MTL - HacKer - ~ Final-085 Destruction: Trust!

Tunnel Rat is being revised. I have finished the revised manuscript for Book one, which comprises Chapters 1-60.

At some point, the first book will be published on Amazon. A few chapters and an outline of the first book will be left here on RR, and the bulk of chapters 1-60 will be removed, stubbing the book. I will give warning before that happens.

Milo lives in a steel cave within a man-made mountain of steel and concrete. He spends his days repairing the machinery that keeps the habitat livable and tinkering with the prosthetics that help his twisted body move about through the small tunnels and air shafts that are his world. He's as much a piece of discarded machinery as the equipment he keeps running.

Given a chance at being someone different will he become a hero and live in the sunlight? The light beckons, but there are secrets buried in the ground. Ancient mysteries left by races that delved deep and stayed below. Maybe only a tunnel rat could find them?

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I was just your average burnout. Now I’m a kobold in a dungeon where everything wants to eat me—and frankly, I get it. I look delicious.Reincarnated as the weakest possible monster in the worst possible place, I start with nothing but panic, backward knees, and a skill called Civilization Mimicry—which is sealed. Because of course it is.But survival isn't the story.This is the story of what comes after.Of finding meaning in the scraps. Of building law from ashes. Of kindling memory in a place designed to erase.Because even if the world sees kobolds as nothing, I’ve seen what we used to be.And I’m going to bring it back.Firelight by firelight. Burial by burial. One fragile tradition at a time.Because if the world wants kobolds to be nothing?Then I’ll teach it what nothing becomes when it learns to dream.

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

I belong to a good sect that has never turned its back on me for my poor potential, has never forced me to study martial arts, and even helped arrange a betrothal for me when I was young.

My fiancée is a much renowned hot-tempered young miss. She’s beautiful, strong, and deeply loves me. Upon my start down the path of the Jianghu, I entirely relied on her to provide cover for me and before long, I became renowned as the #1 Pretty Boy of the Immortal Path.

Yet one day, I discovered that this person is apparently a man. A man in drag!

More unforgivable is that he thought I was a woman dressing as a man!

Me, as if my liver and guts are being cut to pieces: “Brother, what have you done with my fiancée?”

Him, as if a knife has been twisted in his heart: “Brother, what have *you* done with my fiancée?”

The waters of the Jianghu are indeed murky. Even if I am starving, even if I’m dying far from home, from this point on, I will not eat even a mouthful of rice prepared by him.

—So fragrant.

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