Kana pulled the black cloak tighter around her shoulders, the fabric still a bit uneven where she’d cut it down to fit. It wasn’t perfect, but it blended well enough in the dark.
The village slept under a blanket of silence. Only a few houses had torches burning outside—those rare homes with enough coin to afford nightly illumination. The rest were shadows. Occasionally, a patrol guard trudged through the narrow paths between homes, boots heavy on packed earth.
Kana moved low, careful not to let her cloak rustle. The west side of the village had what she needed—a small hole in the wooden palisade, just large enough for someone her size. She suspected it had been made years ago, probably by some reckless children who wanted to see what lay beyond the boundaries.
She slid through with practiced ease.
Outside the walls, she paused, listening. No shouts. No movement. Just the whisper of wind in the grass and the distant chirp of night insects.
She exhaled slowly. Her mother would still be asleep. But she had to return by dawn. Her mother rose with the sun—always had. The walk to the dungeon took minutes. It wasn’t far, located behind the mountain like a forgotten secret. A low-level bronze site. Practically abandoned.
And then she saw it—
The entrance glowed faintly in the dark, a circular opening in the mountainside rimmed in soft, pulsing blue. It looked almost like a wound in the stone, or a gateway into another world.
Kana stopped just short of the entrance and did a last check. A small kitchen knife rested in a sheath she'd stitched into her belt. In her hands, she held the training bow she’d borrowed weeks ago. Ten arrows. Basic stuff. Not made for dungeon-crawling. But she wasn’t here to fight. Not really.
One or two clean shots. Then she’d be out.
This was about testing the waters.
She inhaled once, held it, and stepped toward the light.
…….
There was one thing that set dungeon monsters apart from those on the continent: they were often humanoid—infinitely respawning, sustained by the will of the dungeon core.
Kana crouched low just inside the glowing entrance, blinking as darkness swallowed her. The light from outside vanished almost instantly, leaving her blind. But slowly, something changed. Her eyes adjusted—not just to shadows, but to detail. The stone walls came into focus, jagged and damp, and the faint shimmer of the dungeon’s mana etched faint patterns into the floor.
A sound snapped her to attention—foreign, guttural speech echoing softly down the corridor.
She froze.
Three of them. Maybe ten meters ahead, perhaps a bit more. Small, hunched silhouettes. One of them carried a flickering torch, casting light that danced and distorted their movements.
Goblins!
Kana didn’t move. They hadn’t seen her. The torch told her they couldn’t see well in this dark—unlike her. That was her advantage.
Quietly, deliberately, she reached for an arrow. The bowstring stretched under her fingers as she nocked it and pulled. The target: the goblin with the torch.
The arrow flew. A short whistle, then a dull thud as it sank into the creature’s skull. It dropped soundlessly.
Then came a voice. Not spoken aloud, but inside her mind—crisp, cold, mechanical.
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“You have reached Level 2.”
Kana flinched. The voice spoke in perfect English—a strange tongue she’d only understood at least on what she knew. Most people wouldn’t have understood a word of it or else why would they abandon the bronze dungeons when it was the perfect way to level up especially for new awakens.
The remaining two goblins startled, eyes scanning the dark. One reached down, picked up the fallen torch, confused and alert. Kana was already drawing another arrow.
Another whisper through the air. Another goblin collapsed, twitching once before lying still.
“You have reached Level 3.”
Panic surged through the last goblin. It didn’t pick up the torch and just bolted into the darkness, shrieking in its harsh tongue.
No. Kana couldn’t let it alert others.
She could feel the fatigue in her arms—she could only manage four arrows before her stamina gave out, but three? She could do three.
This time, she stood. Drew deeper. More tension in the bowstring. The goblin was far now—too far for her usual pull in the bowstring.
She loosed.
The arrow shrieked through the dungeon, the release snapping with a sharp twack. The bowstring split in two, breaking under the strain.
But the arrow hit. Not the head—but deep in the torso. The goblin screamed once, then crumpled.
Kana waited for the voice.
Nothing.
No level-up.
She exhaled slowly. That was enough for tonight.
She turned without hesitation and made her way back to the glowing entrance. Her breath came steady, her body more alert than tired. Strange. She’d expected more exhaustion. But instead… she felt sharper. Lighter.
Her first dungeon run. Quiet. Clean.
A success. Or so she thought.
…….
“Kana, wake up!”
Her mother’s voice cut through the haze of Kana’s sleep like a spear through fog. “Didn’t you say you’d start jogging every morning? Or are you skipping already?”
Kana groaned, eyes barely opening.
“Ayt,” she mumbled into her pillow.
“Breakfast on the table,” her mother called from the other room. “I’ll be late today. You can have dinner at Suri.”
Kana nodded absently, even though her mother couldn’t see her. The door shut behind her soon after, footsteps fading into the village road.
Kana stayed curled in bed a little longer, letting her thoughts drift. Her body ached faintly—more like laziness than true pain. She’d expected worse after her first dungeon crawl. But instead, she felt… sharper. Cleaner. As if her muscles had filed themselves into something new overnight.
She dragged herself out of bed, washed her face with cool water, then sat down at the table. A mug of warm milk and some fresh bread waited for her. Her mother never forgot the small things.
Ever since Kana had passed the village chief’s literacy exam, her mother had become more involved with teaching than farming. She’d glowed with pride when Kana read her first passage aloud a few months back after her mother confirmed that she could read probably the youngest in the history of the village. Now, Kana’s mother went to almost half the village’s adults and even children for lessons.
Kana bit into a loaf and thought, Status.
A translucent screen appeared in her mind, familiar now.
[Name: Kana]
[Level: 3]
[Title: Incomplete Transcender]
[Stats:]
Str: 7 Agi: 14 Int: 12 HP: 18/18 Mana: 30/30
[Skills:]
[Marksmanship] – Level 1
[Awareness] – Level 1
Her eyes narrowed. Marksmanship and Awareness—both still at level 1. No change there. But her stats had risen. She remembered her agility being lower. So dungeon combat affected base growth too.
Kana frowned thoughtfully. So skills don’t level just by winning fights. Maybe... usage matters.
How do I grow them?
She finished the last of her milk in silence, thoughts racing. She needed more testing. More experience.
Tonight, if the patrol paths stayed the same… she could go again. Perhaps she could try to fire more than four arrows.
Then Kana remembered. My bow.. It’s broken.
