Part-199

  The same applied to his other skills. **Thundercp**, **Snake Jab**, and **Bear Grip** were powerful, but they required precise timing and energy ma. The ratlings had been overwhelming, but they wouldn’t be the stro foes he’d face. The dungeon surely had more dangerous enemies, and if he wao survive, he’d need more than just raw power.

  James’s thoughts lingered on the mp. What other secrets did it hold? The dungeon had only revealed its first yer to him, and it had already tested his limits. He had cleared the midse of Level 1, but that was just the beginning. How many more levels were there? What new challenges awaited him?

  His heart raced at the thought. Despite the exhaustion and uainty, James felt a thrill deep within. The dungeon was an unparalleled experience—a pce where he could push himself to his absolute limits, where each victory brought him closer to unlog its secrets.

  But for now, he had to wait. As frustrating as it was, the 24-hour reset period would give him time to rest, recover, and strategize.

  Lost in thought, a notification suddenly appeared before him:

  **[Mission 24: gratutions! Mission pleted. Reward: +5 INT]**

  The m, sunlight filtered through the windows as James slid into his usual seat, feeling the weight of anticipation in the air. The midterms had just ended, leaving behind a buzz of relief aement. A 20-day summer vacation awaited them, a reprieve everyone was eagerly looking forward to. But before that, they had o css to go over the semester’s final assigs and homework. The was filled with the usual hum of chatter, students exging pns for the break, while some, already feeling zy, were quietly dreading the homework review.

  James, still somewhat distracted by the events of the previous day in the dungeon, tried to shake off the lingering exhaustion. Though the Lamp of Time had reset, the mental strain of battling ratlings aedly fag defeat was hard to ignore. He g the clock, willing himself to focus on the present.

  As the teacher droned on about assig details, James caught a glimpse of Mili approag his desk. He straightened up, fshing her a quick smile.

  “Hey, James,” Mili said, leaning casually against his desk. “What are your pns for the summer?”

  James shrugged. “Nothing big yet. I’ll probably take it easy for a few days. After the midterms, I feel like I need a break.”

  Mili grinned. “You should stop by our dojo over the summer. My dad’s running some special bat training programs. You’ll learn a ton. It could help you sharpen your skills.”

  Mili’s family, the Chowdhurys, owned one of the rgest martial arts academies iy, a pce that had produced some of the best martial artists in the region. James had visited the dojo a couple of times before but had aken formal lessons. He always admired the atmosphere there, watg the dedication of the students as they trained under Kashem Chowdhury, Mili’s father, and Tia Chowdhury, her mother—both martial arts masters.