The escape was a pathetic, shambling affair. Long before dawn, the broken members of Unit 17 slipped out of the Hazard Clearance facility like ghosts. They moved through the pre-dawn gloom, a collection of terrified children playing at being soldiers. Jack, as always, was at the rear, the reluctant follower. He whispered doubts into the cold air, questioning their decision, which only served to harden the resolve of the others. A predator does not need to command. It only needs to nudge the herd toward the cliff.
Maria, her face a mask of cold fury, took the lead. Her anger at Sergeant Vale was a powerful fuel, burning away her fear. Leo clutched a small, smooth stone in his pocket, his [Glow] talent dormant but a psychological comfort. He was a boy armed with a nightlight, walking into an abattoir.
They reached the drainage culvert. In the deep twilight, the faint, blood-red glow of the dungeon's runes was visible, pulsing softly like a malevolent heart. The sight stunned the group into silence. Fear and greed, the two most powerful motivators in the world, warred on their faces.
"It's real," one of the silent girls whispered, her voice full of awe.
Jack feigned a step back. "I don't know about this," he said, his voice a perfect imitation of a boy in over his head. "This feels wrong. The Bureau..."
"The Bureau wants us dead," Maria spat, her eyes fixed on the glowing gate. "This is ours. This is our chance." She didn't wait for a consensus. She strode into the darkness, and the others, caught in the grip of her conviction, followed. Jack, the last one, let himself be "convinced," a sheep swept along by the flock he was secretly herding.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the world of cold concrete and damp earth vanished, but his true senses came alive. He was no longer just a boy in a cave. He was the administrator, logged into the central server. The dungeon interface bloomed in his mind, a clean, beautiful schematic of his own design. He saw the green dots of his "teammates" moving forward. He saw the dormant red dots of his monsters, waiting. And he saw the faint, shimmering outlines of the loot chests he had so carefully seeded.
The first encounter was a predictable slaughter. A pack of Goblins, armed with nothing but crude knives, charged the unit. But this was not the chaotic scrum of the sewer mission. Here, there was a desperate, adrenaline-fueled purpose. Maria, empowered by her rage, met the first goblin with a ferocity that startled it. The others, emboldened, fought with a recklessness that passed for bravery.
A cheap F-rank sword, one of Jack's seeded lures, clattered from the first goblin's corpse. One of the silent boys snatched it up, his eyes wide with disbelief. It worked. The rumor was true. Their morale, a fragile, flickering thing, surged. Jack watched the data flow in.
[Tenant Maria has slain Goblin. +0.2 XP acquired through Experience Tithe.]
They pushed deeper, their early victories making them bold. They found another chest, this one containing a slightly dented but functional F-rank shield. Hope, the most dangerous drug of all, was now coursing through their veins. They felt like heroes. They were winning.
Therefore, they became careless.
The ambush came from a side tunnel Jack had specifically designed for this purpose. Another goblin pack, larger this time, swarmed them while their guard was down. One of the silent boys, the one who had grabbed the new sword, was too slow to react. A goblin's knife found the gap between his rusty helm and his pauldron. He went down with a wet gurgle, his body dissolving into shimmering blue light before he even hit the floor.
The intoxicating warmth spread through Jack's body, a private, perfect sensation that no one else could feel.
[Tenant has died. Essence Absorbed: +1 Vitality.]
[Dungeon Saturation: +5%. Current: 33%.]
The spell of hope was shattered. The slaughter had begun. The unit's clumsy formation broke as panic set in. They fought with the raw terror of cornered animals. Maria's rage kept them from fleeing, but their discipline was gone. Another orphan, one of the nameless dregs from the back of the line, was dragged down by a swarm of Giant Rats. More XP. Another stat point. More saturation.
Jack stayed in the rear, firing off the occasional [Mana Bolt]. He was not fighting. He was calibrating. He deliberately delayed a shot here, "missed" a shot there, subtly ensuring the attrition rate remained optimal. He needed survivors, but not too many. He needed them traumatized, but not completely broken.
They finally broke and fled, scrambling out of the culvert into the grey light of morning. Three of them were left. Maria, Leo, and the second silent girl. They were battered, bleeding, but they were clutching new, real weapons. They collapsed in the dirt outside, gasping for air, their eyes wide with a mixture of horror at the friends they had lost and a wild, disbelieving triumph at the loot they had gained.
"See?" Maria rasped, holding up a new shield. "This is real. This is ours. We don't need them anymore."
Jack limped over, performing his role as a fellow survivor. "Maybe..." he said, his voice trembling convincingly. "Maybe if we come back with more people, we'll have enough gear to actually survive Vale's missions..." He wasn't giving an order. He was planting their next idea for them.
As they began the long, quiet walk back to the facility, Jack checked his final tally. Four dead. Four new stat points. A decent trickle of XP. The system worked. His factory was online, and its first production run had been a resounding success.
He closed the interface, a cold, mathematical satisfaction settling over him. He had balanced the books perfectly. As he was about to shut it down, a new alert pulsed at the edge of his vision. It was a color he had never seen before—a deep, warning violet.
[Notice: External interest detected. Mana signature of this location has been logged by a non-local entity. Dungeon visibility has increased.]
The System itself was warning him. His farm, his perfect, secret slaughterhouse, was no longer invisible.