Day 4.
Simon once again climbed a hill that offered a commanding view of the surrounding landscape. With a spear fashioned from the dungeon’s minerals slung over his shoulder, his sharp gaze swept across the vast field. A herd of monsters resembling wild buffalo moved through the grassy plains, their enormous bodies covered in brownish minerals, their tails cracking like whips.
[Ugh, there are so damn many of them,] Herseva commented. Having taken the form of a staff, she was perched upright on Simon’s head.
[Kid! You’re not going to hunt all of them, are you?]
"No," Simon replied. "I just need one or two with specific traits."
[Specific traits?]
Simon nodded. "Find me one with wounds on its body."
[Wounds, you say. One with wounds.]
Herseva ascended higher into the sky as Simon scanned the landscape below once more. The monsters in this dungeon were strangely passive; they neither ate nor fought one another. There were no territorial disputes, no squabbles over food, no males competing for mates.
They fought for only one reason: upon spotting a being from outside the dungeon—a human—they would charge with a mad desire to devour it.
’Which means any monster with wounds must have fought an outsider,’ he reasoned. ’They never fight among themselves.’
Simon glanced down at the book in his hand, the one he’d recovered from the stomach of the last monster he’d caught.
’I might be able to find another one.’
[Kid! I found one over there!]
Following Herseva’s call, Simon spotted a creature covered in deep scratches, a long, spear-like object embedded in its ore-like hide.
"Good job! That’s the one."
Dust plumed behind him as he raced down the hill.
With a strategy in place, the hunt became far easier. He would shatter the ore-like hide with a mineral weapon he’d fashioned, then cast a curse on the exposed flesh or simply rip it apart with Overload.
Meanwhile, Herseva shrieked.
Her frantic, zigzagging flight successfully drew the attention of the other bison-like creatures, allowing Simon to lure his target away and hunt it safely.
He had already hit the beast with two stacks of the motion sickness curse, ‘Sickness,’ but it resisted, bucking violently. Perched on its back, Simon swayed precariously before his eyes landed on the spear shaft embedded near its abdomen.
’This is it!’
With a grunt, he gripped the shaft with both hands and pulled with all his might.
The spear came free with a sickening ’squelch’ as blood gushed from the wound. The spearhead was made of the same mineral as the ones Simon had been making.
’Just as I thought. This wasn’t a Kizen student’s work.’
The spear looked ancient and worn. Simon’s hypothesis was solidifying.
The monster finally collapsed with a heavy ’thud’, overcome by motion sickness and blood loss. Simon quickly sprinkled a potion with a presence-concealing effect over its body before dragging it to a safer location.
A successful hunt yielded both meat and clues. After setting up camp on a steep hill, Simon lit a bonfire, its flames crackling as he skewered a few pieces of meat to roast over them.
"You worked hard, Herseva."
[I’m exhausted!]
Simon soothed the whining Herseva as he continued to butcher the carcass. Just like the last one, its stomach contained a skeleton and an assortment of personal effects. And another book.
"Jackpot!"
Simon laid out his spoils, a proud smile on his face. He now had three of the mysterious books. Among the 647 students vying to solve the dungeon’s riddle, his progress was unparalleled.
[But, kid.]
Herseva, in her staff form, hopped over to the book.
[Why is a book like this inside a monster? And who wrote it?]
"I have two theories."
Simon held up two fingers.
"First, people entered this dungeon long before we did. Second, people originally lived in this dungeon."
[Either way, it means there were people here.]
"Yeah."
It seemed they had been wiped out by monster attacks. Still, the books and weapons were clear evidence of their struggle to survive in this place. Simon opened the book. It was filled with a looping, unfamiliar script and numerous illustrations.
[Can you read it?]
Simon shook his head at Herseva’s question. "It’s a language I’ve never seen before. But with all the pictures, I can guess at the meaning."
He decided to use this newfound knowledge to fashion a better mineral weapon. The book detailed a special method for processing the minerals.
"Like this."
He placed a raw lump of mineral on the ground. Then, as if making a flint tool, he carefully positioned a sharp mineral shard on its edge and struck it hard with another.
A clear ’clang’ rang out. After a few more precise strikes to the corners, the ore fractured with a satisfying ’crunch’, breaking into usable chunks.
[Oh! So that’s how it’s done!]
Now, all he had to do was firmly set the ore on a spear shaft, pour an adhesive potion over the joint, and let it dry. It was disposable, but it would be sharp enough to pierce the monsters’ tough hides and damage the flesh beneath. As he fashioned several bundles of these spears, his mind raced.
’Still, there are too many unanswered questions.’
The monsters in this dungeon didn’t eat; consequently, their digestive systems were severely atrophied, and their excretory organs had vanished entirely. This explained why the skeletons and items they swallowed remained perfectly preserved in their stomachs. Still, it was bizarre that such massive creatures could function without any food. They had to have an alternative energy source, and he had to find out what it was.
’And most importantly, how do all these clues lead to the Dungeon Lord?’
It was the fourth day, and he felt no closer to solving the dungeon’s core mystery. Exhausted, Simon flopped onto the grass and began flipping through the books again. It was an illustrated guide to the dungeon’s flora and fauna. Since he couldn’t read the text, he just skimmed the pictures.
’Huh.’
On the last page, there was a human. It depicted a person sitting cross-legged, blades of grass sprouting from their body. From the earth below, a single white hand reached up toward them.
’What is this?’
His expression turning serious, Simon sat up straight.
’It has to be symbolic of something.’
Roc Island. Kizen Grand Auditorium.
"Alright! It’s already the fifth day of the Promotion Evaluation!" Conrad, the announcer, boomed, holding up a document. Deep, dark circles shadowed his eyes, but his voice was pure professionalism.
"Time for a brief mid-evaluation review! How are the students faring on day five? Professor Hongfeng!"
"It’z proving difficult," Professor Hongfeng admitted, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the footage. "Clearing the dungeon iz going to take longer than I anticipated. About one to two monthz."
Though every student shared the clear objective of defeating the Dungeon Lord, they were being battered by the brutal environment. Survival alone was a struggle, turning the mission into a test of endurance rather than conquest.
"They’re going mad," the announcer lamented, shaking his head at the sight of a student breaking a tooth on a piece of ore out of sheer desperation.
"This is becoming a serious problem! It would be a disaster if, as Professor Hongfeng said, the test drags on for months! We can only hope someone defeats the Dungeon Lord quickly and puts an end to this!"
Hongfeng nodded in agreement. "The ztudentz who have formed partiez are the onez to watch."
Elisa Celine’s four-person party was making progress. Students like Dick and Jamie had also formed groups of three. They shared strategies for defeating the monsters and secured food through coordinated hunts. With survival less of a concern, they could dedicate more energy to finding the Dungeon Lord.
"And... Ah!"
Just then, a black-haired boy appeared on the screen, calmly flipping through a book by a bonfire. His face was clean, and he looked well-fed. Thanks to the survival skills honed during his long years in a rural fief, Simon was maintaining a stable existence, a stark contrast to the suffering of his peers.
"He’z zo relaxed he’z even reading. I wonder what that book iz about?" the announcer mused.
Suddenly, Hongfeng’s eyes widened.
"...I ztand corrected."
"Pardon?"
"Not two monthz," she clarified, a satisfied zmile gracing her lipz. "Two weekz. Everything dependz on that ztudent, Zimon."
Day 5. The first thing Simon noticed when he woke was that the hill was gone. The very hill he’d used for cover had vanished, leaving behind a single, colossal footprint. When Simon followed the track, he saw a monster that looked almost identical to the hill shuffling away in the distance.
"No way..."
He quickly pulled out the flora and fauna guide and flipped through its pages. On the right were illustrations of monsters; on the left, plants. He had dismissed it as unimportant before, but now he saw the pattern.
’All the monsters in this dungeon...’
A chill ran down his spine. He whipped his head around, his breath catching in his throat. The towering trees suddenly seemed terrifying, filled with a primal menace he had never associated with ordinary plants.
’That’s right. The plants, the animals—they were all covered in minerals. The animals didn’t eat, and some of the plants had features like eyes and noses.’
After secretly observing the monsters, Simon had uncovered a crucial fact: the creatures of this dungeon could transform into parts of the terrain itself. By pressing their bodies to the ground and curling up, their organic tissues would shift, solidifying into trees, hills, or rocks. Conversely, they could revert from a plant back into an animal. It defied all known biology on the continent, but here, it was a fact of life.
’I’ll have to be careful.’
He had also figured out how they obtained energy. When they ran out, they seemed to transform into plants and recharge through processes like photosynthesis.
’In that case...’
With a flick of his wrist, Simon flipped to the last page of the guide. The image of a human, not a monster, turning into a plant. And next to it, the ‘white hand.’
’What does it mean?’
It was a long shot, but he had nothing to lose. Simon decided to imitate the drawing. He wove minerals together with string to fashion a crude set of clothes, draped it over his body, and sat cross-legged.
"Whew."
He took a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes. Focusing his mind was his specialty. It wasn’t long before he felt it.
’Ah!’
He felt his consciousness begin to fray at the edges, a dizzying sensation that threatened to pull him under completely. He fought to maintain his grip on reason.
’Focus. Focus.’
He struggled to hold on for what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few dozen minutes.
A thin, white tendril, like a raw nerve ending, rose from the ground and probed toward him. Simon remained perfectly still, feigning ignorance. A moment later, as if realizing he wasn’t a dungeon monster, it recoiled and fled in terror.
Simon’s eyes flew open.
’It definitely made contact with me!’
That was the true identity of the ‘white hand’ from the guide. A residual sensation lingered throughout his body. Even after standing up, he could feel the direction in which the white nerve had retreated.
A slow smile spread across Simon’s face.
’Found you!’

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