The hospital doors slid open behind him with a soft hiss.
Dylan stepped onto the sidewalk and stopped.
For the first time since arriving in this world…
He looked.
Really looked.
New California stretched before him in all its impossible glory.
Towering skyscrapers of glass and steel dominated the skyline, their upper floors disappearing into a faint veil of haze.
Elevated highways wove between the buildings like metallic rivers, carrying an endless stream of traffic.
Sleek buses, autonomous taxis, and armored Bureau transports moved side by side, filling the streets with a constant hum of engines and distant horns.
People hurried along the sidewalks.
Office workers carrying coffee.
Students in academy uniforms.
Hunters clad in lightweight combat gear with weapons slung casually across their backs.
No one spared them a second glance.
Here, seeing someone openly carrying a sword was about as unusual as seeing someone carry an umbrella.
A warm breeze drifted through the avenue.
It carried with it the scent of asphalt, food stalls and something else.
A faint metallic tang.
Mana.
Dylan instinctively coughed, his still-healing ribs protesting the sudden movement.
“…Right.”
He rubbed his side with a grimace.
“The air quality.”
Twenty-three years of Dungeon Emergence had changed more than humanity.
It had changed the planet itself.
Mana leaked continuously from active dungeons, slowly seeping into the atmosphere.
Scientists insisted the concentration was harmless to ordinary civilians, but in cities with frequent portal activity, the air always carried that familiar metallic taste.
Some people had long since stopped noticing it.
Dylan hadn’t.
His eyes wandered across the bustling streets once more.
Twenty-three years ago none of this had existed.
No Hunters.
No monsters.
No mana.
Just an ordinary world.
Then the first dungeon had appeared.
Nobody understood where they came from.
Some called them divine punishment.
Others believed they were gateways from another dimension.
There were countless theories.
None had ever been proven.
The only certainty was that when the portals opened monsters followed.
Humanity hadn’t adapted overnight.
It had bled.
Cities fell.
Governments crumbled beneath disasters they had never imagined preparing for.
Millions died before the first generation of Hunters awakened.
“…And then came the Bureau.”
Dylan’s gaze settled on a passing armored vehicle bearing a familiar insignia—a silver shield encircled by seven stars.
The Bureau of Authority.
The organization he’d once invented simply because his teenage self thought every fantasy world needed a powerful governing body.
Somehow…
It had become humanity’s backbone.
Neither a nation nor an army, the Bureau stood above borders whenever dungeons were involved.
Licensing Hunters, regulating dungeon expeditions, responding to portal outbreaks, researching mana, managing artifacts—if it had anything to do with humanity’s survival, the Bureau had a hand in it.
Even governments deferred to its authority during dungeon emergencies.
“…I really made you people important.”
A laugh escaped him.
“I wonder if teenage me had any idea what he was doing.”
Judging by the rest of Leveling Up As The Player…
“…Probably not.”
He adjusted the strap of his bag and continued down the crowded street, allowing the morning rush of New California to carry him along.
A few blocks later, the unmistakable aroma of grilled meat drifted through the air, drawing his attention toward a small food cart tucked against the sidewalk.
The smell was tempting.
Dylan’s Stomach gave out another quiet growl.
“… Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, patting his abdomen.
“I’m working with what we’ve got.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening the banking app out of habit.
A habit from his previous life.
A quick glance at the balance made him raise an eyebrow.
Balance: $4,860.73
“…Huh.”
He wasn’t exactly wealthy, but neither he was completely broke.
“…Four thousand eight hundred sixty dollars.Not broke,But definitely not rich.” It was enough to stay at a cheap motel for three nights.
He then let out a sigh and rubbed his temples.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked toward the food cart again.
“…I suppose grabbing something to eat isn’t the worst financial decision I’ll make today.”
With that, he walked over to the vendor.
Classic Hot Dogs – $14.50
Dylan stopped.
“…Fourteen dollars?”
He stared at the menu for a long moment before letting out a defeated sigh.
“Inflation survived the apocalypse too, huh?”
His stomach answered with an unhelpful growl.
“…Fine.”
A few minutes later, he walked away with a paper-wrapped hot dog in one hand and considerably less money in his wallet.
He took a bite, chewed it and swallowed it.
“…”
“…This tastes like shit.”
Not literally.
He hoped.
The sausage was dry, the bun somehow managed to be both stale and soggy, and whatever passed for mustard carried an aftertaste that reminded him vaguely of medicine.
“I really paid fourteen bucks for this…”
He glanced back at the cart.
“…Business must be booming.”
Shaking his head, Dylan continued down the sidewalk, absentmindedly nibbling at his overpriced disappointment.
His destination hadn’t changed.
Ashveil Summit.
Officially designated Sector-V33.
One of New California’s largest terraformed mountain regions and among the most active dungeon zones on the western coast It hadn’t always existed.
Well the mountains had.
Everything else was new.
Three years after the first Dungeon Emergence, the world itself had begun changing.
At first, scientists blamed earthquakes then shifting tectonic plates.
Eventually, they accepted the truth.
Mana wasn’t simply changing living things.
It was reshaping the planet.
Entire landscapes twisted under decades of concentrated mana exposure.
Forests swallowed abandoned towns.
Valleys became lakes overnight.
Mountain ranges stretched higher than they had any geological right to.
The maps humanity had trusted for centuries quietly became obsolete.
Dylan smiled bitterly.
“I remember writing all of that because ‘magic changing geography’ sounded cool.”
“…Turns out living in it is considerably less cool.”
As he rounded another street corner, the sound of a television drifted from an electronics store.
As he rounded another street corner, the sound of a television drifted from an electronics store.
A wall of display screens showcased the morning news, each one broadcasting the same live report.
«”The Bureau of Authority has officially approved the Pacific Shelf Expansion Project.
Construction crews are expected to begin work on the newly stabilized landmass later this year.
Officials estimate the district will accommodate nearly two hundred thousand residents once completed.”»
Dylan slowed for a moment, watching the footage.
The screen showed enormous construction platforms stretching across what had once been open ocean.
Towering cranes stood atop freshly formed cliffs while engineers directed fleets of cargo drones overhead.
“…Right.”
“The Pacific Shelf.”
He couldn’t help but smile.
“Twenty-three years ago, that would’ve just been ocean.”
Three years after the first Dungeon Emergence, humanity had discovered something even more terrifying than monsters.
Mana didn’t merely alter living creatures.
It altered the planet itself.
Coastlines shifted.
Mountains rose.
Entire forests appeared where none had existed before, while other regions simply disappeared beneath unstable mana storms.
At first, governments tried fighting nature itself.
Eventually, they accepted reality.
If the world insisted on changing humanity would change with it.
Instead of resisting terraformation, they learned to guide it, Stabilize it and Build upon it.
New islands emerged throughout the Pacific.
Artificial coastlines expanded year after year, reclaimed from oceans reshaped by mana.
Entire cities were planned around landscapes that simply hadn’t existed a generation ago.
It was strange.
The maps in his memories no longer matched the ones people carried today.
He remembered writing all of this because he thought the idea sounded cool.
“…Turns out rewriting Earth’s geography comes with a lot more paperwork than I imagined.”
A dry laugh escaped him.
Then again looking around at the towering skyline of New California, perhaps humanity had adapted better than he’d expected.
Not because it wanted to.
Because it had no other choice.
Dylan lingered for another moment before the news broadcast faded into another segment.
His destination hadn’t changed.
Ashveil Summit.
The thought alone made him instinctively rub the back of his neck.
“…Right.”
“My first stop.”
He needed to get stronger before even thinking about setting foot inside Nexus Academy.
Fortunately…
Or perhaps unfortunately…
He already knew where to begin.
Ashveil Summit officially designated Sector-V33 lay far beyond the outskirts of New California, where civilization gradually surrendered to forests, mountains, and mana-saturated wilderness.
The region had become one of the largest hubs for recurring Dungeon Portals on the western coast, earning it the reputation of being one of the most dangerous places an inexperienced Hunter could willingly approach.
Which was precisely why the Bureau of Authority had surrounded it with regulations.
Only licensed Hunters above the required rank could legally enter the active sectors.
Civilians weren’t permitted anywhere near the mountain range.
No towns.
No villages.
No sightseeing.
Nothing.
The Bureau maintained a permanent exclusion zone around the entire region, and anyone caught trespassing faced charges severe enough to end a Hunter’s career before it even began.
“…Reasonable, honestly.”
He’d written those regulations himself.
Most people looked at Ashveil Summit and saw a mountain.
The Bureau saw hundreds of active dungeon signatures, evolved wildlife, unstable mana currents, and enough monsters to wipe out an ordinary town several times over.
Still…
Dylan’s lips slowly curled into a grin.
“…Teenage me.”
“For once…”
“…Thanks.”
His younger self had loved hiding secrets throughout the world.
Abandoned maintenance tunnels.
Smuggler trails.
Collapsed service roads.
Routes forgotten by everyone except those willing to dig through old records.
Back then, he’d added them because they sounded realistic and most importantly Cool.
Now, one of those illegal routes might just save his life.
He adjusted the strap of his bag and looked toward the distant horizon beyond the towering skyline.
“Ashveil Summit…”
“Just wait a little longer.”
Then, without another word, Dylan disappeared into the morning crowd.