Morning sunlight poured through the half-closed blinds, washing the living room in stripes of soft gold. The smell of toasted bread and instant coffee drifted faintly from the kitchen.
Lee Ji-Ah darted around the apartment in her school uniform, tying her ponytail with one hand while grabbing her bag with the other. She paused by the door, glancing toward the couch where her older brother was lounging with his arms behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.
"You're not thinking of going out today, are you?"
Gun-Woo didn't answer.
Ji-Ah narrowed her eyes. "Oppa… I'm serious. No more gates for a while. Rest. Sleep. Eat. Heal. Do normal people things."
Still nothing.
"You're impossible," she muttered, turning the knob. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
With a final huff, she stepped out and shut the door behind her.
Gun-Woo sat up a few seconds later. The system's interface hadn't returned, but the sensation was still there—this quiet pull in his chest. A rhythm. A whisper.
Today was the day.
No fanfare. No flashy armor. No team waiting by the gate. Just him.
He grabbed a hoodie from the coat rack, black and loose-fitting. Underneath it, a simple gray shirt, dark jeans, and worn-out sneakers. Not exactly raid gear—but it would do. He stepped into the bathroom for a second, ran a hand through his hair to give it some shape, and then left.
No weapons. No backpack. No armor.
Maybe it was bravery.
Maybe it was stupidity.
But it was definitely Gun-Woo.
The streets were quiet. The early morning buzz had just begun—café owners pulling up shutters, buses dragging themselves down the hill, students in uniforms swiping through their phones.
As he walked past a convenience store, a familiar voice called out.
"Lee Gun-Woo?"
He slowed but didn't turn right away.
Of course she'd call.
Even after everything—after the distance, after her dating some silver-spoon B-Rank, after choosing someone else—Jo So-Hee still talked to him like nothing had changed.
He turned.
She was walking toward him with a warm smile, a bookbag slung over her shoulder, and a bit of morning light catching in her brown eyes. Same soft hair. Same school charm. But something felt… older now. Like time had added weight to her gaze.
"You're up early," she said.
"I could say the same to you."
"I was heading to my shift at the training center. They're running simulations for new recruits today."
Gun-Woo nodded, offering her a faint smile. "Still dreaming of being an instructor, huh?"
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe I'm just clinging to something familiar."
They stood there for a moment, letting the air stretch between them.
"How's… the B-Rank?" Gun-Woo finally asked.
So-Hee's smile twitched.
"He's alright. You know how those types are—cocky, loud, obsessed with viewership." She laughed softly. "He only got ranked because his uncle runs one of the guild registries. He can barely hold a sword right."
Gun-Woo raised an eyebrow.
"So why date him?"
She looked away for a second. "Because… people like me don't get many choices when they want to stay in the raider world. He's safe. Connected."
"And I'm not?"
So-Hee's expression softened.
"You've always been something else, Gun-Woo. You didn't care about power or status. You wanted to be a raider because you wanted to protect people." She paused, then added, "That's rare these days."
Gun-Woo looked down at his shoes. Her words hit harder than he thought they would.
"Still chasing that dream?" she asked.
"I never stopped."
She reached forward, brushing a bit of lint from his hoodie. "I know you'll make it. You always had the heart. Just don't lose yourself trying to prove something to the world."
He nodded. That was the only promise he could make.
They parted with a simple wave.
She turned down the main road, swallowed up by a crowd of students.
He kept walking.
The city began to fade as he passed into the quieter outskirts. The buildings grew older, the roads rougher. This was one of those forgotten districts—left behind when the world decided to chase gates, streamers, and glory.
But Gun-Woo remembered it well.
He passed a collapsed alley wall, ducked under rusted scaffolding, and walked until the hum began.
That subtle, low vibration in the air.
It wasn't visible at first. But he knew where to look.
Tucked between two crumbling warehouse walls was a narrow path leading to a dead-end.
Except it wasn't a dead-end anymore.
A pulsing purple shimmer flickered against the brick, its edges glowing faintly in the dim morning light.
A gate.
Unregistered. Unmapped. The kind the Raider Council ignored. "Too small." "Too weak." "Low-threat."
But Gun-Woo knew better.
After what happened inside that dungeon trap, there was no such thing as a "low-threat" gate.
They all had the potential to kill.
He stepped closer.
No sirens. No guards. No warnings. This district was labeled a no-place zone—abandoned, irrelevant, forgotten.
But the gate waited.
It shimmered like water under moonlight, flickering gently like it was breathing. Waiting. Calling.
Gun-Woo stared at it for a moment. He felt the familiar heat in his chest—the system quietly observing him, just under his skin.
He reached into his pockets.
Empty.
No gear.
No weapon.
No backup.
Just him.
He exhaled slowly.
No more running.
No more waiting.
Time to see what being a Player actually meant.
With a final step, he crossed the threshold—
—and disappeared into the gate.
—
The air shifted the moment Lee Gun-Woo stepped through the gate.
It was cold—unnaturally so—and damp. The scent of rot and web-drenched decay crept into his nostrils, making him wince. Darkness surrounded him, broken only by the faint purple glow behind him that vanished in seconds.
Now there was only black.
Crunch.
His sneakers pressed into something brittle—bones. Tiny ones. Too many to count.
The ground beneath his feet was a mess of broken exoskeletons, dead insects, and twisted vines, the earth slightly sticky. He squinted forward.
The cave was narrow and twisted, like a throat made of stone. The walls pulsed with webs stretched so tight they hummed. Faint chittering echoed all around, like something laughing behind the shadows.
Gun-Woo didn't flinch.
Instead, he whispered, "System."
In response, a faint hum appeared in his mind, and then—
"System Activation Confirmed."
"Welcome, Lee Gun-Woo."
"Instance Type: Low-Class Personal Gate – "Fang Nest""
"Environment Condition: Arachnid Habitat Detected"
"Objective: Clear the dungeon. Rewards unlocked by progression and performance."
"Starter Tool: Rusted Iron Dagger – Grade F"
A shimmer of light materialized in front of him. The dagger wasn't pretty—its blade jagged and stained with years of dried blood, the handle wrapped in torn leather. Still, it had weight.
He grabbed it without hesitation.
Then, another message blinked into view:
"Starter Skill Acquired: Instinctive Strike"
[Passive] Your strikes follow subconscious targeting, increasing hit precision against hostile enemies by 15%.
"Huh," he muttered. "Not bad."
He took a breath and began to walk.
The farther he moved into the Fang Nest, the more it felt like the dungeon itself was watching him. Threads of webbing hung from the ceiling, draped over jagged rock, fluttering faintly as if something massive had just passed.
He moved slowly, crouched low, dagger in hand.
Then—
Skitter.
Skitter-skitter.
The sound of legs—many of them—scratching against stone.
They came out of the shadows like darts, crawling low and fast. Spiders the size of small dogs, with brown carapaces and glowing blue eyes.
"Identified: Lesser Fang Spiders – Rank F"
"Threat Level: Low"
"Aggression Level: High"
"Let's see what you've got," Gun-Woo growled.
The first spider lunged, fangs bared. Gun-Woo dodged left, blade swinging in a tight arc. The dagger sliced through the spider's neck, black fluid spraying as it thrashed and collapsed.
But the others didn't stop.
He ducked under a second's leap, rolled to the side, and drove his dagger upward into its belly. It screeched and curled before falling limp.
Two more came in from behind.
Gun-Woo turned just in time, his instincts kicking in. He slashed one across the face, then kicked the other into the stone wall, crushing it with a wet crunch.
"Notification: You have defeated 4x Lesser Fang Spiders"
"Attack Power increased: 1%"
"+1% Precision Boost Active (Passive Skill: Instinctive Strike)"
The system messages stacked up in his vision.
He took deep, steadying breaths.
His arms were shaking—not from fear, but from the thrill. The rush. The combat.
He had fought dungeon beasts before, sure, but this was different.
This time, every victory mattered.
"Come on," he muttered, pressing deeper.
As he moved, more spiders emerged—but now he was prepared. The more he fought, the more natural it felt. The skill assisted his aim. The blade felt like an extension of his will.
But it wasn't easy.
Some bites got through.
His hoodie was ripped in places, his arms bleeding from grazes. But he fought on, clearing wave after wave.
"Lesser Fang Spider defeated"
"Lesser Fang Spider defeated"
"Lesser Fang Spider defeated"
"Attack Power: 2%… 3%… 4%"
"Skill Progression: Instinctive Strike – Efficiency up by 5%"
It wasn't overwhelming strength.
It wasn't flashy.
But it was something.
And it was growing.
He reached a fork in the cavern. One path glowed faintly with more web-covered tunnels. The other—the one on the left—seemed darker. Quieter. Ominously still.
Gun-Woo followed the silence.
His footsteps echoed louder now. The spiders had vanished. No more chittering. Just stillness.
Too still.
Then—he saw it.
The tunnel opened into a dome-shaped chamber. Massive. Like the hollowed-out skull of some forgotten giant.
The walls were layered with thick sheets of webbing, some piled high with cocooned bodies—animals, maybe even people.
And there, at the far end, resting atop a throne of bones and silk—
A spider unlike anything he had ever seen.
"Boss Detected: Widow Matriarch – Rank C"
"Warning: Threat Level – Severe"
"Vital Signs: Stable, Dormant State"
"Engagement will initiate Boss Combat Sequence"
It stood over 20 feet tall, its legs sharp as blades, armored and twitching.
Six red eyes blinked open, glowing in the dark like blood lanterns.
Its abdomen pulsed, massive and bloated. Venom dripped from inch-long fangs.
It didn't move.
But it was awake.
Gun-Woo stood frozen.
He could feel it in his bones—this wasn't something he could beat yet. Not like this.
But he didn't step back.
Because this was it.
The first real test.
The real beginning.
His hand tightened around the dagger's handle.
The system's interface flickered.
"Engagement Detected"
"Combat Initiated: Boss Fight – Widow Matriarch"
"Good Luck, Player Lee Gun-Woo"
The Matriarch shrieked.
Its legs crashed forward—
And the screen went black.
—