Ambrosia lowered her voice. “What happened to them?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

One of the returning players sank onto the edge of the fountain, still gripping what remained of his shield. Three holes had been punched through its wooden face, and the metal rim bent inward where something had bitten down and refused to let go. Long scraping gouges covered his armor, ending in paired punctures that looked like mandible marks.

Another player stopped in front of him with both hands clenched. “Where’s Dan?”

The man by the fountain continued staring at his ruined shield. “Dude, he rage-quit.”

The people around them fell quiet. Someone near the back of the crowd attempted an uneasy laugh.

“Wait. Roaches did that?”

The survivor slowly raised his shield. Its lower half had been shredded, the leather straps hung loose, and something dark and oily clung to the bite marks along the rim.

“Big roaches.”

The laughter stopped.

Another survivor passed us while dragging a sword behind him. Its blade had been battered blunt from tip to guard, scraping against the stone instead of ringing.

“One meter long,” he muttered. “Maybe more.”

Ambrosia shifted closer to me. “Yeah. That’s a no from me.”

A young woman carrying a cracked bow dropped onto the fountain steps and covered her face with both hands. “I’m uninstalling.”

The swordsman gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. This game is tough.”

Someone nearby opened his portable UI and showed the surrounding players a photograph. More people crowded around him, and one whispered, “That’s the first dungeon?”

The archer lowered her hands. “It’s an enormous concrete sewer tunnel. The walls curve into the ceiling like one giant pipe, with a shallow channel of black water along the bottom and utility lines fixed to the sides.”

“The first ones came around the bend,” said the player with the ruined shield.

The swordsman nodded. “Then more poured out of the tunnels branching off from it.”

“One was clinging to the ceiling,” the archer added, looking toward the Tower.

Nobody asked what happened after that.

A beginner swallowed. “So what are we supposed to do?”

The survivor looked down at his shield. “Bring something they can bite into.”

The swordsman raised his destroyed weapon. “And something you don’t mind ruining.”

Ambrosia had gone unusually quiet. She was watching the player on the makeshift stretcher, whose Critical State icon still pulsed faintly above him. Now that they had reached the plaza, several healers had gathered around with first-aid kits.

“Cloud,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ll skip the dungeon for now.”

I looked at my own health bar. “First we gear up.”

Ambrosia continued staring at the Tower before taking a slow step away from it. “It certainly looks beautiful, but I need a break.” She paused. “We need a break.”

“Agreed. I’m going to order takeout and get a drink.”

Her entire expression changed. “Food sounds so good right now.”

I opened my portable UI and checked the time. It was 6:33 PM. I had logged in around noon, but after being slimed, stabbed, nearly exploded, and chased through a forest, six hours still felt too early to call it a night.

“I’ll probably come back later,” I said. “Maybe do some light grinding alone.”

Ambrosia looked at me as though I had suggested fighting another spider immediately. “Right after this? Sorry, but I can’t join you. I’ve had enough for one day.”

“Understandable. See you tomorrow?”

Her smile returned. “Yeah. It was fun hanging out with you.” She gave me a small salute. “Thanks for the carry, Cloud-sensei.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” I opened my portable UI. “Before you go, we should add each other. We still need to divide the spider materials once IMR is finished with them.”

“Right. Almost dying together apparently wasn’t enough.”

[Friend request sent to Ambrosia.]

[Ambrosia accepted your friend request.]

Her name appeared on my friends list.

“Now you can’t disappear with my half,” she said.

“Your half is still under negotiation.”

A few minutes later, I logged out.

The real world returned quietly. My room was dark, my neck ached, and my stomach immediately reminded me that virtual slime buns did not count as actual food.

I ordered Chinese takeout, grabbed a drink from the refrigerator, and sat on the couch while I waited.

Project Babel had already taken over my feed.

The footage from the first dungeon was terrible—not merely because of what happened, but because the place was nearly impossible to record clearly. Most clips consisted of trembling torchlight, shallow black runoff, panicked shouting, and brief flashes of glossy brown bodies charging through enormous concrete tunnels.

The comments beneath them were far easier to see.

BRO THAT THING IS HUGE

IS THAT THE FIRST DUNGEON???

WHY DOES THE STARTER DUNGEON HAVE HORROR-GAME ROACHES?

LMAO HE GOT DELETED

I opened a clip in which a five-person party attempted to form a shield wall. For approximately three seconds, the strategy looked sensible.

Then something raced around the curve ahead.

A roach crashed into the front player hard enough to knock him backward. Another poured from a branching tunnel before the formation could recover. Someone screamed, and the camera spun upward, briefly capturing the curved concrete ceiling and a third roach clinging above them before the footage ended.

I stared at the screen. “Yeah. Better gear first.”

By the time I finished eating, I was ready to log back in.

I stretched my neck, took another drink, and connected the Neural-X cable.

“Light grinding,” I reminded myself.

When Project Babel finished loading, I organized my plan. First, I would retrieve the Wolffang Spider remains from IMR. Then I would take the carapace to Kevin, assuming he was still working at the forge.

The city clock read 8:31 PM, almost perfectly matching the time outside.

So Project Babel followed a real-time day-and-night cycle.

Despite the late hour, the city remained alive. Warm lanterns hung between white stone buildings, spilling light across narrow stairways and curved balconies. Restaurants had moved tables onto terraces overlooking the sea, where players and locals ate, drank, and talked over music drifting from somewhere farther downhill.

Below them, moonlight fractured across the ocean in long silver lines. Boats moved slowly through the harbor, their lanterns glowing against the dark water.

Some people practically lived inside virtual worlds now.

Honestly, I understood why.

Monsters aside, this city alone felt like somewhere people would pay to visit.

I crossed the plaza and passed the Tower of Babel. Only its lowest level was illuminated. Golden light filled the enormous arches around its base, while everything above them disappeared into darkness. Moonlight caught only the edges of the higher structure, leaving a pale outline against the stars.

During the day, the Tower looked impossible.

At night, it looked quiet, and I found that strangely calming.

“Cloud! Hey!”

A familiar voice pulled my attention away from it.

I turned and found Anja jogging toward me. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here?”

She now carried a sword at her waist and a round shield across her back. Her simple starting clothes had been replaced with leather armor reinforced by several metal plates, and fresh scratches marked the shield’s face.

The Assessment skill stirred as she approached. Her maximum HP had increased considerably since the last time I saw her, and both her Sword and Shield skills had gained several levels.

She had been busy.

“I fed my dogs and decided to come back on,” she said.

“You have dogs?”

“Two big, fluffy babies.”

“Nice. Send me pictures sometime.”

“For sure.”

I looked over her equipment again. “Sword, shield, actual armor. You’re already fully geared.”

“My friends helped me get everything.” Her smile weakened. “Then we tried the dungeon.”

“How did that go?”

“It’s so hard, and kind of disgusting. Honestly, I don’t know whether that dungeon is for me.” She grimaced and glanced toward the coast. “I need to look at the ocean and heal.”

She waited a moment before adding, “Emotionally.”

“I saw the clips. Swarms of giant roaches?”

“A lot of giant roaches. Way too many.”

“Any advice for a solo player?”

Anja stared at me. “Maybe don’t solo it?”

“Solid advice.”

“We had five people, and it was still rough.” She opened her portable UI and transferred something to mine. “Here. Take the map data we collected. We added a few pins too.”

[Map Data Received: Bezelbü Cistern — Partial]

“Awesome. Thank you.”

“Don’t get too excited. We barely mapped anything.”

“It’s still more than I had five seconds ago.”

Another notification appeared.

[Anja has sent you a friend request.]

[Accept?]

[Yes]

Her name appeared on my friends list, and she smiled. “There. Now maybe Mr. Solo Player can join a party next time.”

“I’m not opposed to parties. I just happen to play alone.”

“That sounds suspiciously like something a solo player would say.”

“I have a major equipment upgrade coming, so maybe I’ll consider it.”

“What have you been doing, anyway?”

“I checked out Viridian Basin.”

Her eyebrows rose. “The forest past the tutorial grounds?”

“That’s the one.”

“I haven’t gone there yet.” She leaned closer. “Is it easy?”

“Yeah. Completely safe.”

Anja narrowed her eyes. “That sounded sarcastic.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“When are you going back?”

“Maybe later tonight if the equipment upgrade works out. Otherwise, tomorrow.”

“You’re going back tonight?”

“Possibly.”

She glanced toward the Tower and then back at me. “You really don’t know how to relax, do you?”

“I logged out and ate dinner.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It counted to me.”

“Well, message me if you go tomorrow. I’ll probably be online.”

“Sure. I’ll let you know.”

Anja nodded toward the road descending to the coast. “What are you doing now?”

“Heading to IMR. You?”

“It’s late, so I thought I’d find somewhere near the ocean and relax.”

I stared at her. “You logged into the most advanced VRMMO ever made to sit beside the ocean?”

“Exactly.”

“Couldn’t be me. I have places to be.”

She laughed. “Clearly.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your virtual beach trip.”

“And don’t let me stop you from rushing toward whatever terrible decision comes next.”

“That’s the plan.”

“See you tomorrow, Cloud.”

“See you.”

Anja descended one of the white stone stairways and soon disappeared among the lanterns and evening crowds.

I made it halfway to IMR before recognizing a problem. The spider’s carapace might be valuable, but removing it without knowing the creature’s anatomy was a good way to destroy the material Kevin needed.

Fortunately, the city library remained open twenty-four hours a day.

Warm light shone through its tall windows, and the reading hall was far quieter than the streets outside. A handful of players sat among stacks of books, spending launch night studying instead of fighting monsters. Several occasionally paused over their pages, their eyes shifting toward private UI windows that only they could see.

Gloria was gone.

Someone else stood behind the reception desk with his back to me, arranging books on the shelves built into the wall. He wore a navy-blue yukata secured with a black obi. The fabric reached almost to his ankles, ending above wooden geta that clicked softly against the stone whenever he moved.

He placed the final book on its shelf and turned.

Brown hair framed a calm face, black glasses rested across his nose, and a friendly smile appeared when he noticed me.

A name tag floated above him.

[Shosuke]

“Good evening,” he said. “How may I help you?”

His voice was gentle and unhurried, as though the library could remain open all night and he had nowhere else to be.

“I’m looking for a beginner-level book on arthropod anatomy.”

“Of course.”

Shosuke checked the library terminal on his raised desk. “Arthropod basics. Second floor, east wing, Section C.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes later, I sat at a table with a thick book bound in dark green leather.

[Anatomy: The Basics of Arthropods and the Many-Legged]

I began at the first chapter and spent the next hour and a half working through diagrams and labeled illustrations. The book explained exoskeletons, joint membranes, internal organs, venom glands, spinnerets, and the connections between the cephalothorax and abdomen.

It felt like studying biology again, except the final exam involved dismantling a spider larger than a person.

When I closed the book, several notifications appeared.

[Arthropod Anatomy XP +100]

[Biology XP +10]

[Reading XP +100]

“Reading is a skill too?”

After considering the last ninety minutes, I supposed it was.

More importantly, I now felt completely qualified to dissect the spider after reading one introductory textbook.

That confidence was probably undeserved, but at least I knew the word cephalothorax.

By the time I returned the book to the desk, it was nearly eleven. Shosuke told me I could keep it checked out, so I placed it in my inventory and continued toward the IMR storage facility.

IMR headquarters occupied a district near the city’s outskirts, separated from the crowded residential streets by landscaped grounds and a broad stone road. The campus looked less like an academic institute and more like the headquarters of a tech company.

Glass walls enclosed bright atriums filled with indoor trees, cafés, lounge areas, and colorful signs pointing toward different research departments. Even at this hour, researchers crossed the halls carrying samples and checking information on wall-mounted screens.

The storage wing followed the same polished design, but its reinforced doors, security checkpoints, and complete absence of windows made its purpose clear. This was where IMR stored specimens it did not trust inside ordinary laboratories.

Dark glass and brushed metal framed the entrance, with the IMR crest mounted above two sealed doors. After entering my name and collection number, the receptionist asked me to place one hand against a scanner built into the counter.

A thin line of light passed beneath my palm. A moment later, the terminal chimed.

[Identity Confirmed]

[Collection ID: WFS-0087]

[Ownership Verified]

The doors unlocked with a heavy mechanical click.

An employee wearing a blue IMR coat met me inside and led me through another checkpoint. We passed through a reinforced security door, descended underground by elevator, and stopped at a final reception desk, where I signed the specimen-release agreement.

For a dead spider, IMR took ownership verification very seriously.

The employee reviewed the completed form. “Your specimen has already been cleaned and catalogued. Would you like to process it here?”

“You have somewhere I can do that?”

“Our public laboratories are available to registered specimen owners. There is no usage fee, provided IMR retains any material you leave behind when your work is complete.”

“So I keep whatever I extract, and you keep the leftovers?”

“That is correct.”

Free equipment, a controlled workspace, and someone else volunteering to dispose of the remains afterward.

“Deal.”

He registered the agreement and led me deeper into the facility. The Wolffang Spider qualified as a large specimen, so we passed the standard public laboratories and entered a separate corridor where every room was approximately the size of a garage. Reinforced doors, drainage channels, ceiling-mounted equipment, and thick observation windows suggested those rooms were designed for subjects that occasionally objected to being studied.

The facility was far busier than I expected. IMR employees in yellow protective suits carried sealed containers and metal cases between rooms, while several players stood inside one laboratory comparing samples. Nearby, an employee sprayed an unidentified substance from their boots.

As we passed another observation window, I caught sight of a glossy brown creature strapped to a steel examination table.

Its segmented legs were long, its back was covered by broad plates, and its mandibles looked large enough to close around someone’s forearm.

The roach had to be at least a meter long.

Through the next observation window, two players measured one of the roach’s segmented legs. Their scratched, dark-stained armor had been set aside on a bench while they worked through the analysis themselves.

The employee continued walking, and I followed without slowing enough to appear overly interested.

At the end of the corridor, he unlocked one of the larger laboratory doors.

The remains of my Wolffang Spider rested on a reinforced steel platform in the center of the room. IMR had cleaned away the mud, burned hair, and acid residue. Beneath the overhead lamps, the cephalothorax remained connected to the scorched abdomen. One edge of the broad black carapace was cracked, but the main plate had survived nearly intact.

A workbench beside the platform held knives, clamps, saws, specimen trays, and enough specialized equipment to make the carving knife in my inventory resemble a sharpened spoon.

The employee handed me a pair of gloves. “Notify the desk when you finish. Anything remaining in the room will be transferred to IMR ownership.”

“Understood.”

He stepped outside, and the reinforced door closed behind him.

Despite all the proper tools laid out on the workbench, I retrieved the carving knife from my inventory. It had brought me this far.

A prompt appeared above the motionless spider.

[Carving Available]

I placed the anatomy book open beside the workbench and pulled on the gloves.

This time, I knew where to cut.