Simon let himself soak in the moment for a full, glorious minute.

  It was surprisingly difficult to switch gears and get down to business afterwards. A part of him wanted nothing more than to sit there and remember the Strength coursing through his arms. To savor the thrill of felling a Beast and increasing his Level. To indulge in that liberating feeling of progress after years of stagnation.

  Perhaps he would have – if not for the overwhelming scent of blood and death around him. Even with his eyes closed, it reminded Simon of where he was now. This wasn't a world that let people take things at their own pace. Make one mistake, and you could wind up as a side dish in a monster's buffet.

  Before doing anything else, Simon stood up and slowly turned in a circle, carefully examining the surrounding environment. Without a giant killer rat taking up the bulk of his attention, he was free to take a good look at where and what he'd been dropped into.

  There honestly wasn't much to see. He couldn't spot a single tree or landmark nearby; just an endless expanse of barren nothing.

  The ground consisted of two wildly different biomes that alternated without rhyme or reason – both of them lifeless. Most parts were made up of dry, parched soil. The rest was what appeared to be black, hardened rock, as if lava had flowed over the area and cooled. Errant tufts of sickly-green grass were visible in certain places, but they were fighting a losing battle against what seemed to be a certifiable wasteland.

  If civilization existed in this neck of Valtia, then he was a long hike away from it.

  Initially, Simon thought that was a double-edged sword. No trees or landmarks meant nowhere to hide if another Fell Beast attacked. On the other hand, it also meant that he would be able to see them coming well in advance. No surprise ambushes.

  Then he realized that the half-dozen corpses laying at his feet had been afforded the same advantage – and Stuart massacred them anyway. He shouldn't make assumptions about what the Beasts were capable of.

  If he didn't find safe shelter soon...

  The temptation to pick a direction and start running was ruthlessly quashed. He wouldn't benefit from panicking like a headless chicken. If Simon wanted to live long enough to feel progress again, then he needed to stay relaxed, assess the situation, and produce an actionable plan that would maximize his chances of survival.

  First: evaluate what resources I have available. Starting with the most important resource of all.

  Himself.

  Character Sheet.

  Simon

  Class: Fledgling

  Level: 2

  HP: 33 / 90

  MP: 50 / 50

  Strength: 15

  Dexterity: 9

  Vitality: 9

  Intelligence: 5

  He scrutinized each line in order, searching for meaning within the floating screens of text. Voice-In-The-Sky's tutorial on the System hadn't been very extensive. Granted, it would've explained more if things had gone as planned...and Simon didn't help matters by hurrying the Voice along before it could back out of the transmigration.

  That was okay. He'd make do.

  'Class: Fledgling' seemed self-evident. Classes in RPG games typically referred to vocations such as Warrior, Archer, Mage, etc. As a low-Level novice, Simon's 'Fledgling' indicated that he wasn't good at anything in particular. Presumably, that would change once he grew stronger and gained more Levels.

  It was too early to wonder what type of Class he should aim for. Simon had no idea what would be most effective in a world like this. While magic was usually powerful in fictional fantasy stories, Valtia was very much real. He didn't want to make guesses based on faulty information and wind up preemptively shooting himself in the foot.

  'Level: 2' brought a rekindled smile to his face. Minutes into his new life, and he was already stronger than before. Voice-In-The-Sky hadn't been lying about a transmigrator's capacity for growth.

  Just have to live long enough to realize my potential. What was the best way to increase Levels in Valtia? If it was anything like the games he'd played, then earning EXP was a byproduct of indiscriminate slaughter.

  As the smell of death assaulted his senses once more, Simon had an inkling that he might be given the chance to test that theory soon.

  'HP' he would come back to later, as it related to one of his Traits. 'MP' was probably his resource for using magic, but after some quick experimentation with flailing hands and fruitless concentrating, Simon determined that he didn't know any spells.

  With any luck, that would change in time as well. He was still holding out hope for a mega-laser.

  'Strength' and 'Dexterity' were easy to understand. Power and speed. Without access to in-depth testing facilities, though, he wouldn't know exactly how much something like 15 Strength was worth. The Glove's boost had let him temporarily lift Stuart, so at least it was nothing to sneeze at.

  'Vitality' and 'Intelligence' likely correlated to his HP and MP. Simon doubted that Intelligence represented his actual intelligence; rather, it was a catch-all term for his proficiency in spellcasting and magic. Otherwise, he reserved the right to be offended over it being his lowest stat.

  Speaking of stats... He thought back to when he leveled up after killing Stuart. His Strength had increased by 3, and his Dexterity by 1. Would he gain 4 more stat points with every Level? Was it automated? Or was there a way to control how his stats were allocated?

  Simon looked upwards. "You there, Voice-In-The-Sky?" he hazarded. "I've got some System questions that need answers."

  Silence.

  No surprise there. The Voice had explicitly stated that both the Good and Evil gods were restricted from directly interfering in contested worlds. Simon was on his own.

  The thought didn't bother him very much. He'd been on his own for a while now.

  Progressing further down his Character Sheet, Simon began perusing the Traits section. Didn't even have to skim this time! It was nice not having to rush through as he watched a ravenous Fell Beast munch on people in his peripheral vision.

  Traits

  System Integration

  -To facilitate growth and ease of use, your abilities and personal parameters have been integrated into a game-centric System.

  The Voice's System was already paying dividends. Without using Identify – which had been specified as a 'Transmigration bonus' – Simon wouldn't have noticed the Glove of Minor Strength. Without the Glove, he wouldn't have had enough raw power to kill Stuart. Without a way to kill Stuart, he would have been forced to take his chances by running.

  And he wouldn't have gotten far. No different than the mangled bodies surrounding him.

  Life in Valtia for the average person seemed as harsh as he'd been told to expect.

  Transmigrator's Body

  -Your body has become like that of a fictional game character. Grievous wounds will not affect your combat efficacy. You barely bleed from injuries, slowly regenerate over time, and will completely restore to full health after a good night's sleep. Lastly, you will only die when your HP reaches zero.

  Simon grinned. Transmigrator's Body meant that even if he got put through the wringer, he would be back on his feet in 24 hours, max. He could take all sorts of stupid risks and still win as long as he didn't outright die.

  Not that he was going to take stupid risks. His risks were always supremely well-calculated. No matter what other people said.

  Although...something about 'you will only die when your HP reaches zero' gave him pause. He wasn't sure why. Would need to theorize more when time permitted.

  Sworn to Secrecy

  -The existence of other worlds, and the transmigration process in general, cannot be revealed in any capacity to the natives of Valtia. Your clothing has been replaced by Valtia-appropriate attire, and incongruent off-world items have been removed from your person.

  In other words – don't rock the boat.

  Simon peered down at his clothes, seeing a simple rough shirt and woolen pants. The material was scratchy and uncomfortable compared to the luxury of modern cotton. After a brief patdown, he also confirmed that his cell phone and wallet were missing.

  Finally, he tried to verbalize the sentence "I'm from a land called Earth", only to find that he physically couldn't. Not even to an audience of lifeless cadavers. The words stuck in his throat like a pocket of solid air.

  It was annoying but understandable. Simon could see how informing a world's inhabitants that they were unwitting participants of a cosmic battleground might be...problematic.

  Universal Translator

  -Gain the capacity to understand all written and spoken languages in Valtia. Your speech and writing will automatically be translated to natives.

  That was a relief. He would've learned Valtia's languages anyway, but doing so would take time, and illiterate people tended to be frowned upon by the closed-minded. Simon was already going to be at a major social disadvantage from having no money, connections, home, family, or supplies. He didn't need more handicaps.

  Inventory

  -You may place inanimate items within touch range into a dimensional storage container. Items in storage can be produced at will. Limit of 100 pounds or 250 cubic feet of storage.

  A hoarder's dream, and a must-have for any would-be game character. They often carried an absurd amount of stuff on them at all times. Some of it valuable...some of it not so valuable. Either way, it was usually more than what five people combined could have effectively transported.

  As soon as the thought came to him, Simon walked over to the nearest broken sword laying on the ground. He reached down, touching his fingers to its hilt. Activate: Inventory.

  Blue light filled the air. Within a quarter of a second, the sword had vanished, placed into dimensional storage. He experimented with the Skill for a bit longer, repeatedly bringing out and then re-storing the item until the process felt instinctual.

  Satisfied, he moved on to the next sword, placing it in Inventory as well. Damaged as the blades were, he might be able to sell them for scrap at the next town or village he found. Considering that his funds currently consisted of whatever dregs he managed to loot from Stuart's victims, Simon would take anything he could get.

  Searching the corpses for usable supplies proved to be a grisly but necessary process. This was the first time he'd personally handled a dead body – let alone six of them – and he quickly decided that he wasn't a super big fan. Regardless, Simon was thorough in examining what remained of the caravan and its crew, ensuring that he scrounged up everything he could.

  Which gave him plenty of time to contemplate the last Trait on the list.

  Heroic Valor

  -Gain additional Experience when performing acts of significant goodness and heroism.

  Simon recalled something that Voice-In-The-Sky had mentioned when addressing the people of Earth.

  'Your capacity for growth will be unmatched in Valtia, and your power will swell when performing deeds of heroism and valor.'

  That hadn't just been flowery language for the sake of it. The system directly rewarded Simon with bonus EXP when he acted like a hero. It was likely an added incentive so that the gods' champion stayed on the path of righteousness.

  He was pretty sure that his near future would still involve a healthy amount of monster killing, but the existence of Heroic Valor stirred his mind with possibilities. Could he have – as an example – leveled up from working at Grace's soup kitchen? How much extra EXP would he accrue from just being himself?

  A genuine smile crept up his face. He couldn't have asked for a more perfect Trait.

  ...Though I'd be tempted to trade it for a fully-stocked grocery shopping cart. Most of the caravan's food had either been destroyed in their scuffle with Stuart or greedily devoured by the rat itself. That left Simon with only a couple days worth of provisions – if he rationed.

  He was staring at Stuart's bloated carcass when inspiration struck. Summoning the broken sword from Inventory, he carved a small chunk of meat from the rat's flank. Then he activated Identify, focusing on the Skill's intent, willing it to inform him whether the Fell Beast's flesh was edible.

  Name: Fell-Tainted Meat

  Description: A chunk of flesh from the body of a Fell Beast. Lethal to most humans when ingested. In the rare cases it doesn't kill you, you'll wish it had.

  Ominous and vague. Great.

  Breathing deep, Simon pushed aside the looming specter of inevitable death creeping up his neck. Don't get bogged down in what-ifs. Take a mental step back, then draw up a plan.

  What do I need, right here, right now?

  Food. Shelter. Power. In that order.

  Things like Money and Influence would come later. He could hardly save Valtia if he starved or got murdered by Fell Beasts before ever meeting a single living person.

  What can I do to achieve my immediate short-term goals?

  Power...would be tricky. That was the problem with starting at Level 1. He couldn't get stronger without fighting, yet he was too weak to win most fights. His victory against Stuart had been a fluke – from the rat's perspective, an enemy that it'd already killed suddenly rose from the grave and ambushed it out of nowhere.

  There was a lesson in that. If Simon wanted to overcome opponents stronger than him, he needed to avoid direct confrontations. As a Level 2 outsider, the element of surprise would be his number one ally.

  Alternatively, Heroic Valor might help him gain Levels without having to risk his life...but there weren't many deeds of 'significant goodness and heroism' he could pull off in an empty wasteland. Had to find other people to help first.

  Food and Shelter could also be solved by finding others. He wouldn't gamble on the magnanimity of random strangers – especially in what was presumably a cold, harsh world – but people were usually receptive to a fair deal. Worst came to worst, he could trade items with them or offer his services for a fee.

  Eating Stuart's flesh would be a last resort. It couldn't hurt to stow some within Inventory, just in case, but only for if his body grew so weak that he couldn't walk anymore. What he actually needed was non-tainted nourishment; made by humans, for humans.

  People. Civilization. Where's the closest settlement? How do I reach it?

  He hadn't found a map or compass among the caravan's ruined supplies. Its shredded, bloodstained papers may have been a map once upon a time, but no longer. At least the unsent love letters had endured Stuart's wrath – Simon was looking forward to reading them when he wasn't so busy trying not to die.

  No landmarks I can see, and no compass. Even with a map, they would've been lost traveling through here. What did they use to navigate?

  Maybe someone with a Tracking Skill, assuming that ability existed. If so, and if they'd been traveling without the need for basic navigational implements...then Simon had no usable information to go off of. He really would be picking a random direction and praying for the best.

  Unless...

  Simon examined the surrounding environment once more. If he squinted, he could kinda make out something resembling a road threading across the land. There were markings of wear-and-tear on the ground indicating that people had tread there before. It was so faint that he nearly second-guessed himself, unsure if he wasn't imagining things to make himself feel better.

  In the end, what persuaded him was one of the fallen humans. Their corpse was situated a little further down the 'road' – as if they'd been attempting to flee in that direction when the Fell Beast caught them.

  It'll have to do.

  After gathering as much of Stuart's meat as Inventory could carry, Simon set off in a forward march. His soft footsteps rang like gunshots through the quiet night. He didn't look back as he left the dead behind him, feeling no need to pay his respects or say farewell.

  Not when he would probably be joining them soon enough.

  He intended to fight tooth and nail to survive – but that didn't change the facts. For all Simon knew, the next town might be weeks of travel away. Months, even. The desolate wasteland extending out to the horizon didn't exactly paint an optimistic picture. And if he didn't find food before reaching civilization?

  Then he would starve. No amount of gumption or a can-do attitude could alter his fundamental need for caloric intake.

  No, wait, scratch that. He would die of thirst long before. People dehydrated much faster than they starved. Apparently, it was a rather miserable way to go.

  Yet even though Voice-In-The-Sky's warnings about the transmigration were turning out to be depressingly accurate...

  Simon had no regrets.

  Because at least he'd seized an opportunity when it presented itself. Because at least he'd taken action rather than watching his dreams wither and decay over a course of decades.

  Because at least he'd tried.

  --

  Hours of solitude passed by. The dark of night enveloped Simon as he marched onwards, almost like a tangible presence walking alongside him.

  Mercifully, it was the only companion he had at the moment. Lonely darkness was much preferable to being visited by one of Stuart's relatives.

  Although I doubt the other Fell Beasts are all big rats, he mused. The name implies something more varied than that. Based on Stuart's appearance...a collection of mutated animals? But the Voice spoke as if Valtia was facing an existential threat. He wouldn't have needed to airdrop a champion over here just to run pest control. I'm definitely missing context.

  When Simon eventually acquired some money and established himself, his first order of business would be hiring someone to explain Valtia in excruciating detail to him. Exposition-on-demand. Putting together the pieces of a puzzle was one thing, but his current ruminations were closer to guesswork derived from ignorance. Garbage information tended to produce garbage conclusions.

  Aside from theorizing and keeping an eye out for ambushes, though, there wasn't much else to occupy his mind. Simon had grown up in a crowded, bustling city. He was used to distractions competing for his attention every second of the day.

  To him, twilight didn't mean peaceful silence – it meant ambulances and police sirens wailing in the distance. He would need time to adjust from 'city kid' to 'rural hiker'.

  The sight of a clear moonlit sky was helping with that.

  Despite knowing that he should be watching for Fell Beasts in the distance, Simon's gaze kept drifting upwards. This was the first time he'd witnessed a night sky free of city light pollution. The stars were vibrant, numerous, and beautiful, like a tapestry of twinkling worlds stretching infinitely across the cosmos.

  And among that sea of stars, what stood out most of all was the moon; the tapestry's centerpiece, an orb of dazzling silver that fought to dispel the encroaching darkness of night. Looking up now, it was easy to comprehend why so many societies throughout history had worshiped the moon as a sort of deity. Before telescopes and astronomy and space voyages demystified the unfathomable, how could someone have gazed upon a vista like this and been anything but awestruck?

  In retrospect, Simon did have one regret from transmigrating. He wished that he'd seen a clear sky on Earth first so he could compare the two. Would the moon and stars back home have measured up to the luminescent marvel filling his vision now?

  Not bad, Valtia. After being introduced to his new world in a frenzy of death and violence...this was the kind of palette cleanser he sorely appreciated. Maybe you won't be so–

  He heard a sound.

  Simon whirled around. With a flash of blue light, he produced the least-broken sword from his Inventory, materializing it directly into his right hand. His left hand clenched into a fist, still wearing the Glove of Minor Strength. Staring intently, he searched the moonlit darkness.

  Nothing was there.

  He waited for something to change – for a screech to resound as sharp claws and gnashing fangs came tearing out of the shadows.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Nothing. No movement, no noise. Just the incessant drum of his own heartbeat jackhammering inside his chest.

  Had he actually heard a sound? Simon told himself that as he slowly turned back around, resuming his journey. His mind was probably just cooking up noises to entertain itself. The subconscious nostalgia of a city-goer, pining for ambulances and police sirens.

  As he continued walking, however...he kept his gaze fixated at ground-level.

  --

  Earlier, Simon had peered up at the starry night sky and wondered how it compared to Earth's.

  But this? He doubted there was anything like this. Not anything that existed in nature.

  A lone tree was growing out of the arid, rocky wasteland. It looked healthy and strong. That would have been improbable enough as it was – except that the tree was also glowing. A bright yellow radiance shone from every inch of its leaves and bark, like it was covered with thousands of invisible lightbulbs.

  Safety.

  The notion came to Simon unbidden, as if nudged into his head by a foreign presence. This tree was safe. Safe. Safe. It beckoned him forward, inviting the transmigrator to rest under its boughs, take a breather, and relax.

  He forced himself to step back. Much as he wanted to believe that this was his literal light in the darkness...it seemed way too convenient.

  Could be a Venus flytrap scenario. Getting mind-controlled by a carnivorous tree hadn't been on the Valtia bingo card, but he was in a land of fantasy now. Weirder things were possible.

  Thankfully, he possessed a method of objectively verifying information. Identify.

  Name: Sanctuary Tree

  Description: The remnant of a Sanctuary Grove. Contains sacred mana that provides refuge from Fell creatures. To humans, it is harmless and beneficial.

  Simon's eyebrows lifted with surprise. Not only was the tree legit, but it had also once been part of something greater. This was direct evidence that Valtia was in decline – as if everything else wasn't already proof enough.

  After several moments of consideration, he made an executive decision and approached the Sanctuary Tree. The sun wasn't close to rising yet, and while Simon could pull an all-nighter if necessary, he needed to pace himself. Finding the nearest town would be a marathon, not a sprint, and proper sleep would help keep his body in tip-top condition.

  He cautiously settled down with his back resting against the tree's trunk. When it didn't open up to reveal a maw of hungry teeth, Simon allowed himself to let out a relieved sigh, fatigue flowing out of him in waves.

  Blue light briefly mingled with yellow as he accessed Inventory. Simon produced a relatively unbloodied cloak taken from one of the deceased caravan members. It would serve as a headwrap to cover his eyes – sleeping under the Sanctuary Tree's glow would be difficult otherwise.

  He also produced the unread love letters. With any luck, their contents would give him clues regarding the world he now inhabited. And even if they didn't...

  Who didn't enjoy a bit of gossip? Maybe it was gauche to snoop on a dead man's private, bare-your-soul writings, but it wasn't like the guy was around to feel embarrassed about it.

  Yeah. This should do nicely. Simon looked up at the tree's leaf-laden canopy and gave it a thumbs-up. Thanks for the assist. Smiling over his first victory that hadn't involved bludgeoning an oversized rodent to death, he lowered his gaze to stare out at the road.

  Four crimson-red eyes stared back at him.

  It was impossible to see what manner of Beast they were attached to. The monster's bodily form was shrouded in thick, unnatural fog. No sound had heralded its arrival. One moment, the road was empty, and the next moment, it was here.

  Shock pierced Simon's chest like a knife – yet he still took action. Without skipping a beat, he stood up and summoned the fractured sword from his Inventory, assuming a battle-ready position.

  The Fell Beast's crimson eyes remained motionless. Two glared at Simon, and the other two at the Sanctuary Tree.

  All four were filled with a deep, cavernous hunger.

  Perhaps five seconds passed. Perhaps five minutes – or even five hours. To Simon, watching and waiting for the Beast to strike, it would have felt the same.

  He blinked.

  The creature was gone.

  Simon didn't get much sleep that night.

  --

  After awakening from a fitful slumber the next morning, the first thing he did was check to see if he was still in one piece.

  While Identity had assured him that the Sanctuary Tree would protect him from Fell Beasts, Simon was still happy to note that he hadn't been nibbled on overnight. What's more, either the tree or Transmigrator's Body had healed his body of its aches and pains, bringing his HP up to full.

  This was a place of refuge. If he stayed here, no harm would come to him.

  With haste, Simon gathered his belongings and left the Sanctuary Tree behind.

  It was the toughest decision he'd made thus far. Nothing outside the tree's range of protection felt remotely safe – he was practically jumping at the sound of his own footsteps. The soothing light of the morning sun did little to dispel the paranoia that had taken root within his heart.

  "Not paranoia if it's real", he muttered to himself. The Fell Beast had effortlessly snuck up on him twice now. Simon wasn't even sure how its abilities functioned...or why it hadn't completed its hunt yet.

  However, in spite of his reservations, there was no ultimately choice in the matter. The show must go on. His rations wouldn't last forever, and he wasn't so lucky that another caravan would happen to stumble upon him.

  Guess the tree was a Venus flytrap after all. Just a benevolent one. It would have kept him warm, safe, and content as he gradually wasted away.

  Besides – even if he was lucky enough for a second caravan to cross paths with him, would they be so charitable as to rescue a vagrant wanderer? Or would they be rightfully suspicious of a sketchy man unable to explain his purpose or origins?

  If there was one thing Simon knew from personal experience, one thing he was more certain of than anything else in the world...it was that you couldn't rely on the kindness of strangers.

  No one was coming to rescue him. He would have to save himself.

  Which was another reason why he'd opted to leave the Sanctuary Tree. Last night hadn't been a total wash. Specifically, the love letters of one dear, departed Ardyn Cobblestone had proved very enlightening.

  First, Simon learned that Ardyn – despite seeming rough around the edges – possessed the soul of a poet. If sweet Relia had ever gotten the chance to read his letters, surely she would have been smitten! Alas, it was not meant to be. His love would go unrequited, like words of affirmation written in snow, yet melting under the changing seasons. It was a drama so tragic that it brought tears to the eye.

  Oh, and Simon had also learned why their caravan was out here to begin with.

  That was mildly important too.

  He followed the road for many anxiety-inducing hours after departing from the Sanctuary Tree. Simon didn't know how close his destination was, or if the Fell Beast was still stalking him. Checking around constantly for ambushes almost felt like a futile endeavor. If the creature truly wanted him dead, a Level 2 vagabond with a broken sword wasn't going to put up much of a fight.

  But for whatever reason, he was left untouched. And after nearly half a day of walking...he had arrived.

  Simon stood before what appeared to be the entrance to an underground cave system. A stone structure twenty feet tall and wide was built into the ground, with the entrance itself being a small opening in the center.

  Evidently, it had been here for quite some time. Simon could see signs of wear and tear on the exterior stone sections, and the remains of a destroyed iron gate was visible in front of the cave's entrance.

  Two glowing orbs that reminded him of the Sanctuary Tree were embedded on both sides of the entrance.

  Identify.

  Name: Warding Orb

  Description: An Artifact imbued with sacred mana. Wards off Fell Beasts. Will be fully depleted of energy within approximately one year's time.

  Simon attempted to pull out the Warding Orbs and take them along, but even when using the Glove of Power, they stayed lodged in tight. Using Inventory on them didn't work either, as they'd been fused to the stone structure. Whoever put them there did not want them removed.

  Disappointing, but not a setback. The Orbs would've just been a nice bonus – they weren't the reason he'd come here. He thought back to the very first line of Ardyn's letter.

  'If your eyes are gracing this parchment, Relia, it means that our plunder of Caelryn Cave and its riches was a success.'

  Ardryn's caravan had been on a treasure-hunting mission. That was why they'd been traveling on this road, and this cave was where they'd been headed before Stuart found them. Whatever was down there – money, Artifacts, both – was valuable enough to seek out as an organized group.

  Simon knew that heading inside would be a gamble. Even if nothing dangerous lurked within the walls of Caelryn Cave, it would be time spent where his body consumed vital energy. He wasn't that hungry or thirsty yet, but that would change fast once his rations dwindled.

  He still only hesitated a moment before proceeding. His decision had already been made well before reaching the cave's entrance.

  What do I need right here, right now? Simon recalled the question he'd asked himself yesterday. While Food and Shelter were his top priorities, Power wasn't far behind. He wouldn't last long in Valtia without it. Especially as a homeless, penniless outsider. Forget the Fell Beasts – normal people on the street would walk all over him.

  Whatever prize resided underground could solve that problem in one fell swoop. If Caelryn Cave housed a strong battle-related Artifact, like the Glove but better, then he wouldn't have to fear for his life anymore. He could defeat Fell Beasts for EXP, increase his Level over time, and raise himself into the champion Valtia needed.

  And if it housed riches in the traditional sense...then he could outright buy Artifacts. Or hire people to fight with him. Being wealthy was its own kind of superpower, really.

  Just one thing gave him pause. A message carved onto the outside of the cave, simply reading:

  'TURN BACK.'

  Simon acknowledged the warning and promptly stepped inside.

  If Voice-In-The-Sky couldn't convince him to exercise caution, then a vague, faded scribble certainly wasn't going to cut it.

  --

  Caelryn Cave was an odd mixture of natural rock formations and man-made hallways. Whoever worked on it in the past had taken a pre-existing cave system and widened various segments so that people could traverse deeper.

  Apparently, that had been their sole purpose here. As Simon descended, he found zero evidence of mining for ore, temporary living quarters, leftover construction tools, or any signs of life at all. The workers had built Caelryn Cave just to go as far underground as possible. Then they'd put a solid metal gate at the entrance and warned others to stay away.

  Ardyn's caravan hadn't been wrong. Something was hidden below these dark, claustrophobic walls.

  The confirmation should have been encouraging. Instead, the further Simon went...the more he found himself beset by a growing sense of unease.

  It wasn't that he disliked spelunking or felt concerned about losing his direction. The cave was a straight shot down with no branching pathways to get lost in. And it wasn't that he thought a Fell Beast might pop out from around any given corner. In truth, thanks to the Warding Orbs at the entrance, he was probably safer here than outside.

  Yet an icy shiver was running up his spine. No matter how hard he tried to calm himself, he was plagued by a pervasive, ever-present feeling that he should not be here.

  Maybe it was because of all the skeletons.

  Arydn hadn't been the first to try exploring Caelryn Cave. Not even close. After an hour of exploring, Simon had encountered no less than nine piles of human bones. Some alone, some in small groups.

  Every last one of them had died to traps left behind by whoever built this place. Wall arrows, spike pits, spring-loaded blades...

  Points for variety, I suppose.

  With each skeleton Simon found, he did two things. He would start by storing their ancient equipment inside Inventory. The metal was rusted, practically falling apart, but perhaps a blacksmith would be willing to purchase it as scrap.

  Once his looting was completed, he would then make sure to express his profound gratitude to the fallen adventurers. Partially for the extra supplies...

  But mostly for saving his life. Simon knew full well that being late to the party was the main reason he still lived. By setting off the traps beforehand, these brave, ill-fated souls had cleared the way for him to descend unimpeded.

  In some cases, they'd literally cleared the way for him. Several pathways appeared as if they'd once been blocked off. Likely due to the original builders detonating periodic cave-ins to prevent people from advancing.

  Whoever made Caelryn Cave REALLY didn't want anyone finding what was at the bottom.

  Skeleton #12 was what made Simon finally stop and examine his actions. In the middle of relieving the corpse of its valuables, he glanced down, locked eyes with its empty sockets...and saw his own future reflected back at him.

  What in the world was he doing? Sooner or later, he would trip over a trap that hadn't been set off yet. It was only a matter of time. He knew that – but he'd been more focused on the prospect of reaching the grand prize at the end than ensuring he didn't gore himself on a spike pit.

  It was almost like–

  Simon froze, a burst of realization halting his steps.

  The transmigrator hurriedly emptied himself of all thoughts. His mind became a blank canvas devoid of emotion.

  Seconds later, a notion came to him. It reminded him of the Sanctuary Tree's calming aura – except with a wholly different intent. Whereas the tree had offered rest and repose, this Notion prodded him along, encouraging him to dive ever deeper. It stood stark on his blank canvas, a stain of wriggling black amongst tranquil white.

  And it didn't belong to him.

  This was why the cave had attracted so many doomed spelunkers. It subconsciously influenced them to ignore their better instincts. Anyone with a hint of self-preservation would have turned back at the first or second skeleton, but a dozen people and counting had pressed on, heedless of how they were throwing their lives away.

  Just like Simon.

  With a start, he noticed that the cave's hallways were illuminated despite a lack of any visible light sources. As if the glow of an anglerfish was tempting him to approach. Why didn't I catch that there were no torches or magic orbs or whatever? This is...

  He swiftly banished the invading Notion from his mind. It wasn't difficult now that he knew what to look for. The influence wasn't mind control – merely a persistent whisper in his ear. Like a little devil on his shoulder, saying: What's the worst that could happen?

  Simon took a seat on the uncomfortable stone floor, crossing his legs. Alright.

  Decision time.

  Caelryn Cave was contradictory. Built to hide something, yet with an aura that enticed people to delve further into its depths. The builders wouldn't have put that Notion here, which indicated another entity was also at play. Probably still in the cave.

  It wants me to reach the bottom. But the builders didn't. They hadn't wanted anyone to reach the bottom – including themselves. People squirreling away money or Artifacts wouldn't have collapsed some of the pathways, making it significantly harder for them to retrieve their own possessions.

  'Turn Back', the message on the entrance had said.

  Simon recognized that he should do just that. He'd procured enough pieces of scrap to sell for meager startup funds, at least. The prudent choice would be to leave Caelryn Cave, locate the nearest town, and gradually find his footing in Valtia's society. Take it slow and steady.

  He didn't hesitate. Simon stood up, brushed off his pants, and started walking.

  Forward.

  There were methods to set off traps from a safe distance. They all seemed pressure-activated, so periodically tossing the skeletons ahead of him would work like a charm. With a bit of planning, discretion, and forethought, he should be able to beat the odds.

  Of course, beating the odds might not lead to riches or Artifacts. Yet even if this Cave's treasure wasn't what he'd initially expected...that didn't mean he couldn't turn it to his advantage. New ideas were already churning in Simon's brain.

  It was with some amusement that he noted his anxiety had vanished. Now that his mind was set, there was no point in entertaining indecisiveness. Either he would discover something amazing and reap the rewards, or he would add to the cave's extensive skeleton collection. Simple as that.

  The dice had been cast, and only time would reveal whether they landed on double sixes or snake eyes.

  A less self-aware person would have blamed the Notion for their recklessness. Simon knew better. He could tell when a decision came solely from himself.

  And the idea of turning back was utterly revolting to him.

  He hadn't tricked a god into transmigrating him so he could go slow and steady.

  --

  Huh. A wry smile inched up Simon's face. This must be what it's like to win the lottery.

  Seventeen skeletons in total. Twice that many traps.

  Yet none set off by him. The previous adventurers had 'disarmed' all of them.

  Simon was the lucky contestant who got to win the prize.

  The bottom of Caelryn Cave led to a thick metal wall barring his path – a last line of defense. Time had been unkind to it as well, the once-sturdy material now rusted and brittle.

  Activate: Glove of Minor Strength. Muscles straining, he managed to break open a hole without too much effort. It was easier than anticipated. As if something besides the passage of time had also been relentlessly chipping away at the wall.

  Yeah. Simon had a decent idea of what awaited him in the next room beyond. He breathed in, composing himself and stifling his nerves.

  First impressions were important.

  The metal let out a tortured creak as he shoved it aside. Simon squeezed through the opening–

  Then immediately stopped short at what he saw.

  A wide, hundred-foot cavern stretched out before him. In its center was a cylindrical cage of light that rose up to the ceiling. And in the center of that...

  An inferno of pitch-blackness. Darker than the void of space. Hot yet cold, powerful yet weak, alive yet dead. The paradox of existence constrained into a form of heat and malice. Deep in the marrow of his bones, something primal told Simon that these were flames that could reduce a world to ashes.

  Inside its cage of light, the inferno began to stir.

  "My, my. An auspicious day indeed." Melodic laughter echoed outwards, prickling Simon's skin like a thousand jabbing needles. "Come sit, why don't you? It's been quite some time since I've had company...and we have much to discuss."

  Almost by reflex, he cast Identify.

  Searing pain exploded behind his eyes. It was so intense and all-consuming that he momentarily blacked out – fortunately sparing him from further agony. The sensation was blindingly quick and abrupt, like a gunshot barreling through his skull.

  Then, just as quickly, it subsided. His sight returned. A system window was hovering in front of him.

  Name: Sealed Demon of Ruination

  Description: They told you to turn back.

  Estimated Level: 89

  No surprise there.

  "Don't mind if I do." Nodding, Simon casually strode forward, forcing his expression to remain impassive. It wasn't wise to show your full emotions during negotiations, and right now, his body was absolutely flooded with an electrifying blend of fear and adrenaline.

  This room was danger. This room was death.

  This room was opportunity.