Revelation

The room was almost unnervingly empty.

Steven slowly walked around its perimeter, tapping the floor with the heel of his boot.

Thunk.

Solid.

Thunk.

Solid.

Thunk... thunk.

"...There."

One section sounded noticeably different.

He knelt beside it, brushing away years of dust until faint seams became visible around a square section of the floor.

"A hidden compartment."

He grinned.

"...Now how do I open you?"

There wasn't a handle.

No keyhole.

No button.

He searched around the room for anything that might help.

Most of it was junk.

Broken shelves.

Rotten wooden crates.

Bent pieces of scrap metal.

Then, tucked behind a collapsed cabinet...

"Aha."

A rusty old crowbar.

It had definitely seen better days.

Steven picked it up and gave it a doubtful look.

"...Please don't snap."

He carefully worked the thin end into the crack between the floor tiles.

At first...

Nothing.

He leaned harder.

The rusted metal groaned loudly.

"...Come on..."

With one final push—

CRACK!

The tile shifted upward.

Steven immediately froze.

"...Not the crowbar..."

He inspected it.

Still intact.

"Nice."

Sliding the stone aside revealed a shallow compartment beneath the floor.

Resting inside was a polished brass disc roughly the size of a baseball.

Its face was engraved with intricate concentric rings of gears surrounding a glowing blue crystal in the center.

The craftsmanship matched everything else he'd seen throughout the workshop.

Steven carefully picked it up.

"...Well..."

"I know exactly where you belong."

He slipped the brass disc into his Inventory.

The image of the massive vault door immediately came to mind.

Six circular sockets.

One disc.

A smile spread across his face.

"Nice."

"Five more to go."

He slid the hidden compartment closed before leaving the room.

The next chamber turned out to be another abandoned workshop.

Nothing.

The one after that contained broken storage lockers.

Nothing.

A third held collapsed shelves and scattered papers so faded they crumbled apart when touched.

Nothing.

Hours passed.

Steven occasionally encountered more wandering mechanical constructs.

The fights had become almost routine now.

A quick sidestep.

A mana shot.

Another construct reduced to scrap.

The experience continued to trickle in.

Eventually...

Level Up!

Steven smiled as the familiar notification appeared.

He'd spend the points later.

Right now, he was more interested in exploring.

As he wandered deeper through the forgotten complex, his thoughts slowly drifted.

His eyes wandered across abandoned workshops.

Dust-covered tools.

Machines left unfinished.

Entire rooms simply...

Left behind.

The words from the very beginning echoed inside his mind.

War of the Worlds.

Steven slowed his pace.

"...What if..."

The thought formed before he could stop it.

"What if this world..."

"...already lost?"

He stopped walking entirely.

"What if these people fought..."

"...and failed?"

His eyes swept across another silent hallway.

No voices.

No workers.

No civilization.

Only ruins.

His stomach tightened.

"...What if this place became part of the game?"

He thought back to Earth.

Dungeon Gates.

Monsters spilling into cities whenever a Gate wasn't cleared in time.

What happened...

When nobody cleared them?

His heartbeat quickened.

"...What if..."

He swallowed.

"...I'm standing inside the remains of a world that couldn't stop its Dungeon Break?"

The realization sent a chill racing down his spine.

If that were true...

Then every Gate on Earth wasn't simply a dungeon.

It was...

A doorway.

A doorway into civilizations that had already been consumed.

Steven shuddered.

"...I really hope I'm wrong."

There was no proof.

Only abandoned buildings.

Silent machines.

And far too many unanswered questions.

Still...

The possibility lingered in the back of his mind.

Hours slipped by as he continued searching, finding little beyond more abandoned rooms, forgotten machinery, and the occasional wandering construct.

Eventually he glanced at his phone.

9:02 PM

"...Crap."

He rubbed his eyes.

The mental fatigue was beginning to catch up with him.

His body wasn't hurting much anymore thanks to his healing skill and plentiful mana potions.

But his concentration...

That was another matter.

"I've been in here all day."

One last look down the seemingly endless corridor.

"...You'll still be here tomorrow."

Satisfied with the day's progress—a mysterious screwdriver, an upgraded pistol, and the first of six mysterious brass discs—Steven retraced his steps using his memory of the workshop's layout.

A short while later he pushed open the silver Gate and stepped back into the cool evening air.

He stretched his arms overhead, letting out a long yawn.

"...Home."

For once...

A bed sounded better than another dungeon.