The Eastern Labyrinth entrance resembled a gaping wound in the earth—a jagged tear in reality roughly thirty feet wide and fifteen feet tall. Ancient stone pillars flanked the opening, carved with symbols that might have once been warnings but had eroded into meaningless scars. The air flowing from its depths carried the metallic tang of blood mixed with something else—a sickly-sweet odor that triggered instinctive revulsion.
Kiriti stood with four other G-Ranks at the threshold, all of them wearing the dull iron bracelets that marked them as expendable. Guards positioned themselves strategically behind them, blocking any potential retreat.
"Group C, Eastern Labyrinth," announced the processing official, his voice as devoid of emotion as if he were reading inventory numbers. "Activation Protocol Nine. Standard penetration depth: six chambers minimum."
The official turned to a uniformed man with a lieutenant's insignia. "The D-Rank hunting party will follow in thirty minutes. Ensure maximum attrition efficiency."
Attrition efficiency, Kiriti noted. Bureaucratic euphemism for "let the monsters kill enough of them to be visible but leave some alive to keep attracting more."
His fellow G-Ranks stood in varying states of psychological collapse. To his left, a tall girl with a crooked nose and long brown hair twisted her fingers together, muttering what sounded like prayers under her breath. The bracelet on her wrist listed her name as Elyse. Total stat points: 7.
Beside her stood a muscular boy with a shaved head and clenched fists. His eyes darted frantically, like a cornered animal seeking escape. His bracelet identified him as Tarven. Total stat points: 9.
On Kiriti's right was a willowy boy with hollow cheeks and vacant eyes who hadn't spoken a single word since they'd been grouped together. His movements were mechanical, disconnected. His bracelet named him Rovel. Total stat points: 6.
And finally, a short, sturdy girl with freckles and a fierce expression. Unlike the others, she seemed less terrified and more furious—as if personally offended by the system that had condemned her. Her bracelet read Mira. Total stat points: 8.
Interesting cast of disposables, Kiriti thought. The religious one, the fighter, the broken one, and the rebel. Classic archetypes for sacrificial side characters. In any decent story, at least one would survive to demonstrate the stakes without completely demoralizing the audience.
"Forward," commanded the guard, prodding Rovel with the blunt end of his spear. "Six chambers or death. Your choice."
Rovel stumbled forward without resistance. The others followed with varying degrees of reluctance. Kiriti moved deliberately, maintaining his outward composure while his mind raced through calculations, contingencies, and narrative probabilities.
If this were one of my stories, I'd introduce the dungeon with atmospheric description, establish the power dynamics, then create a moment of false security before the first attack. Standard pacing. Let's see if reality follows convention.
The entrance tunnel sloped downward at a fifteen-degree angle, walls transitioning from rough-hewn stone to something smoother, almost polished in sections. Phosphorescent fungi provided minimal illumination, casting everything in a sickly blue-green glow that distorted depth perception.
The air grew thicker as they descended, humidity rising with each step. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, the sound echoing with unnatural persistence. The tunnel widened into a chamber roughly circular in shape, with three branching paths leading deeper into darkness.
"Which way?" Tarven asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"Does it matter?" Mira responded bitterly. "They're all deathtraps."
Elyse closed her eyes briefly. "The Goddess favors the right path."
Kiriti noted the group dynamics establishing themselves with predictable efficiency. "Middle path," he suggested, deliberately mimicking the confident tone of a protagonist rather than revealing his true rationale: the middle path showed the most signs of recent passage, suggesting it might be the primary route used by the hunting parties that would follow them.
Surprisingly, they followed his suggestion without argument. The group dynamic was establishing itself with organic inevitability: uncertainty created a vacuum, and decisiveness—even from the least physically capable among them—filled it.
The middle passage narrowed after fifty feet, forcing them to proceed single file. Kiriti positioned himself third in line, with Tarven leading, followed by Elyse, then himself, with Mira and Rovel bringing up the rear. An optimal arrangement from his perspective—not so far forward as to encounter threats first, not so far back as to be cut off if retreat became necessary.
They entered a second chamber, this one featuring a ceiling that rose at least thirty feet above them, disappearing into darkness. The floor was littered with broken equipment—splintered wooden shields, rusted sword fragments, torn cloth that might once have been clothing.
"Previous G-Ranks," Mira observed, kicking at a dented helmet.
Tarven swallowed audibly. "Recent?"
"Some of it," Kiriti replied, studying the decay patterns. "This helmet shows minimal oxidation. Perhaps a week old. That cloth has barely begun to rot in the humidity."
And now for the false security, he thought with grim amusement. Three... two... one...
A scraping sound emanated from one of the chamber's shadowed alcoves. Something metallic dragged across stone, followed by a wet, guttural breathing.
Right on cue. The narrative structure remains intact.
A creature emerged from the darkness. Humanoid but wrong—proportions distorted, limbs too long, skin a mottled green-gray that glistened with mucus. It wore fragments of crude armor cobbled together from scavenged pieces. In one hand, it clutched a jagged dagger fashioned from what appeared to be a broken sword. Its eyes emitted a faint yellow glow, the pupils vertical slits that contracted as it assessed them.
Hovering above the creature's head, glowing numerical values appeared—visible to all of them just as they had been during the ranking ceremony:
STR: 18 AGI: 26 VIT: 15 INT: 7 LCK: 5 TOTAL: 71
F-Rank monster, Kiriti categorized automatically. Goblin variant, most likely. Designed to be challenging but beatable for F-Ranks, lethal for G-Ranks unless faced with significant numerical advantage. And with those stats against our single digits, we're looking at a 99% casualty rate.
The goblin's head tilted, nostrils flaring as it scented the air. Its lips pulled back to reveal needle-like teeth arranged in irregular rows. It made a sound—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh.
Tarven's breath came in short, sharp bursts. "We can take it," he whispered, his bravado transparent. "Five against one."
"Don't—" Kiriti started, but it was too late.
With a primal scream that contained equal parts terror and desperate courage, Tarven charged. He snatched up a broken spear shaft from the floor as he ran, holding it like a makeshift javelin.
The goblin moved with unexpected speed, sidestepping the clumsy attack with contemptuous ease. As Tarven stumbled past, the creature slashed with its dagger, opening a thin line across the boy's back.
Tarven screamed, more from shock than pain, and whirled around. Blood seeped through his thin shirt, but the wound wasn't immediately debilitating. He thrust the spear shaft forward with wild determination.
By sheer luck, the jagged end caught the goblin in the shoulder, tearing through its putrid flesh. A viscous black fluid oozed from the wound.
The goblin shrieked—a sound like metal grinding against glass—and lunged. Its dagger plunged into Tarven's chest with surgical precision, sliding between ribs to pierce his heart.
For one suspended moment, Tarven stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief. Then he collapsed, blood pooling beneath him with alarming speed.
Elyse screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure terror. She turned and fled toward the tunnel they'd entered from. Rovel, his catatonic state broken by the violence, followed immediately after.
Mira remained paralyzed, her fierce expression replaced by naked fear.
Kiriti assessed the situation with cold clarity. The goblin had pulled its dagger free and was now advancing toward them, moving with the confident leisure of a predator that knows its prey cannot escape. Its yellow eyes flickered between Mira and himself, deciding which to kill next.
Running is suicide with my Agility of 2, Kiriti calculated. The goblin's speed is at least ten times mine. Fighting is equally fatal with my Strength of 1. But perhaps...
The goblin took another step forward. Kiriti noted that it favored its right leg slightly—perhaps an old injury.
"We need to run!" Mira finally unfroze, turning toward the exit.
"Hang on! I'm not letting anyone die on my watch!" Kiriti called out, his voice projecting heroic determination while his hand shot out to grab Mira's arm.
His grip tightened briefly as he pulled her toward him, then pivoted his body. The movement was subtle but precisely calibrated—creating the appearance of trying to protect her while actually ensuring her momentum would carry her directly into the goblin's path.
Mira stumbled, her foot catching on a piece of debris that Kiriti had deliberately maneuvered her toward. She fell forward with a cry of surprise.
Sell the act. Say the line. Make sure no one suspects it was you who tripped her, Kiriti reminded himself, his inner voice clinical and detached.
"No!" he shouted, reaching out as if trying to catch her, while simultaneously stepping back to ensure his own safety.
The goblin lunged at the fallen girl, its attention completely diverted by the easier prey.
A distraction buys me six seconds. That's more than enough, Kiriti calculated, already scanning the chamber floor for a weapon.
His eyes locked onto a jagged stone fragment near Tarven's body. He moved quickly, snatching it up while the goblin tore into Mira's shoulder with its dagger. Her screams provided perfect audio cover for his approach.
The goblin was focused entirely on Mira, its back exposed. Kiriti noted that Tarven's earlier attack had left a wound that was still seeping black fluid. The creature's armor had a gap precisely at that location.
With a calculated effort that pushed his meager Strength to its limit, Kiriti brought the jagged stone down directly into the existing wound.
The stone penetrated deeper than he had anticipated, sliding through soft tissue with minimal resistance. The goblin's shriek cut off abruptly, its body going rigid. It toppled sideways, yellow eyes dimming as it collapsed.
Silence filled the chamber, broken only by Mira's pained gasps.
Then, something unexpected happened. A translucent blue screen materialized in the air before Kiriti's eyes, text glowing with ethereal light:
MC Moment Triggered: Heroic Valor in Dire Circumstances Triggered Action: ["Hang on! I'm not letting anyone die on my watch!" — delivered to maintain the illusion of altruism after intentionally endangering a teammate] + [Finishing Blow] +3 Stat Points Awarded (Randomized Distribution) STR +1 | AGI +1 | INT +1 Updated Statistics: STR: 2 AGI: 3 VIT: 1 INT: 4 LCK: 1 TOTAL: 11
Kiriti stared at the notification, momentarily forgetting to maintain his facade of heroic concern. A tingling sensation spread through his body, starting at his core and radiating outward to his extremities. His vision sharpened subtly, colors becoming more distinct. His limbs felt lighter, more responsive, as if they were suddenly more properly connected to his nervous system.
The system... it recognized what I did, he realized with a mixture of shock and fascination. Not just the kill, but the performance. The narrative deception.
The implications were staggering. If the system could recognize and reward "MC Moments"—protagonist behavior patterns—then it wasn't just measuring combat effectiveness. It was measuring narrative significance.
Mira's whimper of pain brought him back to the immediate situation. She clutched her wounded shoulder, blood seeping between her fingers. The injury was serious but not immediately life-threatening.
"You... you killed it," she said, voice trembling with disbelief. "How?"
Kiriti composed his features into an expression of grim determination tinged with modest reluctance—the perfect protagonist blend he'd written countless times.
"Lucky shot," he said, offering her his hand. "Glad to see you're not entirely useless. Try to keep up next time."
The words were calculated: dismissive enough to maintain a prickly exterior, helpful enough to establish reluctant heroism. Classic antihero material.
Mira took his hand, wincing as he pulled her to her feet. "You saved my life," she said, still processing what had happened. "I thought... I thought when you grabbed me, I was going to fall. But you were trying to keep me from charging in like Tarven, weren't you?"
"Something like that," Kiriti replied, marveling at how easily humans constructed narratives that aligned with their hopes rather than reality. He'd used this psychological tendency in his writing for years; now he was exploiting it directly.
"What about the others?" Mira asked, looking toward the tunnel where Elyse and Rovel had fled.
"Gone," Kiriti said simply. "But we need to move. That thing's friends might be nearby."
As they made their way cautiously toward one of the other chamber exits, Kiriti's mind raced with new possibilities. The rules of this world were becoming clearer, and they aligned with narrative logic more than physical law.
If this world rewards theatrics, he thought, maybe it's time I start acting.
And deep beneath that thought, buried under layers of analytical distance and cold calculation, a tiny seed of genuine discomfort took root—not just at what he had done to Mira, but at how naturally it had come to him.
The dungeon's shadows seemed to deepen around them as they ventured further into the labyrinth, and somewhere in the darkness ahead, something moved.