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Chapter 3: Into the New World

  The trek out of the dungeon was quieter than Marcus expected. The rush of battle had left his body, replaced by a deep exhaustion that settled into his bones. Each step felt heavier now that the adrenaline had faded, but beneath the weariness, a cautious sense of optimism took root. He had survived his first real fight in this world. More than that he had won.

  Vira led the way, her staff casting a soft, flickering glow that illuminated the rough stone path ahead. The faint scent of damp earth clung to the air, mingling with the lingering metallic tang of blood. Boruk walked beside Marcus, carrying the gorehound's severed head in one hand like a grotesque trophy. The beast's dark fur was matted with dried blood, its lifeless eyes still frozen in a final snarl. Ahead of them, Ragn scouted the path, his steps careful as he kept watch for any lingering threats.

  Marcus stayed near Boruk, his mind racing with questions, trying to piece together everything that had happened since he awoke in this world. He barely had time to process it all before Vira glanced back at him with a smirk.

  "You've got that look," she remarked.

  Marcus blinked. "What look?"

  "The lost pup look," she teased.

  A tired chuckle escaped him. "Not wrong. I've got a lot to figure out."

  Boruk grunted. "You'll catch on fast enough. For starters, let's talk about where you are." Не gestured at the cavern walls around them. "This is a dungeon-one of many scattered across the world. Some say the gods made them to test mortals. Others think they're leftovers from an ancient war, places where the world itself bleeds power. Either way, they're dangerous as hell but full of treasure."

  "That's why we're here," Ragn added from up ahead, his voice echoing slightly in the passage. "Mid-level adventurers like us take these smaller jobs-clearing out weaker monsters, scavenging materials. It's how we get stronger."

  Boruk lifted the gorehound's head slightly. "The guild pays well for proof of kills like this. Plus, the bones, fur, and claws can be sold or crafted into gear. Nothing goes to waste."

  Marcus frowned slightly. "Guild?"

  "The Adventurers' Guild," Vira explained. "They regulate quests, assign ranks, and reward those who take care of threats. Every town has at least one branch, though bigger cities have entire guild halls."

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  "Ranks are simple," Boruk said, rolling his shoulders. "You start at Copper, then work your way up-Iron, Steel, Silver, Gold, Mithril, and for the strongest of the strong, Orichalcum. But most never make it past Silver."

  Marcus nodded slowly, absorbing the information. A structured ranking system meant clear progression, something he could aim for. "And magic?" he asked. "You mentioned Mana earlier-how does that work?"

  Vira's eyes lit up at the question, her passion for the subject clear. "Magic's divided into three types: Mana, Ki, and Psycha." She held up a hand, conjuring a small ball of flame that flickered like a candle. "Mana users like me cast spells-fireballs, healing, elemental attacks, that sort of thing." She clenched her fist, snuffing out the flame. "Ki, on the other hand, enhances the body, making warriors faster, stronger, tougher. It's what Ragn and Boruk use in combat."

  Ragn glanced back, giving a brief nod of confirmation before refocusing on the tunnel ahead.

  "And then there's Psycha," Vira continued, her voice dropping slightly. "It's tied to the mind. It lets users manipulate probability, summon creatures, or sharpen their senses beyond normal limits. But Psycha's rare, and people don't trust what they don't understand." She studied Marcus curiously. "If you're really level one, we should figure out your affinity soon. Everyone has a natural inclination toward one."

  Marcus kept his expression neutral. Thanks to his Perma, he could use all three magic types, but revealing that now wasn't a good idea. Until he knew more about the world, it was better to keep his abilities under wraps.

  Vira must have noticed his hesitation because she smoothly changed topics. "So, what about you? You fight like someone who's trained for years. Where'd you learn?"

  Marcus hesitated before deciding to keep it simple. "Back where I'm from, we have a sport called boxing. I trained for years-almost went pro."

  Boruk frowned. "Bock-shink?" The word sounded garbled, as if the system had failed to translate it properly.

  Vira raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

  Marcus blinked. That was... odd. The system was supposed to handle language translation automatically. Why didn't it work for 'boxing'? "It's a fighting style-punches, dodging, footwork. No weapons, just your fists."

  Ragn glanced over his shoulder. "The system's supposed to translate all major languages. Why didn't it work?"

  Marcus shrugged. "Maybe because it's unique to my region. Looks like the system has limits."

  Vira looked thoughtful. "That's rare. But hey, you'll have to teach me sometime. You made that gorehound look like a training dummy."

  Marcus laughed. "Didn't feel that easy, but sure. Maybe one day."

  As they walked, Marcus soaked in more information about the world. The land was divided into various factions-human kingdoms, elven empires, dwarven strongholds, and nomadic orc clans, each vying for power and influence. Despite the conflicts, the Adventurers' Guild remained neutral, acting as a sanctuary for all races and a place where strength and skill mattered more than lineage or politics.

  "Magic's also tightly controlled in some places,"

  Vira added, her tone darkening. "Especially Mana users. Some kingdoms see us as weapons-tools to be controlled, either through strict laws or forced conscription. That's why I stick with these guys instead of joining an academy. Freedom's worth more than fancy robes."

  Boruk grunted in agreement. "And adventuring pays well-if you live long enough to collect."

  By the time they reached the dungeon's entrance, Marcus felt like he'd learned more in a few hours than in years back home. The world was dangerous, but it was also full of opportunity.

  Stepping into the open air, he took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun against his skin. The sky stretched wide above him, painted in hues of orange and gold as the sun dipped toward the horizon. A cool breeze carried the scent of fresh earth and salt, reminding him just how far he was from anything familiar.

  He exhaled slowly. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he was ready to face it-one step at a time.

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