The air in Manila still carried the scent of smoke and ozone, a permanent reminder of the day the world broke. Nanashi moved through the debris-strewn streets with a purpose that set him apart from the aimless crowds. He ignored the FPA recruitment posters plastered on every salvageable wall, their promises of "Safety in Numbers" and "Guild Protection" feeling more like threats than assurances.
He found what he was looking for in the industrial district - a shimmering, unstable portal of violet light hovering before the shattered remains of a textile factory. The System notification hovered in his vision, visible only to him.
[F-Rank Dungeon: Corrupted Factory]
[Recommended Party: 3-4 Players]
[Time Until Breach: 71 hours, 14 minutes]
"Seventy-one hours," he murmured. The FPA would get around to it in forty-eight, their standardized response time for F-Ranks. Too many dungeons, too few teams.
"Ooooh, it's so sparkly!" a cheerful voice echoed in his mind. "Are we going in? We're going in, aren't we?"
Saulog didn't answer Leviathan directly. Instead, he approached a pile of construction wreckage, his eyes scanning. He bypassed a broken rebar spear and a pipe that might serve as a crude staff. His hands closed around a solid, foot-long piece of steel rebar, bent at one end into a crude hook.
"Why that?" Leviathan asked, her mental voice puzzled. "The pointy one looks more hero-y! Or the long one! You could poke monsters from far away!"
"Points break. Arrows run out," Saulog said, his voice low as he tested the weight. He walked to a collapsed concrete slab and began methodically grinding the bent end against the rough surface, forming a crude, heavy head. "This... this just needs to be heavy."
"But it's so... simple."
"That's the point." He stood, hefting the newly-formed club. It was ugly, brutal, and weighed heavily in his grip. Perfect.
With a final glance around the deserted street, he stepped through the violet light.
The transition was instantaneous. The ruined factory outside was replaced by a corridor of pulsating, organic-looking walls, the air thick with the smell of rot and ozone. Distant, skittering sounds echoed.
[Dungeon Entered: Corrupted Factory]
[Primary Objective: Eliminate Dungeon Core]
[Secondary Objective: Survive]
His System interface flickered, showing his pathetic stat block. No class skills. No starting equipment beyond the club. Just the two unique abilities that defined his existence now.
Class: Pretender
Abilities: Pretend, False Data
Authority: Authority of Envy
"There's something coming!" Leviathan whispered, a mix of fear and excitement.
Two shapes emerged from the gloom - humanoid figures with green, mottled skin and oversized claws. Goblins. F-Rank mobs. To any other new Player, they'd be a moderate threat. To him, with his nonexistent stats, they were a death sentence without leverage.
Pretend: [Scout]
The world sharpened. His hearing became more acute, his movements slightly quicker. It was a shallow imitation, maybe 10% of what a real Scout could do, but it was enough. He melted into the shadows of a broken loom as the goblins passed, their crude senses unable to detect him.
He watched them. The way they moved. The way they sniffed the air. He focused, and a new prompt appeared.
[Target: Fetid Goblin]
[Skills Available for Copying: Keen Smell (Passive), Claw Swipe (Active)]
[Authority of Envy: Activate?]
He selected Claw Swipe. A trickle of energy flowed into him, and the strike suddenly swept through the goblin, crushing its legs, unable to walk. He finishes it off by bashing its head.
He moved on, a ghost in the dungeon's belly. He found a group of three goblins clustered around a shimmering, purple crystal - the Dungeon Core. A direct assault was suicide.
His eyes fell on a support beam holding up a precarious section of the factory ceiling. He Pretended to be a Brute, his muscles coiling with borrowed strength. One solid swing of his club against the beam.
CRACK.
The sound echoed through the chamber. The goblins looked up just as several tons of concrete and machinery rained down upon them. When the dust settled, the core was exposed, pulsing weakly amidst the rubble.
He approached, club held ready. A single, infested goblin, half-crushed but still alive, clawed its way out, hissing at him.
Nanashi didn't hesitate. He didn't shout a battle cry. He simply stepped forward and brought the club down on its head with a wet, final crunch.
He stood over the core, his club stained and his breathing even. He looked at the simple, brutal tool in his hand. It had worked. No flair. No drama. Just efficiency.
He raised the club one last time and smashed the Dungeon Core.
[Dungeon Cleared!]
[Rewards: 150 EXP, 50 System Credits]
[Title Gained: Solo Clearer - Slight increase in stats when operating without a party.]
[New Skill Acquired: Keen Smell (Passive)]
The dungeon began to dissolve around him, the organic walls fading back into the mundane wreckage of the real factory.
"We did it!" Leviathan cheered, her voice a happy dance in his mind. "You were so... smashy! And you got a new skill! See? My authority is useful!"
Saulog looked at the club, then at the clearing portal. In the distance, he could hear the approaching sirens of an FPA cleanup crew. They'd find nothing but a collapsed factory and a cleared dungeon, with no trace of the Player who'd done it.
He tossed the bloody club into a pile of rubble. It had served its purpose.
"It is useful," he finally replied to his patron, his voice quiet but firm. "We'll need to find more things to borrow."