PLAYER DEATHS: 2

  KILLED BY: TARDINESS

  FLOORS CLEARED: 0

  LAST CLASS AND LEVEL: ADVENTURER - LEVEL 1 (SMUCK)

  The bed rocked as I slammed back into my body.

  I could still feel it, the pressure in my chest, the memory of the organ combusting, and the wave of pain that briefly followed before I had collapsed.

  A feeling of nausea washed over me and I felt extremely sick. I quickly pulled myself out of bed and ran to the bathroom, just making it to the toilet before a torrent of vomit escaped my mouth, and at times, my nose.

  I grabbed the side of the toilet tank as I kept heaving, trying to keep myself from crumpling to the floor as the burning sickness continued to gush out of me. I struggled for air as the heaving gave me little opportunity to catch my breath.

  When it had finally stopped, I turned on the tap and grabbed a cloth, letting the cool water soak into it before I scrubbed my face. The cold water made me feel a little better, but I was still extremely woozy from the ordeal.

  I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time since this entire thing started. My eyes were red from the strain of vomiting, and they had a certain hollowness about them. The phrase “thousand-yard stare” came to mind.

  Refreshing the cloth, I scrubbed my face again, this time including my neck and the top of my head. The cold water felt good.

  I heard my cellphone ding. I hadn’t had the chance to even look at it before I got sick, and it was still sitting on my makeshift bedside table in my bedroom.

  Padding back to my room, I picked up the phone and checked it. Of course, the time still read 8:07 AM. There were two notifications:

  YOU HAVE DIED! THE DUNGEON HAS BEEN RESET! Management

  That was the same as the last time. The next notification was new.

  Tip - You are limited to 15 minutes at the spawn point after respawning. Additional time may be spent at the spawn point by clearing the floor. Management

  There it was again. Whatever system, person, or thing I was dealing with was reacting to what I was doing. I might not be the smartest person in the world, but I can recognize patterns, and this was the second time I had gotten a tip notification from “Management” after screwing up somehow.

  I looked back at the notification about the time limit. I couldn’t even guess how long I had taken in the washroom. I had to move quickly if I didn’t want my heart to explode again.

  I very quickly got dressed, shoving on the combat boots as well, but leaving them unlaced. I moved to the kitchen and opened the fridge, finding the ration bar had respawned. Everything else seemed to have reset in the apartment, so I really wasn’t surprised that the bar had returned.

  My stomach was still queasy, and I had no desire to eat, but if I was going to move forward with this, I was going to have to be as prepared as I could be. I put the bar into my inventory, knowing that I still really didn’t know how the inventory system worked yet.

  There was a lot I still didn’t know, and it didn’t look like I would have a chance to really sit down and think about it while being under a constant time crunch. I’d have to take things as they came. As I learned quickly in basic training, “Embrace the suck.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  A chill hit the back of my neck, and I knew I was running out of time to vacate the apartment. As I headed toward the door, I spotted my winter scarf hanging on the coat rack. I only ever wore it when it was extremely cold out, so it had been sitting unused since the milder temperatures started a few weeks ago. Thinking back on what had happened to my neck the first time in the dungeon, I grabbed it as I stepped into the hallway.

  Everything was new. The cellphone notifications weren’t kidding when they said the dungeon had been reset. My apartment door was now on the terminating wall at the end of a straight hallway, which continued to what looked like a T-junction some twenty meters away. It looked like the laundry nook remained, but this time it was nestled into the right-hand wall right outside my apartment door.

  I bent down and laced up the boots, taking the time to make sure they were properly secured. I then wrapped the scarf around my neck. Unlike the boots, there had been nothing displayed for armor value, but I still hoped that the thick fabric would give me a layer of protection.

  Jeans, T-shirt, combat boots, and a scarf. I realized two things at that moment. First, I looked ridiculous. Second, I was an idiot for not grabbing a coat as well to provide more protection for my torso. It might not help much in this situation, but cloth armor and motorcycle leathers were definite things used for protection. I’d have to figure out something for the rest of my legs as well. The pressure to get out of the apartment had affected my thinking.

  My stomach gurgled. I was at that weird point where I wasn’t sure if my stomach was upset because it had been violently emptied recently, or if it was upset because I was hungry, because my stomach was empty.

  “Time to figure out this inventory thing,” I thought.

  The moment I thought of inventory, two boxes appeared at the bottom center of my vision. While the one on the right was empty, the one on the left displayed the ration bar. The moment I focused on the bar, it appeared in my left hand.

  Like when I had picked the item up, brackets formed around the bar with a selection prompt on the bottom.

  RATION BAR - UNPERISHABLE

  CONSUME?

  YES / NO

  I focused on yes, and the bar disappeared. The pang in my stomach stopped, and I felt somewhat sated, like I had just physically eaten something. While it settled my stomach somewhat, I couldn’t help but feel like I had missed out by not actually eating the bar.

  With the disappearance of the bar, the two boxes at the bottom of my vision were now empty. I guessed that I would have some sort of limited active inventory, but I wouldn’t be sure without further experimentation. That meant I had to get more items, and that meant I actually had to explore the dungeon.

  The more I lived in this reality, the more it felt like I had been shoved into an old-school roguelike. I had played some over the years, including a web build of the original Rogue. There was some variety in gameplay, setting, and mechanics, but there always seemed to be a few commonalities.

  In roguelikes, the world was usually procedurally generated, including maps, monsters, and loot. Another defining mechanic was the world resetting upon player death. While I had only encountered one monster so far, the map resetting after I had died was a major clue.

  Well, I only had proof that the map had reset once. I hadn’t even made it to the dungeon on my last “life,” but I’m pretty sure I would have encountered a different layout if I had actually gotten out of my apartment door without my heart exploding. My life being represented by hearts felt like something you’d see in newer games. In older games, hit points were usually just represented by a number.

  If I thought about it, the lowest amount of damage I could take was a half-heart, and I had three. So, six hits in all, or six hit points.

  My only encounters with damage so far had been when I kicked the door and injured myself, and my oh-so-quick and painful death from the laundry creature, so I wasn’t sure if things could do more than a half-heart of damage.

  My neck started to itch. I wasn’t sure if it was from the scarf or from thinking about when the creature had ripped into it.

  I gazed wearily at the laundry nook off to my right. I felt myself hesitate, knowing that pain and death were now very much a real part of my reality. The fighter in me, the soldier, knew that things would not improve unless I found the courage to move forward.

  Poking my head into the nook, I looked over the washer and the dryer. I stepped inside, cautiously looking into the transparent, windowed doors of both without opening them. Both appeared to be empty.

  I willed the fork into my hand and readied myself.

  “Here goes nothing,” I thought.

  I pulled open the door to the washer, moving back and to the right along with the door as it opened. If something were to jump out this time, at least I wouldn’t be directly in its path.

  Nothing.

  I did the same thing with the dryer, stepping to the side as I opened the door. Once again, no creature flew out of the machine.

  I was just about to leave the nook when the laundry sink began to move.