It takes another hour or so for everything to dry off properly, but then I’m finally ready to get out of here. The tub and shelf with all its goodies vanish into thin air the moment I dried off, so I didn’t even get to experiment with stealing some of the soaps.

  I know it wouldn't have worked, but I at least wanted to try, if only to bug the System.

  Once dressed and covered by my cloak, I’m ready.

  At the same moment, another door appears in front of me. This time, it’s a simple wooden door with a pale blue outline of a hand print. There aren’t any latches or handles that I can see, so with a shrug I place my hand in the outline.

  Notice

  Given your unique circumstances, you will be transported to the tunnel entrance of your last inhabited town or city.

  Would you like to leave?

  Yes / No

  A smile curves my lips as I speak, “Thanks, System.”

  And I mean it. I was worried I’d have to traverse the Tunnels for another week and a half just to get back, which would’ve been a problem given my limited supplies. Or worse, if I reappeared with all of those freaky statues…

  I didn’t like my odds against them. Even if I had a significant lead in stats, I’m not even level twenty. The Strikers party had the strongest people in the whole city, and they ended up running. At least, Darius did.

  The memory of him wipes the smile from my face, but I move on. Overall, this is all good news. I’m not going to let some treacherous prick get me down.

  I select 'yes'.

  In a blink, the temperature shifts and I smell the city again, in all its great and terrible glory. Grinning, I spread my arms and take a deep, deep breath. The sun warms my skin, and the scents of bread, smoke, and metal fills my lungs.

  It smells like the town square, exactly as I remembered it, and my tail and ears flick about as I absorb the warm rays with my face to the sky.

  Something roughly pokes my side, followed by a sharp prick of pain that pulls me from my revelry. When I drag my gaze down, I see the feathers of an arrow poking out of my stomach. It takes a second to register, my nostalgia and satisfaction with finally being home making me slow to understand.

  Then, I’m on full alert, and the ringing of the alarm bells finally reaches my ears. My vision snaps up, searching for the goblin that shot me, only to find myself surrounded by guards.

  I stare at them, confused. Then sudden realization hits me. I'd entirely skipped all of the security in the first layer. The System spat me out right at the Tunnel entrance, just as it said I would. I just hadn't thought about what that would mean.

  Shit.

  Returning my gaze forward, I look beyond the ancient gates and see people scattering. Stalls empty quickly as the guards perched on the ramparts aim their weapons at me.

  And… I’m not sure what to do here.

  One of the guards atop the wall fires another arrow at me, and I twist slightly to let it fly past me and into the darkness of the tunnels, my high Dexterity proving more than worthy of the task.

  “Uh… can you stop shooting at me?” I say loudly, making a show of pulling the arrow out of my stomach and tossing it to the ground at the nearest guard's feet. No point in wasting good arrows.

  This causes them to pause and look at each other for a moment, but they don’t put away their weapons.

  “What are you?” one of the guards in front asks.

  Human Fighter

  Level 38

  He looks like a leading type. Nicer gear, a clean shave, and surrounded by more rough looking guards. Still, the question throws me off with its sheer stupidity, and my ears twitch in annoyance.

  Still, I tell a half-truth. A very easily believable one.

  “I’m a Foxkin, obviously,” I say, pointing at my ears and giving an exaggerated swish of my tail.

  “You some kinda shape-shifter?” he barks back, completely ignoring me and opting for belligerence.

  I frown.

  “Are you blind? I’m—” I start, only for another volley of arrows to force me into motion.

  With a squawk of surprise, I leap to the side, right into another guard who swings his sword in a panic, right for my head. On instinct, I activate Enhance Body at full power and raise my arm to block the blade. When it actually works, the blade getting stuck in the meat of my forearm, his eyes open wide in shock.

  In the brief moment it buys me, I look around and see another group of guards now behind the leader, coming from the nearby barracks.

  Reinforcements.

  Dammit, they weren’t intending to listen at all!

  Thinking quickly, I decide it’d be best to not run away, as they’d likely assume I actually am some kind of shape-shifting monster or something equally foolish. I’d rather not have hundreds of Delvers hunting me through town.

  Instead I decide on a slightly riskier plan.

  Yanking my arm free in one smooth motion, I move towards the moronic leader. My sudden burst of speed causes the paving stones beneath my feet to crack and crumble, but I ignore it. Once they started trying to kill me, all care for collateral damage went out the window.

  I’m on him in less than two seconds, and I smile as his eyes widen to the size of saucers. He takes a wild swing at me in an attempt to stave me off, but I just slap the blade up with a fully empowered strike. With Arcane Strike and Bloodmist Fist backed by Enhance Body, it's easy enough to deflect it.

  I feel the difference though, as his Strength is obviously higher than mine, but he never got a chance to bring it to bear thanks to the sudden shift in events. The blade whistles just over my ears, and I grab his throat and jerk him towards me, beginning to drag him towards the tunnel entrance.

  He stumbles, but I keep him upright enough to get him away from the rest of the guards. It only takes a few seconds to get back to the center of the guards’ encirclement and flip him around. I pin his arm behind him and get a nice, solid choke-hold to stop him from having any bad ideas.

  “Seriously, Mr. Guard, you should have just fucking used your eyes. I’m a Foxkin. The ears and tail didn’t give that away?” I growl into his ear.

  He tries to speak but only gets out a choked gurgle. I push a bit of Arcane Regulation into him and loosen my grip slightly, feeling a little bad about being so rough. Not bad enough to let him go, though.

  The skill grants me some awareness of his condition as the mana courses through him, healing the bruises I cause as soon as I cause them. Even some of his older ailments, like a strange buildup of scar tissue in his right shoulder, are healed from the skill.

  Huh, so that’s how it works on others. Good to know I won’t accidentally kill him.

  Even with the hostage, though, another arrow slams into my back and my growl with a mix of pain and frustration.

  “Are you fucking serious?! I’m not your enemy! Stop shooting me!” I scream in the direction the arrow came from.

  “W-why should I believe some monster that came from the Tunnels!” my captive says between wheezes.

  “Do I look like a monster?” I say. To stop him from saying something belligerent, I tighten my grip on him, digging my claws in just a little harder before letting up again. He stiffens, and I know I've made my point.

  Suddenly, shouts of “Cease fire!” echo off the ramparts, a susurration spreading through the gathered guards. From the location of the reinforcements I’d seen, the guards part. Through the gap walks a bear of a man with a scruffy brown beard hiding most of his face. The rest of his head is protected by a steel helmet, and through holes for his eyes, his silvery gaze locks onto me with a dark glare, as if daring me to try something.

  Human Fighter

  Level ??

  The question marks stop me cold. That only happens when someone’s evolved—hit level fifty and climbed to a whole new tier. I'd learned that most people are Tier Zero, that being anywhere under level fifty. Level fifty and above is apparently Tier One.

  I don’t know much beyond that. Just whispers and rumors of even higher Tiers, but nothing concrete. It's still enough to make me concerned.

  From what I know, there aren't many Tier Ones in our little city. It explains the way the others react to him—the silence, the space they give, the subtle shift in their postures. There is a mix of deference and fear in the air, and my Sense Danger skill is telling me to be careful.

  All of this points to him being powerful. Very powerful. Probably even more than me, which is saying something given my absurd Classes and stats.

  I’m not particularly eager to find out.

  Still, maybe he’ll bring some order to this mess. Assuming I don’t piss him off.

  I keep hold of my impromptu hostage, just in case. But the arrow in my back is getting incredibly annoying with the constant itchy feeling as I heal around it. I tighten my grip on his throat before releasing his arm and use my newly freed hand to reach around and rip it out with a grunt.

  I send a glare in the direction the arrow came from, and to my immense satisfaction I catch one of the archers on the wall shrinking back. I smirk at him, just for good measure.

  “Gary!” the man shouts, clearly directed at the one in my grasp. “What in all the hells is going on!”

  The man in my grasp whose name I refuse to commit to memory tries to speak even through my tightened grip. So I squeeze harder, and he only gets out a strangled gurgle.

  “My name is Emilia! I’m a Delver! D-Rank Carrier! Your boys here decided it’d be a great idea to shoot me instead of talking,” I shout back, answering in his stead.

  Can’t have this copper biting moron trying to throw me under the wagon.

  He quirks a brow at that, but waves over a man behind the line of guards. A scrawny gentleman with an immaculately smooth face and an extremely neat comb-over jogs up with a bundle of papers tucked neatly under his arm. The badge over his shoulder signifies him as an associate of the Delvers Guild, and I actually recognize him as one of the usuals stationed at the gates to grant Delvers entry.

  Human Attendant

  Level 26

  “Hey Gerald,” I say, waving casually with my freed arm.

  My voice carries to him easily enough, but he just eyes me warily.

  Fair enough, I suppose. Me and him weren’t even on speaking terms really—just knew each others names out of necessity for work. There were only three Attendants that worked at the gates, but there were well over a hundred delvers. It's definitely easier for us to remember them than the other way around.

  And I did change quite a lot since anyone last saw me. At least they called up someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doing.

  It takes a couple of minutes for him to rifle through a small folder he's carrying. Thankfully, with this new leader guy, nobody seems to think it’s a good idea to shoot first and ask questions later anymore.

  Small blessings.

  Gerald suddenly speaks up, “Do you know how long you’ve been in the tunnels?”

  I respond after just a moments thought. “No, I entered with the Strikers party on a large scale expedition into the fifth layer. We got separated after entering the wild magic zone. My best guess is two or three days after that? But I’m honestly not sure,” I say.

  “What did you say your name was again?” he asks.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Emilia. D-Rank Carrier,” I rattle off reflexively.

  Now that a dialog has actually started, I feel Charisma nudging me to let go of the hostage and act more casual to foster the more calming atmosphere. Sense Danger is still giving me warnings, but I can also tell the leader isn’t outright hostile. And I’d already learned to trust my stats and skills in the dungeon.

  So, even if I want to scare him a bit more, I let him go. Slowly.

  With Arcane Regulation active on him the entire time, I know he’s fine. Ignoring his coughing, I give him a gentle—but firm—shove to get him moving towards the new captain guy.

  Y’know what? Captain guy is Scruffy now. Nobody wants to give me names, so I’ll assign them. Real boss guy? Scruffy. Gerald is… well, Gerald. First moronic captain who talks a lot of shit? Hmm…

  Unsurprisingly, my thoughts are interrupted by that same moron screeching and raving about how I must be a shape-shifter or some such to have gotten past security, and demanding my immediate execution. Scruffy silences him with a truly impressive death-glare before motioning him back to the rest of the soldiers.

  I need to learn how to do that.

  At the thought, I feel my Charisma acting up again, offering methods on how I can perform the same action, albeit in my own way. I’m almost tempted to try it out, but I really don’t want to ruin the current discussions.

  After… what did Scruffy call him again?

  Actually, fuck it. His name is Whiney now.

  After Whiney cowers behind a few other guards, I follow his footsteps and casually approach Scruffy, leaning on Charisma and Sense Danger to help me seem non-threatening. The nearby guards tense up, but nobody moves to strike at me, and Scruffy only raises a brow at me.

  Then yet another arrow slams into my shoulder, and I stumble from the force. It seems like it was empowered by some kind of skill, or skills, because it digs all the way through my shoulder and out the other side. Even through the bone.

  It hurts like all hells, but instead of showing it, I continue to lean on my Charisma’s guidance. It looks like I’ll get a chance to try out that glare, after all.

  Even wary as I am, I can’t fully hide just how thoroughly pissed off I am at getting shot repeatedly. I turn my head very slowly until, eventually, I’m locking eyes with the Ranger who fired it.

  Human Ranger

  Level 32

  “Are you done?” I say, my voice so frigid that I see the man visibly shiver.

  When he hastily nods his head, I almost break character and laugh at how fast he folded, but I hold it in. I hadn’t expected the glare to work that well. Controlling myself is made easier by the genuine frustration coursing through my veins, so instead of cracking, I turn back to Scruffy with a scowl.

  Scruffy has turned his masterwork death-glare on the Ranger that shot me. “Ceasefire means cease, you gods-damned fool! Drop your bow and report to the tower—solo watch, no relief, two days! Now!"

  I hear a clatter of wood on stone, then rushed footsteps, but I don't turn to watch the Ranger scramble to follow orders. When Scruffy turns back to me, I can see the hint of an apology in his eyes, but I ignore it.

  This time fury laces every step I take as I approach. I don’t even bother to pull the arrow out, Charisma nudging me once more, but this time to make a show of how little it effects me. I only stop when Scruffy steps in front of the Attendant with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Still, he doesn’t draw it.

  I move to fold my arms, and the arrow snaps inside my shoulder, the crack of the wood still audible within the now silent courtyard. I don’t even flinch, ignoring the stab of pain. I’ve lived my whole life in pain, and even without Pain Resistance’s help, I’d be able to shrug something like this off.

  Well, I’d have been able to pretend to, at least.

  Instead I simply glare at him, bearing down on him with all of my ire. When I’ve had my fill of mean-mugging him, I turn to look at Gerald and soften my gaze as he meets my eyes.

  “So?” I ask.

  “It looks like there was a Carrier Emilia who entered with the Strikers party about nine and a half months ago. When they exited the Tunnels they reported her as lost to the depths,” he says to Scruffy.

  “N-nine… months?” I stammer, my wrath fading instantly, leaving me feeling vulnerable.

  That’s not lost—that’s abandoned. Forgotten.

  My knees almost give out at the news.

  “Do you have your ID?” he asks, interrupting my fretting.

  Thankfully, the interruption helps to return at least a modicum of my calm. I frown, hold my arms out wide, arrow still grinding away, and spin in place. While this exposes my nonexistent baggage, as I’d intended, it also exposes a lot of me. I’d momentarily forgotten how little coverage the tube top and loin cloth offered me thanks to my Charisma giving me a measure of confidence.

  Several of the guards around Scruffy have a noticeable blush creep onto their faces, and the instant I realize what I’d done, I utterly fail to hold back a blush of my own.

  “I see. Captain Tolsted, could you escort her to the Delvers Guild?” he asks Scruffy. “They’ll be able to verify her identity.”

  Ah, so that's Scruffy's actual name. Too little, too late, Scruffy. My name is better.

  "Really? I'm literally the only foxkin in the city. Have been for years," I say.

  Gerald gives me the most disdainful side-eye I've ever seen and says "The procedures exist for a reason. Captain, if you would be so kind?"

  “Raya, Gary, Hubert, Indika, with me!” Scruffy snaps, and four guards step out from the crowd.

  When I check their tags, I’m a bit surprised.

  Human Fighter

  Level 45

  Human Fighter

  Level 42

  Human Fighter

  Level 46

  Human Mage

  Level 49

  They’re definitely a tough bunch. I knew that some guards were as strong as Delvers, but from what I knew they were pretty uncommon. Few Delvers live long enough to retire as a guard, and the nature of a Guards job doesn’t offer much combat experience in general.

  With Sense Danger, though, I can tell that only Scruffy and the Mage are of any real concern to me. I am absolutely certain I could get away from the other three, if I had to run for whatever reason. But those two… yeah, best not to find out.

  Guards usually have classes specifically for pacifying or restraining people or monsters, and if a Mage has a class specifically designed for that, it could spell trouble for me if things go poorly.

  I take a moment to finally yank the arrow halves out of my shoulder, ignoring my approaching entourage.

  Dropping the arrow bits to the ground, I take the chance to really look them over while they move to surround me. They all wear the standard city guard chain mail over leather. Metal gauntlets, greaves, helm, sturdy leather boots, finished with the city tabard over their shoulders.

  The mage is similarly adorned, but also carries a small wand with a bright green shard of arcanite on its tip looped into her belt. They all spread out, staying equidistant from one another and myself, while Scruffy leads the way with the Attendant.

  As we move, the rest of the guards in the area part for us to pass with Gerald following closely behind. We move at a slow but steady pace towards the Delvers Guild, my new companions eying me warily the whole way. Several minutes pass like this, and my attention is drawn to the sheer amount of construction and repairs being done to practically every building I see.

  Several buildings seem to have been damaged recently, some even burned down entirely. As I look around curiously I catch the gaze of the mage, her brow raising inquisitively at my sudden attention.

  “What happened?” I ask with a tilt of my head towards the damaged buildings.

  Before she can answer, Scruffy interjects.

  “The Update,” he says, voice bitter.

  “Ah,” I mumble. Then, a thought crosses my mind. “Oh, while on the topic of the System. What does my tag say?” I ask while pointing above my head.

  The sudden curiosity is practically eating me alive. Before, I was only able to see my own tag because I couldn’t pull up my actual Status. So I was given the only bit of information I had available, albeit at great pain on my part. A big, fat ‘error’.

  Now, though, it’s different. If I pull up my Status, it just shows my Status—not a tag. A part of me knows this is just a bit of self aggrandizing. But… I really want to know.

  “The First. Level unknown. Strange tag ya got there, care to explain it?” he says with a chuckle.

  My eyes widen at that.

  It shows me as evolved? And my Title? Wait…

  Mentally, I think about changing my tag. A simple list appears.

  Tag Options:

  Show/Hide Level

  Current setting - Hide Level

  Tag Races:

  Faefox

  Foxkin

  None

  Current setting - None

  Tag Titles or Classes:

  System Waker

  Dungeon Pioneer

  The First

  Fighter

  Healer

  Unknown

  Current Setting - The First

  For now, I keep it as ‘The First’ with my level and race hidden, seeing no real harm in it since it’s already been seen by dozens of people.

  No wonder Scruffy didn’t attack me! Even he couldn’t see my level!

  With a grateful nod to him, I tell him the truth.

  “It’s a Title,” I say.

  “Wait, you have a title?!” the Mage exclaims, then slaps a hand over her mouth when Scruffy gives her his trademark glare.

  I don’t see any harm in letting the general details be known, so I respond. “A few, yeah.”

  Scruffy stops dead in his tracks at that and meets my gaze with a look of shock. He quickly regains control, but the full group already stopped, each giving me the same look he did, only less restrained.

  When he speaks, I’m completely thrown off balance with how respectful it is.

  “Thank you for not killing any of my men,” he says, then bows.

  The others quickly follow suit, and I just stand there confused.

  “Uh… sure thing?” I say.

  That seems to have been enough, because they all straighten up and continue our little march. They all seem significantly less guarded though, as if they’re actually just politely escorting me to the guild rather than marching me there.

  They all stay silent the whole way. Not that I’ll complain—I’m super weirded out by their sudden change in behavior.

  When we finally reach the Delvers Guild, I find the square it's built in to be mostly untouched an intact, unlike much of the city we passed through. Two massive double doors lay open for all, each adorned with countless protective runes. The entire building is engraved with glowing runes, inside and out, but the doors are especially impressive.

  I always got the feeling that they're far sturdier than they had any right to be. Before, though, I was never able to see the mana infused into them. Even then, it was beautiful craftsmanship. Now though, I stare at the building in shock.

  Mana flows in smooth streams from one rune to the next, following the hidden tapestry of the magical language. For a moment, I just stare. Part of me wishes I was able to see like this when we encountered the wild magic zone on the fifth layer, just to see how beautiful those runes would have been.

  When one of my escorts clears their throat, I’m brought back to the present. My cheeks warm slightly when I realize I’d been gaping like a tourist, and I start moving again. Still, I am distracted by the magic in the walls when we enter, and I don’t even realize it when we’ve reached the reception desk.

  I’m blown out of my thoughts by an achingly familiar voice. “Emilia! Oh my Gods, it’s you!” she screams, and before I can focus I’m engulfed in a bone crushing hug.

  Cari—my first friend, first crush, and first heartbreak—cries like a baby on my shoulder.

  And for a moment, I forget about the arrows, the guards, the time that passed. There’s just her, and the way it used to be.