Cherreads

Chapter 32 - Inventory Check

The Dungeon didn't scream when you left it.

It just let you go.

No triumph. No judgment. Just stone steps that gave up the fight and let you climb.

I didn't limp this time.Didn't sprint either.I paced.

Like I wasn't running from anything.Like the Dungeon hadn't just tried to bite off the piece of me I wasn't ready to lose.

Back at the safehouse, Calamus looked the same as always: hunched over a scroll, surrounded by books stacked like barricades. He glanced up when I entered—eyes catching the monster blood dried on my collar, the fresh stiffness in my shoulder, the way I held myself like a sword halfway drawn.

"Back in one piece," he muttered.

"For the most part."

"Then let's see what it cost."

I dropped my coat and laid flat on the cushion. His hand landed between my shoulder blades—cold and still, like a compass about to point somewhere it shouldn't.

The moment it connected, I felt it:

That pull.

Like a string tied around my spine, tugging softly at everything I'd been hiding under the surface.

And then—

A pause.

Calamus froze.

Not visibly.

But his breath hitched.

His fingers twitched.

Like something unexpected had bubbled up in the reading.

He said nothing.

Just kept going.

After a moment, he stood and walked—too casually—over to his desk. Pulled a new scroll from the shelf. Inked my name across the top, slower than usual.

Then he read:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucien Velan – Calamus FamiliaLevel: 1

Strength: G-245Endurance: G-201Dexterity: F-303Agility: F-342Magic: G-277

Level 1: 23%

Development Abilities: None

Magic: —

Skills:• Structural Reinforcement [Unstable] – Temporarily strengthens objects through focused intent. Prone to backfire if overused or improperly channeled.• Phase Slip [Dormant] – Allows brief displacement from material space. Currently uncontrolled. Triggers under extreme stress.

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He didn't speak right away.

Just held the scroll out.

But his eyes lingered on it a beat longer than they needed to.

I took it.

Scanned the new entries.

"'Phase Slip?'" I asked.

"I've never seen that before," Calamus said. "Not in any Falna I've written. Not even among the weird ones."

"Must be a bug."

"That's not how divinity works."

"Maybe I'm an exception."

He stared at me.

Not hard.

Just long.

Then shrugged, like someone filing away a question they knew would only hurt to ask out loud.

"Whatever you are," he said, "you're gaining traction. Fast."

I rolled my shoulder. The burn from the day's fight was still there, but it felt… lighter now. Framed. Like a bruise in a picture frame.

"How's the rest of it look?" I asked.

"You're still a rookie. But you've got potential."

"Everyone's got potential."

"No," Calamus said, his voice quieter now. "Not like this."

I said nothing.

Because I wasn't sure if he was complimenting me…or warning himself.

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I left the scroll tucked in my coat pocket to incinerate for later and sat near the crooked window upstairs, watching the shadows stretch across the cracked tiles.

Something about it bugged me.

Not the stats.

The pace.

Twenty-three percent toward Level 2?

Already?

That wasn't normal.

Bell Cranel had Liaris Freese. A skill that basically turned simping into stat farming. His growth was scripted—part plot armor, part divine comedy.

But me?

I didn't have a skill.Didn't have a prophecy.Didn't even have a party.

So why was I growing like this?

Three possibilities came to mind:

One: The Dungeon was responding to me. Like a body reacting to a foreign object. Maybe whatever allowed me to phase—whatever let me cross—was setting off its immune system. So it hit back harder.

And in return, I got stronger.

Not because I was special.

But because it was trying to kill me faster.

Two: The reinforcement magic. Even unstable, it let me punch above my weight—just enough to fight monsters above my level. And the gods rewarded risk. The Falna didn't care how smart you fought. It cared how hard you dared.

And I kept gambling.

Three: Something deeper.

Something I wasn't ready to admit.

That maybe… just maybe…

This world wanted me here.

That it was shaping itself to fit around me, subtly, like a sword forming its own sheath.

Like the Dungeon had seen what I was—

and wanted to see what I'd become.

I shook my head.

Too early for paranoia.

But I wasn't going to ignore it.

Not when I could use it.

Because if this world was giving me a shortcut,I planned to run it like a marathon.

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