Solo in Dungeon

Chapter 9 - The truth

Jarred jolted awake, his eyes snapping open with a suddenness that mirrored the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Disoriented, he scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was. The familiar, decaying walls of the abandoned warehouse came into view, bringing a wave of relief and confusion.

"Where am I?" he muttered to himself, his voice shaky as he took in the sight of the dusty, graffiti-covered walls.

It was the same place where he had first entered the mysterious dungeon, yet it felt like a world away from the otherworldly realm he had just battled through. "I... I'm back?"

The reality of his situation began to settle in, but before he could fully process it, a series of sharp, metallic pings rang out in front of him. Startled, Jarred stumbled backward, landing hard on his rear as a cascade of notification messages materialized in his vision, floating ominously in the air.

His heart raced as he squinted at the glowing text, still struggling to shake off the remnants of the dreamlike state he had been in.

"What the...?" Jarred breathed out, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and bewilderment.

The notifications blurred together, making it difficult to focus on any one message. He tore his eyes away, realizing that his clothes—once simple jogging pants and a jersey—were now tattered and caked in grime.

Mud and blood were smeared across the fabric, a visceral reminder of the brutal encounters he had survived.

Desperate for some semblance of normalcy, Jarred fumbled for his phone, the cool glass of the screen offering a fleeting sense of comfort. But as he glanced at the time, his breath caught in his throat. It had been ten hours since he had first stepped into the dungeon.

"Ten hours?" he exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. "But I was only in there for... an hour?"

The realization hit him like a cold wave. The dungeon he had entered wasn't like the ones other hunters frequented.

Those dungeons had no time distortion between their reality and the outside world. What he had stumbled into was something entirely different—a dungeon with a time gap, an anomaly no one else knew about.

Jarred's mind raced as he tried to wrap his head around this revelation. While he had fought for what felt like a mere hour within the dungeon, almost half a day had passed in the real world. And in that time, he had collapsed from exhaustion, unconscious for who knew how long.

His phone buzzed incessantly, drawing his attention to a flood of missed calls and messages from his sister, Hana.

Guilt twisted in his stomach as he imagined her worried face, waiting anxiously for him to return. "I have to get home," he decided, pushing himself up despite the lingering fatigue in his limbs.

Hana would be beside herself with worry if he didn't return soon.

The ride home was quiet, with only the hum of the engine filling the silence as Jarred tried to process everything that had happened.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of the dungeon, the time distortion, and the unexpected power he had gained.

The driver eventually pulled up to his home, breaking the spell of Jarred's thoughts.

"We've arrived, sir," the driver announced, his voice snapping Jarred back to reality.

As soon as he stepped through the front door, Hana was there, her eyes wide with concern as she took in his disheveled appearance.

The torn clothes, the dirt, and dried blood were impossible to miss.

"What happened to your clothes, brother? Are you okay?" Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her anxiety.