A cold light engulfs her. Then, nothing.
Silence.
The world reforms around her in a slow agony of perception. Jinra opens her eyes… or at least she thinks she does. The darkness is so dense it seems to absorb light itself. The air is damp, heavy as tar. A drop falls somewhere, echoing. She stands there, her hand gripping the hilt of her spectral bow.
She looks up.
Before her, a colossal tower pierces the darkness, black as the night itself. It seems to have neither top nor bottom. A monstrous structure, frozen between the real and the unreal. A deep, primal fear stirs in her gut, a visceral dread.
A mechanical sound snaps through the void, and the voice of the System rings out, colder than ever.
> "Welcome, Guardian. The Heart of the Abyss dungeon has accepted your offering.
She grits her teeth. A dull pain pulses in her left shoulder. The absence of her arm is a constant reminder of what she left behind.
— "Alright..." she murmurs. "I'm ready."
But the voice abruptly interrupts her.
> "Goblin approaching. Prepare your weapon."
She takes her weapon and says, "Give me more information about the location."
> "Infected area: Mutant Goblins — Type: Carnivorous / Organized / Infectious"
> "Objective: Survive. Victory condition: Total cleanup. Reward: Access to Level 2."
A circle forms beneath her feet. Her body tenses. She doesn't have time to react.
> "When you leave the tower… you will no longer be human. You will be… a Dragon."
And the ground collapses.
---
Underground — Level 1
She lands brutally on a slimy surface. The impact shoots up her spine. Jinra gasps for air, struggling to stand.
Around her: a fetid cave, covered in gray moss and brown streaks. The ceiling is low, the walls breathe. Literally. A deep, hollow groan seeps from the walls, as if the stone itself is suffering.
And then, she hears them.
Footsteps. Claws. Cackles.
A figure steps out of the darkness, followed by others. A horde.
Goblins. But not the kind from fairy tales.
Their skin is blackened, blistered, their teeth long and yellow like split ivory blades. Some crawl like spiders, others leap, bestial, deformed by ancient corruption.
Jinra doesn't have the luxury to think. She raises her hand. The bow reforms in a bluish flash, translucent and vibrating. An arrow materializes.
She aims. She shoots.
First arrow: a shrill whistle. A goblin falls, throat pierced.
The fight begins.
A goblin leaps toward her. She pivots, rolls on the ground, shoots blindly as she rises. Arrow straight through its skull.
They encircle her. The smell is unbearable. Jinra grimaces, backing up. Three on one side. Two behind. She spins around, shoots three arrows in one movement. One hits an eye. Another splits the jaw. The third shatters a collarbone.
A claw tears through her side. Blood gushes out, hot and sticky.
She screams, drops to her knees. The goblin lunges, laughing — it thinks it will devour her.
She extends her arm, shoots at point-blank range. Impact. The skull shatters.
A trickle of blood escapes her lips. She breathes heavily, each inhale a rasp. Her bow pulses with light.
> "[Increased Vigilance] — leveled up to 2."
She staggers. Two more creatures emerge, larger, more muscular. They have rusty chains around their necks, torches planted in their backs. Their flesh oozes spores.
She dodges. Shoots. Shoots again.
Slowed down.
An arrow slices through the air, grazing a goblin's cheek, then returns like a spectral boomerang and decapitates it.
An invisible current pulses through her arm. Her breath halts for a moment.
> "[Increased Vigilance] — leveled up to 2." "[Weapon Mastery] — leveled up to 2."
Her bow pulses with newfound energy, sharper, denser. She feels it: her movements are smoother, more instinctual. As if the weapon finally understands her.