Zion continued watching his first adventurers as they slowly made their way into the dungeon.
Their hesitation was obvious.
The older man stayed in front, holding the wooden branch across his body while the younger one followed close behind.
Every few steps, they stopped to study the pasture like they expected something to leap out from behind the nearest tree.
He couldn’t blame them.
That was exactly what the sheep were supposed to do.
The first group waited just beyond the hill near the entrance.
One sheep stood close to the top, grazing with its back turned toward the newcomers, while several others rested farther down the slope.
Zion moved his consciousness closer to get a better look.
The older man tightened his grip on the stick.
The younger one leaned slightly to the side, trying to see around him.
This was it.
His first fight.
Zion watched with growing anticipation as the sheep lifted its head.
Its ears shifted toward the sound of footsteps before it slowly turned to look at the two men.
The younger adventurer’s eyes widened while the older man raised one hand.
Then, before anything exciting could happen, both of them turned around and ran out of the dungeon.
Zion took a moment to process what had just happened…
Below him, the sheep watched the empty tunnel for several seconds before lowering its head and going back to the grass.
“What?”
A notification appeared.
[Visitors have exited the dungeon.]
[Dungeon activity concluded.]
He immediately moved his consciousness toward the entrance, but the two men had already passed beyond the barrier.
“They didn’t even fight.”
Zion returned to the pasture.
The sheep continued grazing like nothing had happened.
None of them had charged, activated Pack Mentality, or even made a sound.
Glancing down, he inspected the closest sheep.
It was round, fluffy and soft.
Surely they didn’t run off because they were frightened?
Does this world not have sheep?
He had spent a good amount of essence building a floor that no one had even tested.
He looked toward the entrance again.
“Come back…”
The empty tunnel offered no response.
He waited a few more seconds anyway.
Maybe they left their weapons outside or something.
But even after a while, there was no sign of them coming back.
Finn ran the moment his father gave the signal.
He did not hesitate or look behind him.
If he ignored his father’s instructions now, he might ruin his chances of ever being allowed to return.
His father stayed right behind him as they rushed through the stone tunnel and crossed the dungeon entrance.
They continued into the clearing before finally slowing near the trees.
Both of them were breathing hard.
Finn rested his hands against his knees while trying to catch his breath.
His father remained upright, though his chest rose and fell beneath his worn shirt.
“What was that?” his father asked.
Finn looked back toward the dungeon.
Neither of them had gotten a proper look at the creature.
They had only seen a white shape standing on the hill before his father gave the signal to leave.
“It looked like a sheep,” Finn replied.
“It was kind of cute.”
His father slowly lowered the branch.
“A sheep?”
“I think so.”
Finn straightened and tried to remember exactly what he had seen.
White wool.
Dark legs.
Large black eyes.
No visible claws.
No fangs, not even armor.
“It was definitely shaped like one.”
His father fell silent.
From what he had seen, there were no obvious dangers near the entrance.
The floor was open enough that they could see across most of it, and the creature on the hill had not moved toward them.
Still, dungeons were built to punish careless people.
Traveling adventurers sometimes stopped in the village for food or shelter, and Finn’s father had heard enough stories to know how deceptive they could be.
He had heard about narrow passageways collapsing without warning.
Harmless-looking pools boiling the moment someone stepped too close.
Monsters hiding beneath the ground until an entire party walked over them.
This dungeon looked more peaceful than the pastures surrounding their own farm.
The grass was thick and bright.
A clear creek moved between the hills, and the white fences looked freshly painted.
Even the trees stood in small, pleasant clusters.
That only made him more suspicious.
“Come,” his father said.
“Let’s go back.
I don’t want to keep your mother worried.”
Finn nodded, though he looked toward the entrance one more time.
The dungeon remained open and nothing followed them outside.
A sheep was the first monster.
Finn’s excitement had not faded at all.
If anything, the glimpse of the pasture made the dungeon feel even more possible.
He had always imagined his first monster would be something with claws or sharp teeth.
But maybe a sheep was something he could actually defeat.
Finn followed his father through the forest.
By the time they reached the farm, the sun had nearly disappeared behind the fields.
His mother was already waiting near the gate with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
The moment she saw them emerging from the trees, she lifted the skirt of her dress and hurried toward them.
“How was it?
Are you both okay?”
Finn smiled and opened his arms as she reached him.
“Yes, Mom.
We’re fine.”
She hugged him tightly before pulling back to inspect his face and clothes.
Her eyes moved over his arms, shoulders, and legs like she expected to find an injury he had somehow failed to notice.
“We only went inside long enough to look around,” Finn assured her.
His mother glanced toward her husband, who gave her a small nod.
“There was no immediate danger near the entrance,” he said.
“We left as soon as we saw the first creature.”
“What was it?”
Finn’s smile widened.
“A sheep.”
His mother blinked.
“A sheep?”
“That was what it looked like.”
She looked back toward her husband, but he only shook his head.
“We’ll talk about it inside.
It’s getting dark.”
Finn followed them toward the cottage, but his thoughts remained in the dungeon.
He had actually stepped inside a real dungeon today–a real one.
And the first monster waiting for him was a sheep.
For some reason, that only made him want to go back more.