The sun had barely risen over Fortified Wiesbaden, casting long shadows between the fractured towers and reinforced walls of Sector 8. Morning mist clung low to the concrete, blurring the edges of the few functioning neon signs that blinked stubbornly against the gray light. Marie stood at the edge of the Gate platform, pack slung across her back, fingers curled tightly around the hilt of a dull training sword.
Today was her birthday.
Sixteen.
The system hadn't acknowledged it. No special message, no notification. Just another day. Another hunt. But this one was different—legally, she was now eligible to enter Gates alone.
No more begging for group slots.
No more carrying other people's loot.
Just her.
Her and whatever waited inside Gate F-18.
The dungeon had a reputation as a training ground for the absolutely weakest of the awakened: F-Rank slimes. They barely fought back, didn't drop much, and most parties skipped them entirely. But they were safe.
And more importantly, they were soloable.
Marie reached into her coat and pulled out the last ration bar she owned. She chewed it slowly, trying not to gag at the chalky texture. Then she checked her remaining credits.
📉 Balance: 43c
Barely enough for a gate pass.
She took a deep breath, stepped toward the terminal, and was about to swipe her access card when a voice called out.
"No way—is that Marie Williams?"
She froze.
The voice belonged to Erik Stoll.
Back in school, he had been a loudmouth, always the center of attention. Popular, arrogant, and worst of all: awakened with a flashy kinetic skill during his first scan. His parents were mid-tier association managers, so he had skipped a lot of the standard hurdles. Now he stood in front of the terminal flanked by two other boys—tall, smug—and a girl with long red braids and a smirk sharp enough to cut steel.
"Didn't think you'd show your face around Gates again," Erik said, mock-surprised. "Aren't you, like, famous now?"
Marie didn't respond.
"Right, right—'Unknown Configuration.' The girl with the skill that does... what exactly again? Nothing?"
The others chuckled.
She knew the type. She'd known it since school. If she responded, they'd escalate. If she ignored them, they'd circle. And if she walked away, they'd follow.
"Actually," the redhead chimed in, "we're going into F-18 ourselves. Thought we'd clean up some Slimes, test our synergy. You know—real combat experience."
Erik grinned. "We could use a fifth. For balance."
Marie narrowed her eyes. She knew exactly what this was. A setup. A joke. An excuse to humiliate her while making themselves feel strong.
But she had 43 credits and no other way to eat tonight.
"Fine," she said. "But I'm not your porter."
"Of course not," Erik said, mock-offended. "We're a team."
Inside, Gate F-18 shimmered like spilled oil. As they crossed the threshold, the world changed—steel and stone giving way to a glistening, half-organic cave system that pulsed faintly with ambient mana. The air was warm, humid, and smelled vaguely like algae.
Marie had been here once before, months ago. It hadn't changed.
The others advanced quickly. Erik summoned his skill—Kinetic Echo, a flashy ability that let him punch slimes with bursts of invisible force, scattering them like sacks of jelly. One of the other boys, Jonas, used Magnet Bind to suspend a slime in the air while the third—Tim, apparently a Windblade user—sliced it into glowing goo.
The girl, Sophie, used Pyro Arc. Overkill for a slime, but dramatic.
They laughed.
They posed.
They exchanged high-fives.
Marie followed at a distance, sword still sheathed.
They didn't need her. That was the point.
"Hey, Marie," Sophie called over her shoulder. "You planning to use that thing or just hold it as decoration?"
"Maybe it's a ritual item," Jonas added. "You know, for her weird skill that does nothing."
Erik turned and jogged backward for a moment, grinning. "Seriously though, are you, like, cursed or something? I heard you haven't even gotten XP. How do you even fail at slime farming?"
Marie said nothing. The heat rising in her cheeks was answer enough.
They didn't want her here to help.
They wanted her here to watch.
They cleared the first two chambers with ease. Slimes of various sizes bounced lazily toward them and were incinerated, shredded, or exploded before they got within two meters. The ground was slick with residue, which Sophie loudly complained about every time her boots squelched.
Marie stayed out of the way.
When a slime bounced toward her, she stepped aside. When another came too close, she struck it once, weakly, then stepped back as Erik finished it with a pulse of force.
No system message.
No XP.
She was a ghost.
"Hey, maybe her skill only works if we believe in it," Tim joked as they entered the fourth chamber. "Quick—everyone clap your hands and wish real hard."
Marie gritted her teeth.
Sophie faked a look of shock. "Wait. What if her skill only activates on her birthday? Maybe she turns into, like, a dragon or something."
"Or a slime," Erik said. "Would explain a lot."
Marie considered turning back.
She could fake stomach pain. Say she needed to leave early. But they'd follow her out, laughing, and she'd still have no loot, no XP, no credits.
So she stayed.
And watched.
And endured.
It was in the fifth chamber that things changed.
The atmosphere thickened.
At first, it was subtle—a shift in air pressure. A drop in temperature. The kind of change you'd feel in your bones before your skin noticed. The others didn't seem to register it. They were too busy arguing about whether Windblade or Pyro Arc had a higher DPS rating against low-mobility targets.
Then the light shifted.
The dungeon's usual soft glow dimmed. The walls seemed to pulse slower, darker. The slimes in this chamber weren't moving.
They were waiting.
Marie took a step back.
"Something's wrong," she said quietly.
"What, the cave insulted your skill now too?" Erik said, rolling his eyes.
But then the first slime moved—suddenly, violently. Not the lazy wobble they'd all grown used to. It launched itself at Jonas with a wet, snapping sound. He stumbled back, caught off-guard, and the thing hit his shoulder with enough force to knock him down.
"What the hell?!" Jonas yelled, scrambling back.
"They're not acting normal," Marie said.
More slimes began to move. Not just bouncing—surging. Their bodies shifted color, from translucent blue to murky, almost bloody red. The dungeon itself pulsed in sync with their movements.
"What the hell?!" Jonas yelled, scrambling back.
"They're not acting normal," Marie said.
More slimes began to move. Not just bouncing—surging. Their bodies shifted color, from translucent blue to murky, almost bloody red. The dungeon itself pulsed in sync with their movements.
"This… this isn't supposed to happen," Sophie said, suddenly pale.
"Is this a dungeon event?" Tim asked. "F-Ranks don't have events, right?"
No one answered.
Because in that moment, the walls at the far end of the chamber split open—not physically, but in a way the system didn't normally allow.
And something began to crawl through.
Something that did not belong in an F-Rank dungeon.
"Oh fuck—it's a mutation!" one of the boys shouted.
Marie drew her blade.
Her heart pounded.
And for the first time since her Awakening, she felt her system react—not with a message, but with a subtle vibration in her spine.
Something was about to change.