Sunlight stabbed into Kiriti's eyes like daggers as he emerged from the crumbling stairwell. After days in the phosphorescent gloom of the dungeon, the brightness was almost painful. He squinted, one hand raised to shield his vision, the other clutching the makeshift dagger fashioned from the Goblin King's finger bone.
He stood at the edge of what appeared to be an ancient temple complex—long abandoned, its once-grand columns now little more than weathered stumps protruding from overgrown grass. Beyond lay the sprawling expanse of the Royal Capital, its gleaming spires and tiled rooftops a jarring contrast to the primal darkness he'd just escaped.
"Hey! You there! How did you—" A guard's voice broke off as the man approached and saw the iron bracelet still visible on Kiriti's wrist. "Wait... G-Rank? You came out of the Eastern Labyrinth?"
Two more guards appeared, exchanging incredulous glances as they took in Kiriti's blood-spattered appearance and the various trophies he'd claimed from the dungeon—the Goblin King's armor fragments fashioned into crude shoulder protection, the glowing fungus samples carefully wrapped in leather, the bone dagger.
"That's... that's not possible," one whispered. "No G-Rank has ever—"
"Take me to whoever's in charge," Kiriti interrupted, his voice raspy from thirst. "I have information about what's below."
The guards hesitated only briefly before flanking him. "The Guild Administrator will want to see this," one muttered. "Come with us."
As they escorted him through the city streets, Kiriti's enhanced Intelligence processed his surroundings with methodical precision. The architecture suggested a society of mid-to-late medieval development with significant magical integration. The populace displayed clear socioeconomic stratification based on clothing quality and spatial distribution. Most notable was the bracelet system—visible on nearly every wrist, the material telegraphing rank and worth to all observers.
Classic status-based social structure, Kiriti noted. Public display of hierarchical position to reinforce order. Efficient, if somewhat lacking in narrative subtlety.
A small crowd began to form as they walked, curious onlookers pointing and whispering.
"Is that blood?" "From the eastern tunnels?" "A G-Rank?"
Kiriti cataloged their expressions: incredulity, disgust, morbid fascination. Not a trace of admiration or respect. He was a curiosity, not a returning hero.
Interesting deviation from standard tropes, he thought. The triumphant return typically generates awe rather than confusion. Another narrative subversion.
The Guild Hall stood at the center of the commercial district—an imposing structure of white stone and blue-tinted glass, its entrance flanked by statues of armored warriors. Inside, polished marble floors reflected the light from crystal chandeliers. Guards and adventurers of various ranks moved with purpose, the metallic gleam of their bracelets catching the light.
The Administrator's office was spartan and functional—no wasted space, no unnecessary decoration. The woman behind the desk matched her surroundings. Middle-aged, hair pulled back in a severe bun, eyes sharp and evaluating. Her silver bracelet marked her as C-Rank.
"So," she said without preamble as Kiriti was brought before her. "You emerged from the Eastern Labyrinth. A G-Rank." Her tone suggested she was reciting an impossibility rather than a fact.
"Former G-Rank," Kiriti corrected, standing straight despite his exhaustion. "Current stats total 38.75. F-Rank territory."
Her eyebrows rose fractionally. "That would require a gain of over 30 points from your initial ranking. Explain."
"I killed the Goblin King," Kiriti replied simply.
The Administrator's composure cracked for a moment. "The what?"
"E-Rank monster, 202 total stats. Resided in a throne room six levels down. Used environmental factors to compensate for the statistical disparity." Kiriti delivered the information with clinical detachment.
She stared at him for a long moment, then made a notation on the parchment before her. "We'll need to verify this claim. The Eastern Labyrinth has been sealed for thirty years due to its fatality rate. If you've indeed dispatched its ruler, that's... significant."
"Killing it only gave me a single stat point," Kiriti clarified. "The rest came from... other circumstances."
The Administrator looked up sharply. "Other circumstances?"
"My companions and I made a tactical decision early in the dungeon," Kiriti explained, fabricating a noble version of events. "We realized only one of us was likely to survive, so they... they positioned me to land the killing blows on every monster we encountered."
"Why you specifically?" The Administrator's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"I had the highest Intelligence stat," Kiriti replied, the partial truth coming easily. "They believed I had the best chance of analyzing the dungeon's patterns and escaping. A calculated sacrifice. Three lives exchanged for the possibility of one survivor who could report back."
He lowered his eyes in a practiced display of survivor's guilt. "They were right about the dungeon's dangers, but wrong about the cost. None of them made it past the Goblin King's chamber."
The Administrator studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Uncommon wisdom for G-Ranks. Most would have fought among themselves for the stat gains." She made another notation. "Their names?"
"Mira, Elyse, and Rovel," Kiriti provided, his voice deliberately softened. "They deserve to be remembered."
For their utility, if nothing else, he added silently.
"Wait here," the Administrator instructed, rising from her desk. "I need to retrieve the appropriate forms."
When she returned several minutes later, she carried a small wooden box and a scroll.
"Kiriti Kolluru," she read from the scroll, "having survived the Eastern Labyrinth and, pending verification, dispatched its ruler, you are hereby granted the following:"
She opened the box and removed its contents one by one, placing them on the desk.
"One standard iron shortsword, E-Rank quality." "One set of leather armor, basic configuration." "Three days' rations." "The title 'Dungeon Survivor (G-Rank).'"
A blue rectangle appeared in Kiriti's vision as she mentioned the title:
Title Acquired: Dungeon Survivor (G-Rank) Effect: +25% to all stat gains from extraordinary circumstances
Kiriti stared at the meager collection of items, waiting for the real reward to be announced. When the Administrator rolled up the scroll and sat back, he realized that was the entirety of it.
"That's... all?" he asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
She raised an eyebrow. "You expected more for doing what you're supposed to do? Dungeons exist to be cleared. That you managed it as a G-Rank is unusual, but not worthy of special commendation."
Fascinating, Kiriti thought. Complete inversion of the typical reward structure. The extraordinary achievement treated as merely adequate performance.
"Additionally," she continued, "your rank has been officially updated to F-Rank in the registry. You're now eligible for standard regional quests through any branch guild."
She gestured dismissively. "You're free to go."
Kiriti gathered the "rewards" mechanically, his mind racing with the implications of this unexpected development. The narrative wasn't following the expected path. The triumph over impossible odds hadn't resulted in the standard recognition sequence.
The system rewards narrative compliance, he reasoned as he exited the Guild Hall. But the world itself doesn't operate on the same principles. Intriguing disconnect.
The midday sun now hung high overhead, illuminating the bustling central square. Merchants hawked their wares from colorful stalls, nobles rode past on gleaming mounts, and city guards maintained a watchful presence along the perimeter.
Kiriti made his way through the crowded marketplace, testing the balance of his new sword and planning his next move. As he rounded a corner into one of the wider avenues, a commotion up ahead caught his attention. A crowd had gathered, voices raised in excitement.
Threading his way closer, Kiriti saw the cause of the disturbance. A merchant's cart had overturned, spilling barrels across the cobblestones. One had burst open, releasing a swarm of what appeared to be tiny scaled creatures—no larger than mice, but with iridescent wings and needle-like teeth. They darted through the air, causing pedestrians to duck and scatter.
"Sprite vipers!" someone shouted. "Don't let them bite you!"
Through the chaotic scene, Kiriti spotted a more concerning development. One of the elaborate carriages he'd seen earlier had been caught in the disruption. Its horses reared in panic as the flying creatures swarmed around them. The driver struggled to maintain control, but the carriage was tilting dangerously as one wheel lifted off the ground.
Without conscious decision—a rare lapse in his calculated behavior—Kiriti found himself moving forward. His enhanced Agility allowed him to weave through the panicked crowd. He reached the carriage just as it began to tip over completely.
With his newly increased Strength, he braced himself against the ornate wooden frame, pushing back against the momentum. The carriage wavered, balanced precariously for a moment, then settled back onto all four wheels.
"Get them under control!" Kiriti shouted to the driver, gesturing at the frightened horses.
The carriage door flew open. "What is the meaning of—"
Kiriti turned to find himself face to face with Seraphina Ashworth.
She wore a different outfit from the ranking ceremony—a traveling ensemble of deep blue silk and silver embroidery, a delicate silver circlet nestled in her auburn hair. Her golden bracelet caught the sunlight as she steadied herself against the carriage door.
Recognition dawned in her eyes, followed by naked shock.
Before either could speak, four armored knights materialized around them, their silver-plated armor marking them as personal guards rather than city watch. Each wore a sapphire signet on their breastplate—House Ashworth's emblem.
"Step away from Lady Seraphina!" the lead knight commanded, hand dropping to his sword hilt. His eyes narrowed as he took in Kiriti's appearance, gaze lingering on the iron bracelet. "How dare a mere F-Rank lay hands on a noble's carriage!"
"He was helping," Seraphina said, her voice cool and controlled. "The carriage was tipping."
The knight didn't relax his posture. "My lady, please return inside. We'll handle this... individual."
Kiriti remained still, acutely aware of the precarious social situation. The four knights outmatched him significantly in both stats and equipment. His new F-Rank status meant nothing in this encounter.
Seraphina studied him with unreadable eyes. For a moment, Kiriti thought he detected a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, perhaps recognition of their shared experience in the ranking ceremony.
Then her aristocratic mask slipped into place.
"Well," she said, her voice carrying just far enough for those nearby to hear, "even the bottom feeders rise occasionally."
Something twisted in Kiriti's chest—an unfamiliar sensation that took him a moment to identify. Humiliation. Raw and visceral. The casual dismissal from someone so far above him in the hierarchy struck deeper than any physical wound from the dungeon.
The lead knight smirked. "You heard Lady Seraphina. Return to whatever gutter you crawled from, E-Rank. Your... assistance... is neither required nor desired."
Another knight stepped forward, physically placing himself between Kiriti and the carriage. "If you value that iron bracelet, you'll be gone before I count to three."
Kiriti's hands clenched involuntarily, nails digging into his palms. The cold analytical part of his mind tried to categorize the reaction—calculated public dismissal for the benefit of observers—but was overwhelmed by a surge of something primal and hot.
She looked at me like I was nothing. Worse than nothing—an anomaly, a statistical error to be corrected by time.
He stepped back, forcing his features into a neutral expression as the knights continued to glare. The carriage door closed with a decisive click. The driver, having regained control of the horses, snapped the reins, and the procession moved on, leaving Kiriti standing alone in the street.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Kiriti felt something beyond calculated self-preservation—a burning, focused ambition. Not just to survive, but to ascend. To rise so high that even the Seraphina Ashworths of this world would be forced to acknowledge him.
If she's the unreachable flower, then I'll become the sun, he thought, a new determination crystallizing within him. I'll rise so high that looking down on me becomes impossible.
With newfound purpose, Kiriti returned to the Guild Hall. The central chamber bustled with activity—adventurers checking quest boards, clerks processing paperwork, merchants selling specialized equipment.
He approached a clerk at one of the quest counters. "I'd like to take on a quest," he stated.
The clerk—a middle-aged man with the brown bracelet of an F-Rank—looked up from his ledger and assessed Kiriti with a practiced eye.
"F-Rank, newly promoted," he observed, noting the iron bracelet. "This is the Royal Capital Guild Hall. We only process C-Rank quests and above."
"Where would I find appropriate quests, then?" Kiriti asked.
The clerk snorted. "Any of the four Duchies would have lower-ranked quests. North, West, East, or South—take your pick. Each has their own Guild branches that handle the lower ranks." He gestured dismissively. "Check the map on the wall if you need directions."
Kiriti nodded, accepting the dismissal without comment. He moved to the large map displayed on the guild's far wall, where several other adventurers were already planning their routes.
The Kingdom of Velgrath spread across the map in meticulous detail—a vast territory divided into four Duchies, each with its own character and challenges.
The Eastern Duchy, where they currently stood, was marked by the royal crest—a crowned lion clutching a sword. It contained the Royal Capital and the most densely populated areas. Notes indicated high concentrations of skilled craftsmen, scholars, and military installations. Its lands were the most developed and civilized, with numerous towns and villages connected by well-maintained roads. "Order through strength" was inscribed beneath its name.
The Southern Duchy, also under direct royal control, displayed coastal regions and harbors, its emblem a ship riding high waves. Maritime commerce, fishing villages, and trade routes dominated its economy. Rich merchants and naval officers held significant influence here. "Prosperity through trade" was its motto.
Both Eastern and Southern Duchies showed high concentrations of B-Rank and A-Rank citizens, with frequent notations of S-Rank individuals in positions of power.
The Western Duchy stood in stark contrast, its territory marked by rolling hills transitioning to desert regions along its border with a neighboring nation labeled "Zephyrian Caliphate." Its emblem showed a scorpion within a circle of wheat. Political intrigue and aristocratic competition were noted as defining features of its social landscape. "Ambition guards the gates" was inscribed beneath.
The Northern Duchy depicted snow-capped mountains and frozen forests, its emblem a wolf howling beneath three stars. Notes indicated sparse population, harsh conditions, and frequent monster incursions from the glacial wastelands beyond its borders. Survival against the elements was as much a challenge as combat against creatures. Most intriguingly, it showed the lowest concentration of high-ranked individuals, with most settlements primarily composed of F and E-Ranks. "Strength through endurance" was its creed.
Kiriti studied the options with methodical attention, evaluating each against his newly formed objective.
Eastern Duchy: Highest concentration of powerful individuals. Maximum visibility but minimum opportunity for advancement. Too many witnesses to unusual progression.
Southern Duchy: Maritime focus. Limited combat opportunities. Wealth-based hierarchy less susceptible to disruption through martial achievement.
Western Duchy: Political intrigue. Scheming anti-hero narrative. High risk, high reward, but too many variables to control effectively.
Northern Duchy: Survival narrative. Harsh conditions. Monster-rich environment. Minimal witnesses to unconventional advancement methods. Maximum opportunity for MC Moments without scrutiny.
The calculation was clear.
The North offers optimal conditions for rapid advancement with minimal oversight, Kiriti decided. Dangerous enough to trigger frequent narrative events, isolated enough to conceal my methods.
"North," he murmured. "The frozen frontier."
A blue rectangle appeared before his eyes:
MC Narrative Path Selected: "The Survivor Against All Odds" World Interactions Now Aligned to This Arc. Deviation May Reduce Reward Scaling.
Kiriti blinked in surprise. This was new—the system hadn't previously commented on his broader choices, only on specific actions. That it recognized his selection of a narrative path suggested deeper mechanics than he'd previously identified.
The system isn't just rewarding moment-to-moment performance, he realized. It's evaluating narrative coherence across extended timelines. Fascinating.
With renewed purpose, Kiriti exited the Guild Hall. The capital gates loomed ahead, marking the boundary between this first chapter of his story and whatever came next.
As he strode toward them, he mentally cataloged his assets:
Name: Kiriti Kolluru Rank: F-Rank STR: 5.25 AGI: 7 VIT: 5 INT: 13.25 LCK: 8.25 TOTAL: 38.75 Equipment: - Iron shortsword (E-Rank) - Leather armor (Basic) - Bone dagger (Goblin King trophy) - Three days' rations Title: Dungeon Survivor (G-Rank) Effect: +25% to all stat gains from extraordinary circumstances
Modest beginning stats for the challenges ahead. But Kiriti knew better than anyone that stats were merely numbers. It was how you leveraged them—how you positioned yourself within the narrative—that determined success.
He passed beneath the capital gates, the guards barely sparing him a glance. Just another F-Rank adventurer departing on some doomed quest. Unremarkable. Forgettable.
Perfect, Kiriti thought with cold satisfaction. Let them underestimate me. Let them dismiss me as background noise. I'll rise through this world like a virus—unnoticed until it's too late to stop the infection.
The north road stretched before him, winding through verdant farmland that would gradually give way to harsher terrain. To dangers, opportunities, and the next stage of his calculated ascent.
The true story, he decided, was only just beginning.