The Bck Labyrinth Dungeon stood ominous and unyielding, its dark spire piercing the clouds. It was a dungeon of endurance and precision, each floor a test to see if you were strong enough to continue.

  The Green Open Pne Dungeon was expansive and wild, its mysteries sprawling like an untamed wilderness. It was a dungeon that promised freedom but demanded adaptability and wit.

  And then there was the Red Underworld Dungeon, the most forbidden and perilous of them all. Even from this distance, it seemed to emanate a sinister energy, as if daring anyone to step inside and face its horrors.

  Each time I id eyes on these massive structures, I couldn't help but feel a faint chill run down my spine. It wasn't fear, exactly. More like a stirring deep within me, something unexpinable that made my heart race. I shook off the feeling, unwilling to let it distract me from the task at hand.

  Today was registration day, and the Dungeon Diver Guild would be swarming with people like me—those who didn't attend the prestigious Dungeon Diving Academy.

  The academy was a luxury I could never afford. With my family earning around 20 gold coins a year on a tight budget, the thought of shelling out 100 gold coins per semester for five years was ughable. That was 1,000 gold coins, or the equivalent of a single ptinum coin.

  To put that into perspective:

  1 gold coin = 100 silver coins

  1 silver coin = 100 bronze coins

  At the top of it all was the legendary Dragon Coin, worth a staggering 1,000 ptinum coins.

  For someone like me, earning even a single gold coin was an uphill battle, and over the years working at the library, I had managed to save 18 gold coins—plus the two I'd received yesterday.

  The academy, of course, had its undeniable advantages. They taught everything: the history of dungeons, survival skills, martial arts, weapon mastery, and even magia training. Graduates had a 60% chance of being scouted by a guild, which would cover all their dungeon-diving expenses. They were also allowed to form parties within their css and train inside the Green Dungeon.

  It was the kind of advantage that could make or break your career. But for someone like me? It was just a dream.

  Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized how far I'd walked. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the Dungeon Diver Guild with their imposing banner with the miniature three dungeons drawn to it.

  The building loomed tall and imposing, its stone walls etched with runic carvings that seemed to pulse faintly with energy. The air around it buzzed with excitement and anticipation as crowds of people—some my age, some older—gathered for registration.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. This was it. The first step into a world I'd only heard about in stories and seen in passing. No turning back now.

  The Dungeon Diver Guild was an imposing five-story structure, its architecture a mix of grandeur and functionality. The runic carvings on its stone walls shimmered faintly, marking it as a pce of both business and mystique. Each floor, I'd heard, could accommodate at least 200 people at once. Given the sheer number of aspiring and experienced divers coming through daily, it made sense.

  As I stepped inside, I was struck by the organized chaos. The first floor was vast, its high ceiling supported by ornate columns engraved with depictions of battles and dungeon conquests. The yout was straightforward yet bustling, with 10 counters set up in a semicircle along the back wall.

  Five counters were dedicated to gem exchanges, where divers traded in the crystals harvested from sin monsters.

  Two counters handled loot appraisal, where treasures found in dungeons were assessed and priced.

  The remaining three counters were for diver registration, which was where I needed to go.

  The air was filled with the hum of voices, the clinking of armor, and the faint smell of parchment and ink mixed with the metallic tang of weaponry. I made my way to the registration line, where other hopefuls like me waited their turn.

  Some looked nervous, shifting on their feet, while others appeared confident, their polished weapons and pristine gear marking them as academy attendees.I stood there, arms crossed, my left arm guard catching a few curious gnces. It wasn't uncommon for new divers to wear some form of armor, but mine was an obvious outlier—elegant yet functional, and clearly of a higher quality than what most beginners could afford.After what felt like 30 minutes of shuffling forward, it was finally my turn. The clerk, a middle-aged man with a no-nonsense demeanor, barely looked up from his ledger as I approached."Name?" he asked curtly."Kael.""Age?""Fifteen.""Graduated from the academy?""No."He paused briefly, then nodded without a word. Apparently, it wasn't an uncommon answer."Do you practice magia?""No," I replied, bracing myself for judgment.The clerk gnced up at me for a moment, then shrugged.

  "Not unusual. Most first-timers can't. Though, academy graduates with private lessons often know the basics." His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of any mockery or pity.He continued jotting down my information, the scratch of his quill filling the silence.After a while the clerk handed me a small iron badge with the Dungeon Diver Guild logo, its surface engraved with my name, ID number, and rank: Iron Diver. I turned it over in my hand, its weight feeling heavier than I expected."Wait a second," the clerk said before I turned my back, his tone sharper now as he noticed my puzzled expression. "This is your first time registering, right?""Yes," I replied."Figured. You look like the type who doesn't know how this all works. Listen up, kid, because I'm only expining this once."He leaned forward slightly, tapping the counter with his pen for emphasis. "This badge? It's your life now. It tracks your rank and points. Every diver starts at Iron, no exceptions. From there, the ranking system looks like this:

  Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold, Ptinum, Diamond, Master, Grand Master, Saint, Demi-God

  "Your rank isn't just for show—it determines what quests you're allowed to take, what areas of the dungeons you're allowed to enter, and how other divers treat you. Got it?"I nodded, listening carefully."To rank up, you need to earn points. Iron to Silver, that's 500 points per rank. Not too bad, right? But don't get cocky—those points don't come easy. Most of them come from clearing dungeons, completing quests, or selling loot. From Gold to Diamond, it jumps to 1,000 points per rank. And then there's the real grind: Master to Saint, where you'll need 10,000 points per rank. By that point, you'll either be filthy rich, dead, or a legend.""What about Demi-God?" I asked, curious despite myself.The clerk's expression darkened. "Demi-God? That's a whole different ball game. You want to reach Demi-God, you've got to clear one floor of the Red Underworld Dungeon, and you've got to do it alone. No party, no backup, no second chances, you die if you fail anyways. That's why there are so few Demi-Gods in the world."I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the badge. The thought of stepping into the Red Underworld Dungeon at all was terrifying, let alone doing it solo."And before you ask," the clerk continued, "there are special tests every three ranks. Think of them as milestones to prove you're ready for the next level. Fail the test? You don't rank up, no matter how many points you've got. Pass it, and you move up in both rank and respect."He leaned back in his chair, giving me a once-over.

  "Look, kid, I'm not saying you're hopeless, but this isn't a game. You're at the bottom of the dder, and the climb is steep. Plenty of people never make it past Bronze. But if you're serious about this, work hard, stay alive, and maybe—just maybe—you'll make something of yourself."I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and unease."Orientation is in two hours," the clerk reminded me. "Second floor, auditorium C. Don't be te."