Dillon Frost, a novice Diver, was at a safe point in the Misty Hills at depth level 8. He was at a loss for what to do.
“I’m such an idiot...” he muttered.
He couldn’t count the number of times he’d lashed out at himself like this. He’d let himself get overconfident just because he’d still been in good health before entering this floor. Why hadn’t he researched and prepared more beforehand? Why had he assumed he could make it through with his shoddy equipment? He wasn’t sure how long he’d been looking around at the entrance of the safe point, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk to the other Divers. Yet, he couldn’t move away from the safe point, so he just stayed there in resignation.
The Misty Hills was considered one of the Gandakia Dungeon’s low-level floors. It was on route one just beyond the Great Forest Ruins, and its depth level was 8. In other words, Divers who were level 8 or higher could presumably get home alive from there even if they were to lose an arm or leg in the process. As soon as one stepped through the Misty Border into the floor, they’d be greeted with seemingly endless meadows, albeit with limited visibility due to the fog. The bumpy terrain, in addition to the fog, made seeing ahead difficult, and monsters would often jump out at Divers seemingly out of nowhere.
Divers in teams could coordinate with each other to navigate the floor without issues; however, Dillon was there solo, and he was as green as he could be, with his Diver career having started only a few days ago. He knew practically nothing of conventional dungeon-diving wisdom, nor did he have the necessary skills to get by. He might have been able to brute force his way through if he’d come from a line of career fighters, but he was just a third son from a desolate farming village to the north of the kingdom. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to earn his daily wage as a Diver if his family had been wealthier, but there was no point in thinking about that now. A third son of a farmer had no choice but to leave his home and set out on his own. The farm would be inherited by the eldest son, so even if he’d been allowed to stay, all he could’ve hoped for was to earn enough to keep himself from starving. If he didn’t earn enough for it to be worth keeping him around, he’d end up being sold off or kicked out of the house anyway. In the end, he’d been sent away from his home and village so his family would have fewer mouths to feed.
Dillon had been sent away with a meager sum of money under the assumption that he’d have no problem doing physical labor. He wasn’t particularly big, but he was blessed with a resilient body. He was also physically stronger than his peers because he’d worked harder than others: he’d been fetching water, working on the farm, and exterminating vermin around his home. Despite that, he’d obviously end up starving if he couldn’t find a job to begin with.
There, he’d found a ray of hope: becoming a Diver. He’d known of their existence from bedtime stories since he was young. He’d heard of the den of monsters known as a dungeon, which was located in the great city at the center of the world. He’d also heard of heroes known as Divers, who earned riches by acquiring rare materials only available in the dungeon. It was said that making one’s own fortune was possible there if one played their cards right, and Dillon often imagined himself achieving such a futile dream. It didn’t take long for him to decide to try his luck in Freida. The few belongings he’d been given in his village were insufficient for fighting monsters, so he’d purchased a chest protector and shin guards as bare minimum defensive equipment to start up with.
His plan had been to focus on gathering foodstuffs and other items native to the lower levels for the time being, but he’d ended up overextending himself. Just because he’d been able to dive in the Great Forest Ruins without issues, he’d decided to proceed to the next floor, the Misty Hills. Of course, he stood no chance against the monsters stronger than him, and he’d run for his life into the safe point, sacrificing his water and food supply in the process.
The monster-warding crystal stakes glistened serenely. These stakes, which could be found all around the safe point, had been purchased by the Divers Guild from Divers and then refined by specialists to be installed throughout the dungeon. They required regular maintenance because they deteriorated over time, but it was thanks to these stakes that Divers could delve into the dungeon with confidence. However, at that moment, this safe point was nothing more than a prison to Dillon. If it was here to protect Divers from outside threats, he found it to be no different than the bars of a prison cell.
“I’m hungry...” muttered Dillon.
He hadn’t eaten anything since morning in order to save on food costs, but hunger was still manageable. His stomach might have been empty, but all he had to do was to endure. Compared to the harsh winters of his village, half a day without food was nothing.
His only issue was getting back home safe; there was no guarantee he could make it back without running into a monster, and making it back to the Great Forest Ruins while hungry and exhausted would be no easy task. Not to mention, it was difficult to detect incoming monsters on this floor, so he could be ambushed at any time. Now that he’d discarded his belongings, it was highly unlikely that he’d survive another encounter. There were other Divers at the safe point now, so he might make it back alive if he asked for help—help that would come at a cost. They’d likely demand money or the materials he had on hand as payment. He barely had anything on hand to offer, so he wanted to avoid giving it up if at all possible.
“I guess it’s either that or death.”
His stomach growled.
The wise choice would be to ask for help as all would be over if he died. Once he made it back to the Forest, he could start from scratch again.
There were quite a few Divers at the safe point, perhaps around two dozen in total. There were two teams and a person who seemed like a solo Diver among them.
One team appeared to be a group of veterans. There were eighteen of them, all clothed in expensive-looking equipment. They had an air of confidence about them, and even a novice like Dillon could tell they were quite skilled. He eavesdropped on their conversation and found out they were proceeding on to the next floor, so they’d surely turn down a request to help him get back to the Great Forest Ruins.
The other team was more poorly equipped than the first, and their levels didn’t seem very high. However, they’d been glancing at Dillon and giving him condescending looks from time to time. Perhaps they were mocking him behind his back or sizing him up to see how much they could get from him if he asked for help. The last thing he wanted to do was to talk to them.
Finally, there was the solo Diver. He stood out from the others as he was wearing a strange outfit unlike the other Divers. He wore no obvious armor, and he looked like an ordinary person with a large backpack on his back. Dillon recalled seeing others carrying backpacks like him, but they’d always been following a team around. The solo Diver was around Dillon’s age or perhaps slightly older. There was a softness to his face that made him seem like a stranger to violence. There was an air about him as if he wouldn’t even harm an insect. For some reason, he wore an expression that made him seem even more troubled than Dillon. The boy glanced at him repeatedly, then groaned as if struggling to make a decision. Eventually, he seemed to have reached a conclusion. He nodded to himself, then approached Dillon.
“Uh...hey there, are you hungry? Would you like some of my food?” he asked, offering the salvation Dillon needed.
§
I visited Do-Melta after school pretty much every day unless I had plans to hang out with my friends. It wasn’t that I didn’t have many friends; everyone just had things to do. I didn’t have too much free time or anything—well, maybe I did, but that was beside the point.
Anyway, I checked the contents of my backpack as usual, then I used the teleportation spell God had taught me to warp into God’s place, which I’d been using as a waypoint between the two worlds.
I arrived in a room that looked like a study. I usually ended up in an empty white space, but the waypoint often changed like it did today. This told me that the waypoint wasn’t a specific location but wherever God happened to be at the time.
Of course, by “God,” I was referring to Ameithys the Purple. He looked like some middle-aged dude with a blond beard. He had chiseled features, and there was a wildness about him that reminded me of Robin Hood. Looking at him head-on, I perceived a somewhat severe impression from him, but he always had a listless expression that cut down his solemnity by half. It was kind of a shame, really.
Even in his study, God was lazing about as usual. He was flipping through a book while lying upon a big pile of books. I was lost for words for a moment, impressed by his incredible balance, but then I realized I had to say hi.
“Hello, God. I’m off to Do-Melta again,” I said.
“Oh, is that you, Akira? Good to see ya. Be careful out there,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“I will!” I said as I waved back.