Daren sets the pace.

It’s immediately clear to me that he doesn’t inquire about anything but leads the way with an inexorable stride from the guild’s checkpoint towards the dungeon’s entrance, expecting the others to match his speed. No arrogance there, no ego, just the easy confidence of a seasoned fighter whose body knows what to do by itself without any input from the mind.

I try to catch up.

We get our permits earlier, about twenty minutes ago; while Daren already has his, mine takes a little longer since the clerk takes a look at my stats and asks me to be absolutely certain about it. I assure her that I am. The stamp comes with the look of someone signing some documents for a procedure she doesn’t approve of.

The runes surrounding the entrance glow blue with our approaching. Close to it, they seem to grow significantly in size, being about the length of my forearm; carved deeply into the stone, they glow with the calm but persistent light of something who’s been doing this since long before anyone here was born.

Daren stops before the entrance and inspects his sword. Iron Edge, Tier 2, standard issue — unremarkable, yet something in the way he handles it speaks volumes, making the tier rating insignificant. Running a thumb down the blade, he sheathes it, rolls a shoulder once.

Daren looks at me. Then he looks at my lack of a weapon.

"You don’t have anything."

"I have Moral Support."

He gives me a long look. "That’s a skill."

"I know."

"That’s a social skill."

"Skill nonetheless."

He looks at the entrance and then back at me. "Okay. Stay behind me, do not engage directly, and should something pass me — run back to the checkpoint, the clerks there are trained for extractions."

"Understood."

"And run, really."

"Yes, sir."

And another long look at me before he steps through the entrance.

I follow.

The first floor of the Ashveil Undercroft looks exactly how the wiki describes it and unlike anything else.

Stone hallways, wide enough to accommodate three abreast, illuminated with bioluminescent moss that grows in the gaps between the stones. The temperature is cool and damp with an odd smell; mineral water mixed with something beneath, ancient and alive. The ceilings are too low for Daren to gain more than two inches of clearance.

The pop-up notification appears.

---

> **Current Location:** Ashveil Undercroft — Floor 1

> **Recommended STR:** 50

> **Current STR:** 12

> **Status:** ⚠️ Significantly Underleveled

> **Advice:** Follow behind ranked party member.

---

This is a new entry. It’s good that the system thinks to advise me.

There is something different about Daren’s demeanor here — not that he loses the easy sociability entirely, only that it compresses and focuses. His awareness of surroundings includes checking corners reflexively and taking a sweeping glance down the hallway in a matter of half a second. C-rank. STR 87. He has done this often enough that Floor 1 is simply maintenance.

I observe as he performs the job and think about the stress fracture sitting in his UI.

*Stress fracture — guild dinner anxiety suppressed. Exploitable.*

According to the system, this condition is exploitable. However, I haven’t yet made a decision on how I feel about this entry appearing in my user interface. By who can it be exploited? Vorn already knows about it — he catalogues it through three weeks of careful observation and that is his whole mechanic. Should I make use of this knowledge?

Sound from the left hallway. Daren’s hand reaches automatically for the sword handle without losing his pace.

An Undercroft Skitterer rounds the corner — dog sized and eyeless, six limbs, moving swiftly. Low EXP, common, recommended for STR 50 unclassified rank grinding.

Recommended for STR 50 unclassified.

He draws the blade and swings at once. It dies instantly.

---

> **EXP Gained:** 4

> **KAI** — 4/500

---

Four. Four experience points for standing in the same corridor.

I look at the dead Skitterer, at my EXP meter, and at the meager four points inside it.

"You get anything?" Daren inquires without turning back.

"Four EXP."

"The first floor works differently when you are unclassified; your gains compound. If we continue like this, you will end with around forty-five, maybe fifty EXP points."

A whole 500 needed to level up. Not looking promising now.

I open the Fast Learner node. The node is still open, still offering me plus twenty five percent of EXP gain which would add one extra EXP point. Which would still be a pitiful amount of points but the idea of compound interest is that the pitiful amount would somehow grow into something impressive in the future.

I should’ve unlocked Fast Learner instead of Observe.

I remind myself of Vorn’s mysterious hidden flag.

No. The choice was correct.

In the next corridor, we meet three more Skitterers, a Stoneback Beetle that requires Daren to spend four hits instead of one, and something with too many legs that the wiki calls a Pale Creeper.

My EXP keeps increasing in increments that remind me of being paid with loose change.

---

> **EXP:** 23/500 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

---

Daren checks the side passage entrance — a narrower passage on the right side, darker, with a smaller amount of bioluminescent moss growing on its walls.

He ponders for a moment.

"Side passage gives better loot. Also, Floor 1 sub-boss, which I don’t really want to introduce to you at your current STR level."

"What’s a Sub-Boss?"

"Destructively unfair creature at STR 12."

"Noted."

He doesn’t take the side passage. We proceed straight ahead.

The narrow passage turns into a wider area, which the wiki calls a rest node — the natural extension of a tunnel system for adventurers to pause in between kills. Hard stone floor, high ceiling, a small guild supply box bolted onto the wall at the far end, requiring an adventurer permit to access the basic consumables stored in it.

Daren takes a seat on a small rock formation and moves his shoulder. I follow suit, sitting opposite to him and checking my EXP.

---

> **EXP:** 31/500

---

Thirty one.

"You’re deep in thought about something," Daren remarks. No accusation in the words, just observation. That’s Daren.

I glance at him. His UI hovers stable above his head — 849, Warm, guild dinner flag.

"Just running the numbers," I say.

"Stats?"

"And other considerations."

He backs up against the rock wall behind us. In the dungeon, with the moss-light catching his features, he appears older than he does in the open air — no weariness, but presence; the dungeon strips some veneer away, leaving the actual man. "Once you pass D-rank the experience gains become more substantial. The first transition is always the toughest."

I know this from the wiki. At D-rank, one becomes eligible for the first Combat Skill Nodes, and can access the second floor. In addition, in the lore section, there are character progression notes which state it usually takes dedicated grind roughly two weeks for an unclassified player to reach that level.

Two weeks. The wiki timeline for Lyra’s Unraveling is noted to be within that same timeframe.

I calculate and don’t like what the numbers say.

"The guild dinner," I say. "You mentioned it would be in a couple days."

His expression undergoes a subtle change. It is barely noticeable, but the Observe skill helpfully tags his reaction:

---

> **Flag Active:** Stress fracture — suppressed anxiety spikes with topic mention.

---

"Four days from now," he says. "I’m not worried."

"But your face disagrees."

"I’m not worried."

"Your face has something to say."

He pauses for a second. "It’s a ranking dinner. A-ranks and above, and select few C-ranks who qualify for junior slots get invited. I got junior slot," he says, turning his Iron Edge over in his hands. "Only one in our group."

"That’s significant."

"It is." He stops and adds. "Lyra doesn’t — guild stuff isn’t really her thing. Which is fine. Absolutely fine."

612 out of one thousand.

My gaze wanders to the opposite wall and dwells on the flag labeled exploitable inside his UI, Vorn mentioning the dinner three weeks back, and the difference in numbers 849 vs. 612.

I could tell him. Right now. In this rest node with the moss-light and no one else around I could lay out everything I know — the corruption meter, the fourteen Vorn interactions, the flag progressions, all of it. I have full wiki access and a social skill and thirty one experience points and a genuine opportunity.

The wiki says this conversation, if it happens, triggers a branch the original game never intended. An intervention route. Unscripted. No data on outcomes.

I look at Daren.

He’s looking at the Iron Edge with the quiet focused expression of someone who is genuinely trying not to be bothered by something that is bothering him, and he is doing it alone because that is what he does, and Vorn read that about him in three weeks and I’ve known it for four days and the difference between us is that Vorn immediately knew what to do with the information.

"She’ll probably come around for the dinner," I say.

Daren looks up. Something in his face settles — not dramatically, just a small release of tension. "Yeah. Probably."

I pick up a loose piece of stone from the floor and turn it over in my hand.

I said the easy thing. I said the script thing. The intervention branch sits unopened in the wiki and I walked past it and said she’ll probably come around like an NPC who doesn’t know any better.

Which is what I am.

Which is what I keep choosing to be, and I’m not sure yet if that’s strategy or cowardice and the thirty one EXP sitting in my progress bar is not helping me figure it out.

Daren stands. "One more corridor before we head back. You should hit forty by exit."

"Living the dream," I say.

He heads for the far passage. I follow.

Above his head: 849, steady, patient, completely unaware.

The moss-light makes everything look almost peaceful down here too.

I’m starting to think that’s just what this city does.