Prologue: A World of Dungeons, Magic, and One Unwilling Hero
Long ago, scholars and sages debated the origins of the world. Was it created by gods? Did it rise from chaos? Or was it simply a cosmic joke played by an unknown trickster?
No one knows for sure.
But what is certain is this: dungeons are everywhere.
Across the vast continents, beneath towering mountains, hidden in enchanted forests, or even appearing in the middle of peaceful farmlands—dungeons constantly emerge from the earth like weeds in an overgrown garden.
Some say they are remnants of an ancient war between gods and demons. Others claim they are trials created by deities to test humanity. And a few bold souls insist that dungeons are just nature's way of balancing the ecosystem—after all, monster hunters, adventurers, and even farmers have built their livelihoods around them.
Regardless of their origins, one truth remains: if you wish to survive in this world, you must be prepared to enter a dungeon.
For most people, this means training as an adventurer, knight, mage, or mercenary. Kingdoms and guilds are built around dungeon exploration. Fame and fortune await those who conquer them. And legends are written about the greatest heroes who emerge victorious.
But what if someone didn't want to be a hero?
What if someone had no interest in fame, fortune, or adventure?
What if a certain man—**cursed by a mischievous fox spirit, granted an absurdly overpowered skill, and doomed to conquer at least one dungeon every month or die—**just wanted to stay on his farm, grow vegetables, and live in peace?
This is the story of Ethan, the Wandering Calamity.
A man feared by adventurers, misunderstood by kings, and unknowingly worshiped by dungeon bosses who refuse to die when he defeats them.
A man who sighs every morning, looks at the sky, and mutters, "I should've never saved that damn fox."
The Peaceful Farm Life That Won't Last
A warm breeze rolled over the golden fields, rustling the crops like a whispering song of nature. The sky, a perfect shade of blue, stretched endlessly above a small, humble farm on the outskirts of a quiet village. Birds chirped, insects buzzed, and the scent of freshly tilled soil filled the air.
Yes. This was peace. This was perfection.
And it would've stayed that way... if not for the fact that Ethan, a nineteen-year-old man with the body of a war god and the face of a villain, was standing in the middle of his field, staring at the enormous chunk of earth he had just accidentally ripped out of the ground with his bare hands.
He sighed. Deeply.
"...This is getting worse."
A potato—**a perfectly normal, completely innocent potato—**lay atop the massive crater he had just made. All he wanted to do was harvest his crops. But no. Thanks to a certain cursed blessing, even the most mundane task turned into an absurd display of strength.
Ethan "The Wandering Calamity."
That was what some people had started calling the mysterious solo dungeon explorer who could defeat entire dungeons without breaking a sweat. A phantom hero who left behind nothing but destroyed landscapes and confused survivors.
Ethan, of course, had no idea who that guy was. He was just a simple farmer. A totally normal, hard-working man who loved peace and quiet.
And if anyone suggested otherwise, well...
He'd deny it until his last breath.
Grumbling, Ethan tossed the potato behind him, only to hear a loud crack as it embedded itself into a tree like a high-speed bullet.
He stared.
Then sighed again.
"This is all her fault…" he muttered.
As if summoned by the sheer force of his complaints, a playful, melodic voice called out from behind him.
"My, my~ What a tragic farmer you are, Ethan. Destroying your own crops? How cruel."
His shoulders tensed.
That voice. That damn voice.
Slowly—very, very reluctantly—he turned around, only to be greeted by the sight of a stunning young woman lounging in his wheat field, golden stalks swaying around her like a halo of light.
She was beautiful, in a way that was almost unnatural. Long silver-white hair cascaded down her back, shimmering under the sunlight. Sharp, mischievous amber eyes gleamed with amusement. And resting atop her head were two fluffy fox ears, twitching playfully as her nine golden tails swayed behind her like a slow-moving flame.
She wasn't human.
She was a fox spirit.
More specifically, she was Tamamo, the reason Ethan's life had turned into a never-ending headache.
And right now, she was holding the very same potato he had thrown earlier, twirling it between her fingers like a toy.
Ethan's eye twitched. "Tamamo…"
She grinned. "Yes, dear?"
"Get. Off. My. Farm."
Tamamo gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "How heartless! Is that any way to speak to your beloved savior?"
"You're not my savior."
"But I gave you a gift! A wonderful, powerful, life-changing—"
"You cursed me."
She laughed. "Details~"
Ethan ran a hand down his face. This fox…
Tamamo had been ruining his life for over a decade now. Ever since he had saved her when he was a kid, she had "blessed" him with the absurd ability called "Never-Stopping Growth." It was exactly what it sounded like—no matter what he did, his skills would continuously improve, breaking all logic and limits.
Cooking? S-rank chef in a day.
Farming? Could harvest an entire field with one hand.
Breathing? Apparently, he was now a master of silent assassinations.
And worst of all…
If he didn't conquer at least one dungeon every month, he'd die.
"Tamamo, do you have any idea how much of a pain this is?" Ethan growled. "I literally can't live a normal life because of you."
Tamamo giggled, flicking her fluffy tails. "Oh? But you're living quite well, aren't you? A peaceful farm, a loving little sister, a healthy body—"
"—that accidentally destroys everything I touch," Ethan deadpanned. "I can't even pluck a carrot without it turning into a projectile weapon."
Tamamo smirked. "Then perhaps you should learn to control your strength~"
"Oh, wow! Great idea! Why didn't I think of that?!" Ethan threw his hands up. "Oh, wait. I did. But guess what? It doesn't work."
"Hmm. A shame~"
Ethan clenched his jaw. This damn fox.
He had tried. He had really, really tried to live a quiet life. But between his monstrous strength, his absurd skills, and the dungeon curse looming over him, it was impossible. No matter how much he avoided trouble, trouble always found him.
And Tamamo? She just sat back and watched for her own amusement.
He narrowed his eyes.
"…Why are you even here?" he asked suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be doing… I don't know, whatever it is fox spirits do?"
Tamamo's smile widened. "Oh, Ethan. How cruel~ Can't I simply visit my dear savior?"
"No."
She giggled. "Too bad~"
Ethan scowled. He should've known better. Whenever Tamamo randomly showed up, it meant something bad was about to happen.
And judging by the way she was grinning at him, today was no exception.
"…What do you want?" he finally asked, resigned.
Tamamo leaned in, golden eyes gleaming.
"Just a friendly reminder~" she purred. "You haven't cleared a dungeon this month."
Ethan froze.
His stomach dropped.
Oh. Oh, crap.
Tamamo's tails flicked, her smirk turning positively wicked.
"My, my~ What a shame. If you don't clear one soon, well…" She tapped her chin playfully. "You'll probably drop dead right here in your lovely little farm."
Ethan felt a headache forming.
Why.
Why did his life have to be like this?
And why was it always this damn fox ruining his peace?!
---