The kobold's claws slashed toward my face. I ducked, stumbled, and fell flat on my ass. Not exactly the heroic dungeon dive I'd imagined.
"Watch out, Jin!" someone shouted from behind me.
I scrambled backward as fast as I could, my hands sliding through something wet and sticky. I didn't look down. In dungeons, wet and sticky was never good news.
The kobold – an ugly rat-faced thing with patchy fur and yellowed teeth – lunged again. This time, I wasn't fast enough. Its claws ripped through my leather armor like it was paper, tearing into the flesh beneath. Pain exploded across my chest, hot and sharp.
I screamed. Not a manly battle cry, but a full-on, high-pitched shriek of pain and terror.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Not at all.
My beginner level dungeon. My chance to prove myself. To finally escape the crappy job at the market stall where I'd been selling overripe fruit for the past three years.
The advertisement had made it sound so easy: "Entry-level dungeon dive! Perfect for beginners! Minimal risk! Maximum reward!"
What a load of crap.
The kobold's rancid breath hit my face as it leaned in for the kill. Behind it, I could see the rest of my party – three strangers I'd met just this morning – fighting their own battles. Losing their own battles, more accurately.
Koros, our tank, was already down, his plate armor torn open, blood pooling beneath him. Lina, our mage, was backed against the wall, her staff broken, desperately flinging weak fire spells that barely singed the kobolds' fur. Drav, our healer, was nowhere to be seen.
We were screwed. All of us. In the easiest, most beginner-friendly dungeon in the region.
The kobold's claws rose again, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the finishing blow.
Instead, there was a gurgling sound. I opened one eye to see the kobold clutching its throat, an arrow shaft protruding from it. It toppled sideways, twitching.
"Adventurers! Hold position!" A commanding voice echoed from the entrance.
The Guild Rescue Squad. I'd never been so happy to hear pompous official voices in my life.
But they were too late for most of us. Koros was definitely dead. Lina screamed as a kobold leapt on her, its teeth sinking into her neck. By the time the rescuers reached her, she'd stopped moving.
I lay there, bleeding, as the professionals made quick work of the kobold pack. Methodical. Efficient. Everything we hadn't been.
"We've got one alive here!" someone shouted, kneeling beside me. A healing potion was pressed to my lips. The liquid tasted like mint and copper, but the pain in my chest immediately began to fade.
"Lucky bastard," the rescuer muttered, helping me sit up. "The rest of your party is gone."
Five dead. All my party members, plus at least one of the rescuers who'd taken a poison dart to the face from a trap we'd apparently triggered.
I felt hollow. Numb. This was supposed to be the beginning of my adventure, not a massacre.
The rescuer helped me to my feet. "Can you walk? We need to get you out of here."
I nodded dumbly, still in shock. My legs felt like jelly, but they supported my weight.
That's when I noticed it. A faint bluish glow near my feet. I blinked, thinking it was a side effect of the healing potion.
But no. There was definitely something there. A translucent, shimmering piece of paper lying on the dungeon floor. Like a receipt, but made of light.
"What's that?" I asked, pointing.
The rescuer looked where I was pointing. "What's what? Come on, we need to move."
He couldn't see it. Strange.
I bent down and picked it up. To my surprise, my fingers didn't pass through it. The paper-thin object felt cool to the touch, with a slight tingle of energy.
As soon as I touched it, words appeared on its surface:
DUNGEON RECEIPT
Dungeon: Kobold Warren (Level 1)
Deaths Processed: 5
Points Awarded: 500
Thank you for your patronage!
I stared at it, my brain struggling to process what I was seeing.
"Hey!" The rescuer shook my shoulder. "We need to go. Now!"
I stuffed the glowing receipt into my pocket and followed him out of the dungeon, my mind racing. What the hell was this thing? And what did it mean, "points awarded"?
We emerged into daylight, the sun painfully bright after the dungeon's gloom. The rescuers had set up a temporary camp outside, where they were wrapping bodies in clean white cloth.
"Sit here," my rescuer instructed, pointing to a log near a small fire. "The debriefer will want to talk to you."
I nodded, but as soon as he walked away, I pulled the receipt out of my pocket again. It was still there, still glowing, still displaying the same message.
"Deaths Processed: 5." My party members, plus the unlucky rescuer.
"Points Awarded: 500." But points for what? And awarded to whom? To me?
As if responding to my thoughts, the receipt shimmered and changed. New text appeared beneath the original message:
DUNGEON SHOP NOW AVAILABLE
Say "Open Shop" to view available items.
I glanced around. The rescuers were busy with the bodies and their equipment. No one was paying attention to me.
"Open Shop," I whispered, feeling incredibly stupid.
The air in front of me rippled, and suddenly I was looking at what appeared to be a floating menu. Transparent, glowing with the same blue light as the receipt, and visible only to me, judging by the fact that none of the rescuers were freaking out.
DUNGEON SHOP
Available Points: 500
ITEMS:
- Health Potion (Minor) - 50 points
- Reinforced Leather Armor - 200 points
- Skill Book: Basic Swordsmanship - 300 points
- Skill Book: Trap Detection (Novice) - 300 points
- Kobold Fang Dagger - 150 points
I blinked, reading the list again. And again.
This was... impossible. A magic shop that only I could see? That gave me points when people died in dungeons?
It was morbid. Disturbing. Ethically questionable at best.
But as I looked at the bodies of my party members being prepared for transport back to the city, a cold, practical thought wormed its way into my mind:
They were already dead. Nothing would bring them back.
And if I had this... ability, this twisted gift... wasn't it better to use it than to waste it?
"Jin!" The chief rescuer was walking toward me, his expression grim. "We need your statement about what happened in there."
I quickly dismissed the shop menu with a wave of my hand, relieved when it disappeared instantly.
"Of course," I said, trying to look appropriately traumatized. Which wasn't hard, considering I had nearly died.
But as I recounted the events to the Guild official, a part of my mind was already calculating, planning.
If I got 500 points from five deaths in a level 1 dungeon...
What could I get from higher-level dungeons with more dangerous monsters and higher casualty rates?
The thought should have horrified me. Instead, it filled me with a dark, guilty excitement.
I wouldn't cause deaths. I wasn't a monster. But if people were going to die in dungeons anyway...
Well, someone might as well benefit.
And that someone was going to be me.