After defeating the Giant Toad, Yuuto finally felt the solid confidence of a true explorer. Dungeon raiding was no longer about earning quick money—it had become a cold, deliberate act of survival management.
Days later, he sat before his monitor, a deep frown creasing his brow. The screen glowed with every scrap of data he had pulled from the guild database about the Goblin Cave: party compositions, monster types, and the tiny fragments of information that hinted at its lowest level.
"...There's still too little data," he muttered under his breath.
His interest centered on the rumored ruler of the beginner's dungeon—the Goblin Lord. Officially listed as rank C+, it should have been weaker than the B–rank Giant Toad he had already slain. By all logic, he should be able to observe it safely, even if he couldn't win.
That was the theory. But the engineer inside him—the old systems analyst—kept sounding alarms.
"Weird. Every successful hunt was done by parties of at least four. Each included either a long-range mage or a healer. It's as if that combination is mandatory."
Even stranger, the boss's core data—its skills and attack patterns—were locked behind a C-rank clearance or simply marked "no report." The omissions weren't random. They were controlled.
"An intentional blackout," he realized. The guild must be treating this fight as a C-rank graduation test, withholding full data so no one could brute-force it. It reminded him of restricted design specs back in his engineering days—critical documents always needed higher clearance.
But that didn't explain everything. Some fields weren't just restricted—they were gone. No notes on minions, no record of room traps, as if those reports had never existed.
Then Yuuto found a different dataset: casualty rates. The average loss among victorious parties was forty-eight percent.
"Half of them die or can't return... That's insane for a C+ boss. There's something more—something hidden. This isn't just data control. It's a system bug inside the world itself."
A chill ran down his spine. If he couldn't identify that blank, he would always carry an unknown variable in his plans. If even a beginner's dungeon hid such danger, advancing to higher ranks would be suicide.
"High risk, yes," he thought, "but this isn't curiosity—it's an investment in my own future safety."
He reset his mind. The goal wasn't to defeat the Goblin Lord—it was reconnaissance. Identify enemy formation. Discover what the blank data hid. That alone would raise his survival odds.
The problem was escape. Boss rooms often sealed once entered. There would be no retreat if things went wrong.
"Can I disable the door's lock with *Break*?" He shook his head. His magic interference skill wasn't high enough. "Maybe wedge it open with a rock... no, unreliable." After several simulated plans, he concluded there was no guaranteed retreat route.
"But if I confirm their positions fast and run before the trap triggers... maybe."
It was reckless by his standards, yet the information was worth it.
"...All right."
He made his choice.
Yuuto spent his savings upgrading his gear: a sharp steel dagger in place of his old iron one, a leather armor for minimal defense, and a backpack full of HP and MP potions. He prepared for a drawn-out battle.
A few days later, fully equipped, he reentered the Goblin Cave. Mid-level goblins no longer slowed him. Using *Sort*, his mapping skill, he navigated directly toward the deepest area with efficient precision.
Eventually he reached the cavern where he had once fought the Giant Toad. What once felt like a deadly arena now seemed only a checkpoint. Growth—he realized—is when fear turns into familiarity.
Beyond the underground lake lay a new passage, heavy with a miasma-like mana. The air itself pressed on his skin.
"[Sort]."
He scanned the tunnel, but the dense energy distorted the readings.
[Warning: Unable to perform detailed scan due to high magical interference.]
[Result: Multiple high-density mana signatures detected.]
"...So there are minions. That explains the missing data."
For a moment, Yuuto considered retreat. Facing multiple foes alone was the worst possible scenario. But turning back now would leave the blank forever unexplored, an unpredictable threat waiting for him in every future dive.
"Just five seconds," he told himself. "Peek inside, check their numbers, then get out."
He took a breath, steadied his pulse, and stepped into the dark.
That single step would shatter every calculation he had made—and quietly twist the course of his fate.