Luke jumped without seeing the bottom. Cold surged through his gut, coiling around his insides like a vice as the vertigo of the void seized his body. He kept himself straight, legs down, arms tight, and gambled his life on the answer to a riddle he didn’t truly believe in.

There was no other choice. The fall lasted only seconds, but every heartbeat stretched time like wire. And then. He hit the water like a thrown stone, plunging hard. Pain burst across every nerve as freezing cold punched the air from his lungs.

He tried to swim up, but the current seized him, spinning his body like a rag in a storm. Something cracked, his leg. Pain spiraled through him as he moved, survival instinct clashing with the scream of a broken body. Spinning, drowning, swallowed by the furious river, Luke finally broke the surface, just for a moment.

He gasped, sucking in as much air as he could. Then he saw the truth: no banks. No safety. Only a slick, narrow tunnel of rock. Wet. Dark. Smooth, like the throat of some ancient beast. And the current dragged him down again.

The ground disappeared beneath him. He glimpsed the edge of another fall ahead, the water pushing him toward it like a sentence being carried out. Another waterfall. Another drop. Nowhere to grab hold.

***

His fingers bent at wrong angles when he slammed into an underwater rock. He screamed, or tried to, but the river stole the sound along with the last of his strength. His already broken leg struck something else, something sharper and deeper. The bones cried out like brittle branches underfoot. The current didn’t stop; it dragged him mercilessly, each bend of the hidden river carrying a new promise of pain, and delivering.

He ricocheted off the cavern walls like a doll, each impact chipping away another piece of him. Stones tore into his skin, bruises blooming across his body. He was going limp. Heavy. His lungs burned. Every second underwater twisted the panic deeper. He tried to surface, tried to move, but his arms no longer answered. Blood slipped from his wounds, vanishing into the dark tide.

Then… another impact. His shoulder smashed into a jagged bend of stone, a sharp edge tearing through his side. But worse than the pain was the reflex: he gasped. His last breath escaped in silence, a scream that became bubbles. They rose as his vision blinked. Nothing responded. His mind was still screaming, but his body had stopped listening.

Darkness closed in. The water pulled. And Luke sank.

***

When he was on the verge of surrendering to death, sinking and thrashing weakly against the water pulling him under, Luke simply accepted it. Death felt inevitable. But then, something changed. He dropped again. The impact hurled him into the water once more, his body limp and spent. But something was different now, a tiny difference, subtle but crucial. The current was gone.

That dying flame inside him flickered back to life. Luke swam upward with everything he had left. His limbs trembled. Every movement burned. But he forced his arms to push, forced his lungs to pull. He wasn’t done, not yet.

Turbulence surged around him. Whirlpools clawed him downward. The waterfall pressed like a liquid wall of weight. To escape it, he had to let go. He sank on purpose, diving deep to escape the crashing zone above.

And finally, he broke the surface.

“A shore…” The words barely escaped his throat.

He swam, even as his muscles failed him, even as pain drowned his limbs. His legs didn’t work right. Blood spilled from gashes torn open by the falls. When he finally reached the edge of the rock, he dragged himself out. He didn’t get up. He just lay there, every inch of him pulsing in pain, vision blurry, the deafening roar of the waterfall filling the cavern.

If anyone found him now, he wouldn’t have the strength to fight. In that moment, as he looked at himself, at the broken leg, the swollen and twisted fingers, the cuts and blood all over his body—he knew. He couldn’t go on. He might never walk again.

He looked around. The cavern stretched deep, like a tunnel into the earth’s marrow. Purple crystals shimmered along the walls, casting eerie reflections across the wet stone. He just stared and closed his eyes.

[You have completed the challenge: The Leap of the Brave]

A glowing notification appeared in front of him. The metallic sound broke through his haze.

[Reward: 1x Small Healing Potion]

He could barely believe what he was reading.

[An item has been added to your inventory]

Luke frowned.

Inventory? What…?

He had no idea how to access it.

[Assassin Class has successfully awakened]

[You have acquired a Class Skill: Basic Blade Handling (Common)]

He closed the notifications without really reading them, desperate for any clue about the inventory.

[An item has been added to your inventory]

[An item has been added to your inventory]

When the last notification blinked away, a small square appeared on the interface—with his picture. His face.

Luke tapped it, and a new screen opened.

Name: Luke

Level: 0

Rank: F

Class: Assassin (Lvl 0)

Race: Human

Profession: —

Titles: —

Health Points (HP): 38/100

Mana Points (MP): 70/70

Stamina: 3/60

Stats:

Strength: 8

Agility: 10

Endurance: 6

Vitality: 10

Perception: 8

Intelligence: 7

Free Points: 1

Inventory: [Small Healing Potion (x1)], [Throwing Knife Holster], [Smoke Bomb (x3)]

Class Skills: [Basic Blade Handling (Common)]

Stolen story; please report.

Luke ignored all the system messages. He could only think about one thing: the inventory. When he clicked on the potion icon, a small glass vial filled with red liquid appeared in his hand, as if it had always been there, just waiting for him.

Without hesitation, he brought it to his lips. It tasted surprisingly sweet, like strawberry with a faint trace of raspberry. He didn’t care if it was poison or a trap. It didn’t matter. He was practically dead anyway.

As soon as the liquid slid down his throat, a burning sensation spread through his body. But it wasn’t pain. Not normal pain. It was… healing. The feeling surged through every wound, like liquid fire flooding his veins.

Luke arched his back involuntarily as the real pain began, deep, raw, almost unbearable. His bones cracked violently. Broken fingers moved on their own, snapping back into place. He felt the exposed bone in his leg shift, realign, reconnect with surgical precision.

Every fracture. Every tear. Every internal rupture. He felt it all reassembling.

[Health Points (HP): 38/100 -> 100/100]

The health bar rose before his eyes. He had no idea how much a “small” potion was supposed to heal… but this one had done more than enough. He tried to stand. He expected the pain to strike again, but it didn’t. Only exhaustion remained. Heavy. Deep. His muscles felt drained, but not broken.

“What the hell kind of place did I fall into?”

He looked around. The rocky tunnel stretched in one direction only, purple crystals pulsing softly along the walls, lighting patches of moss and roots dripping from the ceiling. Fresh waterfall mist mingled with the scent of damp earth. There were no other paths.

“I’m going to rest… enough flirting with death for one day.”

He sat on the floor, leaning against the cold wall. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the chill cut like a blade. His body trembled, but he was alive. Then he remembered the skill he’d received. He clicked on it.

[Basic Blade Handling (Common)]: A true assassin’s blade must be quick, lethal, and precise. You now possess basic proficiency with daggers, short swords, and other one-handed light weapons, allowing for more accurate and efficient strikes.

The moment he read the description, the knowledge slammed into him like a wave. Suddenly, he knew.

He knew how to grip a knife properly, how to spin it mid-air to maximize the cutting angle, how to drive it into the exact point to kill with the least effort. As if he’d trained for years… and someone had simply installed it in his mind.

“This is insane…”

If someone had told him this would happen, he’d have laughed. Just like he laughed when he first heard stories about people “awakening” with the System. But now, there was no denying it. In Luke’s mind, a reference popped up: his favorite movie, The Matrix. It really felt like they’d downloaded a skill pack straight into his brain. Just like Neo.

He tapped on the next item: Smoke Bomb. Three small black spheres materialized in his palm.

[Smoke Bomb (x3)]: A crafted tool that releases a dense smoke cloud when activated, obscuring vision and enabling strategic escapes or stealth attacks.

Luke returned two to the inventory and slipped one into his pocket—just in case. The last item was the holster. He didn’t even have to move. The equipment appeared on its own, already strapped to his right thigh.

[Throwing Knife Holster (Common)

Description: A specialized holster designed to store throwing knives. It can conjure common-rarity blades when infused with mana.

Enchantments:

[Mana Knives (Common)]: By channeling mana, the holster can generate up to 6 throwing knives, instantly materialized and ready for deadly precision.]

A light tingling spread through Luke’s fingers. The moment he thought of a blade, a knife appeared. Small. Perfectly balanced. He spun it between his fingers naturally, like he’d done it a thousand times. The weight was ideal, the center of gravity flawless.

“So this thing creates knives whenever I need them, as long as I’ve got mana.”

He lifted the weapon into the glow of the crystals, studying its dull sheen and thin, deadly edge.

“This is basically magic. If I’d picked the Archer class, I bet the quiver worked the same way, creating arrows from mana.”

Even with time to reflect, he knew he’d make the same choice again. Yes, in the moment it was instinct, but now, calm and thinking clearly, he saw the advantages. Mage spells used mana and vanished after casting. Archer arrows were also mana-based, but once fired, they were gone. And if an enemy got too close, an archer without room to move was just a walking corpse. But his holster was different. It generated knives, smaller than swords, sure, meant for throwing, but still lethal in close combat. And if he needed to, he could just conjure one and hold it.

[Mana Points (MP): 70/70 -> 65/70]

“Five mana per knife, huh…”

Exhausted, he finally allowed himself to rest. He leaned his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes, but he didn’t let go of the knife.

His mind was alert for some reason. More alert than usual.

***

Luke had slept for a few hours. When he stepped out of the tunnel, he finally saw where he was. It was vast, expansive—a subterranean field overtaken by forest and dark green grass, nearly dead in color. Purple crystals glowed between the trees and rocks, casting the only light in the area. There was no massive artificial sun like before, only the faint, diffused glow of scattered gemstones. It was a cave, an entire biome hidden beneath the earth. And yet, he felt a breeze.

He couldn’t tell where it came from, but the air moved. It was real. Natural. He took a step. And then, he saw it. A rat, massive, the size of a full-grown dog, was creeping through the brush. Its fur was filthy and matted, and its eyes glowed with a hostile glint under the crystal light. The instant it spotted him, the creature growled.

“Grrr!” And charged.

“Shit!”

Luke raised his knife. His heart pounded. Even though he knew how to hold it, even though his body felt quicker, sharper, a part of him still hesitated. The beast lunged. He rolled to the side, dodging just in time. His body moved differently now. Lighter. More efficient. He could manage his breath, shift his weight, feel the flow of his own movement.

He got close… close enough to drive the blade into the rat’s face. His hand, as if magnetized, aimed straight for its forehead. But he pulled back. He still feared taking a life. The rat snarled, spun, and struck him with its tail. Luke was thrown aside, crashing to the ground with the air knocked out of him. The monster pounced, fangs bared.

And then, silence. The world’s sound cut off completely. He could see the rat above him, feel its weight on his chest, push against it with his hands— but no sound reached him. Only one did. His heartbeat.

‘Thump-thump.’

‘Thump-thump.’

The fear disappeared. Something surfaced inside him, a thread in the darkness, like a line in woven cloth. When he touched it with his mind, something ignited. A raw, instinctive flame, sharp and clear. Luke kicked the creature hard, broke free, and rolled back. The rat staggered.

He didn’t wait. He lunged, knife twirling in his fingers, and struck. The blade drove through flesh and into bone. He felt the resistance, then the break. The skull cracked. The knife sank deep.

[You have slain Cave Rat – Lvl 2]

Luke panted, breath ragged. “What… was that?”

He looked down at his bloodied hand. Instinctively, he spun the knife and slipped into a combat stance. The creature was dead, yet his body kept moving on its own. That’s when he understood.

“An assassin’s instinct…”

Does the class do that too?

He knelt, wiping the blade on the dying grass. His hands were still trembling—the adrenaline of a first kill, the shock of ending a life. But at the same time, there was peace. An internal silence. For some reason, he felt unnaturally clear-headed. As if in that moment, between life and death, his mind had aligned perfectly with what had to be done. That thread was still there… and then vanished into the darkness of his thoughts.

That… was strange.

***

Luke moved in silence, body low, eyes sharp. He advanced slowly, scanning the space ahead—a wide, cavernous area, dimly lit, where darkness bled into scattered points of light. He spotted two separate zones, both faintly lit by torches. One was too far to explore now, but the other was within reach.

Up ahead, partially surrounded by crystals and low trees, stood a small stone structure. Circular. Roofed. It looked like a gazebo, but in this strange underground space, it felt completely out of place. Luke watched carefully. There was a simple wooden table inside. A chair. But what drew his attention wasn’t inside. It was what surrounded the structure. Three creatures patrolled the area—humanoid lizards, tall, about his height. Their thick tails dragged across the dirt floor as they moved in heavy, cautious steps.

Luke slowly retreated, slipping back behind a large stone. He sat, muscles tense. His heart hammered in his chest.

Three enemies. I’m completely outmatched.

He looked around. This place had to be part of the dungeon’s lower depths—and he figured it was some kind of alternate route. The mission statue had presented two paths: the traditional one, step by step, and the “Path of the Brave,” the one that meant leaping into the abyss. He had jumped. Chosen the insane route. Now, there was no turning back.

If the key’s there… it’s my only shot.

He peeked again. The structure looked important, and there was a very real chance the portal key was inside. That was the only way to ascend through the dungeon and activate the statue to begin the tutorial. Luke closed his eyes for a moment. He breathed deep, then reached for his knife. He channeled mana. A second blade materialized in the holster on his leg.

[Mana Points (MP): 65/70 -> 60/70]

“I can’t waste time here… or I’ll miss the tutorial window.”

That would mean disqualification from this year’s Integration, and if that happened, he’d be trapped here for a whole year in this dungeon with the prisoners. He knew what that meant. He would not survive.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep