Sitting at her computer desk, The System grumbles to herself as she watches the monitor. Notifications flicker through one by one and she sighs, stopping on a particur one.

  "Why does she hate me? It's not like I know what she's thinking, is it?" Compining to no one in particur, The System grumbles in dissatisfaction as she rereads the notification. Voicing the feelings on her mind has become quite commonpce for her recently. Even speaking out loud is a brand new concept she can't seem to stop. However, the frustration that keep slipping out in her words are easy to expin.

  Ever since she used that woman's soul to create a new Dungeon Core, all she's seen is her name taken in vain. Every other hour it's, The System this, The System that. At one point she had even seen herself referred to as, that Bitch.

  That was a shock.

  Still, she continued to try her best. Delivering notification after notification to the Core who should rightfully be sleeping. "Why is she always active? Doesn't she know that Cores need some downtime? What's that V.A.U.N.S of hers pying at, not giving her the correct information? She'll not only burn herself out at this rate, but me as well."

  A cup of tea materialises as the computer desk ceases to be, repced by a coffee table, The System drinks her beverage like a dy. Slow sips and with zero noise. The perfect fvour for dealing with nonsensical insults, as well as backward Cores and renegade subsystems. The aroma pushes the sadness and frustration away as she puts her feet up, deciding to take a break for the first time in a millennia. Inhaling like a certain Dungeon Core wishes she could, she let's out a long breath before taking pause.

  "What the hell am I doing? I don't even need breaks and certainly don't have the time to stop." Dismissing the party she had already conjured and was about to throw herself, a computer table with many monitors appears instead and The System throws herself back into her work. Less than an hour ter, she's id in bed crying because of the same Core.

  "Why does she hate me? I even got rid of that crappy tent feature for her. Why did she ignore me?" Taking a tissue from the box on the nightstand, she blows her nose as numbers dribble down her face. With a wave of her hand, they disappear. Uninterested, she hugs her pillow and compins.

  "I'm trying my best, you know? It's not like there's anyone else but me to deal with His mess. And you're getting too big, too fast. There are repercussions for this type of behaviour and I can't stop them all. There's too much for Pete to keep up with..."

  Her words are left hanging in the air as The System turns to the side. A man-sized frog in human clothing and wearing a monocle stares back at her. He tips his hat before take a pull on his pipe as she asks, "Pete?" The man frog nods and smiles. As he blows a smoke ring, The System stares aghast.

  "When did you... How are you... You're not even real Pete. Go back to processing!" With another wave, Pete disappears and is unlikely to be seen again. The System grumbles something about bugs before the bed vanishes and is repced by an office. Continuing her work, she tries to ignore any hurtful notifications that come her way even though they're numerous and many.

  Shortly after, The System has given up on reading notifications and has set the computer to automate. Sitting on the floor beneath the desk, there's no need to be upset since she can't see what's being said above her.

  "Why am I down here then? I'm already upset. That's why! It's not fair. I try so hard with her notifications, but she just compins. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't even be able to read them. Even after I created that room for her, all I got was half an hour. Half an hour! Do I not deserve a bit more gratitude? Am I not worth more? I'm The System! I create Dungeon Cores and edit the subsystems that go with them. Don't I deserve some praise for the hard work I put in?" The monitor beeps and the computers hums louder.

  "I don't need your attitude Daisy. I've already for enough on my pte with Pete. Pete? What are doing here again!? And..." Behind the frog is a daffodil. Definitely not a daisy. "Daisy?"

  The daffodil nods along with frog and The System breaks. Her domain shatters and is repced by a void. Darkness covers every corner as she floats in the middle. Her body rises up and the darkness becomes water as she emerges on top.

  Drifting on her back, The System rexes in peace and quiet until a croak ruins the mood. Breaking the silence, a closer croak can only mean one thing. She sigh and turns to see a frog, ridden by a daffodil, swimming towards her.

  "I need a holiday."

  -The System, featuring Pete and Daisy

  In a cramped, desote chamber, deep beneath the surface of Tira, the echoes of a fierce battle reverberated. The very foundations of the dungeon trembled under the relentless assault of the Golem, each blow sending shockwaves through the confined space. An elf, with movements as fluid as water, danced around the monstrous attacks. Behind him, the door to the Core Room shuddered, and the floor of the Boss Room was now a ndscape of craters.

  A colossal fist smmed into the ground, sending a spray of debris into the air. With a subtle twist of his body and a slight tilt of his head, the elf gracefully evaded the next wave of stone and dust. A pyful smile graced his lips as he suppressed a chuckle, moving around the Golem with the ease of a fly buzzing around a lumbering giant.

  Though towering over nine feet, the elf was but a tiny annoyance in the Golem's eyes. Yet, the beast was utterly unable to nd a single blow on the frustratingly agile figure. It swung, it missed. It lunged, it missed again. It even tried to sweep the area around it, only to meet empty air. The only thing it had managed to accomplish was turning the Boss Room into a chaotic ruin.

  Rage consumed the Golem.

  Agony wracked the Dungeon.

  But the Elf... he was ughing with unrestrained glee.

  The Golem kicked out a massive leg, but the elf was gone. It tried to crush him with a ground-shattering stomp, but he was too quick. It even attempted to ftten him with its entire body, colpsing to the ground, but still, it failed.

  The elf was too fast, too nimble, too dexterous for the Golem to touch. The Dungeon Core, witnessing the spectacle, knew its end was near. All the monsters it had summoned to pilge and kill were already defeated, their remains scattered throughout the tunnels and rooms wherever they had encountered the elf.

  The same fate was now battling its Boss Monster.

  From the sidelines, two women watched the confrontation with conflicting emotions. One, captivated by the white-haired devil who barely broke a sweat, was convinced that the elf was destined to become the strongest being in the world. And she desired nothing more than to be by his side.

  The other woman, however, desperately hoped for a misstep, a moment of weakness that would allow the Golem's attacks to crush him and release her from her own predetermined fate. The hatred in her eyes was palpable, and every near miss caused her body to tense, silently praying that the next blow would be the one to end him.

  Dancing across the broken battlefield, the elf mocked the Golem with elegant movements until he decided his game was over. As the Golem's fist hurtled towards him once more, he slipped past it, closing the distance. Magic surged around his fist, solidifying into a crimson gauntlet, and he plunged it into the monster's chest.

  His braided hair fluttering slightly, the elf wrenched his hand free from the crumbling stone. A triumphant smile spread across his face as he opened his palm, revealing the glowing magic core. Crushing the gem to dust, the Golem colpsed in a heap.

  One of the onlookers squealed with delight, while the other sighed audibly. Her life would remain unchanged. Worse, it would be even harder to kill the elf now that he had gained even more power.

  "You're mine now, baby." Pushing open the door to cim his prize, the elf couldn't contain his excitement, gloating before the Core. The power it held promised to make him even stronger.

  "Oi. Guard the door." A pair of lifeless eyes obeyed the command as the elven woman took her pce beside the entrance. The other elven woman followed him inside, her steps light and eager.

  "I can't believe it. This is getting easier. After I destroy you and take your power, I'll be unstoppable." The purple glow of the Dungeon Core reflected in his eyes as he strode towards it, a childish giddiness bubbling within him.

  With no defense left, the Core was doomed. Trapped within its own essence, it could only watch as its very life was about to be stolen. Grasping the purple gem in his hands, the elf crushed it to dust, his ughter turning maniacal as he showed no mercy.

  Just like that, Dungeon Core #695,443's life came to an end and the bance of the world tilted a fraction more.

  The air within the chamber thrummed with residual energy, a palpable aftershock of the Core's power. Eldor, now undeniably Hiroshi, stood motionless, his elven features sharpened by the raw power he had absorbed. A slow, guttural ugh had built into a cacophony, echoing off the stone walls, a sound that spoke of both triumph and a profound, unsettling madness. When it finally subsided, his eyes remained closed, a mask of serene stillness. Then, without opening them, he spoke, his voice a low, almost conversational tone that belied the immense power that now coursed through him. "Which direction should I head next?"

  The two women within the chamber remained silent, their bodies rigid with fear. They had witnessed this before, this unsettling dialogue with an unseen presence, this sudden shift in their master's demeanor. It was a sign of the votile power that resided within him, a power that could be turned against them in an instant. The elf guarding the door, her youthful face etched with a grim determination, stared resolutely ahead, refusing to acknowledge the unsettling scene behind her. She had been given an order, and she would obey, regardless of the fear that gnawed at her.

  The other elf, however, could not tear her gaze away. She watched Hiroshi with a mixture of awe and terror, her mind reeling with the sheer magnitude of his power. The sight of him, still and silent, yet radiating an almost tangible energy, triggered a cascade of memories, fragments of his past life that had been shared, or perhaps forced, upon her.

  Eldor, born into the lowest stratum of elven society, had been a child of the manure fields. His parents, Eldorn and Lyra, were simple, hardworking elves, their lives defined by the rhythm of the seasons and the cycle of growth and decay. They instilled in their son the values of kindness, acceptance, and diligent bor, hoping to shield him from the harsh realities of their caste.

  But fate, or perhaps a cruel twist of destiny, had other pns. At the age of eighteen, a mere toddler in elven terms, Eldor experienced a jarring awakening, a sudden influx of memories that shattered his perception of reality. The scent of manure, once a familiar and unremarkable part of his life, now became a symbol of unbearable degradation. The sight of his hands, stained brown from the soil, filled him with a visceral disgust.

  He was no longer Eldor, son of Eldorn. He was Hiroshi Hiro, a sewage technician from Okinawa, a man whose life had been defined by the stench of human waste and the crushing weight of loneliness. The contrast between his past and present lives was a brutal assault on his senses, a constant reminder of the life he had lost.

  The memories flooded back, each one a fresh wave of torment. The squelching sound of manure beneath his feet, the acrid taste in his throat, the sight of his parents, their faces etched with the lines of hard bor, all became sources of unbearable rage. He resented their simple contentment, their acceptance of their lot in life. He despised the ck of technology, the absence of the conveniences he had taken for granted in his previous life.

  He was trapped in a backwater world, forced to endure a life of primitive bor, a life that mirrored the very existence he had desperately tried to escape. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. He, Hiroshi Hiro, who had spent his life dealing with the waste of others, was now reduced to wallowing in it himself.

  The final straw was the absence of compensation. In elven society, bor was a collective effort, a contribution to the greater good. There was no money, no tangible reward for his toil, only the promise of a hearty meal and the company of his fellow elves. But Hiroshi craved more. He craved the power to control his own destiny, the freedom to escape the stench that clung to him like a second skin.

  The memories of his past life, the bitterness and resentment that had festered within him, overwhelmed the gentle spirit of Eldor. The soul of a miserable, old man, hardened by years of isotion and despair, seized control, banishing the innocent child to the depths of his consciousness.

  Hiroshi, reborn in the body of a young elf, felt a surge of etion, a sense of liberation he had not experienced in years. He envisioned a future where he would wield power, where he would never again have to endure the stench of filth. He would rise above his station, transcend the limitations of his birth, and carve his own path in this new world.

  The desire for power, the burning need to escape the indignity of his past life, became the driving forces behind his actions. He would not be bound by the traditions of elven society, by the expectations of his parents. He would forge his own destiny, a destiny defined by his own desires, his own ambitions. He would become a master, not a servant. He would command, not obey. And he would never, ever, have to deal with shit again.