"Maintain your lines, everyone! We'll begin the orientation now!"
Orientation for the dungeon run was held in the hall adjoining the dungeon gate.
Candidates lined up in tense rows before a dais where a silver-haired instructor spoke, voice sharp as hammered steel.
"You will enter a controlled section of the Westford Dungeon. Supervisors will observe each one of your actions. Your task is survival. Hunt, explore, and do what you know best. Show us your value. Do something foolish, and you are disqualified."
Weapons were gripped tighter as those words danced through the corridor. Prayers whispered, gods and goddesses invoked by the mystical words. Some swallowed hard enough that I could hear it from across the room.
The hall itself looked like someone had tried to marry a cathedral with a barracks.
High arched windows let in strips of gray light, dust drifting through in lazy motes. Iron braziers burned along the walls, filling the air with a faint tang of smoke and heated oil.
The banners overhead bore the sigil of the Association, their fabric enchanted to shimmer faintly like they were alive.
Every sound carried a spark of anxiety with it… boots scuffing against stone, a blade tapping nervously against its scabbard, someone coughing just to cut the silence.
It wasn't the dungeon yet, but the atmosphere felt like one already: heavy, expectant, as though the hall itself was testing our nerves.
The tension was present in the air. This trial was only ours; the proxy was not going to be there anymore.
To my left, a broad-shouldered boy was muttering a prayer under his breath, clutching a wooden charm so hard I thought it might snap.
In front, a girl with a spear was sharpening the blade like she was trying to sandpaper away her anxiety, sparks flicking off with each nervous scrape.
One scrawny swordsman looked so pale I half-expected him to faint before we even reached the gate.
I arched a brow, biting back a smirk with much difficulty. "Half of them are already writing their obituaries," I whispered to myself.
Corporate orientation flashbacks arrived, except here, instead of losing your laptop password, you lost your lives.
I was worried as well, but I wasn't listening to the instructor anymore.
There was something more fun than those vague instructions I had spotted.
A scrawny mage in plain robes, clutching a staff too tall for him. His hair was ash-blond, curling faintly at the ends. His face was delicate, unfairly so. Pretty, almost fragile.
My heart did a little pirouette.
"Ohhh, hello cutie," I murmured, confirming with my observation that he wasn't too young.
Then, before anyone could stop me, I slid between rows of uniform groups and planted myself beside him.
He stiffened, glancing at me like I was about to bite.
Which, honestly, was fair.
"Relax," I whispered, leaning just close enough that my breath brushed his ear. "I don't bite." A heartbeat. "…Unless asked."
The boy's face went crimson. His knuckles whitened on his staff.
"You're… Aria Solona," he stammered, somehow remembering my name.
"Mhm. And you are?" I was having a pretty good time with these adorable reactions nowadays.
'Fantasy world, one. Old world, zero!'
"C-Cassiel. I'm an apprentice Mage!"
"Well then, Cassiel. Congratulations." I ruffled his unfairly silky hair, smirking as he squeaked.
"You've been claimed. No refunds. No exchanges. You're mine now, cutie."
Reddy, that elf bartender at my inn, and now this cutie. This world surely had a number of attractive people just my type.
His lips parted like he wanted to protest, but no words came out. Just a faint squeak.
From across the room, I felt Riddle's glare drill into my spine like a spear. But I obviously ignored it.
Since she wasn't going to be there inside the dungeon, I at least needed some company to 'be safe' now, didn't I?
"Cute," I glanced at my riddle and mouthed without hesitation.
Then, back to the cutie, I asked, "So what can you do, Cassiel? Tell me you've got something flashy up your sleeve."
His ears went pink immediately. "A-ah… well… I can make fire."
"Big fire?" I leaned closer, eyes shining.
"…A spark. About this big." He pinched his fingers together nervously. He seemed to be in his early twenties, but just how protected was this boy to be so adorable~?
I clutched my chest like he'd just proposed. "Sparks start the fires, sweetheart. You and me, we're going to burn down the world."
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, then blurted out: "I saw you in the skills chamber, Miss Aria. You… you were incredible."
Ohhh. So he had been watching. My grin sharpened. "Admiration looks good on you, Cassiel. Keep that up, and I'll keep you."
"The gate will now open!"
The runes along the arch flared one after another, like a string of lanterns flickering alive.
Each pulse added weight to the air, a pressure that pressed against my lungs, humming like an overclocked server room ready to blow.
Mana rolled off the arch in waves, sharp, coppery, almost alive.
The floor trembled with the low bass of it, and more than one rookie stumbled back. One poor kid leaned to the side and promptly lost his breakfast all over the polished stones.
"Good omen," I muttered dryly, stepping sideways so my boots didn't splash in it.
This wasn't the main dungeon entrance— the one that scarred the city skyline like a black spike through heaven. The regular adventurers did not use it; they could not do so in the first place.
This was the Association's private access point: a runed arch thrumming with violet light.
Even from here, I felt it… the pressure rolling out, the hum threading the air like wires alive with current.
It was the same sensation as standing at the edge of a server room with all the racks thrumming in sync.
Except this wasn't hardware. It was a monster.
The supervisor raised a hand. "Step forward when called." This content belongs to N0velFire.ɴet
Around me, candidates steeled themselves. Blades checked. Magic wands clutched. Breaths drawn slowly and shakily.
I was ready to center myself as well…
But a bright pink glow unfurled across my vision.
[Skill: Assistance System has been triggered.]
[A quest has been presented.]
The text glitched, flickering like a rendering file.
My breath hitched unexpectedly.
This wasn't the world's status screen, not the blue ones. This was pink, the signature screen of my special skill.
I swallowed, lips curling into a sharp smile.
"Well," I whispered, gaze fixed on the living gate, "guess the real fun starts now.
Last time I got one of these pink pop-ups, I almost bled out in a forest. Cute flashback. So, statistically speaking… this dungeon is probably about to try and kill me too.