Inside the dungeons, the sound of raindrops tapping against the roof echoed through the air.

Outside, the guards scrambled to take cover from the sudden downpour, while the prisoners within huddled together, hoping for a reprieve from the suffocating heat and humidity of their confinement.

Amidst the prisoners, a young man lay in a corner, his face contorted in discomfort as sweat dripped down his forehead. He kept his eyes tightly shut and appeared to be struggling with some sort of troubling dream.

Boom!

Suddenly, a deafening roar of lightning reverberated through the dungeons, causing Chris to groggily open his eyelids. He instinctively reached up to touch his forehead, which felt hot to the touch, and winced in pain as he realized he was drenched in a gush of blood that was oozing from his chest.

"Damn it! The Ghost Guild has been destroyed too. Bocci was so desperate that he made a ton of mistakes..."

When he finally regained consciousness, his mind was still reeling from the deafening warning signals that had blared during the brutal battle. The sound had pierced through his mind repeatedly like a blunt knife, leaving him with a pounding headache.

The pain in his chest felt as though it were being seared by a hot torch, while his ears were left ringing from the aftershocks of being struck on the head with a heavy stick.

Why is it so painful?

The pain hit Chris hard, and he couldn't help but groan in agony. The online game "Shadowfall" boasted a near-perfect simulation effect, with even tactile sensations being fully replicated. However, in that moment, it felt as if someone had turned the "pain" option in the game from a safe ten percent to an excruciating full option.

Chris had played the game for a long time but had never experienced pain like this before.

He recalled that he had been playing "Shadowfall" with his friends, defending their own settlements against the invasion of the Zarathar dark race. The ashen skies were howling with freezing winds, and hordes of Shadow Creatures descended from the mountains, attacking their fortress with ferocity, and though they fought valiantly until dawn, the players succumbed in the end.

The enemy forces seemed endless, like an unrelenting tide of darkness that threatened to engulf everything in its path, consisting of thousands of hideous, beastly black creatures, along with some large, flying creatures and giant steeds.

As Chris raised his hand, he suddenly realized that his legendary longbow was nowhere to be found, and his waist felt empty without his dagger and sword. Even his set of gloves, wrist guards, and arm guards had vanished, leaving him wondering what had happened to his equipment.

As he wiped his chest, Chris felt a sharp pain and spotted bright red blood on his fingers, indicating that he had been injured. He attempted to turn over to see where he had been resurrected, but was stunned to find himself in a dark and foreboding place.

The walls were made of rough-hewn stone, and the floors were littered with straw and filth. Torches flickered in sconces along the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to writhe and dance. The air was thick with the stench of mold and mildew, and the sounds of rats scurrying in the darkness echoed off the damp stone.

As he turned his head, Chris noticed a rusted iron gate in the center of the room that creaked and groaned as it swung open, revealing a narrow corridor lined with more cells. Each cell contained a small cot and a bucket for waste, and the prisoners within were gaunt and filthy, with haunted eyes that spoke of long years of suffering.

Instantly, Chris knew where he was—the dungeons! But why? Dungeons weren't supposed to be resurrecting points in the game.

The guard who had swung open the gate was large and stout, with a constant expression of anger painted on his face. He grunted and flung some yellow substance from the bucket on his hand toward the eager prisoners, who instantly rushed to gnaw on the food that was scattered on the ground, fighting each other in the process.

"Eat your fill, you maggots!" the guard shouted as he threw the bucket at a scrawny old man, who winced but gleefully caught it in midair.

Chris struggled to stand up, noticing that he was wearing rough-hewn burlap, just like everyone else in the dungeon. The fabric felt uncomfortable and itchy against his skin.

"Is this some kind of quest?" he wondered aloud, attempting to talk to a prisoner NPC. However, someone accidentally brushed against him, running towards the nearby food and the old man with the bucket. The push caused Chris to stumble back, and due to his unsteady footing, he slammed his head against the nearby wall and crouched down in pain.

Chris's head was throbbing with pain, and a flood of information inundated his consciousness. Gradually, his expression grew grimmer by the second.

He came to understand what had happened to him—he had been transported to another world! His soul had crossed over into the body of a deceased thief named Cedric. Or, more accurately, the two had become merged into one.

Chris's heart raced as he became flabbergasted. Despite having access to the former owner's entire life of memories spanning over twenty years, he felt like he knew nothing about what he was currently experiencing.

He could feel what the young Cedric had felt in his life, from his aspirations and desires to his likes and dislikes. It was now clear why everything felt all too real—he had taken over the body of a dead thief from the slums named Cedric, who worked under Gilbert, the leader of the eastern territory in that filthy area.

Three self-proclaimed leaders of the slums, Gilbert, Roland, and Zephyr, were fighting over territory, and in the chaos, a lot of thieving gangs got caught up and began fighting amongst themselves. Even Cedric had been slightly hurt in the mess. All the heads of the small gangs died on the streets, and the rest of them began fighting for control of the slums. Although the officials of the city didn't care, they had the guards barricade the slums to keep the violence contained and prevent it from spilling over into other parts of the city.

The reason Chris had been arrested and thrown into the dungeons was that his leader, Gilbert, saw this as an opportunity. With the city's garrison too preoccupied with the scuffle happening in the slums, Gilbert sent his best thief, Cedric, to scour a noble house's belongings.

The latter had successfully infiltrated the place and had gotten some jewelry and a hefty amount of silver coins, which were his initial objectives. But as he was about to make his exit, he noticed a golden book and stashed it away as well before running away and giving everything, except the book, to a beggar child who was working with them and waiting nearby.

Yet before he could get away, the guards came upon him as if they had been tipped off, and he found himself cornered with no escape route in sight.

Unfortunately, Cedric was apprehended by the guards despite putting up a valiant fight. His efforts were in vain when a wizard appeared and hurled a fiery ball at him, causing the chest injury that slowly took his life.

As reality settled in, the bewildered Chris pondered, "Have I truly transmigrated into the game world, or is it merely a delusion?" The merging of their two minds had left him perplexed and unable to find calm. "Am I Chris, the interloper in Cedric's body, or am I Cedric with Chris' memories implanted within me?" The question lingered, adding to his already tumultuous state of mind.

"I never heard of a low level thief named Cedric in the game," he mused, finding it strange to refer to himself in the third person. "But given the circumstances, I should be dead by now," he muttered under his breath. Suddenly, a realization hit him, and he turned to face the scrawny old man he had seen earlier. The man had been beaten by the stronger prisoners and was now lying on the ground, picking at the food scraps.

"You, what is today's date?" Chris asked urgently. Having grown up in the slums, he had no concept of the current date and only knew that it was the twelfth century since the kingdom's founding over a millennium ago.

The years were counted from the founding of the Great Kingdom of Roswell, which occurred more than 1,000 years ago.

The old man trembled with fear, but Cedric pressed on, lunging toward him. "Tell me!"

The old man scrambled to escape, desperate to get away from Cedric's menacing presence.

Some of the prisoners eyed Cedric warily. This ragtag bunch of good-for-nothings hailed from the slums and knew all too well about his power. Even though Cedric was injured at the moment, he still posed a considerable threat. In no time, they gulped down the remaining food and scurried away.

As if on cue, a guard nearby kicked the iron bars with his foot and bellowed, "Shut up, you bunch of trash!" Startled by Cedric's presence, he then grinned mischievously and added, "Well, well, well, look who's finally awake. You're the one asking for the date, hehe. Don't worry, your execution is still three days away on the 27th moonlit month of the 1247 year." With that, he turned his back on him and went back to his duties.

Cedric shuddered, not because of the news of his execution but because of the date the guard had mentioned. That date was around the time when the dark race invaded their world, starting from this Roswell kingdom!

He returned to the corner, where the other starving prisoners eyed him warily as he sat down and grasped his head.

"I've not only entered the game world in flesh and blood, but I've also gone back in time," he muttered to himself.

Indeed, the Shadowfall online game story started two years after the invasion. That era was dubbed the Dreadborn era, and most players counted the years according to the invasion date. However, the NPCs of the Roswell Kingdom stuck to their beliefs and their calendar.

The kingdom in which he currently found himself was the first to fall to the invading forces. It had been completely decimated, with its citizens forced to flee and scatter across the continent in a matter of two years.

Chris found himself grappling with the harsh reality of his situation. "What should I do? Can I really survive this? Gaming and reality are two completely different things."

Despite being a skilled swordsman and one of the best blademasters in the game, Chris remained skeptical about his chances of survival. However, he was fortunate enough to have Cedric's memories as a thief, which would prove useful in helping him navigate the initial onslaught.

As he tried to shake off his dizziness and organize his thoughts, Chris couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the circumstances that had led to his imprisonment.

'Cedric getting caught in that way seems really weird... did Gilbert set hi...me up?"

As soon as the thought of Gilbert crossed Chris's mind, a wave of anger washed over him, and he couldn't hold back a loud curse, causing the already frightened prisoners to recoil once again.

"Damned Gilbert.!" In a moment of frustration, Chris punched the wall, surprising even himself with the force behind it.

Realizing he needed to calm down and assess his situation, he took a deep breath and thought, "No, I need to focus. My priority is to escape before I end up on the gallows. And I must tend to my wounds..."

Despite his urge to curse, Chris knew he had to find a way to heal his injuries. A healing potion would be ideal, if not possible, he would have to do with some simple bandages.

'Its fine...I have escaped from similar situations many times in the game. If the dungeon system is the same as what I know, I can make a quick escape. Plus, I don't know when the dreadborns will reach this city, so time is of the essence.'

However, just as he began to contemplate his plan, a deafening roar shook the city. The terrified cries of its inhabitants were drowned out by the insect-like screeches of an approaching enemy.

"Shit! These are the grunts' noise. Have they already arrived? "

Everyone in the dungeons were alarmed, including the guards

"How could my luck be this bad!"