Despite his condition, Tommy didn't waver. He began his training immediately—pushups, sit-ups, squats, jumping jacks. There was no exercise Tommy wouldn't attempt.
He was preparing for his first dungeon raid. He couldn't afford to give up just yet. With debts to pay off and the potential to earn up to a thousand dollars from a beginner's dungeon, Tommy knew he had to push through. He was already three weeks into his training and didn't even bother listening to the people who doubted him.
As he jogged around the city, some people took photos of him, laughing as they passed.
"He should just give up."
"No amount of exercise will be worth a single stat point."
"All this effort when an adventurer can get a year's worth of training with just three stat points?" The bystanders mocked him.
But Tommy didn't let their taunts bother him. Instead, he used their mockery as fuel to keep going. Even a below-average adventurer needed just four or five days to prepare for a beginner's dungeon, and Tommy had already spent nearly two months training.
Tommy still had about four hundred dollars in his account, and he knew he'd need gear for his raid. So, he made his way to the Adventurer's Marketplace—a place where adventurers bought and sold everything from potions and weapons to armor and skill books.
He stopped in front of a display case showcasing several weapons. They looked strangely ornate, glinting under the lights, and all of them carried sky-high prices. The cheapest weapon in the case was priced at a staggering $600,000—six times what it cost to awaken an adventurer.
He swallowed hard at the sight of the prices before walking up to the desk where a young man sat. The worker wore the Marketplace's standard uniform—a blue shirt and black trousers—and didn't spare him more than a passing glance.
"Uh... where can I find beginner items? Anything under $500?" Tommy muttered, feeling out of place.
The young man barely looked up as he spoke. "Down the hall, turn left. You'll find a blacksmith shop."
Tommy followed the directions, passing through aisles lined with expensive gear, until he arrived at the blacksmith's shop. Inside, he approached an attendant and asked for a sword and body armor.
"Custom-made takes time," the attendant said curtly, pointing to a sign that detailed custom items ranging from $1 million to $30 million, depending on materials and specifications.
Tommy's shoulders slumped. "No, I'm looking for something cheap. What can I get for this?" he asked, pulling out a crumpled stack of four hundred-dollar bills.
The attendant didn't say a word but walked off to the back of the shop. He returned with a rusted, worn sword and a simple leather body armor that looked more like a costume than actual gear. Tommy didn't have much of a choice, so he handed over the money, bought the gear, and left.
At home, Tommy immediately began training with his new sword and armor. He swung and slashed through the air, his arms growing sore with each hour of practice. For ten hours a day, he continued, trying to adjust to the feel of the weapon and the weight of the armor. The days turned into weeks, and his hands grew calloused, but his resolve never wavered.
---
The day of the dungeon raid arrived, and Tommy stood at the entrance to the portal, his heart pounding in his chest. The dungeon portal was a swirling vortex of light and shadow, a ring of shimmering energy that seemed to hum with power. It looked like an opening to another world, a place where anything could happen.
A group of adventurers stood around the portal, chatting amongst themselves. As Tommy stepped forward, several people turned and recognized him immediately.
"Isn't that the guy from TV? The one they call 'The Glitch'?"
"Yeah, that's him. He's the guy who trains like crazy but has no stat points."
Tommy felt their eyes on him as he approached, but he ignored them. Let them laugh. Let them mock him. He had a raid to complete.
He was about to step into the portal when a voice called out to him.
"Hey, newbie! You lost?"
Tommy turned to see a man walking toward him. The man had a confident air about him, a seasoned adventurer who wore the marks of someone who had seen his fair share of dungeons. His name was Patrick, and he was a level 25 adventurer, a guide for new players like Tommy.
Patrick extended his hand with a grin. "I'm Patrick. You look like you're ready to dive in. Want to join my party?"
Tommy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure."
Patrick waved him over to a group of other adventurers who were preparing to enter the dungeon. They were all beginners, just like Tommy, but their gear was far better than his—a mixture of old weapons and patched armor. They looked at Tommy with some curiosity, but none of them made a comment.
The dungeon entrance shimmered with light as the group gathered. They stepped forward, and the world around them blurred for a moment before the scenery changed. The dungeon was dark and damp, the air thick with the smell of mushrooms and decay. The walls were lined with fungi that seemed to pulse and move, and the floor was slick with moisture.
"This is the Parasite Dungeon," Patrick explained. "The monsters here are Parasites—giant mushroom creatures that infest the area. Be careful. They attack in swarms."
As they ventured deeper, Tommy gripped his sword tightly. The Parasites weren't as frightening as he'd imagined, but there were more of them than he anticipated—clusters of small, mushroom-like creatures that swarmed the adventurers, attacking with sharp spore-covered tentacles.
The group fought together, Patrick leading the charge. Tommy swung his sword wildly, doing his best to hit the Parasites, but his form was still unrefined. He missed more than he hit, but each strike brought him closer to understanding the flow of combat.
"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it," Patrick shouted, cleaving through a cluster of Parasites with his broad sword. "Just keep moving!"
Tommy gritted his teeth. He had a long way to go, but he wasn't giving up. Not now. Not ever.