I should’ve been training.
That’s what Thorne had said.
Get stronger, Felix. Learn how to fight in a group, Felix. Maybe do some solo dungeons when you can, Felix.
Great advice. Really solid.
Not at all what I wanted to do today.
Instead, I was wandering the woods outside the city, putting my Cartographer talent to the test—because apparently, this was how I dealt with restlessness and survivor’s guilt.
The air was crisp and fresh, the kind that made you want to breathe deep and forget, just for a little while. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, sharp beams cutting through the shade, but I barely noticed it.
Because I was staring at my map.
The Cartographer talent had already started doing its thing, updating my map with little new markers wherever I passed. Most of them were mundane.
A small lake a few miles north—probably scenic, probably home to all kinds of monsters.
A cluster of ruins labeled Unidentified Structure—vague, not ominous at all.
And then I saw it.
A shimmering blue portal.
…Wait.
I stopped walking. Zoomed in.
Yep. Portal.
A blue, solo-instance dungeon portal.
My eyebrows shot up.
My map could mark dungeon portals? Most people had to hunt these things down manually—hours of searching, and even then, it came down to luck.
But if my Cartographer talent just… showed them to me?
That was huge.
If I actually decided to dive into dungeons regularly, this could save me so much time—and probably my life.
But before I could get too excited, I noticed something else.
The marker was glitching. Flickering in and out of existence, like the system couldn’t decide if it was really there.
And if that wasn’t weird enough—
The orb in my pocket hummed.
A slow, rhythmic pulse, almost like it was reacting to the portal. Like it wanted me to go there.
I sighed, dragging a hand down my face.
“Of course. Of course it does.”
Because why would I ever get a normal day?
I stared at the flickering marker again.
I could just… ignore it. Pretend I hadn’t seen it. Go back to town. Do something productive.
…
Yeah, like that was gonna happen.
With a sigh, I adjusted my bag, turned toward the portal marker, and muttered, “Fine. Let’s see what the hell this is about.”
Then I set off.
The portal wasn’t far—five miles, maybe a little less.
Which, I quickly realized, was a little concerning.
Because that meant it was close to the dungeon I’d run with Thorne yesterday.
And I definitely hadn’t seen a portal here before.
Which meant one of two things.
Either it had just appeared.
Or I just hadn’t noticed.
But even weirder?
My Cartographer talent had marked it before I was anywhere near it.
Which meant my map was updating locations I wasn’t even close to anymore.
I paused, staring at the glowing marker, realization settling in.
That was… huge.
I assumed my map would only update places I actively traveled to.
But if it was tracking changes in areas I’d been before…
My pulse picked up.
That meant if a new dungeon, landmark, or even a merchant’s stall popped up somewhere I’d already visited, I’d see it.
No more random wandering. No more blind luck.
I could just check my map.
That was so useful.
I adjusted my bag and picked up the pace.
 
When I finally made it to the dungeon portal, I immediately knew something was wrong.
Because this wasn’t a normal portal.
It was supposed to be a blue portal. A solo instance.
But this?
This was different.
It was darker—closer to purple than blue—and it wasn’t stable. It flickered, not just visually but physically, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to exist.
One second, it shimmered and pulsed softly.
The next, it blinked out of existence entirely, leaving behind nothing but empty air.
Then, a heartbeat later, it snapped back into being, rippling like something alive.
I stood there, watching as the portal pulsed.
Not randomly.
Not chaotically.
Deliberately.
Like a heartbeat.
I swallowed, feeling the orb in my pocket hum again.
I already knew what it wanted.
The real question was—was I actually going to listen?
I took a slow, measured breath.
Then, against my better judgment, I reached out and placed my hand against the portal’s surface.
Most dungeon portals had a name—something the system generated to hint at what lay inside.
A dungeon’s theme, its dangers, maybe even a clue to its purpose.
Usually, the name would appear the second you interacted with the portal.
But when I tried to identify this one…
I frowned.
Because instead of a name, instead of something I could actually read—
I got this:
∆✹◇✦☉█▒░▀⬦⌖
I stiffened.
That… wasn’t a language.
It wasn’t even words.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Just glyphs—random, shifting, glitching in and out of existence like they weren’t supposed to be there.
I pulled my hand back quickly, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Every dungeon had a name.
Even the Proving Grounds—the Judgment Trial I barely survived—had a name.
But this?
This was corrupted.
Unreadable.
Wrong.
The portal flickered again, pulsing in that steady, unnatural rhythm, and I realized—
I was staring at something that wasn’t supposed to exist.
And somehow, I had found it anyway.
I stared at the portal, my fingers twitching at my sides, heart hammering against my ribs.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn around.
To pretend I hadn’t seen this.
To pretend I hadn’t just found some kind of anomaly.
To pretend the orb in my pocket wasn’t thrumming harder with every second, like it knew something I didn’t.
But I wasn’t that lucky.
And if I’d learned anything over the last two days, it was that ignoring things didn’t make them go away.
I sighed.
Stepped forward.
And touched the portal.
The second my foot crossed the threshold, the world snapped sideways.
Not like normal dungeons.
Not the quick, seamless pull of stepping from one world into another.
This was different.
The world around me twisted, blurred—warped like I’d just walked through static.
For half a second, my vision glitched.
Colors inverted.
The sky bled red; the trees turned bone white; the ground dropped into an impossible void.
Then—snap.
Everything returned to normal.
Or… close enough.
Because I felt it.
For the briefest moment, like the system itself hesitated.
Like it was trying to create something that shouldn’t even be there.
And then—
I was inside.
 
I knew something was wrong.
Not dangerous wrong.
Not trapped wrong.
Just… wrong.
Normal dungeons felt deliberate—like someone, or something, had designed them with purpose.
Structured layouts. Crafted challenges. A silent test waiting for the next Chosen to stumble through.
This place?
It felt abandoned.
Forgotten.
Like something the system itself had given up on.
I took a slow step forward, my boots echoing faintly against cracked stone.
A corridor stretched ahead, lit by an unseen source.
The air was thick with dust—stale, unmoving.
The architecture was ancient, but not in the way old ruins usually were.
The walls were smooth, unnaturally precise.
The angles were too sharp. Too perfect.
Like something built by a long forgotten civilization.
And yet…
The edges crumbled.
The corners frayed.
Like whatever had built this place had once cared—then stopped.
Symbols were carved deep into the stone.
But they didn’t match anything I’d seen before.
Not Chosen glyphs.
Not ancient kingdom scripts.
Something else entirely.
I took another cautious step, and the walls flickered.
Not a trick of the light.
Not some illusory trap.
The stone itself glitched, shifting between solid matter and translucent nothingness.
Like reality was coming apart at the seams.
I froze, breath catching.
Pulse thudding in my ears.
Then, at the very edge of hearing—
A whisper.
Low. Distant.
I tensed, scanning the shadows.
But the second I focused—
Gone.
Silence wrapped around me. Heavy. Smothering.
And somehow, the absence of threats—the lack of monsters, traps, or challenges—felt infinitely worse.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to move.
One step at a time.
No enemies.
No traps.
Just a broken, flickering ruin that didn’t make sense.
And because I have amazing instincts, I figured, hey—why not make it worse?
I pulled up my system menu.
Then—
Glitch.
The entire interface stuttered.
Text flickering.
Letters shifting between readable and corrupted gibberish.
I frowned, squinting at the mess in front of me.
My level display kept changing.
Felix Ravensburg – Level 7
Felix Ravensburg – Level 5
Felix Ravensburg – Level 6
Felix Ravensburg – Level 7
I blinked hard.
“Okay. That’s… concerning.”
I dismissed the status window and flipped open my map.
It was blank.
Not empty.
Blank.
No walls.
No terrain.
No markers.
Just a flat, empty nothingness.
Like the system didn’t even know I existed here.
A cold ripple worked its way down my spine.
Finally, I glanced toward the orb tucked into my pocket, half-wondering if it was responsible.
Its display was glitching too.
????? – Level 7
????? – Level 4
????? – Level 6
Then, a system message flashed across my vision:
[WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY DETECTED.]
I stared at the notification, feeling my stomach knot.
“Yeah, well,” I muttered, rubbing my temples, “not the first time I’ve broken something.”
Because clearly—
I wasn’t just in some hidden dungeon.
I was somewhere the system didn’t want me to be.
And somehow, I had a feeling things were only going to get worse.
 
Alright.
The system was broken.
My map was useless.
Reality was flickering in and out like a bad connection.
Nothing about this was normal.
Which, you know, perfectly fits the theme of my life lately.
I let out a slow breath, tightening my grip on my daggers, and pushed forward.
No point standing around waiting for something worse to happen.
Another corridor stretched ahead, faintly lit by an eerie, pulsing glow embedded in the walls.
The deeper I walked, the heavier the air felt—thick, pressing, like I’d stepped underwater without realizing it.
Then—
Footsteps.
I froze.
Not mine.
Someone else’s.
I spun around—
Nothing.
The corridor behind me stretched empty, flickering in that same impossible haze of shifting stone and broken angles.
I narrowed my eyes.
Then the footsteps came again.
Soft.
Just at the edge of hearing.
Always one step behind.
A slow, creeping chill coiled down my spine.
“Great,” I muttered. “A haunted dungeon. Just where I wanted to be.”
I turned back to the path ahead, scanning for anything out of place.
Which, to be fair, was everything.
Because as I stepped forward—
The corridor blinked out of existence.
One second, it was there.
The next—gone.
Just—gone.
Then, without warning, it snapped back.
Only now?
It was somewhere else.
Like the dungeon had decided, Nah, let’s mix it up. Wouldn’t want things to be too easy.
I clenched my jaw, pulse spiking hard.
The walls were shifting when I wasn’t looking.
That was bad.
Really, really bad.
No guarantee the way back would even exist when I needed it.
Okay, Felix. You walked into this mess. Now you had to find a way through it.
The dungeon was messing with me.
The corridors blinked in and out.
The walls shifted like they were alive.
And something—someone—was still following me.
But no matter how many times I turned, no matter how fast I moved—
No one was there.
The whispers hadn’t returned.
And somehow, that felt worse.
I kept moving, navigating the shifting maze, forcing myself to stay calm every time the path behind me blinked out of existence like it had never been there.
 
Finally—after what felt like an eternity—I stepped forward—
And entered the heart of the dungeon.
The chamber was…
Empty.
No monsters.
No treasure.
Just a single stone pedestal standing in the center of the room.
I frowned, stepping closer.
Ancient glyphs covered the surface—glowing faintly.
Not Chosen markings.
Not any language I’d ever seen.
And resting on top?
A button.
I stared at it.
Then sighed.
“Yeah, okay. Why not.”
I reached out—and pressed it.
The moment my fingers brushed the surface, a notification screen flickered into existence.
Except—
It was broken.
Text glitched in and out.
The screen crackled, sections of words missing, letters flickering like dying stars.
But I could still read some of it:
[System Notification]
…Chosen… stability failing…
…Reset… cycle… unknown variable detected…
…must not be allowed to continue…
I froze.
My heart slammed against my ribs, a cold chill sinking through my veins.
Reset?
Cycle?
Unknown variable?
What the hell was I looking at?
Before I could think too hard about it, the orb in my pocket pulsed violently—
A frantic, desperate rhythm.
Warning me.
Then—
A shockwave of energy burst outward.
The chamber shook.
Cracks spread across the stone.
The ceiling groaned under unseen weight.
My vision flooded with flashing system messages:
 
[ERROR: INVALID ACCESS]
[WARNING: SYSTEM INSTABILITY DETECTED]
[CYCLE RESET FAILURE—CRITICAL ERROR]
[SECURITY OVERRIDE NOT FOUND]
The dungeon was collapsing.
And I had no idea what I had just triggered.
 
The moment the shockwave hit, I knew I was screwed.
The entire dungeon trembled, cracks splintering through the walls, chunks of stone breaking loose from above. My system messages were glitching out, overlapping, flashing between ERRORS, WARNINGS, and critical failure prompts.
 
[WARNING: SYSTEM INSTABILITY DETECTED]
[CYCLE RESET FAILURE—CRITICAL ERROR]
[SECURITY OVERRIDE NOT FOUND]
[ESCAPE ADVISED]
 
Yeah. No kidding.
I turned and made a run for it.
The ground shuddered beneath me, and the dungeon was shifting even faster now. One second, I was running on solid stone.
The next? Nothing.
I yelped as my foot plunged straight through empty air, gravity ripping me down into—I didn’t even want to think about where.
Shadow Step.
I gritted my teeth and activated it on instinct. My body blinked forward just as the floor collapsed beneath me.
I hit the ground rolling, barely managing to stay on my feet.
The whispers were back now. Not words. Just fragments.
Faint, shattered voices that once existed here.
A scream, cut short.
A name, half-spoken.
A warning, too broken to understand.
I forced myself to keep moving.
Then—I saw it.
The exit.
The portal, still flickering at the end of the corridor. Barely stable. If I didn’t move now, I was never leaving.
I pushed everything I had left into a final sprint.
And with one last, desperate leap—
I threw myself through it.
Everything blinked out.
And then—
I hit the ground hard, stumbling forward as the portal spat me back into the woods.
 
For a second, I just stood there, panting, hands on my knees, trying to convince myself that I was actually back. That I wasn’t still in that broken, flickering nightmare of a dungeon.
But something was wrong.
The air felt off.
Not heavy, not suffocating like inside the dungeon—just… different.
Like the world was lagging half a second behind itself.
Like something had shifted while I was gone.
The orb in my pocket was humming.
Harder than before.
I pulled it out, wrapping my fingers around the smooth, glassy surface. The glow inside was brighter than ever, swirling in an almost frantic motion.
A notification flashed across my vision.
 
[Dungeon Cleared: Unregistered Instance]
Your actions have been logged.
You are not alone.
 
My stomach twisted.
Not alone?
I swallowed, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Who—or what—saw me in there?
 
[Congratulations on completing the dungeon. You have earned 5000 XP (+1000XP Bonus)]
 
I blinked.
“Wait. What?”
5,000 XP? Plus a bonus from my Quick Advancement Talent?
That was insane.
I had gained three levels just from the group dungeon. This was worth even more than that. And from what? That dungeon hadn’t even had monsters. No boss fight, no traps—just a place that wasn’t supposed to exist.
I let out a sharp breath, my mind scrambling to make sense of it.
But before I could dwell on it too much—
A twig snapped behind me.
I whirled around, daggers half-raised, instincts kicking into high gear.
 
Thorne stepped out from the trees, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking over me like she was assessing something.
Then, in that calm, unimpressed tone of hers, she said,
“Okay, Shadowborn. Start talking.”
I swallowed hard.
Shit.
I was so not ready for this conversation.