[Foundations of Survival 3] - The Login Gamble

Raven's fingers brushed against the cold stone wall. The glyphs flickered faintly under his touch—a familiar rhythm he hadn't felt since beta.

The dungeon trembled.

The wall shimmered, revealing a narrow passage that hadn't existed moments before. Not a hidden room. His throne room, special feature of his class Dungeon Sovereign.

He stepped inside without hesitation. Obsidian walls stretched high overhead, runes shifting like the surface of water. At the center floated a stone console, projecting a translucent map of Bone Ruins. Every corridor. Every spawn point. Every reset timer.

Exactly as he remembered.

His lips curved into a faint smile. "Still works."

Fingers skimming across the options, he confirmed the key functions:

[Dungeon Management] Boss Level Adjustment: 20 (Locked)

Monster Respawn Rate: Standard

AI Behavior: Normal / Adaptive / Aggressive

Control Room Access Points: 1 (Active — Bone Ruins)

Dungeon Teleportation: ENABLED

No errors. No unexpected changes. Titan Corp's laziness had worked in his favor again.

He quickly locked the Bone Tyrant's level at 20. Letting it grow stronger over time would attract curiosity. Strong bosses triggered balance checks—system audits he couldn't afford.

He kept the respawn rate standard. No need to push greed too early.

Only after verifying every setting did he permit himself a long breath.

Still hidden. Still invisible.

The teleport system thrummed at his fingertips—a function meant for Dungeon Sovereigns, buried too deep for normal players to find.

[Teleport Destination: Starter Town]

Energy coiled around him, whispering through the chamber. Raven tilted his head slightly, one last moment of silent satisfaction—then activated the jump.

The scent of rot and death vanished. In its place: fresh bread, woodsmoke, and the chaotic chatter of early-game life.

The starter town bustled with low-level players. Merchants hawked wares, guilds recruited noisily near the fountain, duelists postured in the dusty square.

Raven adjusted his hood, making sure his cursed chain stayed concealed under the folds of his leather sleeve. His posture relaxed into the casual shuffle of a nobody.

A few glances brushed across him—another leather-clad beginner. No threat. No story.

Exactly what he needed.

He moved with purpose, weaving through the crowd without drawing attention. Just another adventurer. Blending.

Above him, the Global Rank board flickered with player names climbing the XP ladder. He didn't bother checking.

His world moved beneath the surface.

He drifted past a weapon stall, fingers idly brushing rusted swords. In truth, his attention was elsewhere—ears tuned to the chatter spilling from nearby parties.

"Bone Ruins feels different lately."

"How so? It's just a beginner dungeon."

"I don't know... it's subtle. Monsters acting weird. Sometimes they start fighting each other. Respawns feel... wrong."

"Patch changes. Don't overthink it."

"Maybe. But I've been grinding there for weeks. Something's off."

Raven's expression didn't flicker.

Of course it did.

Back in the Bone Ruins, he had ordered the Bone Tyrant to farm endlessly—defeating every respawn to grow stronger. That subtle surge in strength was enough for experienced players to notice.

It was why, the moment he accessed the control room, he manually locked the Bone Tyrant's level at 20 to avoid attracting further suspicion.

Rumors already. Faster than he preferred.

He moved on.

A quiet alley offered momentary shelter from the noise.

Until a voice pinned him in place.

"You there. Stop."

Raven turned smoothly, masking the sudden surge of tension beneath a curious glance.

A town guard—NPC class, mid-tier scripting—blocked the alley's mouth. His hand hovered near the hilt of a sheathed weapon, more for show than threat.

"There have been reports," the guard said, studying Raven carefully. "Dungeon anomalies. Mobs disappearing, spawn rates fluctuating."

He folded his arms, his gaze narrowing.

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Raven kept his posture easy, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders.

"I've been running basic quests," he said, nodding toward his scuffed leather gear. "Starter mobs. Boring work."

The guard grunted. Checked a floating admin interface Raven pretended not to notice.

No flagged anomalies.

Yet.

After a long moment, the guard sighed and waved him off.

Raven slipped back into the crowd, mind already spinning contingency plans.

If the system flagged deeper inconsistencies, if mod audits expanded—he'd need misdirection. Disguised behavior. Safe farms.

Move slower. Hide better.

For now, no alarms. No red lights.

He was still buried in the noise.

Exactly where he needed to be.

He navigated toward Goblin Nest, where groups gathered in loose clusters.

Players advertised loudly, flashing their class tags and equipment.

"Looking for a summoner! Need DPS too!"

Raven drifted closer, letting a slight hesitance creep into his body language—the uncertainty of a lower-level adventurer trying to find a team.

He raised a hand slightly.

"You still need a summoner?"

The team leader, a heavy-armor knight type, looked him over.

"You any good?"

"I can keep my summon alive," Raven said simply.

The knight shrugged. "Good enough."

Raven summoned one of his subjugated bone wolves. It slinked near his feet, its skeletal form drawing a few curious glances—but nothing alarming. Tamers and summoners often bound strange beasts early on. No showy tricks. No flashy moves.

The team accepted him without a second glance.

Perfect.

He fell into step with the group, casual, unremarkable.

Another dungeon. Another conquest waiting in silence.

One dungeon down.

Another about to fall.