Solo in Dungeon

Chapter 7 - The System (1)

Jarred's eyes fluttered open with a sharp intake of breath. The familiar whiteness of his ceiling was a stark contrast to the dark, foreboding corridors of the dungeon he had been in. He gasped, his body drenched in a cold sweat that clung to his clothes. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic—a scent that carried a subtle hint of familiarity mixed with something else that he couldn't quite place. He blinked, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of his recent ordeal.

"Wait, is this my room?" he muttered, confusion lacing his voice.

He looked around, taking in his scattered belongings and the cozy confines of his bedroom. The safety of his room seemed so out of place compared to the chaos he had just endured. His heart raced as he struggled to make sense of it all.

"I should be in the dungeon," he thought, his mind racing to reconstruct the events that had led him here. His head throbbed as he recalled the demon, the eerie statues, the loss of his comrades, the ominous commandments, and the grueling tests they had faced together. His sacrifice had been a desperate act, but it was supposed to have sealed their fate.

His emotions surged—sorrow, fear, and a deep sense of loss. Tears began to spill uncontrollably from his eyes, each drop a silent testament to the weight of his grief.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

The rhythmic sound of knocks on his door jolted him from his thoughts. His sister's voice followed, gentle yet insistent.

"Are you awake, Brother?"

Jarred quickly wiped his tears, his face flushed with embarrassment. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice.

"Yes, I'm awake."

"There are people out here looking for you."

The unexpected visit puzzled him. Who could be looking for him at this hour? Jarred had a limited circle of friends, and his thoughts immediately turned to Shaine, his closest ally.

"All right, I'll be there in a minute."

He hastily changed into fresh clothes and splashed some cold water on his face, trying to shake off the remnants of his distress. As he opened the door, he was greeted by two stern-looking men dressed in dark suits.

"Are you Jarred Rivera?" one of them inquired, his tone authoritative and scrutinizing.

"Y-yes," Jarred replied, his curiosity piqued by their formal demeanor.

The man in the suit studied him closely, as if calculating something intangible. The air between them was thick with unspoken questions.

"Is there something wrong?" Jarred asked, noting the man's intense scrutiny.

"No," came the curt response, followed by a brief pause.

The man introduced himself. "We are representatives of the Hunters Association. My name is Kevin, and this is Mark. We need you to tell us everything that happened in the red dungeon."

Jarred took a deep breath and recounted his harrowing experience. He spoke of the commandments, the fearsome demon king, the statues, his fallen comrades, and the self-sacrificial act he had undertaken on their behalf. However, he chose to omit the details of the mysterious book that had shielded him and the cryptic message it bore.

Kevin listened intently, his expression inscrutable. When questioned about his survival, Jarred could only offer a bewildered shrug.

"I honestly don't remember."

Kevin informed Jarred that they had discovered him within the dungeon but had chosen not to take him to the hospital, given that he appeared to be in good health. Instead, they had returned him to his home, where his sister had been waiting anxiously.