Dustin was escorted by a pale and diaphoretic James out of the warehouse after finishing their conversation. He left behind his ant eggs, comfortably nestled inside the empty remains of a torn-apart create. He covered them in mucus, and left a heat stone in the center. Just like the other three, which were still attached to him, he left a receptacle to continue caring for them whilst he was away.
From the goods he stripped off the monsters, he would be able to craft quite a few pieces. Smaller armour pieces were generally best to make early on as they used less materials. Since the rate of failure was high until he could raise its skill level, it was best to make something cheap.
People would likely still purchase arm guards, leg guards, or helmets, as the benefits they brought still out-weighed human creations.
There were neat stacks of armoured scorpion plates, lizard hide, and hardened centipede carapace segments in his inventory now. The main offenders had been cleared out, finally relieving the stress of a full inventory from his list of worries.
Upon returning home, Dustin was surprised to find a new guest at his home, talking to his mother.
Sarah.
There was a moment of hesitation as she looked over at him walking in, where he thought she might recognize him.
"You must be Dustin."
Dustin studied her face, relieved at the lack of recognition she showed. It seemed that she was unaware he was the cloaked figure she was so desperately trying to track down. He shook her hand and sat down on the couch, listening in to the women talk.
Sarah snuck glances over to Dustin periodically, trying to gauge a reaction from him. Since she wasn't here due to recognizing him, then he could only come up with one other reason why she might show up.
The news story. Dustin was hailed as a 'hero' on campus, despite the intense secrecy regarding any of the finer details. Sarah was an investigative journalist before anything else, and such an event happening with little to no media coverage was like a fresh piece of bait just begging for her to chomp on.
When Jean excused herself to visit the bathroom, Sarah turned straight to facing Dustin and smiled at him.
"So I hear you did something very brave."
Dustin returned her fake smile and laid back against the couch, ready to engage in a verbal contest.
"I was just doing what I thought was right."
"Really, please, tell me more. The entire event is just so juicy."
"There's nothing really more to tell. I waved my sword around at some angry students threatening the teacher, and they ran off."
"There has to be more though. Who were the students?"
Dustin tapped one finger on the couch as he effortlessly petered off his responses.
"I can't say."
"Who was the teacher?"
"I can't say."
"Why were you in the classroom?"
"I can't say."
"What do you know about dungeons."
Dustin opened his mouth to repeat the same phrase again, but stopped himself at the sudden question Sarah had thrown at him. He resumed his tapping, filling the silence that had invaded the room.
"I have heard about them from your news report. Dangerous areas that are out of this world, filled with deadly monsters and a strong leader that must be defeated to escape."
Sarah looked deep within the boys eyes and did not see emotions like fear or curiosity when speaking about the dungeon. She saw hope.
Hope, and despair.
The two emotions were opposites, but co-existed in the deep gaze that Dustin possessed. He undoubtedly knew more about dungeons then she expected, but was unwilling to provide anything new.
"I'm glad you've seen my story as well. It's not as heroic as your own, but I feel the world is going to be seeing a lot of it soon." Sarah stood up to leave, but froze as Dustin gave her some parting words.
"Maybe a little bit too much."
Dustin maintained his calm demeanor as he walked the silent journalist to this door, bidding her goodbye.
"I've got to do some study now, thank you for coming over. It was a pleasure to meet you." Dustin turned around, leaving her at the doorstep. She reached forward to grab his arm, but found Jean had run over to send her off, blocking her from seeing him anymore.
She sighed in frustration and left mostly empty-handed, except for the vague statement he had given her.
--------------------
As Sarah was walking away from Dustin's house, two men were live-streaming the footage of it from a camera across the road.
Jordan, still sitting in the same office, only filled with even more reports, was watching her leave intently. He had pulled out some older reports that sat on top of the usual ones, showing a picture of Dustins' face.
He knew about the dungeon being cleared inside the university, and how it had been covered up. Sarah was there no doubt to try and draw information from the boy about what really happened. Jordan quickly picked up the phone and pushed down on several numbers, waiting until a husky voice answered him.
"I want the boys house bugged from sewer to roof. Anything that is said, or done, inside, I want to know about. If Sarah approaches his house again, find a way to stop her."
He slammed down the receiver irritably before the voice could answer. Jordan wasn't responsible for reviewing Dustin, but the boys involvement was highly suspicious.
He had read over the initial reports given by police and the students involved in the dungeon itself. One year ago, he had been a regular grade-A student, attending every class, acing every test, and on track for a suitable and rewarding career.
A couple of months later, and that had changed. He joined a series of clubs that seemed to have no connection to each other, stopped attending every class, almost attending none of them in fact, and suddenly grew the urge to work out.
If dungeons didn't exist, one could write it off as a sudden change of heart. But the boy had been involved in the first dungeon incident Jordan had heard of.
He was in the right place, at the right time, and just so happened to have brought in a set of leather armour and two swords? Jordan wasn't buying it.
Still, the system was relatively new, and with such controversy around the topic, they couldn't just drag him in for interrogation. He was a local hero in the area, and he was even friends with a particularly interesting case, James Belson.
James was a popular first name, and held no special meaning. But the family name, Belson, sent off alarm bells in many intelligence agents.
The Belson family had a steep history in many economies, surviving the dips, and abusing the highs. On the outside, they seemed like a very intelligent and active family, dealing with multi-million dollar real estate, as well as billions in stocks.
For people like Jordan, however, they were a logistical, and political, nightmare.
It was no secret that the family was well versed in the drug and arms trades, having spent their fair share of time mixing with the shadier people in society. They moved weapons and drugs in mass amounts through their real estate and thousands of other covers, selling to the highest bidder.
Jordan could have brought up enough evidence to condemn them in an instant, but his hands were tied. The family was extremely wealthy, and were responsible for 'donating' quite a lot of money to political campaigns.
This was, of course, a bribe. The Belson family paid off whomever they viewed as powerful enough, and in return, were free to continue their illegal activities, right under the nose of law enforcement.
Jordan frowned at the current predicament. Dustin was a large question mark in a forest of question marks, sticking out ever so slightly above the rest. Judging by the look of disappointment on Sarah's face as she left his house, he hadn't told her anything.
He could only sigh, and tell the surveillance team to continue following her discreetly. She might be have been good at following others and avoiding stalkers in turn, but she paled in comparison to the professionals.
Whilst the majority of the reports on Jordan's desk were concerning Sarah and the new addition of Dustin, a large portion of them were covering the recent dungeon clear by the US military, and the subsequent stolen reward by a civilian by the name of Anthony Pallor.
He was a basement dweller by all accounts, a leech to society that gave nothing back. He had somehow stolen the final blow against a giant wasp, and knocked out the captain of the squadron sent in.
For that alone, he could be arrested and imprisoned, but information was more appealing than justice. What exactly was the reward for killing the wasp, and how did he know so much? The government was itching to get its hands on anything concerning Dos, as their failing currencies were already proving to be a massive thorn.
Was Dos simply an attack made to do that very thing? A currency that could only be converted one way, and provided to every civilian, regardless of their occupation, was akin to an attack. Each person was able to acquire close to a million dollars with a snap of their fingers. The number was rising rapidly as inflation took over, only proving just how devastating its effects were.
The other main concern was the ridiculous weapons one could purchase. Assault rifles, swords, crossbows, magic. It was like a fantasy and science fiction book crossover!
While they weren't the only things you could buy, they were definitely the most expensive, and most alarming options. In conjunction with dungeons, where 'pioneers' could enter, earning Dos, and growing stronger, what was the purpose?
If not to ruin the economy, then why was the system installed? What benefit could it draw from providing humanity with a way to grow in strength and power.
The question was a dark smirch on their agency, and many others like it, as they could only speculate. Jordan threw down a seventeen-page description of Anthony Pallor and sighed heavily, convinced that he was going to drown in the paper one day, or mother nature would take its revenge for the slaughtered trees.
He pushed up and away from the desk, needing to get a breath of fresh air. Many of the other agents were just as bogged down as him, and looked on in envy as he walked past to the balcony.
The outside air was crisp, fluttering the loose grey hairs that sparsely covered Jordan's balding head. He took out a cigarette from his packet, the last one, and popped it in his mouth.
The end was lit up by a small flame from the engraved lighter, his wife's initials. He'd always said that if anything was to kill him, it would be related to her.
He inhaled the smoke slowly, feeling the relaxing feeling of a toxic substance cascading down his throat.
[Pioneers of XQB51! Dungeon maintenance is currently in progress, all further creations are halted and current instances will be removed in 30 days. Dungeon difficulty is being lowered to match the correct strength of Pioneers on XQB51. Please note, this will also reduce the rewards attained from dungeons. Thank you, and happy spending!]
A message popped up in front of Jordan's face, the cigarette falling from his mouth.
"Motherfucker."
--------------
Dustin jumped in his seat as the familiar message popped into view. He frowned at the timing of its announcement. The patch was earlier than he had anticipated, pushing the deadline for Xorxi's quest to essentially one month. There was no telling where the Eclipse Forest might end up, or what replacement ingredients he might demand.
He close the notification and quickly opened the wishlist. The upgrade to tier 2 Dos shop had gone down, only by double digits. Still, it was significant enough to show the impact Dustin was having. It was an indication that things were moving quickly. If others noticed the reduced price, they might begin to question why.
Even moreso, begin to test how it had come to pass. The dungeon patch was irrelevant if humanity purchased tier upgrades too quickly.
Thankfully the upgrade cost so much, deterring many pioneers from testing the waters.
------------
Sarah sat up in her comfy recliner with a yelp as the notification lit up her face. Her eyes zipped from side to side frantically, taking in the information as fast as possible, as if the notification was going to disappear.
She held her head in both hands as she re-read it over and over again. If what the notification was saying regarding the reduction of dungeon difficulty was true, did that mean the City of the Dead dungeon was supposed to be too difficult for them to complete?
She shook her head to think clearly. The cloaked man had easily pierced through the ranks of undead and dealt with the towering monsters, allowing them to escape. If they were so weak, why did it seem so easy for him...
Was the cloaked man even human? Sarah had heard him speak English, but the system may very well have simply added some form of translation. But he seemed familiar with humans...
Her lovely hair was now in disarray from wandering hands, giving her the look of a mad scientist. She leapt up from the recliner and shot over to her computer, intent on finding someone from the dungeon that had escaped with her.
Whilst she maintained contact with Jordy and a few of the others, there was one that showed no particular interest, and had sustained some light injuries, as well as contracting amnesia.
Out of the entire group, he was the only one who she had seen interact with the cloaked man beside Jordy and herself.