Forty years ago, the world changed.
From the skies cracked open deep violet rifts, and from the earth burst forth massive, glowing gates — Dungeons. One in every major country. Each gate was identical in size and energy signature but opened in a different part of the world. Each led to the same ever-shifting, cruel realm — a place of monsters, power, and secrets.
Humanity panicked, governments failed, but soon, something strange occurred.
Only certain people could enter these gates. They were called Raiders, and their existence reshaped society. Among them, a strange pattern emerged: Over 60% were women. These chosen ones developed abilities — classes, like in the old RPGs. Mages, Healers, Swordswomen, Archers, and more.
A whole new economy bloomed around the Dungeons. Schools were built to train young Raiders, guilds were formed, nations ranked their dungeon outputs — and games, naturally, followed. Simulations for those who couldn't become Raiders. Like Zai.
---
Zai wasn't a Raider.
Just a normal high school boy in the Bangladesh Sector, attending Dhaka Dungeon Support Academy, a place where young Raiders trained and non-Raiders like Zai were treated as irrelevant background noise. He wasn't jealous. No, not really. Just… tired. Tired of being left behind.
His only joy was playing the popular VR simulation Dungeon Legacy, a game based entirely on real-world dungeons and monsters. Ironically, the class he enjoyed most in the game wasn't a flashy mage or swordsman — but a Shadow Monster. A pathetic thing early on. Weak, fragile, mocked by most players. But Zai saw something else: potential.
---
In real life, Zai wasn't entirely alone. His childhood was filled with light — mostly thanks to the four girls who grew up next to him. They were more than friends. They were family. Now all of them were top-tier Raiders in training.
One memory stood out.
The five of them, maybe 10 years old, splashing around in a backyard pool. Zai was the only boy. It was supposed to be innocent fun, but being a boy with four beautiful girls in tight swimsuits wasn't without a few awkward moments. A lucky splash, a slippery fall, a head accidentally buried in the wrong place… You get the idea. Zai got punched. A lot.
Those girls?
1. Lira – The Healer. Sweet, nurturing, with a soft voice and big sister vibes. Always scolding Zai for being reckless, always bandaging his scraped knees and bruised pride.
2. Serin – The Mage. Cold, analytical, with piercing violet eyes. She rarely smiled, but when she did, it made Zai's heart skip a beat. She always believed Zai had untapped potential, even if others didn't.
3. Kaela – The Swordswoman. Fiery, athletic, and constantly challenging Zai to races and fights. Tomboyish, but weirdly sensitive about her appearance. Her catchphrase? "Loser does the dishes."
4. Rinny – The Archer. The playful trickster. Always teasing Zai, always flirting just to get a reaction, always disappearing at the last second when chores came up.
They had changed, but the bond hadn't. At least, Zai hoped not.
---
Now, they trained day and night while Zai just… watched. He wasn't bitter. Not really. He stayed up late, logging into his game, grinding dungeons in digital form while the others did it for real.
"No one plays Shadow Class," said one player.
"Too weak. No AoE. Useless in PvP."
But Zai knew better.
> "They're wrong," he whispered. "Shadow Monsters start slow… but their skill tree is insane. Shadow Bind. Clone Possession. Dungeon Assimilation. If you last long enough, you don't just survive… you consume."
He played that night, like always. Dodging light, striking from the dark, hiding, binding, waiting.
But something was off.
His screen flickered.
Pain exploded in his chest.
Blood. So much blood.
He collapsed, heart seizing. The world tilted. He couldn't scream. Couldn't call for help. He felt the life draining.
His last thought wasn't fear, or sadness, or even regret.
It was…
> "I wonder if the real Shadow Monsters… can really become gods?"
---
When Zai opened his eyes again…
He was cold.
He couldn't breathe. No, he didn't need to. He had no lungs. No heart. No bones.
His body was smoke.
His fingers were claws.
His voice was a whisper of dread.
He had become a Shadren— Level 1.
Somewhere, deep in the floor of the D
ungeon.
Alone.
Weak.
Hunted.
Confused about what was happening.
---
[End of Chapter 1]