes and ignore everything; he desperately wanted this all to be a nightmare. Just a bad dream. He wanted to wake up in his bed and have Jin-Ah laugh at him for his silliness—because who gets trapped in a closed Dungeon?
Jin-Woo slapped himself. Hard. His head rang with the impact, his mind blanking and splitting apart at the seams. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears automatically pooling in his eyes.
He couldn't delude himself like that. It was a trap; a trap he wasn't strong enough to pull himself out of. If he started thinking of this as "just a bad dream" he'd stop fighting and then he'd die. He couldn't do that. He couldn't leave Jin-Ah and his mother. He couldn't abandon them like that. He had to find a way to survive; he had to shove his fears aside and push forward. There was nowhere else to go.
"Fuck," he groaned. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and ignored the fact that it was fluffy as if he'd just cleaned it. Instead, he focused on more important things. Like the fact that he needed to find more water.
(This was a chamber made entirely of stone, what the hell was he hoping for? An underground river? God, he was so tired.)
There was no way that he could ignore it anymore. Frankly, he didn't understand how he'd ignored it in the first place, the feeling was too... claustrophobic, almost. His skin crawled below it, his hands shuddered as he tried to not remember the things he'd seen, his legs trembled trying to support his weight.
The god statue was staring at him.
It had ever since he woke up. Since he took that first trembling step. Since he pulled out all his possessions and laid them bare on the floor. Since he hurt himself to keep from spiraling. (Jin-Ah would scold him if she knew. So many things already hurt him every time he entered a Dungeon, he couldn't afford to add to that count himself.)
The god statue continued stared at him, its gaze unrelenting and cold as ice.
Jin-Woo gulped. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to force his shivers under control. Clenching his hands by his sides, he took another breath and looked up at the god statue.
It was truly almost too big to comprehend. It had to be as big as the Statue of Liberty. Standing down here on the floor, he felt like an ant, felt like a speck of dust about to be brushed away. That the thing existed was nearly unfathomable.
The god statue's eyes shone. The light was harsh and unwelcoming, a glittering coming from within it. Sun Jin-Woo dropped to the floor instantly, bending over and kneeling just before the statue could incinerate him. The heat wave passed right over him and a breath escaped his tense lips. He held his breath as he waited, his forehead resting on the floor, for the statue to condemn him.
Nothing happened. The tension in the pit of his stomach didn't ease; on the contrary, it tightened.
His nails scraped against the stone floor while his eyes veered wildly behind his closed eyelids.
What were the commandments? Kneel, like they had two life-times ago. Praise the Lord, like they had done four life-times ago. Prove thy faith, like he had done a death ago.
He was kneeling. And praising... how could he praise the god? None of the statues had reacted no matter how much he'd run yesterday. He needed music, a song, an instrument. But he couldn't play any instruments, and though his voice was passable, he knew no songs that wouldn't get him killed. It would have to praise this god, the song. This murderous, horrific god.
Was he going to have to write a song, himself? How did one even do that? Just... sing a rhyme to a tune? Jin-Woo didn't know, but he should do something soon because the pressure on him was increasing the more time passed.
"The Lord is wise," he mumbled into the floor, less singing and more begging, trying to think of something to rhyme it with. Licking his lips, he rose his head slightly and took a deep breath. "The Lord is made of bones and dust, stars that have come undone. The Lord will have our heads tonight, when we return in victorious might."
His eyebrows furrowed while his mind worked a thousand kilometers a minute, desperate to keep the words coming. "The Lord will judge our worthiness, to sit at its feet and adore. The Lord will decide who is to come, and who is to die. The Lord is just, and the Lord is cruel, for cruelty is justice pure. The Lord is made of bones and dust, stars that come undone."
He took a deep breath, wearily watching the god statue. He'd picked up something that resembling a tune now, "The Lord is might, the Lord is right, the Lord is salvation. The Lord shall choose who spare, and who to throw to damnation. Oh Lord of mine, whom I so adore, I beg to sit at your feet. Oh Lord of mine, made of stars undone, I beg to sing your name to the skies. Of Lord of mine, I beg of you, let me grovel for your light."
The chamber returned to silence.
Jin-Woo's eyes strained to see the god statue, to discern its mood. He couldn't, of course he couldn't. It was a statue, a god, an unholy combination of both. There was nothing there for him to discern. Nothing there for him to connect with.
He moved into a sitting position, his bones so stiff they should be breaking when he moved them. Licking his lips again, he swallowed the saliva suddenly pooling in his mouth. Hunger was starting to make itself known, his empty stomach a hollow space below his ribs. He pressed a hand to it, frowning heavily.
His eyes were still stuck on the god statue. But it wasn't doing anything. And Jin-Woo still had mysteries to solve.
"Open messages," he croaked out. His tongue was ungainly in his mouth, a thick weight that didn't move as it should. He brushed his hand through his hair, and the message screen popped up in front of his eyes.
"Daily quest," he said. The screen changed. The information for the daily quest appeared. Finally, he took his eyes off the statue, instead focusing on what was right in front of him.
The daily quest for yesterday was listed as completed. Rewards were mentioned on the bottom, an offer for him to accept or refuse. (...What would happen if he said no?) His finger went right through the screen and he blushed, muttering a quiet, "Open."
The rewards were now listed on the screen. The 'Full Recovery' option showed as already used. His eyes narrowed. That must be why he had woken up feeling refreshed of all things. Even now, aside from the hunger and thirst, he felt fine.
(It was disgusting.)
There was also 'Stat Points' and a 'Mystery Box'. Jin-Woo's eyes glared at them. Stat points implied the existence of a certain something else. A mystery box... could either be really useful or really useless.
Biting down on his lip, he moved so that he sat crosslegged. Then he ordered his own profile to show itself. Then he opened his stat page. Then he felt his stomach swoop and his eyes water. Then he put the all three available stat points in 'stamina'.
It'd been years since he'd played games so he didn't really know what the different stats did. But what he needed now was endurance. Strength, too, but if he couldn't endure until he got stronger, it'd be worthless. So the points went to stamina, and that number alone stood out amongst the others.
He rubbed his eyes. He wasn't done yet.
Pressing his hands over his eyes harshly, he choked down on the sob that wanted to escape. "Accept 'Mystery Box'," he mumbled into his hands, flinching when there immediately came the sound of something hitting stone. The first sound in two full days that he hadn't made. His head snapped up, and he stared wild-eyed at the innocuous cardboard box now sitting in front of him.
"Seriously?" he questioned, his pulse picking up.
His fingers itched, and he scooted closer. Picking it up, he turned it this way and that, frowning at it. He could see no indications that it'd ever been opened, and so with a burst of courage, he opened it himself.
A water-bottle laid within.
His eyes widening, he grabbed it and held it before his eyes. It was a water-battle, one that was full to the brim. A big one, too, easily over a liter. And the text floating above it, when his eyes drifted to it, told him frankly that it was "an ordinary bottle carrying two liters of water that could be stored in his inventory".
"Water," he whispered. His eyes widened again. "Water," he repeated.
His back struck the floor as his bones stopped working. Staring up at the ceiling, he laughed quietly, hugging the full bottle to his chest. It was so cold that it stung his skin through the torn shirt.
Water.
Huffing and puffing, Jin-Woo pressed on through the last kilometer of running. His legs were heavy like lead, unsteady and trembling below him. If he stopped now, he knew, he wouldn't be able to start again. And so he ran with all his might, begging himself to please just cross the distance already. A tired eye glanced at the screen before him, keeping watch of the distance he'd run.
Nine of out of ten, nine out of ten, nine out of ten...
Ten out of ten.
"Yes," he muttered and fell to the floor, flat on his face. The skin on his nose tore open on the stones, but he could not care less. He splayed out like a starfish on the floor, his heart beating so fast he half-feared it would bounce out of his chest. The sound echoed through his ears, snot building up in his nose as he tried to get his breathing in order.
He huffed, puffing deep breaths until his chest stopped feeling like it was trying to smother him. Weakly pushing himself up on shaking arms, he glared at the screen and quietly wheezed out, "Rewards."
Relief filled him. Good. It was the same as yesterday. 'Full Recovery', which he made instant use of and so in the blink of an eye stopped feeling like he was on death's doorstep. Stat points, which he added to strength this time, thus evening out stamina and strength. Tomorrow, he'd add the three points to stamina again.
And then there was the 'Mystery Box'.
Licking his lips, he watched as it tumbled out of thin air in front of him. He dragged it to him and opened, not even bothering to check it over this time. He'd gotten water out of the last box and now he needed... he needed—
Crackers?
"Crackers?" he asked himself, taking out the full box. He rattled it in his hands. It was just... an ordinary box, like those that could be found in stores. Nothing special about it. He turned it around in his hands, quickly reading the text on the backside, but there was really nothing of note.
And he was hungry. He was so incredibly hungry. He'd manage to save most of the water he'd gotten from the last box, earlier today, by drinking the last of the water that he'd walked into this Dungeon with in the first place. And then he'd ignored his thirst in favor of completing the daily quest as quickly as possible. But his hunger was another beast, one that even full recovery apparently couldn't sate.
He summoned his water bottle from the inventory, and opened the box of crackers. It was a big box, at least.
Crunching down on them, he nibbled his way slowly through four crackers, barely making a dent in his hunger but at least easing it somewhat. Making it more bearable. He took small, periodic sips of the water, and forced himself not to waste it all instantly. It needed to last until tomorrow, until the clock for the daily quest would reset and he could complete it again. (If it gave him what he needed to survive then. Then water should be first on the list.)
The 'Mystery Box' was his only means of survival right now, so he had exercise restraint. Even though it hurt all the way down to his soul. Even though his mouth salivated when he looked at the crackers left. Even though his stomach was so miserably empty.
"This sucks," he muttered, frowning down at the box. He shook it a little, watching passively as the crackers inside danced. He could barely restrain the urge to hug the box to his chest like a teddy bear.
Shaking his head somewhat and sighing, he put away the box and bottle into his inventory, climbing to his feet. It was time for him to start actually doing something now, time for him to stop sitting in a corner and feeling sorry for himself. That wouldn't help him survive.
The chamber he was in was ridiculously huge, easily several full-scale soccer arenas with a ceiling so high he couldn't even see it. The memories he had of it were so distant they seemed more like a dream than anything, though he remembered the fires casting light everywhere and the horror when the statues had started killing them. There were no torches lit now, though, which meant that he had to rely on his own human vision to look around. And he couldn't even use the flashlight because it would simply cancel out the way his vision had by now grown accustomed to the darkness.
It wasn't great, but it was better then the little he could see with the flashlight.
He walked to the altar first. It was just like he'd left it, his own blood still staining it. Dried though it was, he imagined that he could smell the scent of it when he was this close. His eyes shut and his eyebrows furrowed when he remembered the events that had transpired here, the betrayal he'd suffered as a thanks for saving the others.
Never again, he thought.
(Well, it wasn't like he would be getting out of here anytime soon so it was kind of a moot point. But still.
Never again.)
Placing his hand on the stone, he stroked it carefully, feeling the ridges and dips in the work. Some of it had cracked, small fissures forming in the stone that nobody had bothered to fix. Moss was growing up the sides of it and—wait, could he eat the moss?
He glanced at the god statue. It was sitting on the throne expressionlessly, it's large eyes gazing down on him. But it wasn't doing anything. It was just... looking. Large eyes gazing steadily at him, silent but endlessly watchful. Like he was an amusing show, something to keep the boredom away. ...Could gods even get bored? Could Dungeon monsters get bored?
Jin-Woo gulped. He bent down and tore out a large strip of moss from the stone, clenching his hand around it. There was no screen that popped up with it, presumably because it didn't come from a 'Mystery Box'. So there was no way for him to tell if it was safe to eat or not.
He held it up to his face and tore off a small piece that didn't have any dirt on it. Then, frowning, he cautiously placed it on his tongue.
The taste was an odd combination of sugary sweet and unpleasant. Maybe it was a totally normal taste for moss, he'd never eaten any before. But it was so sweet that it stung his tongue, and he scowled as he chewed on it. It was not something he would eat if he had any other option, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. There was a lot of moss in this chamber, even in just the fraction of the space he'd been running in. It would at least help relieve some of the burden on the 'Mystery Box', especially since the box had so far only given him one object at a time.
He swallowed the moss and took another bite of it. While he ate, he continued to walk and examine the immediate area. There wasn't a lot he could do without some more tools, but he knocked on the walls and scuffed his feet on the floor, making sure it was secure. He wasn't going far from the little corner he'd designated as his; the place where he intended to continue sleeping at, essentially.
Jin-Woo stopped in front of the statues. The smaller ones, though no less terrifying, with the weapons that had hunted them so effectively. It stood still before him, merely unmoving stone. There was no reaction to his presence, not even when he tapped on it with a finger.
He swallowed another batch of moss and grimaced, the taste clinching to the inside of his mouth.
But he was still hungry. So he continued to eat, despite the punishing taste and the even worse aftertaste. He ate until he finally felt full, and the relief of not being hungry was so great that his eyes watered, and he sniffled quietly.
Clapping his hands to get rid of the dirt, he returned to his claimed corner of the chamber. He sat down, letting his back make contact with the stone wall, and breathed calmly as he tried to sort out his thoughts. For the first time in days, he felt somewhat normal, and like he might be able to approach his current... situation, logically.
So. He laid out all the facts he knew.
First, he was trapped in a Dungeon with no way out. But then, he hadn't explored the whole chamber, so who knew, there might be another door somewhere. He should look through the whole place, when he felt a little better. Tomorrow, maybe.
Two, he had been bound to some kind of video game system, presumably the action of the god statue that still demanded worship, though so far he at least hadn't had to prove his faith again. That would not be fun. His singing seemed like it was about to get lots of practice, if the god statue demanded praise as often as he suspected. He might be heading onto the path of becoming a songwriter, if a pretty mediocre one.
Three, he had extremely limited resources. So far the moss hadn't made him sick, so though it tasted horribly, it would at least feed him. But at the moment, he was depending on the 'Mystery Box' to provide food and water, so he needed to make sure he always finished the daily quest, no exceptions. It was too soon for him to know if the stat points made any real difference, but hopefully, those weren't useless.
And he had noticed that he was currently 'Level 1'. Which implied that he might be able to level up. And if he got to a high enough level, possibly... he might possibly be strong enough to force the chamber doors' open.
Hopefully.
It was a plan, at least. A tiny, barely useful, plan. But it was a course of action he could follow, and that was worth its weight in gold to him right now. It was a life-line, a map of his future that would allow his mind the relief of not panicking constantly from uncertainty.
"I'm not screwed," he mumbled. He wasn't. He could make his way back to his family, back to his sister and mother. He wouldn't be trapped here forever. This place wouldn't kill him.
His hands clenched harshly by his sides and he looked up, making eye-contact with the god statue.
Grinning, Jin-Woo announced, "I'm not screwed."
C2
As soon as midnight struck and the daily quest reset, Jin-Woo was up and moving. He began with the squats, his breathing getting harsher and harsher from effort and his muscles beginning to quake. He pushed through, knowing that whatever the mystery box would give him, he needed it.
He'd fallen asleep not long after eating all that moss, and he'd slept for hours. It was an unsettled sleep, yes, one where he'd woken up multiple times, dazed and confused, but it was still sleeping. It still eased his mind and took away some of the exhaustion that so furiously dogged his footsteps, allowed him to attack the daily quest with renewed vigor.
Sleeping for so long, when he'd woken up, he'd naturally felt better than he had in days. His mind was the clearest it'd been since entering the Dungeon, and he was sure he was ready now.
Ready for the tremendous effort it'd take to escape this place.
He raced through the rest of the daily quest and when he was done, he flopped, boneless, to the floor. His mind was blissfully blank as he laid there and stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving with painful breaths. He hadn't dared to test yet what counted as running or how slow he could really go, because there was no energy that could be spared toward it, which meant that he'd run as fast as he could the whole way, albeit at least at a steady pace.
"Rewards," he ordered when his breathing had calmed down and his mouth worked again. Despite the fact that it was deceivingly simple, this training was far more straining than any other training he'd ever done. And as an E-rank, he'd had to train a lot just to be able to beat the weakest monsters. Ambushes could only do so much.
(It was probably the lack of food and water. But there was nothing he could do about that.)
'Full Recovery' kicked in first. All three points were dropped on the stamina stat again, and tomorrow he'd drop the next ones on strength. And then came the 'Mystery Box', the sole reason for his continued to survival.
Jin-Woo watched anxiously as it materialized. He grunted as he shoved himself into a sitting position, dragging himself to the box. Next to it, he flicked it open and stared down.
It was a key.
A golden key with floating text above it. It was a 'key to Hapjeong Subway Station's Instance Dungeon' could roughly be understood from the text on the screen. Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed and he gulped as he grabbed the key, his gaze sliding toward the chamber's doors. Saliva pooled in his mouth. The mystery box... wouldn't give him this key if he couldn't use it, would it? No, it would give him other stuff, like food and water, in that case. Which meant...
His head swiveled to the god statue. "Did you do this?" he demanded, realizing a second too late that it was monumentally stupid of him to talk to it like that.
He was right, of course. The god statue's eyes began to glow and Jin-Woo moved to his knees instantly, bowing down so fast that his forehead hit the floor with a loud thud. He cursed himself in his head while out loud, he said, "Please forgive this foolish one, my Lord, I simply meant to ask if this is a gift from this one's great and mighty Lord."
Nothing happened—the fire that spewed from the statues eyes didn't come. Peeking up, Jin-Woo exhaled softly when he saw that the glow in the statue's eyes had been reduced back to the normal low-level light. He waited another few seconds before he began to sit up again.
His eyes fell on the key once more. Swallowing a batch of saliva, he picked it up and turned it around and around, studying it. Aside from the fact that it was made of gold and comically large, it seemed like just a normal key. It wasn't even that heavy, the metal warm in his hands and the text above it following it's motions.
His hand clenched around it. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his torn pants as he did so. He was holding the key so tightly that it hurt, but he couldn't even imagine letting go. What if he lost it? What if he could never get it back? No, no, better keep a tight grip.
Glancing at the chamber doors, his breath caught in his throat.
And he ran.
How could he do anything else? The key was the only hope he'd had since he woke up here, forgotten and left behind. So what if it didn't work—he needed to try. Just try. He could cry later when nothing happened but for now, he reached the door and nearly slammed into it. His hand shook around the key and he looked desperately for a keyhole.
He found one. And he put the key in. And the key turned.
His eyes so wide they were watering, he slowly, slowly pressed the door open. And outside... outside was Hapjeong Station.
But it was abandoned.
He didn't look back when he walked through the doorway, heading out into the unknown without the slightest bit of hesitation. His feet beat on the ground as stepped further in, the silence echoing around him. It was bigger than he'd ever seen it be, the lack of people distortion his sense of reality.
Jin-Woo stopped in the middle of the empty station, breathing in the musky air. Smiling, he approached one of the storefronts and looked through the window, squinting as he tried to make out any details. It appeared empty from this side, nothing on the other side of the glass. The rest of the station seemed just as empty from his limited viewpoint.
The air was dank and stale, all the lights turned off. There were no traces of people, layers of dust on every surface. In one of the stores, he found an old coat-hanger laying abandoned on the floor. He picked it up, weighing it in his hands. He probably couldn't get a lot of force from this, but it was better than nothing.
Especially because he'd found animal tracks.
He breathed deeply through his nose, forcing his thoughts to stay slow and calm. It was a Dungeon, the key's information had said, and it'd been stupid of him to go in expecting anything other than a fight for his life. Previous evidence suggested that he wouldn't get the key if there wasn't something here that he needed, something that would help him—though that evidence was only two previous mystery boxes. Perhaps that was too little data to draw a conclusion from.
With the coat-hanger in his hands, Jin-Woo exited the empty store he'd been in. He squared his shoulder back, moving into a ready position so he could defend him more easily. Vigilantly, he moved ahead.
He needed to find the exit. He didn't know from kind of doorway he'd really come out of, but it wasn't the station's proper exit. If he could find it! If it worked! Then he could escape the Double Dungeon!
He shook his head and narrowed his eyes as he looked into the darkness surrounding him. Concentrate. He needed to concentrate. If he let his guard down, that would be it; it would really be Game Over. No more Sung Jin-Woo, no more chances for him to return to his sister. He'd be lost to a Dungeon, just like his father.
He nodded to himself. He kept going.
When the first wolf attacked, Jin-Woo was ready. He swung the coat-hanger, banging it into the wolf's head and stunning it temporarily. It was stunned long enough for him to get in another swing and after that—it was a mindless fight for survival.
There was no room for error, no room for anything other instincts. Jin-Woo had no proper weapons, and the road back was cut off. All he could do was forge ahead, forsaking his health for the chance to come out the other side of this fight, the next fight, the fight after that, still breathing. No room for thinking. No room for anything other than pain.
He leveled up. And when the last wolf died, Jin-Woo leveled up again. Glaring at the screen, he huffed as his body once again fully recovered from all the strain he'd put it through. But it was good to know. Good to know that when he advanced a level, his body would automatically fully recover. And good to know that all his stats went up by one point with every level up.
Even though he'd almost died a few times, the information was worth it.
Jin-Woo huffed and wiped the blood from his face. He glared down at the corpses by his feet, kicking the closest wolf lightly. It didn't budge. He almost wondered if he could take the corpse with him back to the Dungeon, if he could eat the meat of these things.
He'd keep going, find the exit first, but if it didn't pan out... he'd investigate the possibly of taking the meat, if not just the whole corpse. ...Could he put the corpse into his inventory?
He scuffed his foot on the floor and glanced at the shining tooth in the wolf's mouth. It'd been shining for a while now and his curiosity ate at him. Would it keep shining if he took it? Could he collect shining teeth and use them as torches in the Dungeon? That would actually be kind of cool, if maybe somewhat tasteless.
The screen was still displaying the same message, too. Did he want to collect the loot?
Yes. Yes, he did.
With a ping, all the loot was collected. The screen informed him that it was now all in his inventory. Ten wolf fangs (though unfortunately, they appeared to no longer be shining) and a bunch of levels gained.
The stat points alone... he could feel his strength increasing while he was fighting. It became easier and easier to beat the wolves, his punches more and more powerful. This place—this place could make him stronger far faster than the daily quest. If he remembered right, leveling up was the easiest as a newbie. Which meant that he might never have a chance like this again, a chance to become significantly stronger in just one Dungeon.
Right then. There wasn't really another option.
Time to go hunting.
It took hours, making his way up and down the two floors (that he dared to go through, there was another level that made shivers travel down his spine), just hunting down the wolves and other monsters that attacked him again and again. They even respawned, like this really was a video game.
"What a joke," he muttered, flicking the blood off his hands. He rubbed his eyes, glancing over his stat screen. His level had gone up again, at least, fully recovering him from all the fighting. But he didn't think another trip through the next floor would result in a new level; it had taken him much too long just to reach this level. At this point, he had probably reached the cap of what (what was it called?) grinding could get him.
He shook his head and cracked his neck, narrowing his eyes. He summoned one of the wolf fangs from his inventory and weighed it in his hands. The system told him that he could sell it, but he was on the fence about it. Some, maybe, but the fangs were the only thing even resembling weapons that he had.
He should at least see if they were useful before he got rid of them.
In front of the entrance to the lowest level in the subway station, he stopped. Frowning, he bit down on his lip and worried it, his tongue poking at it distractedly. The sensation he got from down there wasn't anywhere near as overwhelming as in the Double Dungeon and the horror of the god statue, but it was undoubtedly stronger than anything else he'd met here.
Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to risk his life, go down there and fight whatever horrible beast that was responsible for this heavy pressure? Was he really going to take his chances on this weird system?
"Let's do this," he said, trying to sound determined and brave. He gripped the wolf fang tightly and descended down the stairs.
The air got heavier, the dark blacker, the silence quieter. Here, it seemed, all life had been pulled from the paint, from the floor, from the very air itself. Jin-Woo continued on, forcing his feet to keep going, because this was the last step. If he killed this thing, leveled up again, then maybe even if there wasn't a way out through this station, he could still escape the Double Dungeon. Maybe he would be strong enough to force the doors open on his own.
The train tracks were covered by water, like a river had formed in its place. Barely a second after he'd stepped up to it, he was attacked by some kind of snake-eel thing.
The text above its head was red.
The following fight was the worst one yet. Jin-Woo's fang broke when it struck the beast's neck and he had to summon another. His reflexes, honed through hundreds (thousands) of life-and-death fights was the only thing to save him, but even that didn't protect him entirely. His body was pushed to its breaking point as he viciously fought the creature, eventually—somehow—managing to stab two wolf fangs into its eyes. It died not long after that.
He came out the other side of this Instance Dungeon with a new title (Wolf Assassin), a new weapon (Kasaka's Poison Dagger) a new level (he was level seventeen now) and two new skills, one passive (Dark Vision level one) and the other active (Dash level one).
Gaining the new level enabled the effect 'Full Recovery' so as he trudged through the station looking for the exit, he was at least in one piece.
If covered in more blood than he'd thought a human body could hold.
No monsters had respawned this time. He assumed that that was due to the death of the Boss. If this was a normal Dungeon, the death of the Boss would cause it to close. But so far there had been no quakes signifying the Dungeon was about to close, just an utter stillness as the abandoned station was abruptly empty of all life except for him.
It was unsettling. Jin-Woo held his new dagger in steady hands and made his way up the floors. He followed the crumbling signs to the exit and then he was looking out at Seoul, nighttime. Dozens of people were walking on the streets, walking down into Hapjeong Station and disappearing as they crossed an invisible divide.
They couldn't hear him screaming. They couldn't see him waving his hands in front of them. They couldn't cross the divide. They couldn't interact with the Dungeon.
And Jin-Woo couldn't get out.
He banged on the line, on the divide, on the invisible wall he'd quite literally run into. His muscles strained as he pushed against the ground, trying to get leverage to force his way through. But his weight did nothing to it.
It was just another type of lock. Just another way he was trapped.
And while he pushed and pushed and pushed, the Dungeon around him began to fall apart. It disintegrated into air, section after section simply ceasing to exist.
"No, no, no," he muttered under his breath, desperately trying. He ignored the system messages that popped up, ignored the muscles aching from the effort, ignored the heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. His chest heaved, his lungs constricting and his eyes watering. He bit through his lip, blood staining his tongue.
It was not enough. None of it was enough. The Dungeon was collapsing and he couldn't get out this way. He couldn't escape. All that was left... all that was left was returning to the Double Dungeon.
"Fuck you," he spat at the system screen. It didn't react, just sitting there and warning him that he had to leave the Dungeon before it disappeared. Taunting him, almost.
(His hands bled from hard he'd hit the divide.)
He took a step back. Another. Finally, he began to run back the way he'd come, his feet slapping the floor and echoing in the silence. His heart raced in his chest, anger burning through his veins as he was forced to return to his prison.
The worst thing about the space he was in disintegrating was the fact that it did so silently, without a single noise. It just vanished, with no evidence that it had ever existed in the first place. Where there had once been something there was now only nothingness, an absence so keen that it hurt to look at it. It was like a piece of the universe had been deleted, someone mistyping and then removing it.
"Fuck you," he swore again when he reached the Double Dungeon's entrance, standing wide open and waiting for him.
Yeah. Fuck it all.
The Double Dungeon's chamber was just as he'd left it. His things from a lifetime ago had been left in his corner, still laying there untouched.
His hands ached, the wounds on them pulsing. His shook them, cursing below his breath as he wondered whether he needed to clean them or not. If they got infected, it should be fixed the next time his body fully recovered, so there was no real reason to waste precious water on them.
Even if they stung.
He scowled as he sat down. As soon as he'd entered the chamber again, the unrelenting focus of the god statue's gaze had fallen on him, the awareness of the eyes staring at him enough to make his stomach queasy and his hands tremble. Forcefully, Jin-Woo shut down all his emotions and restrained the instinct to duck his head and pray the monster didn't notice him, knowing it was already far too late.
His tiny corner in the chamber was barely a fraction of the entire room. It was too big for him to even really comprehend, and though his vision had gotten better (he suspected the skill 'Dark Vision' was at fault for that) he still couldn't see the end of it from here. It was so big that it seemed to defy reality itself.
He summoned the box of crackers from his inventory, munching down on one mulishly. His scowl only deepened as he ate, the crackers doing nothing for his hunger. To properly convey his dissatisfaction in a way that wouldn't get him killed by a murderous god, he bit down with far more force then was necessary on the cracker.
It didn't really help, but it made him feel a bit better. His cheeks puffed out as he ate, careful to not eat too many even in his anger. He couldn't afford to lose them all yet.
No, in order to actually sate his hunger completely, he ate moss again.
When he was done, he swallowed a few sips of water, smacking his lips and sighing. He put the bottle back in his inventory before he gave in to temptation and drank the rest. It really seemed like dehydration was what was going to kill him if he couldn't manage to find a way to get water from anything other than mystery boxes.
Speaking of mystery boxes. The rewards for clearing the Instance Dungeon was the same normal rewards for completing the daily quest. Which meant; three stat points, full recovery, and a mystery box.
"Accept all," he said. The mystery box immediately appeared in front of him. He hummed when he looked at it. From the outside, it didn't look any different from any other misery box he'd gotten so far. He peeked at the god statue before he picked it up, but the statue was still just expressionlessly staring at him. No help there.
Jin-Woo opened the box. His eyes widened. A smile lit up his face. His hands itched. Exhilaration filled him.
The box dematerialized as soon as it was opened, leaving only a large jug of water behind. It was one of those gigantic ones that you bought in case you ever went days without water. And the text above it confirmed his suspicions. There was fifty liters of water in it.
His face ached from how wide he was smiling, his heart vaulting in his chest, his stomach full of butterflies. This was... this was. It just was.
He put it in his inventory before temptation would get to him. Licking his lips, he laughed quietly to himself. Then he faced the god statue and bowed, his voice clear and loud as he said, "Thank you for allowing this one to live, my Lord."
He didn't have any evidence that the god statue was responsible for the system, or the rewards he received for completing missions. There was nothing to point to the god statue's involvement, and there was no reason to suspect it was at fault for all of this. But there was also no reason why it couldn't be the responsible party. There was no evidence either way and Jin-Woo was trapped with this thing and so, he chose to err on the side of caution.
He would assume that the god statue was the system's creator until proven otherwise. Lest it might kill him for not showing his gratefulness and properly worshiping it.
Should he try singing something again? He couldn't remember what he'd sang yesterday, the entire event a blur to his memory. Making up lyrics... was not his strong points. Making up lyrics where he praised and worshipped a murderous god even less so.
Still. It would probably kill him if he didn't.
Puffing out his cheeks, he tried to think of a way to start. "The night..." his eyebrows furrowed. "is an ember lighting the way. The dark is a vision of things to come, the Lord whose presence us will grace. When things are light, the shadows will rise. There is nothing to fear when the monster's on your side."
He took a deep breath and continued, "Worry not, for the Lord is wise. Our mighty strength will never fade, and our dreams will never die. The Lord sees all, knows that which is unknown. Worry not, for the Lord is wise and will never die."
Falling silent, Jin-Woo waited to see how the statue would react. He was not disappointed—the statue was looking right at him, the gaze no longer so oppressing. Oh, it was overwhelming, the eyes itching on his skin. But it was not the unrelenting force of nature that it'd been when it had risen from its seat and stomped on the ants that had displeased it. It was not the murderous gaze spelling out Jin-Woo's painful and inevitable doom.
His breath shuddering, he broke eye contact first. Instead, he rose to his feet. Despite the fact that he'd just spent hours in an Instance Dungeon fighting for his life (right after the daily quest, too), his body felt refreshed and light. He added the stat points to his agility stat while he moved, understanding what it did now after he'd been in actual fights.
He was going to explore some more of the chamber. So far, he'd contained himself to one very specific corner of the chamber, one that was basically as close to the door and as far away from the god statue that he could get. It was right in the corner, so he had walls on two sides, thereby limiting the directions that attacks could come from.
It was frightening, to leave the small corner of familiarity that he had in here. Even though the rest of the chamber would probably look pretty much the same, it was unnerving. Jin-Woo's steps were small and hesitant as he walked further in, glancing at the god statue from time to time to make sure he wasn't going to get incinerated. He walked around the altar, going further in then he ever had before.
Like he'd suspected, there wasn't a lot to see. The majority of the chamber was empty, save for the statues, with his voice echoing eerily when he said something. The ceiling was too high, the walls too far apart, the floor too even.
He couldn't help but wonder who had built this place. What kind of civilization had made the statues?
(What came first, the god or the worshippers?)
Lowering his gaze, he looked ahead. There was no fabric of any kind anywhere, and floor was the same height the entire area he'd walked. Never any stairs, or even any inclines. Just the same flat ground. But when he approached the walls, he saw something that he'd never noticed before.
There were drawings on the walls. Specifically, carvings. They were high, so high that Jin-Woo couldn't see the top of them, but there were thousands. Moss was growing in some of them, other had cracks and fissures running through them, but they were still breathtaking in their simplicity.
What they were meant to represent, Jin-Woo couldn't know. But there were so many of them, one after another, that it almost made him dizzy.
There was no way for him to track time in here. No daylight, no watch. The only way he knew a day had gone by was when the daily quest reset. Thanks to that, he could at least keep track of how long he'd been here, of how long he'd left his sister alone. He was simultaneously grateful and furious about it.
He got tired, eventually. Sleepily, he returned to his own corner and laid down. He curled into a ball, cursing the fact that he didn't have a blanket or at least a pillow. If it wasn't for 'Full Recovery' he didn't doubt that he'd be having some serious neck problems.
Maybe one day that shop thing would open and he'd be able to buy small stuff like that. It shouldn't be too expensive, right?
C3
Things didn't really change after the Instance Dungeon. Every one of Jin-Woo's stats had jumped up with at least sixteen points as a result of his level rising so much, but that was really it. Aside from that, everything was the same. Jin-Woo woke up, completed the daily quest, got something from the mystery box that he needed (a lunchbox, a bag of chips, a hoodie, a deck of cards, a book, a bag of candies—among others), explored the chamber, bowed to the god statue and fumbled through more songs than he wanted to count.
The routine of it all was the most terrifying part. Somehow, while Jin-Woo wasn't paying attention, it had all become so mundane. Everything had it's place, everything happened in order. There was no variation. It felt like he was in a time loop, all the days blending into each other.
What was there to do here? He was grateful for the card deck, it at least kept his mind occupied. With time, completing the daily quest became easier and easier, and he had more and more free time with nothing to occupy his mind. It was kind of bewildering, that the mystery box had recognized the need for mental stimulation.
The boredom was always slow and agonizing when it came.
But—there was nothing he could do about it.
"Go fish," he told the god statue, who didn't move a muscle in response. Jin-Woo was almost starting to think that it had been frozen like that, that it could no longer move now when the Dungeon had closed. Maybe it had all been his imagination, from the very beginning.
But also, he was bored out of his mind.
He stretched out and took a card to place on the pile that belonged to the god statue. Then he looked at his own cards, frowning. "Do you have any eights?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He deepened his voice as he answered himself, "Go fish, peasant."
It felt like something a murderous god would say. Or maybe it would say, "Go fish, ant." Yeah, that seemed to fit better.
He went fishing. He found an eight! Then it was the god statue's turn; "I demand your kings, ant."
Honestly, if it wasn't for his boredom blanketing him like a shield, he probably would have died from embarrassment two days ago, when he got the card deck and started doing this. The god statue was still staring, after all, ever watchful. Even though he was all the way back in his little corner, every time he glanced up, he would see those eyes just looking.
A/N: And that's where I stopped! We'll see if I ever finish that rewrite XD
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quillpunk
