Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

”...What?”

”I said, I’m putting together a team, and I think you might be exactly what we’re looking for. Are you looking for a better job?” Adom repeated, still leaning on the counter.

The girl stared at him like he’d suggested they should juggle the oranges while riding unicycles. She glanced at his relaxed posture, then at Sam who was trying very hard to look anywhere else.

Adom smiled, eyebrows rising slowly, then falling, then rising again in what he probably thought was a convincing manner.

”Please stop doing that with your eyebrows,” the girl said flatly.

”That was my attempt to convince you,” Adom said. ”Is it working?”

”No.”

”Adom,” Sam muttered, tugging at his friend’s sleeve. ”Maybe we should-”

”What if I did it again?” Adom’s eyebrows began their dance once more.

”Then I’ll have to charge you for the entertainment,” the girl said, making a show of reaching for her notebook. ”Let’s see... eyebrow gymnastics... that’ll be two silvers per movement.”

Oh? She has a sense of humor. Adom thought.

Sam was now actively trying to drag Adom away. ”I am so sorry about this. He’s usually more... well, no, he’s actually exactly like this. But we should go. Now.”

”Wait,” Adom resisted Sam’s pulling. ”I haven’t even told her about the porter position yet.”

”Porter?” The girl’s hand paused over her notebook. ”You’re recruiting for a dungeon team?”

”Yes!” Sam said, momentarily forgetting his embarrassment. ”We need-”

”No.” She went back to arranging oranges.

”But-” Adom started.

”No.”

”You haven’t even-”

”Still no.”

”The pay is-”

”Is it better than dying in a dungeon? Because that’s what happens to porters. They die. Usually first.” She picked up a bruised orange, examined it, set it aside. ”I like being alive. It’s a habit I’ve developed.”

Adom didn’t know this girl personally, but he knew the type - practical, direct, someone who calculated everything down to the last copper. The kind who wouldn’t be swayed by charm or excitement, but by solid numbers and clear benefits.

”Five gold coins per day,” he said suddenly. ”Through the seventh day. All gear and food provided. Plus five percent of the loot.”

The orange she was examining slipped from her fingers. She caught it before it hit the counter, but her eyes had sharpened, really looking at him for the first time.

Got your attention now, Adom thought.

”You’re serious?” she asked.

”Of course.”

By his estimate, she made maybe two silvers a day here - decent pay for market work, but nothing spectacular. His offer would net her more in a week than she’d make in three months at this stall. And if the dive went well, that five percent could be significant.

”You’re kids,” she said flatly. ”And this is for the adventurer exam. Which means you’re novices.”

Sam flinched.

”Ten gold per day,” she countered. ”Ten percent of loot. And I want it in writing.”

”Six gold, six percent,” Adom replied without hesitation. ”And of course it’ll be in writing. We have guild-approved contracts.”

”Nine gold, nine percent. And I want healing covered too, not just basic supplies.”

”Seven gold, seven percent. Full coverage on healing, supplies, and any specialized equipment you need for the porter role.”

She tapped her fingers on the counter. ”Eight gold, eight percent, plus a bonus if we clear the dungeon in under five days.”

”Seven and a half gold, seven percent, with a two-gold bonus per day saved under seven days,” Adom countered. ”And we’ll throw in porter certification training at the guild - that’s usually two gold just for the classes.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly. She was doing the math in her head - Adom could practically see the numbers spinning behind her eyes.

”The certification stays valid even if I decide not to continue with your team after the exam?”

”Yes.”

”And the payment starts from today? Including training days?”

Look at this little....

”Payment starts from dungeon entry,” Adom corrected. ”Training days aren’t included.”

She snorted. ”So you want me to train for free?”

”Uh...we’re all training for free,” Sam pointed out. ”That’s what being an exam-taker means.”

”You’re students. I’m giving up a paying job.”

”And you’ll make more in seven days than you do in three months here,” Adom said. ”Plus certification, which opens up better positions even if you decide not to stick with dungeon diving.”

She looked between them, then at her employer who was pretending not to listen.

”Five silver per training day,” she countered. ”To cover basic living expenses until we enter.”

”Two silver.”

”Four.”

”Three silver, and we’ll cover lunch during training days.”

She did that thing again - the mental math happening visibly behind her eyes. Three silver was still probably more than she made here, and free lunch meant one less expense...

She drummed her fingers on the counter once more, then pulled out her notebook and started writing. ”Seven and a half gold per day, starting from dungeon entry. Seven percent of all loot, distributed after guild assessment. Two gold bonus per day if we complete before the seven-day mark. Full coverage of equipment, supplies, and healing. Porter certification included.”

The girl turned her notebook around. ”Sign here if those terms are correct.”

”That’s... not actually a legal contract,” Sam pointed out.

”No,” she agreed. ”But it’s proof of verbal agreement until we sign the guild papers. I assume you have those ready?”

”We do,” Adom said. ”At our meeting room in the guild hall.”

”Good.” She turned to the heavyset woman who was still pretending not to listen from behind the crates. ”I quit.”

”You what?” the woman sputtered.

”I quit. Here’s my record book, everything’s balanced through this morning. My pay can wait until tomorrow - I know you’ll need time to verify the numbers.”

She turned back to Adom and Sam. ”Lead the way. And stop doing that thing with your eyebrows please.”

”What’s your name, at least?” Adom asked as they walked toward the guild.

”Cassandra.”

”I’m Adom.”

”I know.”

”And this is Sam,” Adom said, gesturing to his friend.

Sam waved. ”Hope we get along in the days to come.”

Cassandra waved back, a small motion that somehow managed to be both polite and reserved. ”I hope so too. It would be awkward to die while not getting along.”

The guild was quieter now, most exam-takers either in training or out searching for teams like they had been. The contracts were standard issue - porter certification requirements, payment terms, team responsibilities. Cassandra read every line carefully, occasionally making notes in her book.

The individual porter test was surprisingly quick. Basic inventory management, dispute resolution scenarios, resource allocation under pressure. She passed easily, probably could have done it in her sleep.

”Well,” Cassandra said after they’d all signed the final papers. ”I guess we’re stuck with each other now.”

”I suppose we are,” Adom agreed, also standing.

They looked at each other for a moment, measuring. Employer and employee? Teammates? Some weird mix of both? The relationship wasn’t quite defined yet, wouldn’t be until they were actually in the dungeon, trusting each other with their lives.

She extended her hand first. Market-worker’s hands, Adom noticed as he took it. Callused from crates and barrels, probably, but clean and precise in their movement.

Sam’s handshake with her was briefer, more nervous. He was still processing everything that had happened since morning. From buying oranges to having a full team - well, almost full team. Still needed that tank.

”First team meeting is in three days,” Adom said. ”We’ll send the details through the guild messenger.”

Cassandra simply nodded, gathered her things - notebook, pen, copies of the contracts - and left.

The room felt different without her. Emptier.

Sam waited until he was absolutely sure she was gone. He’d been visibly holding this question in for hours, trying to be professional, trying not to worry. But now...

”So...” he started, then stopped. Started again. ”Look, I tried not to ask earlier, because you usually have your reasons for things, but...” He took a breath. ”Where exactly are you going to get all this gold from? Because that’s... that’s a lot of money, Adom. Like, a lot lot.”

Adom hesitated. The question he’d been dreading since making the offer. He looked at Sam. His best friend, the guy who’d stuck with him through everything, who never asked too many questions about certain things that probably needed questioning.

Maybe it was time.

”Sam.”

”Yeah?”

”Follow me.”

The cave wasn’t exactly a secret. Not really. People stumbled upon treasure sometimes - rare, but not unheard of. Sam would probably accept that explanation without pushing too hard. And having someone else know... well, it would take some weight off. Just in case something happened again. Just in case Sam needed to do something with this information.

Better to have someone know. Someone he trusted.

”Where are we going?” Sam asked as they left the guild.

”To see about some gold.”

*****

”Holy fuc-”

”Language.”

”Holy shit.” Sam wandered deeper into the cave, his torch light dancing across mountains of coins, jewelry, and precious artifacts. ”You’re rich!”

”That’s exactly what I said when I found all this.”

”No, like, you’re extremely rich. Little-nation kind of rich!” Sam picked up a golden chalice, studied it, then carefully set it back down. ”How did you even... when did you...”

Adom leaned against a relatively treasure-free section of wall. ”Remember that day I missed training? When I said I was going hunting?”

”Yeah?”

”Well, I did go hunting. Just... ended up finding something different.” He gestured at the vast collection. ”Stumbled right into it while tracking a... deer.”

Sam was barely listening, still taking in the scope of it all. ”This isn’t just random treasure,” he said, picking up what looked like a ceremonial dagger. ”This is... organized. Catalogued.”

”Yeah.” Adom kept his voice carefully neutral. ”Someone stored all this here. A long time ago, probably.”

”And just... left it?”

Adom shrugged. ”Maybe they died. Maybe they forgot about it. Maybe they’re coming back for it someday.”

Sam put the dagger down and turned to his friend. ”And you haven’t told anyone?”

”Just you. Now. And Bob. Bob knows.”

”Bob?” Sam frowned. ”How did Bob know?”

”Met him here, actually. He was trapped in the cave.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. ”You found... a leprechaun... trapped in a cave full of gold.”

”Okay. I see what you are implying. That’s stereotypical.”

”But he was in it.”

Adom chuckled. ”I’ll tell him you said that when he gets back from his travels.”

”His travels?”

”Yeah, something about visiting his cousin in the northern forests. Said he needed a break from all the ’humans giving him a headache.’” Adom’s impression of Bob’s accent was terrible. ”Should be back in a few weeks.”

”Huh.” Sam picked up another coin, then set it down carefully. ”So what’s the plan? Besides paying our porter an absolutely ridiculous salary?”

”First?” Adom straightened up. ”We get some of this gold out. We can talk about the rest later.”

”Why tell me now, though?” Sam asked, still processing everything. ”You’ve had this for months. Why today?”

Adom was quiet for a moment. ”Few reasons, actually.” He gestured at the organized piles. ”Your family’s been in trade for generations. I figured if anyone would know how to handle this kind of wealth properly, it’d be you.”

”You want advice on how to invest it?”

”That, and...” Adom picked up a coin, then let it fall back into the pile. ”If something happens and I can’t access this place, I need someone who knows how things work. Someone who can help move things quietly, set up the right connections. Someone I trust.”

For a moment, Adom almost said more. The words sat on the tip of his tongue – about the future he’d seen, about everything he’d lived through and come back to prevent. Sam deserved to know. After everything they’d been through, especially after Xerkes, Sam had proven his loyalty a hundred times over.

But something held him back. It wasn’t about trust – it was about readiness. His own readiness. He’d told his parents out of necessity, because he’d needed their support at a critical moment. This was different. This was a choice, not a crisis.

Not yet, he told himself. Soon, but not yet.

He promised himself he would tell Sam everything eventually. Sit him down properly, when they weren’t standing in a cave full of treasure with a thousand other things to process. Sam deserved the full story, and Adom wanted to give it to him – when he felt ready to open that door, to share that burden.

This story originates from NovelFire. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Sam sat down on a clear patch of ground, running a hand through his hair.

”You’re... awfully quiet.”

”I’ll help,” he said finally. ”And obviously I’ll keep quiet about it. Just...” He gestured at the vast collection around them. ”I’ve seen what happens when people find even a fraction of this much wealth. And you’ve just been sitting on it for months?”

”Well, yeah. Needed time to think.”

”And Bob being here probably helped keep it safe too, huh?”

”The leprechaun jokes aren’t getting old anytime soon, are they?”

”Not even a little bit.” Sam stood up, brushing off his pants. ”Alright, so where do we start?”

*****

3 days later...

The first team meeting was held in one of the guild’s smaller rooms - the same one where they’d interviewed Cassandra. The table was too big for four people, making the empty chair for their yet-to-be-found tank feel particularly obvious.

”Right,” Adom said, spreading out several papers. ”Let’s talk logistics.”

Yann sat with his back to the wall, his massive frame making the guild chair creak ominously. Cassandra had her notebook ready, pen hovering over a fresh page. Sam was trying to balance a pencil on his nose.

”First, equipment,” Adom continued. ”Sam and I have our gear covered by Xerkes. Standard student package - basic armor, weapons, utility items.”

”Plus whatever special stuff you’ve got hidden away,” Sam added, catching the pencil before it fell.

Adom ignored that. ”Yann?”

”Got my own healing kit,” the big man said. ”Standard field medic gear, plus some extras from my army days. Could use some armor though - left most of mine up north.”

Cassandra was writing everything down. ”What about consumables? Potions, scrolls, emergency supplies?”

”That’s where you come in,” Adom said. ”We need a complete inventory of what everyone’s bringing, what we need to buy, and what we can expect to find in the dungeon.”

”Already started a list.” She flipped to another page. ”But we should discuss percentages first. Makes budget planning easier.”

Sam stopped playing with his pencil. ”Percentages?”

”Loot distribution,” she explained. ”Who gets what portion of what we find. Needs to be clear before we go in, prevents arguments later.”

”Seven percent to our porter,” Adom said. ”That’s already in the contract.”

”And healing costs come out first,” Yann added. ”Standard practice.”

Cassandra nodded, writing. ”So after healing costs and porter’s share... equal split of the remainder?”

”Actually,” Sam straightened up, ”maybe we should weight it? You know, based on who does what?”

”Like higher share for more kills?” Yann asked.

”No, more like... role importance? Healers keep us alive, they should get more.”

”That’s...” Yann started.

”A terrible idea,” Cassandra cut in. ”No offense, but that just encourages people to argue about whose role matters more. Equal splits mean everyone works together.”

”She’s right,” Adom said. ”After costs and porter’s share, we split everything equally. Simpler that way.”

They spent the next hour going through equipment lists, planning supply runs, and mapping out training schedules. Cassandra’s notebook filled with neat columns of numbers and notes.

”There’s just one problem,” she said finally. ”All these plans assume we have a tank. We don’t.”

Sam slumped in his chair. ”We’ve interviewed like twenty people. Nobody’s good enough.”

”Actually,” Adom set down his papers, ”I might know someone.”

”Might?” Sam raised an eyebrow. ”Since when?”

”Since yesterday. They’re... experienced.”

”How experienced?” Yann asked.

”Very.” Adom stood up. ”Want to meet them?”

”Now?” Cassandra asked, checking her notebook. ”We haven’t finished the supply calculations-”

”Trust me,” Adom walked to the door. ”This is worth interrupting for.”

He stuck his head out into the hallway. ”You can come in now.”

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Not the usual clank of plate armor, but something... different. More deliberate. Mechanical, almost, if you listened closely enough.

The first thing they saw was the shield - a massive tower shield that seemed to fill the doorway. It was beautiful work, the kind of craftsmanship that made even Cassandra stop writing in her notebook. Dark metal with geometric patterns that seemed to shift as it moved, catching the light in impossible ways. The edge was lined with what looked like runes, but they weren’t any standard protection patterns.

Then the shield’s owner ducked through the doorway, and the room went quiet.

Two meters of perfectly articulated armor stood before them. Not the usual adventurer’s gear - this was custom work, every joint and plate fitted with precision. The right arm gleamed newer than the rest, the metal work slightly different but matched so carefully you’d only notice if you were looking for it.

”Everyone,” Adom said casually, like he hadn’t just introduced a walking fortress into their meeting, ”meet John Smith.”

Sam choked on air. ”John... Smith?”

The armored figure nodded once. A very precise, measured movement.

”He’s mute,” Adom explained. ”Had an accident some time ago. But he passed his individual exam yesterday, and his combat scores were excellent.”

Yann stood up slowly, his chair creaking in relief. Even at his impressive height, he was eye-level with... John Smith.

He studied the armor with a professional eye. ”Custom work,” he said. ”Not standard guild issue. Northern style?”

Another nod.

”Interesting.” Cassandra was writing again. ”Most tanks from the north prefer lighter armor. More mobility in the snow.”

The armored head turned toward her. Another precise nod.

”He adapts,” Adom said. ”And he’s available for the exam period.”

Sam was still stuck on the name. ”John... Smith? Really?”

”Is there something wrong with the name?” Adom asked innocently.

”No, no, it’s just...” Sam waved his hands vaguely. ”Very... bland?”

”Some would say practical,” Cassandra commented, still writing. ”Easy to remember, hard to mistake for anyone else.”

The golem - though none of them knew that’s what it was - moved to the empty chair. It didn’t sit so much as arrange itself. The shield settled against the wall with a soft thud.

”So,” Yann said, studying their potential tank. ”You’ve done this before? Dungeon diving?”

A pause, then a single nod.

”Not very talkative, is he?” Sam whispered to Adom.

”He’s mute, Sam.”

”Right, right, but... hand signals? Writing?”

”Prefers to keep things simple,” Adom said. ”Less chance of miscommunication in combat that way.”

Cassandra had moved on to a new page in her notebook. ”We should test compatibility. Basic drills, movement patterns, response times.”

”Agreed,” Yann said. ”Need to see how we all work together before committing.”

The golem - John - turned its head toward Adom, waiting.

”He’s fine with that,” Adom translated. ”When do we start?”

What none of them knew was that Adom had spent five months working on the construct. Fili and Kern had worked miracles with the new arm, matching it perfectly to the original design. The armor wasn’t just for show - it was a carefully crafted disguise, hiding the true nature of what lay beneath.

And that name...

”John Smith,” Valiant had said, studying the golem. ”Has the face of a John Smith.”

”It doesn’t have a face,” Adom had pointed out.

”Exactly!”

And that was that. Sometimes the perfect name just found you.

The golem could pass for human because it was built to. Most people’s experience with golems was limited to jerky movements, basic commands, obvious mechanical nature. They’d never imagine a construct could move so naturally, so human-like. It was easier to believe this was just a quiet warrior in impressive armor than to suspect what it really was.

Valiant’s help with the paperwork had been crucial. The identity they’d crafted was perfect - just detailed enough to be believable, just vague enough to avoid too many questions. A mute tank from the north, traveling south for work? Common enough story.

”Tomorrow morning,” Cassandra said decisively. ”Training field three, before it gets crowded.”

”Works for me,” Yann agreed.

”Same,” Sam added, still eyeing their new teammate suspiciously.

John Smith nodded once more.

”Tomorrow morning it is,” Adom said, fighting back a smile.

*****

The next few weeks fell into a rhythm. Training field three became their regular spot, meeting every few days for basic drills. Nothing intense - just enough to learn each other’s patterns. John’s movements were methodical, predictable in a way that made coordination easy. Sam would complain it was too easy, until Yann reminded him that predictable was exactly what you wanted in a tank.

Adom mapped out the dungeon they’d be testing in, spreading his notes across their usual lunch table. ”This forest part here,” he’d point out, ”typical ambush spots.”

Lunch became a regular thing too. The guild’s cafeteria served decent food. John never ate, which probably should have raised questions, but Adom always had some excuse ready - special diet, ate earlier, fasting for training.

”You sure you don’t want anything?” Sam would ask, mouth full of bread.

John would shake his head.

”More for us,” Yann would say, already reaching for seconds.

They spent hours going over formations, signals, emergency procedures. Cassandra insisted on having backups for their backups. ”Because someone,” she’d glare at Sam, ”likes to improvise.”

”One time! That was one time!”

”The rope ladder incident counts as three times.”

The guild required all teams to register a name before their first official dive. That meeting ran long.

”The Shield Bearers,” Yann suggested.

”Boring,” Sam countered. ”How about The Nightwalkers?”

”That sounds like we’re thieves,” Cassandra said. ”The Strategic Unit?”

”Now who’s being boring?”

”The Silent Guardians?” Adom offered, glancing at John.

”Too dramatic.”

”The Dungeon Crawlers?”

”The Depth Delvers?”

”The Underground Squad?”

After two hours, they were no closer to deciding. John sat silently through it all, occasionally nodding or shaking his head at particularly good or bad suggestions.

”Look,” Sam finally said, slumping in his chair. ”We dive dungeons. That’s what we do. Why not just call ourselves The Dungeon Divers and be done with it?”

Everyone stared at him.

”That’s...” Cassandra started.

”Actually perfect,” Yann finished.

”Simple,” Adom agreed.

John nodded.

”But it’s so... obvious,” Sam protested.

”Exactly,” Cassandra was already filling out the form. ”No one will overthink it.”

And so The Dungeon Divers were officially registered. Sam complained it felt like giving up, but even he had to admit it worked.

Between drills, they gathered equipment, ran maintenance checks, went over contingency plans.

And finally...

D-Day arrived with the same grey pre-dawn light as any other morning. The hilltop was packed by five AM, mostly with students. Xerkes uniforms dominated the crowd, creating patches of blue-grey among the mixed gear of other exam-takers.

The portal frame stood in the clearing’s center - a stone arch covered in runes that gave off a faint blue light. Now it waited, ready for use.

Adom adjusted his armor for the tenth time. Xerkes standard issue - lightweight plates over reinforced leather. The kind of gear that made veterans snort and mutter about ”student quality,” but he knew better. This stuff was built to take hits while letting you move. And move he would.

Wam and Bam felt reassuringly solid on his hands. The ’twins’ as he started to call them, had been worth every coin, even if he’d had to explain away the expense to Sam. Speaking of Sam...

His friend was pacing. Three steps left, turn, three steps right, turn. Repeat. His own armor rattled slightly with each turn.

”You’re going to wear a groove in the stones,” Adom said.

”What if we get the water zone? I hate water zones. Or what if-”

”Sam.”

”What?”

”We’ve trained for this. All of us. It’ll be fine.”

”But-”

”Good morning!” Yann’s voice boomed across the courtyard, making several nearby students jump. The healer wore his old army gear - practical leather armor with plenty of pouches for supplies. His medical kit hung at his hip, well-worn but meticulously maintained.

John turned at Yann’s approach, extending a hand. The healer grabbed it enthusiastically - he’d taken an immediate liking to their quiet tank, treating John’s silence as an invitation for conversation rather than a barrier.

”Ready for this?” Yann asked, releasing John’s hand. ”Though I suppose you’ve seen worse, eh?”

John nodded.

”There you all are.” Cassandra appeared between two groups of students, somehow managing to navigate the crowd without touching anyone. Her auburn hair was tied back practically, light armor allowing for quick movement. The dimensional bag at her hip looked deceptively small.

”Cass!” Sam’s pacing finally stopped. ”Did you bring the-”

”Extra rope? Yes. Backup torches? Yes. Emergency rations? Also yes.” She patted her bag. ”Everything on the list, plus some extras.”

”What kind of extras?” Adom asked.

”The kind we hopefully won’t need.” She glanced around at the growing crowd. ”Lot of people here.”

She wasn’t wrong. The courtyard was filling up fast. Wannabe adventurers stood in small groups, their gear showing no signs of real use. Guild officials moved through the crowd with clipboards, checking names and team registrations. And everywhere, students. Some looked confident, others clearly fighting back nerves.

”Remember,” Yann said quietly, ”we just need to pass. Doesn’t have to be perfect.”

”Just need to survive,” Sam muttered.

”That too.”

A bell rang somewhere in the guild hall. The crowd’s murmur shifted, anticipation rising.

”Well,” Adom said, flexing his gauntleted hands. ”Guess it’s time.”

”Teams one through five, approach the portal.”

The mages around the stone arch were already at work, their hands weaving patterns that made the runes pulse brighter. A man stood before the portal - average height, unremarkable except for the black eyepatch over his left eye.

”I’m Samson,” he said as the teams gathered. ”I’ll be one of your examiners during the test.”

That got everyone’s attention. Adom’s eyes narrowed slightly. One of?

”Yes,” Samson continued, reading the crowd’s reaction. ”About thirty examiners will be in the dungeon with you, mixed among the regular teams.”

The murmuring started immediately. People looked at their teammates with new suspicion. Adom found himself doing the same mental math as everyone else. Yann’s army background seemed solid, but was it too convenient? Sam was Sam. Cass they’d literally pulled from a market stall. And John... well, John was basically Adom himself.

”Before we begin,” Samson raised his voice slightly, ”let’s cover the rules.”

The crowd quieted.

”First - you have seven days. reach the Talking Mountains, return with kills. Simple enough.” He held up a finger. ”Second - what happens in the dungeon stays there. No grudges carried outside, no revenge plots, no dramatic declarations of eternal rivalry. We’re not here for that.” Two fingers now.

Sam shifted uncomfortably.

”Third,” Samson continued, another finger held up, ”and this is important - we have zero tolerance for gankers.”

The word fell heavy into the morning air. Even the mages paused their preparations.

”For those unfamiliar with the term,” Samson’s good eye swept the crowd, ”gankers are adventurers who kill other adventurers for their loot. Common enough in higher-level dungeons, but we occasionally see them even in exams.”

He let that sink in.

”Which is partly why we have examiners mixed in the teams. To identify and... discourage such behavior.” His voice hardened. ”Anyone confirmed as a ganker will be executed upon exiting the dungeon. No appeals, no exceptions.”

Adom watched the crowd’s reactions. Most looked appropriately sobered. A few - too few - looked shocked at the penalty. And one or two... one or two looked like they were doing math in their heads, weighing risks and rewards.

I’ll keep their faces in mind.

”The portal will activate in three minutes,” Samson said. ”Teams one through five, final equipment checks. Everyone else, step back and wait for your call.”

Sam immediately started patting his pockets. ”Potions, backup potions, emergency potions...”

”We’re good,” Cassandra cut him off. ”Everything’s checked and double-checked.”

”Triple-checked,” Yann added.

John simply adjusted his shield.

The portal’s hum was getting louder, the blue light steadier. Through the arch, Adom could see something starting to take shape - darkness, maybe, or just the absence of anything else.

”Hey,” Sam whispered, ”we’re not... I mean, none of us is an examiner, right?”

”If we were,” Cassandra said dryly, ”we wouldn’t tell you.”

”That’s not helpful!”

”Focus,” Adom said quietly. ”We trained for this. We trust each other. Everything else is just noise.”

The portal flared. Through the arch, a stone corridor was now visible, lit by strange blue crystals.

”Teams one through five,” Samson called. ”Step forward. The Stone Seekers... The Iron Vanguard... The Dawn Raiders... The Silver Wolves... and...” He checked his list one final time. ”The Dungeon Divers.”

A guild official handed each team a linking crystal - pale blue stones that would keep them together during the portal transition. The Stone Seekers went first, their crystal glowing as they stepped through. They vanished with that familiar portal distortion, like water running down a window.

One by one, the teams disappeared. The Iron Vanguard’s heavy armor clinked as they entered. The Dawn Raiders followed, their archer checking his bowstring one last time. The Silver Wolves went next, moving with the coordination of people who’d trained together before.

Adom turned for one last look at the crowd. Several Xerkes students were waving - mostly at him and Sam. Even Damus was there with his team, though he just ignored him and looked away. Typical.

”Ready?” Sam asked, gripping their crystal tight enough to whiten his knuckles.

Adom adjusted his gauntlets. ”As we’ll ever be.”

They formed up around John, who held the crystal in his free hand. The portal hummed, that sound made Adom’s teeth itch. He’d done a few of times, but it never got comfortable. Just... less uncomfortable.

”Remember,” Cassandra said, ”don’t fight the transition. Let it-”

The portal pulled them in.

That familiar sensation hit - like being stretched in every direction at once, while also being compressed into a single point. Adom kept his eyes closed. It helped, a little. The crystal’s magic held them together, preventing the usual scattering effect that made portal travel so dangerous for groups.

Then it was over.

They emerged into open air, the morning sun filtering through dense canopy above. Ancient trees towered around them, their trunks wider than John’s shield. The forest floor was thick with moss and fallen leaves, everything damp with morning dew.

”Everyone here?” Yann asked, already checking for transition sickness.

”Present,” Cassandra said, adjusting her bag.

”Here,” Sam managed, looking only slightly green. He leaned against one of the massive trees. ”Just... give me a minute.”

John nodded, shield ready.

”Here,” Adom said. ”And getting better at that.”

”Liar,” Sam muttered. ”You hate it.”

”Yeah, but I hate it less now.”

The portal sealed behind them with a soft pop, leaving only undisturbed forest where it had been. No going back that way.

Through the trees, they could hear the other teams getting their bearings. Somewhere to their left, someone was already complaining about the humidity.

Birds called overhead - normal enough sounds, except they came in patterns too regular to be natural. The mana here was thick enough to taste, making Adom’s skin prickle. Everything looked like a perfectly normal forest, and that was exactly what made it wrong. This was a dungeon after all.

”So where exactly are we?” Sam asked, still looking slightly queasy from the transition.

Adom pulled out their map - the latest edition, bought from the guild’s shop. Cost a fortune, but outdated maps got people in trouble. ”We’re in the Whisperleaf Forest.” He spread the map on a fallen log. ”See? One of the hundred forest zones in the dungeon, but probably the safest. The trees here actually help keep the more dangerous stuff away.”

”Lucky us,” Cassandra said, not sounding like she believed in luck at all.

”The portal drops teams randomly,” Yann explained, checking his medical supplies for the third time. ”Keeps people from clustering at the entrance to level two.”

”North,” Cassandra said quietly, pointing.

”Yeah,” Adom agreed. ”That’s where we need to go.”

They started noticing the little things then - how the leaves fell but never seemed to hit the ground, dissolving into mana instead. How the moss grew in perfect geometric patterns. How every third tree had exactly the same bend in its trunk.

”Is that...” Sam squinted at something in the underbrush. ”Is that a rabbit?”

They all turned. A rabbit’s head poked out from behind a fern, watching them with red eyes. Its fur was pure white.

”Don’t move,” Cassandra whispered. ”Dungeon fauna can be-”

The rabbit blinked, twitched its nose in the most adorable of ways and...

Now, in such a situation, one would probably expect something predictable - maybe more eyes popping open across its face, or acid dripping from its mouth, or maybe even massive fangs jutting out from under those twitching whiskers. That would have been fine. Normal, even, for a dungeon creature.

But no.

Instead, they had to watch as this otherwise ordinary-looking rabbit just... kept... standing. First to a crouch that already put it at chest height. Then straightening up to reveal a torso that belonged in some sculptor’s fever dream - layers of muscle that shouldn’t exist, rippling under fur that glowed like witch-light. Shoulders broader than John’s shield. Arms thick as tree trunks, ending in very un-rabbit-like hands.

HANDS.

Adom had seen a lot of things in dungeons. He’d fought creatures that defied description. But there was something deeply, fundamentally wrong about watching a rabbit unfold into what looked like the unholy offspring of a strongman and a nightmare. The way its head stayed perfectly still while its body rose up and up, those familiar cute features somehow making the whole thing worse.

When it finally reached its full height - easily nine feet of densely packed muscle - it just... stood there. Staring at them with that innocent rabbit face perched atop a body that could probably bench press a house.

[Lagomorphic Berserker]

[Danger Level: High]

The rabbit moved. One second it was standing there, and the next it was charging. No wind-up, no tell - just pure explosive movement that sent leaves scattering in its wake.

”Back,” Yann shouted, but Sam was frozen, staring at the mass of muscle bearing down on them.

[Fluid Control activated at 80%]

Adom’s arms lit up with blue fire as Wam and Bam began to glow. He grabbed Sam’s collar and yanked him aside, just as the rabbit’s fist cratered the ground where they’d been standing.

[Flow Prediction activated]

The world slowed down in that familiar way. Adom could see the rabbit’s next move forming - not teeth like he’d expected, but another punch coming in from the right. Those massive muscles bunched up, ready to deliver a blow that would probably turn his ribcage to powder.

Artun’s voice cut through his thoughts, clear as if he was standing right there: ”Everyone thinks fighting is about being stronger. It’s not. It’s about being smarter with the strength you have.”

Adom concentrated his Fluid into his right fist, feeling the power compress down to a single point. The blue fire intensified, wrapping around his arm like a second skin.

”Let them come to you,” Artun had drilled into him. ”Let them commit. Then put everything exactly where it needs to be.”

The rabbit’s punch came in fast - blindingly fast - but Adom could see its path now. He stepped in, just like he’d practiced countless times, letting the massive fist slide past his shoulder. All that power, all that momentum, wasted on empty air.

His own punch, loaded with compressed Fluid, drove up into the rabbit’s jaw with surgical precision.

WAM.

The sound was like a thunderclap. The rabbit’s head snapped back, its body following in a graceful arc that ended with it sprawled in the ferns, those three eyes finally going dim.

Sam let out a shaky breath. ”That... that was...”

”A really big rabbit,” Adom finished for him, shaking the Fluid from his hand. ”A really big rabbit that made a really big mistake.”