POV: Mark


    The late afternoon sun slanted through the high, arched windows of the lecture hall, its golden rays mingling with the faint scent of parchment and ink. Mark settled into his seat, his thoughts still muddled from the earlier class. The concept of dungeons as semi-living entities, ones that required systematic destruction to be truly eradicated, lingered in his mind like a half-remembered dream. But for now, he forced himself to focus.


    The third and final lesson of the day was the one he’d been most curious about, a class on the System.


    Mark leaned back against the worn wood of the bench, his gaze wandering over the familiar sight of students filling the room. The air was thick with anticipation; even the students who normally treated classes as background noise were paying attention. Lessons about the System weren’t just about theory, they were personal, touching the very core of how adventurers operated in the world.


    The System was the foundation of their society, the invisible hand that guided every adventurer''s path, whether they acknowledged it or not. Mark himself had spent countless hours pondering its influence, wondering why it assigned some quests and rewards over others. Why it sometimes seemed to push people toward one goal and not another.


    Professor Veyl entered the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. A thin woman with sharp eyes and graying hair tied neatly into a bun, she carried herself with the authority of someone who had spent decades unraveling the mysteries of the world. The hush that fell over the room as she reached the podium was almost reverent.


    “Good afternoon, class,” Professor Veyl began, her voice smooth yet firm. “Today, we delve into a subject that shapes every facet of our lives, whether we are adventurers, merchants, or farmers: the System.”


    She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.


    “The System,” she continued, “is a mysterious entity. It has no face, no voice, no physical presence. And yet, it is woven into the fabric of our world, influencing everything from individual quests to the fate of entire kingdoms. It rewards us, guides us, challenges us, but it never forces us.”


    Mark shifted in his seat, already engrossed.


    “For centuries, scholars have debated the origin of the System,” Professor Veyl said, pacing slowly. “Is it divine? Is it some ancient construct, left behind by a civilization long forgotten? Or is it simply an inherent part of the world, like the tides or the wind? The truth is, we don’t know. But what we do know is how it operates, or, at least, how it appears to operate.”


    She waved a hand, and the chalkboard behind her lit up with glowing words:


    The System’s Known Functions


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Rewards and Incentives</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Quests and Guidance</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Growth and Progression</li>


    </ol>


    “Let’s start with rewards,” she said, pointing to the first line. “The System rewards individuals for achieving certain goals. These rewards can be material, gold, weapons, potions, or they can be intangible, such as experience points, skill advancements, or attribute boosts. But here’s the critical part: the System’s rewards are not random. They are designed to push you toward a particular path, one it has seemingly chosen for you.”


    The room buzzed with murmurs, but Professor Veyl held up a hand to silence them.


    “Think about it,” she said. “When you complete a quest, why are you rewarded in one way and not another? Why does the System grant you a weapon instead of gold? Or a boost to Strength instead of Wisdom? It’s because the System has analyzed your potential, your tendencies, and your actions, and it is guiding you toward a purpose.”


    Mark frowned. The idea that the System had a plan for him, one it had decided long before he could understand it, was both fascinating and unsettling. He thought back to the training dungeon, to the strange rewards they had encountered. The Cubic Cutter, for instance, had been crafted by that unusual golem, but the System had clearly integrated it into their progress. Was the System pushing them toward something greater?


    “Of course,” Professor Veyl continued, “the System does not force you to follow its guidance. The rewards are incentives, not commands. If you choose to ignore a reward or take a path that deviates from its apparent plan, the System does not punish you. It simply adjusts, offering new quests and rewards based on your choices.”


    She paused, her gaze sweeping the room. “This is why the defense of ‘The System made me do it’ never holds up in court. The System cannot make you do anything. It can guide, reward, and incentivize, but it cannot compel.”


    The chalkboard shifted, the second line, Quests and Guidance, glowing softly.


    “Now, let’s talk about quests,” Professor Veyl said. “The System assigns quests to individuals based on their skills, their needs, and, yes, their potential. These quests are designed to challenge you, to push you beyond your limits, and to prepare you for the next stage of your journey.”


    She gestured toward the board, where examples of typical quests appeared:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Hunt 10 boars.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Deliver a package to the next village.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Retrieve a lost artifact from a nearby cave.</li>


    </ul>


    “But here’s something every adventurer must remember,” she said, her tone growing serious. “The System will never assign you a quest that will harm your own race or your people in the long run. If you ever receive a quest that seems to violate this rule, such as ‘Hunt down the king’ or ‘Murder everyone in town’, you are not dealing with the System. You are dealing with an illusion, likely created by a demon or a criminal with ill intent.”


    The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling heavily over the students.


    “If you ever encounter such a quest,” Professor Veyl continued, “you must report it to the nearest church immediately. The clergy are trained to identify and dispel these illusions, and failing to act could result in disastrous consequences.”


    Mark nodded to himself. It was a lesson every adventurer knew by heart, but hearing it again now, in the context of everything he’d learned today, gave it new weight.


    “Finally,” Professor Veyl said, gesturing to the third line on the board, “we come to growth and progression. The System’s ultimate goal, as far as we can tell, is to help individuals grow. It rewards effort, perseverance, and ingenuity, encouraging you to become stronger, wiser, and more capable. But it also offers hints, subtle nudges toward a purpose it has deemed for you, even if you can’t yet see it.”


    Mark thought back to the dungeon once more. The quests they’d encountered there had seemed so ordinary at first glance, but now he wondered: were they hints? Was the System guiding him toward something he couldn’t yet comprehend?


    “The purpose of the System is a mystery,” Professor Veyl concluded, her voice softening. “But one thing is clear: it is not random. Everything it does is calculated, intentional. And whether you choose to follow its guidance or forge your own path, the System will adapt. It is not our master, but our guide. And it is up to each of us to decide where that guidance will take us.”


    Professor Veyl’s sharp eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on individual students as if weighing the weight of their thoughts. She flicked her wand again, and the chalkboard shifted, its glowing letters reforming into a single line:


    The System’s Neutrality: Myth or Truth?


    Her voice softened but lost none of its authority. “There is a question that has plagued scholars for centuries: does the System serve humanity? The answer, as best we can determine, is no.”


    The murmurs in the room died down instantly. Even those who typically slouched in their seats leaned forward, rapt.


    “The System,” she continued, pacing slowly, “does not exist solely for human benefit, or even for the benefit of any single race. It appears to be impartial, operating according to its own enigmatic agenda. And sometimes, that agenda is... indifferent to the suffering of thousands, perhaps millions, if it means achieving what the System deems necessary.”


    She stopped in the center of the room, her piercing gaze sweeping the sea of students.


    “Take the Demon Lords, for example,” she said. The air seemed to grow heavier at the mention of those accursed figures. “Throughout history, we have captured a few of these monsters alive, and each time, we’ve learned something fascinating. Even they, creatures of chaos and destruction, possess the System. And like us, they are rewarded, guided, and tested. In fact, every Demon Lord we’ve studied has claimed that they received a quest from the System that led them down the path to becoming what they are.”


    A ripple of shock passed through the room. Mark felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The System created Demon Lords?


    Professor Veyl raised a hand, silencing the whispers. “Before you let your imaginations run wild, let me make one thing clear. The System is not evil. It is not good. It simply... is. It operates on principles that we barely understand, selecting individuals and guiding them toward outcomes that align with its goals. And those goals are not always clear, or kind.”


    Her wand flicked, and another example illuminated the board:


    The Chosen Ones.


    “Then there are the so-called ‘Chosen Ones,’” she said, her tone tinged with both reverence and skepticism. “Throughout history, the System has singled out individuals, granting them quests, rewards, and opportunities far beyond what most people will ever experience. These individuals are often marked by extraordinary circumstances: rising from obscurity to achieve greatness, toppling tyrants, or bringing about monumental change.”


    She let the statement hang in the air before continuing. “But here’s the part most people don’t talk about: not all Chosen Ones are heroes. Some have left behind legacies of blood and terror. Serial killers, for instance, who spread from city to city, leaving carnage in their wake. These might seem like anomalies, contradictions to the idea that the System seeks to improve our world. But upon closer examination, their stories often reveal a grim logic.”


    Professor Veyl waved her wand, and a name appeared on the board: Isen Kraith.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    “Take Isen Kraith,” she said, her voice quieter now, as if speaking the name could summon him back from history. “A man who slaughtered over a hundred nobles during his bloody campaign through the western provinces. His actions were monstrous, by any measure. But when we look at his victims, a pattern emerges. These nobles were the heads of families who had bribed officials, committed atrocities, and oppressed the people under their rule. Their crimes went unpunished for decades, festering in the shadows. The System must have deemed these injustices so severe, so damaging to the integrity of society, that it created a Chosen One to root them out.”


    Mark felt his stomach churn. The idea that the System could justify such horrors, it was as chilling as it was compelling.


    “This brings us,” Professor Veyl said, her voice firmer now, “to the motto of the Knights of the Kingdom: ‘Weeds spring from uncropped roots.’”


    The words glowed on the board as she spoke them.


    “This motto reflects the hard truth that if corruption and injustice are allowed to fester, they will inspire the System to create something, or someone, to cut those roots for you. And it will not care how many lives are lost in the process. The System seeks balance. If you tip the scales too far, it will tip them back.”


    She paused, her gaze settling on a particularly rowdy group of students near the back of the hall. “Of course, this is not foolproof. Many Chosen Ones decide to forgo their mission entirely. Some reject their quests out of fear, doubt, or a belief that vengeance is not the best course. The System does not force anyone to act, it merely presents the path.”


    Professor Veyl’s eyes swept across the room, her gaze as sharp as a blade. “And that is why the System’s neutrality is so dangerous. It takes no sides but its own, and its motives are as opaque as they are inexorable. The System will not save us. It will not destroy us. It simply moves.”


    She stepped back from the board, letting her words settle over the room like a shroud.


    Mark stared at the glowing phrases on the chalkboard, his mind racing. He thought about the strange rewards they had encountered in the dungeon. The Cubic Cutter. The shifts in the dungeon’s ecosystem. Could the System be moving here, too, in its silent, inscrutable way? If so, what was it trying to achieve?


    Mark hesitated as he raised his hand, his mind buzzing with curiosity. The lecture had been riveting, unraveling layers of the System that most people never stopped to question. But there was one thought nagging at him, something that hadn’t been addressed, and he couldn’t let it go.


    As his hand rose, the atmosphere in the room shifted. A ripple of tension spread among his peers. Heads turned toward him, and more than a few eyes narrowed into glares. The unspoken accusation was clear: Don’t you dare ask if she forgot to assign homework.


    Mark almost laughed at the absurdity of their reactions, but he shook his head and pushed through the moment. He wasn’t asking about homework.


    Professor Veyl paused, her sharp eyes locking onto him. “Yes, Mr. Halston?”


    Mark cleared his throat, his voice steady but laced with genuine curiosity. “The dungeons... do they receive quests? Aren’t they just... a quest in themselves? A goal to raise in power?”


    The class went silent, the air thick with anticipation. A few students exchanged puzzled glances, clearly intrigued but unsure where the question was going.


    Professor Veyl’s expression didn’t waver, but a glint of interest sparked in her eyes. She leaned against the edge of her desk, her hands clasped before her.


    “That,” she said slowly, “is an excellent question.”


    Mark felt a small surge of relief. At least she wasn’t dismissing it outright.


    “Let me start by addressing the core of your question: Are dungeons merely a quest for adventurers, or do they have a purpose of their own?” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “The answer, as strange as it may sound, is yes, dungeons do receive quests.”


    The room filled with faint murmurs of surprise, but Professor Veyl raised a hand, silencing them.


    “Now, before you let your imaginations run wild, let me clarify. Dungeons are not sentient in the way we typically define sentience. They do not think, feel, or act with independent will. However, the System recognizes dungeons as entities that serve a purpose within its grand design. And like all entities within the System’s purview, they are guided.”


    She waved her wand, and the chalkboard filled with intricate diagrams of a dungeon’s ecosystem: the core, the creatures, the traps, the energy flows.


    “Dungeons are not alive in the conventional sense, but they are self-regulating systems, almost like a living organism. The core acts as the heart, pumping energy throughout the dungeon, creating creatures, and maintaining traps. And just like adventurers, dungeons can grow stronger over time. This growth, we have discovered, is influenced by quests assigned to the dungeon itself.”


    Mark leaned forward, captivated. “But how do we know that?”


    Professor Veyl smiled faintly, as if she had been waiting for someone to ask. “That knowledge comes from the mages who maintain dungeons, particularly those responsible for supplying mana to damaged or castrated cores.”


    She tapped the chalkboard, and the diagram shifted to focus on the core itself. “When mages channel mana into a dungeon core, they form a temporary connection with the dungeon’s energy network. This connection is primarily used to stabilize the core, ensuring it doesn’t collapse or overload. But through this connection, some mages have reported... impressions.”


    “Impressions?” Mark echoed.


    “Yes,” Professor Veyl said. “Impressions of intent, of direction. These mages describe it as a faint pull, like a whisper in the back of their minds. It’s not speech, it’s more like a sensation, an awareness of the core’s ‘desire’ to grow, to expand, to overcome challenges. Over time, researchers began to realize that these impressions align closely with the concept of quests.”


    She pointed to the board again, where a list of examples appeared:


    Dungeon Quests (as observed by mage researchers):


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Defend the core from intruders.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Expand the dungeon’s reach.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Create a specific type of monster.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Gather and store specific resources.</li>


    </ul>


    “These ‘quests,’ as we have come to understand them, are not assigned in the same way as they are to adventurers,” Professor Veyl explained. “They are not presented as explicit instructions. Instead, they manifest as a kind of drive, a force that compels the dungeon to act in certain ways. For example, if a dungeon is damaged, the System may guide it to prioritize creating stronger creatures to defend itself. If resources in the area are scarce, the System might push the dungeon to expand its boundaries to secure new materials.”


    She paused, her gaze sweeping the room. “This is why dungeons often seem to evolve intelligently, even though they lack true sentience. Their growth is shaped by these subtle directives, these ‘quests,’ which the System uses to guide them toward its own purposes.”


    Mark frowned, his curiosity only growing. “But if the System assigns quests to dungeons, doesn’t that mean it wants them to grow stronger? Isn’t that dangerous for... well, everyone?”


    Professor Veyl nodded, her expression serious. “It can be dangerous, yes. But remember what we discussed earlier: the System is not aligned with human interests. It is impartial, pursuing goals that we do not fully understand. Dungeons serve a purpose within the System’s design, just as adventurers do. They are not inherently good or evil, they simply exist.”


    She gestured to the board again, where a final point appeared:


    Dungeons as Tests and Catalysts.


    “Some scholars believe that dungeons are created as tests, trials designed to challenge individuals and groups, to push them to their limits. Others theorize that dungeons serve as catalysts for change, forcing societies to adapt, innovate, and grow in response to the threats they pose.”


    Her gaze lingered on Mark for a moment, as if sensing the deeper questions swirling in his mind.


    “So, to answer your question,” she said, “yes, dungeons receive quests. They are not just obstacles for adventurers to overcome, they are entities with roles to play in the System’s design. And while their actions may seem random or hostile, they are ultimately guided by the same forces that guide us all.”


    The room fell silent, the weight of her explanation settling over the students. Mark sat back in his seat, his mind racing.


    The idea that dungeons were guided by the System, just like adventurers, added another layer of complexity to everything he thought he knew. And if the System was pushing dungeons toward growth and power, what did that mean for the strange changes they had witnessed in the training dungeon?


    Before he could dwell further, the bell rang, breaking the spell of the lecture. Students began to gather their things, their conversations a mix of awe and speculation. But Mark remained seated, his thoughts spinning with new questions.


    As the bell''s echoes faded, Professor Veyl raised a hand, silencing the growing buzz of students eager to leave.


    "Before you go," she said, her sharp tone cutting through the noise, "your assignment for the week."


    The collective groan was almost immediate. Mark could see students slumping in their seats or rolling their eyes. He remained still, listening intently.


    “You will be conducting a personal study into the complexities of the System and its guidance in your life,” Professor Veyl continued, unfazed by their reaction. “I want you to think critically about the System’s influence. What do you believe it is guiding you to achieve? Reflect on your past quests, your rewards, and the skills or attributes the System has chosen to enhance. Write down your hypothesis about what the System is shaping you to become.”


    She tapped the chalkboard with her wand, and the instructions glowed in bold letters:


    Homework Assignment:


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Analyze your personal quest history and rewards.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Develop a hypothesis about what the System is guiding you to become.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Gain at least one level to test your hypothesis and record your findings.</li>


    </ol>


    Gasps rippled through the room. A few students whispered nervously, clearly apprehensive about the idea of being forced to gain a level as part of their studies.


    “And yes,” Professor Veyl added, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, “you heard that correctly. You are to gain a level. After all, this class is not merely theoretical. To understand the System, you must experience its workings firsthand. And for that, you must grow.”


    Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The idea of leveling up, something he’d done countless times before, suddenly felt heavier, more daunting.


    “As always,” the professor continued, “safety is paramount. You may team up with others if necessary, and you are free to choose any quest or task that fits your capabilities. But you must gain a level, and you must submit your findings in a detailed report by the end of the week.”


    The lecture hall erupted into hushed conversation as students exchanged ideas, some already planning their next moves. But Mark didn’t join in. He stared at the glowing instructions on the chalkboard, his thoughts a tangled mess.


    As he gathered his things and stepped out into the corridor, Mark couldn’t shake the feeling of unease settling over him like a dark cloud. The homework itself wasn’t the problem, he’d leveled up plenty of times before. But this time, it was different. This time, it meant going back into the dungeon.


    And the dungeon didn’t feel safe anymore.


    There were changes. The peculiar advancements in the dungeon’s ecosystem, the eerie precision of the traps, the unique loot. And, most unsettling of all, the title that had appeared when he checked his status after leaving: Witness.


    Mark swallowed hard, his throat dry. Witness. It wasn’t a title he’d had before entering the dungeon, and he had no idea when or how he’d earned it. But it couldn’t be a coincidence. The System didn’t do coincidences. Titles weren’t handed out lightly, they were markers of purpose, of identity.


    He was to witness something.


    And the System was guiding him toward it.


    The implications sent a shiver down his spine. Witnessing something in a dungeon could mean anything. A grand discovery. A monumental event. Or a catastrophic failure.


    He gritted his teeth, his mind racing. The System had marked him for this, and if its intent was truly impartial, then it didn’t care whether he survived the encounter or not. It wanted him to be there, to see... something.


    Mark clenched his fists, trying to push the thoughts away. He couldn’t let fear paralyze him. The assignment was clear, and he needed to gain a level. But the thought of returning to the dungeon, of stepping into that strange, shifting place, knowing the System was steering him toward something unknown, filled him with dread.


    His pace slowed as he reached the courtyard, his gaze wandering to the distant horizon where the dungeon lay hidden beneath the earth. A place that was once just another training ground now loomed in his mind like a shadowed maw, waiting to consume him.


    “I just need to get through this,” Mark muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. “Do the assignment. Gain the level. Submit the report. Simple.”


    But the hollow reassurance did little to ease his nerves. Deep down, he knew the truth. The System wasn’t guiding him toward something simple. It never did. And as much as he tried to suppress the thought, one question echoed in the back of his mind:


    Would he survive what he was meant to witness?