I woke up to the persistent knocking of the innkeeper once again. It had become a cornerstone of my morning routine, a biological alarm clock that I was increasingly grateful for. I sat up, realizing that for the first time since I had arrived in Targashar, the usual morning grogginess was replaced by a sharp, crystalline clarity. I quickly changed into my day clothes and prepared to receive my breakfast.

  Before I performed the mental ritual of resetting my stats and skills to their combat-ready baseline, I paused to observe my physical condition. The result was staggering. I didn't have a single aching muscle, despite the grueling hours spent in the dungeon yesterday. The lingering headache from the previous evening's mana depletion was entirely gone. It appeared that the Regeneration stat was far more versatile than I had initially hypothesized; it didn't just knit flesh together for HP recovery, but also accelerated the replenishment of my MP and SP reserves.

  This was vital knowledge. Knowing that I could essentially "reset" my entire system overnight by temporarily dumping points into Regeneration would allow me to push much harder during my delves. My mood improved significantly as I sat down to eat.

  "Did I do something to please the innkeeper?" I muttered to myself.

  Stephen had brought four sausages this morning instead of the usual three, and for the first time, a mug of warm, frothy milk sat beside the plate. It was an undeniable upgrade. When I went to return the tray, I found him at the desk and narrowed my eyes, looking at him with mock suspicion.

  “Hey, Stephen. What exactly are you after?”

  “Hmm? Whatever do you mean, sir?” he asked, a bashful smile playing on his lips. “Is something not to your liking?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know. Why the extra treat? Is it because my initial days are ending soon and you’re worried I won’t extend?” I blurted out the most logical reason I could find.

  “H-huh? W-what are you talking about?” He laughed, looking a bit frustrated. “I was simply being generous to a regular customer. That is all!”

  “Alright, alright. Thank you,” I said, offering a small smile to reassure him. “But don’t worry, I’m planning on staying for a while longer regardless. I don’t like changing bases once I’ve settled in.”

  Stephen beamed at that. I still didn't quite understand if he was just desperate for a stable income or if he genuinely liked having me around, but the food was good, so I didn't pursue it. I bought another day’s worth of provisions for ten copper coins—noting that I still had the expensive bottle from yesterday—and departed for the dungeon.

  The city was still cloaked in pre-dawn darkness, with only the faint, watery light on the horizon signaling the coming sun. I headed for the secluded alleyway, confirmed that the area was deserted, and activated Warp. I stepped through the shimmering tear in space and instantly found myself on the seventh floor of the dungeon.

  I didn't want to waste a second. I pulled out my map, identified the most efficient route toward the boss chamber, and began to advance. My primary goal for the day was two-fold: clear two floors and attempt to unlock the Monk job. If my theory—that the job was tied to unarmed combat—was correct, I needed to start punching things immediately.

  I hadn't traveled far before I spotted a strange, rounded hump in the middle of the corridor. Up until this point, the dungeon floors had been kept remarkably clean and clear of debris, so any anomaly was immediately suspicious. I slowed my pace and raised my shield, my eyes narrowing. As I drew closer, the "hump" began to move with a slow, grinding deliberate motion.

  ***

  Race: Earth Turtle

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  Sex: None

  Status: Normal

  Level 7

  ***

  It was a tortoise—or rather, a massive Earth Turtle. It was roughly a meter wide and a meter long, with a height that matched its girth. Its body was almost entirely tucked away beneath a thick, dark brown carapace that looked as solid as granite. Only small gaps in the shell allowed me to see glimpses of its leathery flesh as it shifted its weight.

  I waited for the charge, but then I laughed at my own instinct. What can I expect from a monster legendary for its slowness? Since it had no intention of speeding up, I decided to test its defensive capabilities. In every fantasy world I knew, "Earth" attributed monsters were synonymous with sturdiness. I had already cut through the chitinous shells of centipedes, so I wanted to see how this carapace compared. I dashed forward, putting my weight behind a powerful overhead swing of my steel sword.

  CRACK.

  The blade hit the carapace and bit deep, creating a jagged fissure in the stone-like surface. However, the sword didn't reach the flesh. The carapace was incredibly thick—far deeper than I had anticipated. Worse still, as I tried to pull the blade back, I realized it was firmly wedged in the crack.

  The turtle made its move. Its body suddenly lurched upward, its heavy legs extending, and then it began to drop with the intent to crush me beneath its massive weight. In that split second, I saw its face emerge from the shell—it had flat, dull eyes that looked at me with the vacant intensity of a dead fish.

  I put every ounce of my Strength into a desperate yank, freeing the sword just as the turtle slammed into the ground. I dove backward, feeling the shockwave of the impact vibrate through the stone floor.

  Slashing isn't going to work here, I realized. I’ll break the blade before I kill it. Against this kind of armored defense, blunt-force trauma was the only answer. It was the perfect opportunity to test my theory about the Monk job. I sheathed my sword and secured my shield. To ensure my punches had the necessary impact, I accessed the Player Window for a quick reallocation.

  I dropped my stats back to the default of 5 across the board. Then, I dumped my points into Strength, bringing it up to 11. I used my remaining points to pull my Agility back up to 7. The surge of raw power was intoxicating; I felt as though I could punch through a brick wall.

  The turtle was already turning back toward me, its slow, inexorable crawl resuming. I centered my breathing and took a wide combat stance. I put my weight on my left leg, crouched slightly to load the tension in my quads, and prepared a cross-punch.

  As the turtle entered my range, I exploded upward. I pivoted my hips, channeling the force from the floor through my core and into my right fist. I didn't have formal martial arts training, but the physics of the movement felt natural with my increased stats.

  THOOM.

  My fist collided with the center of the turtle's carapace. The stone-like shell didn't just crack; it dented inward, and a web of fissures spider-webbed across the entire surface. The impact was enough to send the meter-wide beast sliding backward several meters across the floor.

  The turtle was still alive—the carapace had protected its vitals—but it was clearly dazed. It staggered, its legs shaking as it tried to reorient itself. I realized I didn't need to destroy the entire shell; I just needed to open a hole large enough to reach the vulnerable flesh beneath.

  I followed up with a series of targeted punches, focusing every strike on the same damaged spot. With the third hit, a head-sized section of the carapace finally gave way, shattering into dust and revealing the soft, leathery tissue underneath.

  The turtle let out a pathetic, high-pitched Kiikk! and tried one last, desperate move. It thrust its head out of the shell, aiming a slow, clumsy bite at my leg. I stepped aside effortlessly, reached down, and gripped the jagged edge of the broken carapace. With a heave, I flipped the creature onto its side, leaving it motionless.

  I didn't hesitate. I drove a final, powerful punch directly into the exposed flesh. My hand sank deep into the soft tissue with almost no resistance. It was as vulnerable as a slime once the armor was gone.

  The creature convulsed once and then began to dissolve into the dark vapor of the dungeon. I stood there, my fist still clenched, watching the loot clatter to the ground. If I had used my sword, this would have been a grueling chore. But with my fists, I had found the solution to the seventh floor’s challenge. Now, I just had to see if the system recognized me as a Monk.

  [Edited]