Live Dungeon!

The moment Tsutomu realized that the battle on the hundredth layer had reached a stalemate, the trauma he had long buried deep within, of being slain by the Corroded Elder Drago, burst forth all at once. It was a terror so overwhelming that it drove him to abandon comrades he had fought alongside for nearly a year. The moment he became aware of his own impending death, he began subtly shifting his movements to avoid drawing the Corroded Elder Dragon’s aggro.

And just before the Dragon’s brain finished regenerating, he fled, driven not by strategy but by sheer desperation to preserve his own life. He had dampened his aggro in advance to avoid becoming a target and even manipulated the God Eye itself to deceive the watching Clan members on the other side of the screen. It was a sly, calculated move, made not from courage but cowardice.

Though the God Eye had failed to capture Tsutomu’s escape, he had, in reality, fled the Ancient Castle’s arena alone, stumbling again and again, pressing his hands over his mouth to muffle the screams that terror clawed from his throat. And once he reached the deeper recesses, he cowered in silence, trembling, unable to act or even breathe too loudly for fear of being found.

Because he had vanished before the Corroded Elder Dragon’s brain had completed its regeneration, the monster never recognized him as a Healer. And with the undead-turned Amy and Garm focusing their aggression on those attacking the Dragon’s organs, Tsutomu had no fear of drawing aggro as long as he refrained from using skills.

So he did nothing, keeping himself curled up in a narrow gap within the Ancient Castle like a larva in its cocoon, unmoving and unresisting, letting time tick by uselessly. While he hid, Daryl and Amira died, and the Corroded Elder Dragon completed its regeneration. The longer he remained tucked away, the heavier the weight of reality pressed against him… until eventually, his spirit broke.

[…Dammit, I gotta pee…]

Four hours into his retreat, Tsutomu was struck not by an enemy attack, but by a mundane urge to urinate. And strangely enough, that mere biological need chipped away at the absolute terror that had consumed him. As his awareness returned to bodily discomfort, his mind found space to think and breathe again.

More time passed. He distracted himself with pointless thoughts, forcing his attention to anything but the fear. When he finally peeked outside his hiding place and confirmed he still was not being hunted, he relieved himself quietly and returned to his dark corner, inching about every so often in total silence.

[Whoever tuned the Corroded Elder Dragon like this deserves a punch to the throat. If it’s that same goddamn guy who summoned me to this world, then yeah, I’m never forgiving him. What a garbage update. The game’s second dev team handled balance better than this.]

By the time half a day had passed, Tsutomu had grown numb to death. The raw, visceral fear had dulled, replaced now with seething hatred toward whoever had brought this version of the Corroded Elder Dragon into being. His fury was directed not at the monster itself, but at the unseen hand behind it: the so-called God of this Dungeon.

Humans, after all, were creatures of adaptation. Whether for better or worse, they grew accustomed to their circumstances. Even Live Dungeon, a game he had once played with feverish obsession, had eventually grown tiresome with time. Fear, too, no matter how suffocating, could only last so long.

[I mean, I’ll revive even if I die. Yeah, it’ll hurt, but… whatever.]

Besides, Tsutomu had already died once; death held no mystery for him anymore. Had he never experienced it, he might still be curled up, paralyzed by the unknown. But he knew he would be back.

For Explorers of God’s Dungeon, death was no different from an injury. What mattered was not whether he died, but whether he had the will to rise again and face it all over.

[Still, I’ve probably already been exposed as the guy who ditched the party. I’ll have to bring back some kind of result, or things are going to get ugly. Guess I’ll poke around the Ancient Castle for now…]

Even though he had gained resistance to death’s terror, that did not mean he’d gained the courage to face it head-on. He knew, logically, that the best course of action was to go out and die now, so that he would revive and get to try again from the start of the fight. But that was a step he could not force himself to take.

And so, rather than emerge to face the Corroded Elder Dragon, Tsutomu opted instead to wander the castle’s interior. Yet another aimless form of escapism.

[Well, it’s not like there’s anything in here worth finding. Korinna and the others already combed through this place…]

In Live Dungeon, the actual Ancient Castle had been nothing more than a backdrop, static and never accessible to players. Korinna’s group’s earlier sweep had not revealed any mechanisms or secrets either. He had vaguely hoped his original equipment, which he’d lost upon his first death, might have dropped in a chest somewhere nearby, but no such luck.

[How long has it been now, anyway? It sucks not knowing the time… If I remember right, the black snow starts to fall after around twenty-three hours in the Dungeon, but… hell, there’s no way I’m getting any sleep right now. Looks like it’s going to be an all-nighter.]

Normally, he would have an intuitive sense of time from years of gaming and Dungeon crawling, but the panic had scrambled everything. He no longer knew how long he had been in here. All he could do now was wait for the black snow, the final warning before the Dungeon’s reset, to estimate the hours. Sleeping was not an option.

The God’s Dungeon imposed an immutable rule: once an Explorer entered, they could remain inside for no more than twenty-four hours. After that limit passed, an inescapable black, snow-like mass descended from the skies, piling onto loiterers without mercy. It made no difference if one dug into the ground or fled beneath the sea. When time was up, the black mass came and killed them. It was less a failsafe than a mechanical purge, rotating stale footage out of the Monitors’ broadcast lineup. It only affected Explorers, too; monsters were free to carry on their merry way.

Tsutomu had heard of this from fellow Explorers, and he had seen it firsthand on Melchor’s Monitor during his attempt on the eightieth layer. He knew that the black ‘snow’ that began to fall around the twenty-third hour mark was a sign of the looming end. As long as he did not sleep too deeply, he could avoid being crushed without even realizing it.

With that knowledge in mind, he reached into his Magic Bag and drew out a pair of binoculars. Then, crouched within the shadowed ruins of the Ancient Castle, he peered outward.

[Undead Garm and undead Amy are getting along for some reason, and the Corroded Elder Dragon’s already fully restored. Great… It’s even floating now, surrounded by those blood weapons. That twisted aura… yeah, no way it’s safe to assume this thing works as it did in Live Dungeon. That version was tame compared to this. But wait… at least Daryl and Amira haven’t been turned undead. That’s something, I guess? Must mean they were killed before it finished regenerating all its parts. Probably those blood-based attacks that did it. Get hit by those, and it converts you.]

Out in the distance, Garm and Amy looked to be engaging in a lighthearted mock battle, where a bunch of ‘tee-hees’ would’ve been an appropriate sound effect if he were to draw it in a comic strip. It was enough to make Tsutomu wish their living counterparts had been half as coordinated.

And behind them loomed the Corroded Elder Dragon, except it no longer resembled the creature he remembered. It was now an overdesigned boss monster, like the ones from the remade Secret Dungeon or style-over-substance mobile games… grotesque and magnificent in equal measure.

Just getting targeted by the Undead Amy would be enough to end him in under a minute. Standing alone against that abomination, now seemingly upgraded with every conceivable gimmick, was laughable. Even the Dream Team, full of unique skill-wielding veteran Explorers, would not stand a chance. In fact, Tsutomu felt confident no one could defeat it. Not like this.

It was the sort of despair that should have shattered his resolve all over again. But instead of falling into a pit of self-loathing, Tsutomu calmly stowed the binoculars, rested a hand on his chin, and began pacing as he thought.

[This thing is nothing but amateurish garbage. Who the hell balanced this? If the hundredth layer is already like this, what are they planning for the Secret Dungeon Bosses? Keep adding more powerful gear to loot? Yeah, do that, and the power creep’s going to kick every newbie straight out the door. This isn’t a pay-to-win gacha game, God dammit. There’s not even a monetization plan, so why the hell wouldn’t you prioritize balance? Even if the hundredth layer was supposed to be the final one, this design is beyond absurd. Seriously… no [, allies turning Undead, organs randomly regenerating? Taking away the resurrection mechanic from Explorers and giving it to the monsters instead… you realize you’ve just invalidated everything players have been working toward? This is worse than that shitty publisher that turned Live Dungeon into a cash cow after the studio got bought out. This isn’t just bad, it’s insulting! If I had my old friends around, we’d be rioting right now!]

Even in a situation this hopeless, Tsutomu did not turn back or shut down. The reason he kept walking, even now, was because his hatred burned hotter than his fear. He was furious, not at the Corroded Elder Dragon, but at the divine hand behind it, the so-called ‘God’ who had butchered its design.

The way the monster stared through him, full of intent to kill, was eerily reminiscent of the feelings Tsutomu had once harbored toward the second team of Live Dungeon developers when they started ruining everything he had loved. As he wandered deeper into the Ancient Castle, he glared up at the ceiling, his eyes filled with the same loathing he’d worn back then.

[Don’t think for a second I’ll let it end like this, you worthless God.]

That anger, that sense of betrayal, was his fuel. He had devoted so much of his time, his heart, to Live Dungeon only for it to be ruined. And now, in this world that mirrored that same game, he felt that same injustice all over again.

▽▽

It had been twenty-three hours since Tsutomu entered the hundredth layer, and fifty-six minutes had passed since the Ancient Castle of Oblivion had begun to snow black, an omen heralding the Dungeon’s reset. The countdown to inescapable death, heralded by the descent of the crushing black mass from the sky, drew ever closer. And the first to move was not a person, but the God Eye.

“…?”

Before the undead Amy, the God Eye began to drift lazily through the air. Tilting her head with the same girlish mannerisms the real her possessed, she reached out to touch it. But the Eye darted away as if sensing her intent, flitting from side to side like it was performing a taunting game of shuttle runs. Then, it retreated further into the open arena.

“…!!”

Whether out of instinct or some lingering battle lust, Amy gave chase. At the same time, Tsutomu emerged quietly from the castle’s shadows and began creeping toward the Corroded Elder Dragon, taking care not to draw its notice.

If it came to a straight fight with Amy, whose physical capabilities far exceeded his own, Tsutomu would not last three moves. Using skills might have helped even the odds, but any such activation would immediately draw aggro from both Garm and the Dragon. That, too, was not an option.

And so, he used the God Eye like a cat toy, baiting Amy away. It might only buy him a sliver of time, perhaps nothing at all once he activated his first skill, but he would make use of any tool at his disposal.

There was no longer a path to retreat; the black snow falling from the sky made that abundantly clear. Now, the only course left to him was to gamble everything on the sliver of possibility that remained, so that he may defy the foolish balance of this world using everything he had built here and all the knowledge he had forged with his friends in Live Dungeon.

“…They really HAD to make it look this creepy, huh…”

Tsutomu muttered this with a trembling voice as he stared up at the black veil that would, in precisely one minute and twenty seconds, crush him like an ant under God’s heel. His Magic Bag was no longer with him; he had left it behind in the Ancient Castle, along with valuable potions and equipment. His affairs, in a sense, were already in order.

Now he wore a peculiar combination of replacement gear that split his body into stark halves of black and white.

“[!”

He chanted the skill, just in case, hoping against hope… but it fizzled in silence. There was no target to revive. He had not set up a Dumpling-style [ for himself, having deemed it unviable. After one steadying breath, Tsutomu raised his staff.

“[! [! [! [!”

Each [, capable of fully restoring a single target, was wrapped in a [ and set aside for later. The moment he completed the sequence, every target on the field registered his skill activations. The entire battlefield turned to him.

“…[…”

Garm wasted no time, sending his shield whirling through the air. The Corroded Elder Dragon let out a guttural roar, sending a storm of blood weapons streaking toward Tsutomu in a deadly volley.

“[!”

He shielded his left flank with a holy-elemental skill and clutched the [ dumplings under one arm as he ascended with [. He narrowly avoided a fatal blow to the head, but his thigh and torso were riddled with blood spears. The force of impact hurled him through the air, and his right leg exploded into a spray of torn flesh.

“…[…!”

By the time he hit the ground, Tsutomu’s body was full of holes, and the shimmer of a death verdict had begun to manifest around him. But at that very moment, one of the [ dumplings shattered and activated. His life, teetering on the brink, was pulled back just in time. His form remained intact, suspended between life and death.

[ was rarely used due to the aggro it generated, but its effect was absolute. With one cast, a person could be restored from death’s doorstep. Tsutomu, mortally wounded just seconds ago, now stood whole again… though his right leg no longer responded.

The limb had turned an ashen gray, drained of the healthy flush of life. Though the death verdict had not fully taken him, it had been enough to trigger the undead transformation. The flesh that had been restored by [ was now corrupted, bearing the mark of death.

His left side, in contrast, remained untouched. That was thanks to the holy-elemental gear he had worn in preparation, and the [ skill he had cast in advance. Tsutomu realized this just as a massive tower shield came hurtling toward him. He dodged clumsily on one leg, only to find Garm, eyes blazing with murderous intent, closing the distance. Meanwhile, Amy returned from her chase with the God Eye in hand.

“[!”

Before Amy could slash at him with her dual blades, Tsutomu conjured a [ with a great deal of mental energy. It manifested in Amy’s path, causing her to slam face-first into it like a bird into a pane of glass.

Garm, undeterred, caught his returning shield and charged, smashing his way right through the [.

“[!”

Unlike in fights against people, Tsutomu no longer hesitated to unleash his full power on monsters. He poured every ounce of his mental energy into roaring waves of wind, directing them at Garm. The barrage knocked him back… and sent Tsutomu retreating with the recoil.

Amy, still reeling from her crash, recovered fast. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled one of her blades. It sang through the air like an arrow from a bow and drove straight into Tsutomu’s midsection. As she rushed in to follow up, Garm arrived just a step behind.

But before either could reach him, the black mass descended.

The crushing finality of the Dungeon descended like a divine guillotine. Tsutomu, his mind already fogged by the encroaching undead corruption reaching his right brain, extended his left hand skyward with all the will he had left.

The black mass met him without mercy. It swallowed his hand first, then began to compress it, slowly and inexorably, as if crushed beneath a road roller.

[I have to… pull through…!]

He screamed the words in his mind, ignoring the pain, focusing every thought into the act of defiance, burning with fury until his vision turned pitch black.