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Chapter 2 – Three Months Later
The world had shifted dramatically since that fateful day three months ago. What once seemed impossible was now the new reality, and no one could ignore it any longer.
Across the globe, governments were still struggling to comprehend the magnitude of the changes. Their most powerful weapons—nuclear missiles, advanced drones, and massive artillery—had become useless overnight. Satellites had exploded in orbit like fireworks, communication lines faltered, and underground bunkers fell silent. The era of conventional warfare was over.
Now, colossal monsters emerged from the dungeons that had begun to appear everywhere—some small and barely noticeable, others towering and terrifying, blotting out the sun. These beasts ranged from reptilian behemoths with scales tougher than steel to shadowy creatures that moved like whispers in the night. They roared and rampaged, shaking cities to their foundations.
The militaries of the world, desperate to regain control, mobilized their soldiers and sent them into the depths of these dangerous dungeons. The mission was clear: hunt and kill the monsters, seize any powers or treasures hidden within, and bring some measure of order to the chaos. It was a dangerous gamble; many soldiers never returned.
Meanwhile, ordinary civilians experienced a miracle—or a curse—depending on one's perspective. People across every nation suddenly found themselves "awakened." Status screens, similar to those in video games and anime, appeared before their eyes. Floating in midair were details about their new powers: levels, abilities, health points, magic resistances, and much more. Even the governments could not stop this tide of awakened individuals from rushing into dungeons, eager to claim their fate.
Attempts to restrict access to these portals proved futile. The sheer number of people, armed with newfound powers, overwhelmed any barriers. Society was rapidly transforming. The world was entering an age of magic, willpower, and meritocracy.
As the governments held their breath, hoping their soldiers would return from the dungeons stronger and more capable, they prepared for a new kind of war—one fought not with machines, but with raw power and skill.
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Far across the planet, in a quiet village nestled in the mountains of Japan...
The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the rooftops and cherry blossom trees. The scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the faint sound of cicadas buzzing in the distance.
In a narrow alleyway, Renji Costa Nakamura sat on the edge of a cracked stone pavement, his legs dangling loosely over the side. The cool breeze tousled his dark hair, and his mixed features—soft yet determined—were illuminated by the pale light of his phone screen.
News from around the world streamed endlessly. Reports of uprisings, chaos in the streets, and governments teetering on the edge of collapse. People desperate for hope, clinging to the promise of change brought by the appearance of dungeons and powers.
Renji's eyes scanned the flood of comments, filled with anger, frustration, and cries for justice. Many condemned the rich and powerful for ignoring the suffering of the masses, while others expressed fear or disbelief.
"They want to block hope," Renji muttered, his voice low but steady. "They don't understand what it means for people like us."
He shifted, pulling his knees closer as he thought about the world he'd grown up in—a world where people like him, half Japanese, half Brazilian, were often caught between cultures, never fully belonging anywhere. But here, now, he felt something new stirring inside: a chance to change everything.
"We're not just nerds hiding in our rooms," he whispered, almost defiantly. "We're the ones who believe in a future where we can level up… protect those we love… fight for a world that's fair."
His fingers hovered over the screen as he sent a quick message to his parents, words of reassurance and hope.
From his worn backpack, Renji carefully pulled out a katana. The blade was old and dulled by time, but to him, it carried the spirit of his family—his mother's heritage, and the courage of those who came before him. The handle's leather wrapping was cracked but still firm under his grip.
He stood and gazed toward the edge of the village, where a faint, shimmering portal marked the entrance to a dungeon.
The air around him seemed to hum with latent power. The scent of ozone and earth filled his nostrils, making his heart beat faster.
His expression hardened, determination shining brightly in his dark eyes. The fusion of his Eastern and Western features made him stand out even here—a symbol of two worlds united in one person.
Taking a deep breath, he whispered with a quiet smile, "Like those fans of that Korean protagonist always say... it's time to level up."
As he stepped forward, the last rays of sunlight glimmered on the katana's worn blade. The village behind him was peaceful, but the road ahead was uncertain.
Renji's mind raced with questions: What awaited inside the dungeon? Could he grow strong enough to protect those he loved? Was this the beginning of a new life or just another dangerous game?
Whatever the answer, there was no turning back now.
With steady steps, he crossed the threshold of the portal and disappeared into the unknown.
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