Dungeon at the End of the Beginning — Floor Five

Dungeon Floor Progress: 100% Congratulations! You have finished the fifth Floor. Completion Reward: You now have a Class.

Last level reward Beat the curve Everyone will be automatically levelled to level 5, all points from these levels will be evenly distributed, when the system fully initialises, Tomorrow at Midday.

(Ok, Gang, it's time to get ready and gear up for the next level. Everything I've done so far has been leading to this moment.)

"Holy elf boobs…" were the only words that slipped out before the rolling hill of grass and blue sky dissolved, replaced once more with the steep, dim tunnel of the black cube.

Ding! Level up!

The notification rang in all their ears, glowing faintly at the edge of their vision. Without a word, they swiped it away.

The tunnel spat them out into the warmth of early afternoon sun. The cube sealed behind them with a hiss and was gone, like it had never been there.

"Well," Tarni said, stretching his shoulders, "I guess I was wrong and we're done with that battle."

They began the slow walk back toward the house. Grass crunched underfoot, and the relief of open air seemed to weigh just as heavily as the exhaustion of the fight.

Kai glanced down at his chest, tugging at shredded leather. "My vest's trashed. Damaged beyond use." He scowled. "That was my best piece, too."

Lily let out a low whistle, eyes widening. "I can't believe you're not dead. That thing practically turned your torso into mincemeat."

Kai gave her a half-hearted glare, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Thanks for the encouragement."

Zane walked a step behind them, quietly turning his battered Machete over in his hand. The edge was nicked, the grip frayed, but he still slid it back into its sheath with a grim nod. "We held together," he said simply.

Bell brushed her hair out of her eyes, looking from face to face. "Barely. I don't think we can afford another fight like that without resupply."

"That's tomorrow's problem," Tarni said, though his voice lacked conviction.

For a while, they just walked, their laughter and groans mixing in equal measure. The sun was bright, the world felt real again, and each of them carried the strange weight of the system's promise:

Tomorrow at midday, everything changes.

The "showers" were barely more than ice buckets with plumbing. The water came out freezing, shocking sore muscles and making everyone curse their way clean. Still, cold was better than caked blood and monster slime, and by the time they regrouped in the lounge, they were at least fresh-clothed and faintly shivering instead of reeking.

"Right," Zane said, towel still draped around his shoulders. "Points are spent. I finished off my title bonuses too. Went two into Constitution, two into Strength, one into Dexterity."

He rattled it off like a soldier giving a field report. Strength: 23 → 26 Dexterity: 20 → 22 Constitution: 28 → 31 Intelligence: 12 → 13 Wisdom: 15 → 16 Charisma: 15 → 16

Tarni, wrapped in a blanket like a half-frozen cat, grinning. "Of course you did. Big Zane, getting bigger. Meanwhile, I played the subtle game—two Wisdom, two Charisma, one Con. Gotta lean into my whole 'trust me, mate, I'm definitely not here to stab you' vibe."

Constitution: 16 → 17 Wisdom: 13 → 15 Charisma: 15 → 17

Kai raised an eyebrow. "You're planning to charm your way through an ambush?"

"Mate," Tarni said with mock offence, "the deadliest weapon is a winning smile."

Zane snorted. "No, Tarni. The deadliest weapon is still a well-placed Machete."

"Debatable," Lily cut in, flipping her notebook shut. "Anyway, I spread mine evenly—one in everything. Trying to keep my numbers balanced. I might specialise after the next level in my keep it even title. I also had a point left over from when I made them even."

Strength: 16 → 17 Dexterity: 16 → 17 Constitution: 18 → 19 Intelligence: 18 → 19 Wisdom: 18 → 19 Charisma: 16 → 17

"Of course you are," Bell muttered. "Copycat. I'm chasing that even-stat title too. Dumped three into Wisdom, two into Charisma—trying to smooth out my edges on the way to twenty."

Wisdom: 12 → 15 Charisma: 14 → 16

Kai, who had been quietly adjusting the strap on his vest, finally spoke. "I did the boring option. One everywhere except Charisma. I'll live if I don't get more charming."

Strength: 12 → 13 Dexterity: 11 → 12 Constitution: 19 → 20 Intelligence: 27 → 28 Wisdom: 18 → 19

Tarni leaned forward with a grin. "Correction, mate—you'll live longer if you don't get more charming. Someone's gotta balance my reckless charm with sensible restraint."

"Or," Bell said dryly, "we just make sure you're always standing closer to the monster than Kai."

Everyone laughed, though Zane gave Tarni a meaningful look. "Doesn't sound like a bad idea, actually."

The kitchen echoed with the scrape of cutlery, the clink of plates, and the relentless sound of eating. Hunger gnawed at them all, and nobody held back—four meals' worth of food apiece disappeared like it was nothing. The smell of bread, eggs, and reheated stew filled the air, warm and comforting after cold water showers and harsher battles.

Bell sat back a little, chewing more slowly, watching the others devour their portions. Zane tore through his food like a machine. Tarni had sauce on his chin and didn't care. Kai ate politely but methodically, the healer's hands steady even here. Lily had one hand scribbling notes about stat synergy while the other lifted bites almost absentmindedly.

Bell's eyes drifted from them to the cupboards, then to the stacked pantry shelves. Supplies. How long would they last at this pace? A week? Less? And then what? She thought of the town, of families who's life are about to be interrupted by the System and all that it brings, of the state and country beyond, of the whole world reeling as dungeons ripped through normal life. The weight of it pressed in until her chest felt tight.

Zane, mid-bite, caught her expression. He set his fork down, leaning closer. "Bell. You okay?"

She tried to wave it off, but her voice came out unsteady. "It's just… us. We're eating like we've got unlimited food, but what about everyone else? What about the town? My parents? Your families? How many people are just… unprepared? We can fight, but most can't. And this isn't just local, Zane. It's going to be global."

The table went quiet. Even Tarni stopped mid-mouthful, blinking.

Zane leaned back slowly, arms crossed. "You're not wrong. But we can't fix the whole world, Bell."

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"No," she said firmly. "But we can help some. We can do something."

Tarni smirked, though his eyes were thoughtful. "Sounds like the start of a dangerous idea."

Kai set his fork down gently. "Not dangerous. Practical. We stock up—food, medicine, fuel. Anything. And while we're in town… maybe we leave a few breadcrumbs. Hints that if things go bad, people should know where to come."

Lily frowned. "You mean bring outsiders here?"

"Not advertise it," Bell clarified. "Not a banner across Main Street. Just… people we trust. And maybe a post online. Something vague, but enough that people might think twice and prepare."

Zane tapped his fingers on the table, then gave a small nod. "Alright. I can live with that. We take care of ourselves first—gear, food, security. If the world really is burning down, we will not turn our backs. We do what we can, for who we can."

Tarni raised his mug in mock salute. "To us. Heroes, saviours, and apparently—doomsday preppers."

That broke the tension, a ripple of tired laughter running around the table. Still, the air was heavier now. The System had forced them to think of their survival—but Bell's words had forced them to think beyond it.

After their meal, the plan shifted from talk to action. Plates were pushed aside, mugs emptied, and chairs scraped back across the kitchen floor. This time there were no leather vests, no armguards or bows—just jeans, shirts, and old jackets pulled from the laundry. Normal clothes. Normal faces. The sort of thing that would let them blend in, at least for now.

The battered ute sat sulking in the driveway, bonnet speckled with dust. Zane turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. Not even a cough.

"Battery's cactus," he muttered, climbing back out. "Right. Roll start."

They lined up behind the tray, hands on the metal of the tail gate. Tarni cracked a grin. "Bet I can get it rolling before the rest of you even—"

The ute lurched forward as soon as they pushed, tires crunching on gravel like it weighed half as much as it used to. Kai laughed in disbelief. "That was… way too easy."

"Perks of hitting level Ten, apparently," Zane said as he hopped back in, clutching the wheel, putting his foot on the clutch and putting it into 3 gear. The engine coughed to life with a growl, and he guided it onto the dirt track.

Bell, arms folded across her chest, glanced at him as she buckled in. "You sure about this? We're not exactly being subtle."

"That's the point," Zane replied. His voice was steady, but his eyes were sharp. "We make it clear something's coming. Drop hints, get people thinking. But not so clear we end up arrested for being lunatics." He let out a short laugh. "We need to be back by one a.m., get a few hours' sleep, then hit that last floor. No distractions."

"Got it," Tarni said, leaning forward from the back seat with a grin. "Hints, not handcuffs."

"Exactly." Zane adjusted the rearview mirror, gaze flicking to Lily. "So—drop the right words, plant a few seeds. Let folks connect the dots themselves."

Lily hugged her notebook tight, nodding. "Ambiguous, but memorable."

The ute rumbled along the road, countryside rolling past. Tonight, they weren't dungeon crawlers or classed adventurers—they were five people on a supply run. But every bag of rice, every tin of beans, every whispered warning was meant for more than just themselves.

Because tomorrow, the world tipped over the edge. And tonight, they had work to do.

The ute rattled into town just after dark, its headlights catching the familiar outlines of shops and dim streetlamps. Everyone was glad that the anti-electricity shenanigans from the System had not yet spread to town.

They dropped Tarni at his place first, watching him jog up the driveway and disappear inside. He re-emerged a few minutes later with the keys to his old truck, a beast of a thing that hadn't seen a polish in years but roared to life without hesitation.

"Meet you back here before midnight," Zane called over the engine noise. "You're headed further out?"

"Yeah," Tarni replied, pulling on his seatbelt. "General store here won't cut it. I'll hit the highway—stock feed store, bulk grocer, maybe the dodgy servo if I'm desperate. Don't worry, I'll bring back enough to drown us in tinned beans."

Bell arched an eyebrow. "You mean bury us."

"Same thing." He grinned, gave a mock salute, and rumbled off into the night.

The rest parked near the shopping strip. The town was quiet, just a handful of cars and a couple of stragglers out for late-night errands. Zane steered them toward the big-box grocery store, while Kai ducked across the street toward the pharmacy. Lily insisted on taking Bell with her to the camping store—"two sets of hands, more plausible"—while Zane doubled back for a hire van.

Inside the supermarket, Kai caught the clerk's attention while sliding boxes of bandages and antiseptics into his basket. "Never hurts to be prepared," he said lightly, flashing a grin. "You know how it is—storms, floods, whatever. Half the town panics, and the shelves are bare."

The woman at the counter nodded grimly. "Tell me about it. Feels like people have forgotten how to look after themselves."

Kai only smiled, paying in cash before moving on.

Meanwhile, Lily and Bell wove through racks of tarps, ropes, and water jugs. Lily kept her tone breezy as she tested a camping stove. "Crazy times. If something big ever happens, we'll be ready." She didn't look at the clerk, but her words hung in the air.

Bell added, "Better safe than sorry, right? Never know what tomorrow brings." She shot Lily a look, and they both stifled a laugh when the clerk frowned, clearly unsettled but unwilling to ask questions.

Lily ducked into the coffee shop, the soft whir of grinders and the smell of burnt beans clashing with the tension still simmering in her chest. The barista didn't even blink when she asked to plug her phone in—half the town knew her by sight, and the girl had bigger worries with the late-night crowd.

Her mobile's screen stayed black for agonizing minutes while she slipped next door into the fishing shop. The owner barely looked up as she raided the racks: rods, spools of heavy line, multitools, knives, pliers, sharpeners, tackle boxes. Anything that could cut, snare, or improvise. By the time she dragged the haul to the counter, she looked less like a hobbyist and more like someone preparing to open a survivalist boutique.

"Big trip?" the owner asked with a raised brow.

"You could say that," Lily replied with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. She paid in cash, bundled everything awkwardly against her chest, and carried it out.

Back at the café, her phone finally lit up, pinging nonstop for three solid minutes. Most of the notifications were from James. With a twist of guilt in her stomach and a deepening frown, she ignored them as she slid into a corner booth. Fingers flying, she fired off a status update. Story posts. Cross-linked across every platform she had.

The words came raw and blunt: Stock up. Stay somewhere defensible. Stay together. Tomorrow at noon AEST, the world changes.

She didn't pretty it up, didn't try to soften the edges. It was enough that the truth was out there, even if it made her look insane. Some would laugh, some would scroll past—but maybe one person would read it, feel a twist of unease, and act. Maybe more.

She stared at the post after it went live, a pit yawning in her stomach. Crazy. That's how they'll see me.

The guilt of not replying to James gnawed at her until she couldn't stand it anymore. With a sigh, she opened their chat and typed out everything—what had happened, what was coming, what she feared tomorrow would bring. Then she hit send before she could lose her nerve.

"Better crazy than silent," she muttered, shoving the phone into her pocket and stepping back into the night.

Outside, the others were already loading more bags into the van. The quiet of town felt almost eerie now, like the world was holding its breath, completely unaware that everything would crack wide open at noon tomorrow.

Hopefully, they'd clear the last floor in time. Hopefully, everyone they cared about would reach level five before the first true wave hit.

Lily squared her shoulders and joined the others, the weight of her purchases cutting into her arms, but her steps were steady.

Tomorrow, the world ended. Tonight, they prepared.

They were regrouping outside when a familiar voice cut across the lot.

"Bell! Zane!"

Emma, the twins' mum, came bustling out of the bakery next door, a paper bag tucked under one arm. She was flushed and smiling, clearly in a rush, but stopped when she spotted them.

"Fancy seeing you lot out this late. Stocking up?"

"Something like that," Zane said smoothly.

Bell leaned in for a quick hug. "How are the twins?"

"Excited beyond reason," Emma sighed, though fondly. "Birthday party tomorrow morning. Half the town's coming, it feels like. You'll be there, won't you?"

Bell winced. "I'm so sorry, Emma—we can't. We've got… plans."

Emma frowned, clearly puzzled, but didn't press.

Bell hesitated, then dropped her voice. "Listen—this might sound strange. If anything goes crazy tomorrow—and I mean anything—tell everyone to head to our place. It'll be safe there."

Emma blinked at her. "Crazy? What on earth are you talking about?"

"I know it's vague," Bell said gently, squeezing her arm. "But please. Promise me you'll pass the word along if it comes to that."

Emma still looked confused, but the seriousness in Bell's eyes gave her pause. Slowly, she nodded. "Alright. If… if something happens, I'll tell people."

"Thank you." Bell exhaled, relief softening her features. "Enjoy the party tomorrow. Give the twins an extra hug from us."

Emma smiled uncertainly and bustled off into the night, leaving the group standing in the parking lot with the weight of unspoken truths between them.

By the time Zane pulled up in the hire van, the others were loading bags of rice, flour, and dried beans into trolleys. He pitched in without a word, but made sure to leave the occasional breadcrumb. A casual comment to another shopper in the pasta aisle—"Wouldn't hurt to stock up, mate. Just in case." A quiet warning to the tired cashier—"Don't let the quiet fool you. Things can change fast."

Some rolled their eyes, others nodded nervously, but the seeds were planted.

Midnight approached as their borrowed vehicles creaked under the weight of supplies. Tarni's truck rejoined the convoy at the edge of town, piled high with sacks of grain, crates of bottled water, and enough canned food to feed an army.

"See?" he called out through the window, grinning ear to ear. "Told you I'd bring back half the apocalypse pantry."

Zane leaned against the van, checking his watch. "Good. Load up, tie it down. We're done here. Remember—we're not prophets, not preppers, not lunatics. Just… people looking out for others."

The engines hummed to life, three vehicles rolling out of town under a veil of quiet starlight. Supplies gathered. Hints dropped. The world would tilt at midday, but they'd be ready—and maybe, just maybe, a few others would too.

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