The Supreme Monarch of Continuum

It had been two days since Klaus received the gifts from the Monarch of Jesters. He had crafted a new active skill: one that, with further upgrades, could become one of the most lethal in his arsenal.

Emily had requested a meeting to test his current level. The plan was to send him into a dungeon, assessing his skill by how many monsters he could kill, and at what rank.

He was still at level two, but his abilities betrayed his true status. The skills he had inherited as a Supreme Monarch spoke for themselves. He was eager for the dungeon; there was a chance he could earn new skills, though unlikely. Low-rank dungeons usually dropped only experience, nothing more.

He got ready. Black cargo pants. A baggy grey T-shirt that hung just past his elbows. He liked oversized clothes: they masked his build like a gym rat's armor. Yesterday, he'd joined a gym, as required by the guild. Daily attendance was mandatory, except Sundays.

Sunday was a rest and jogging day. A light jog. Nothing intense. Just enough cardio to ease into the next week, so that two to three hours on the Stairmaster, with no music, only willpower, could feel possible.

He went down to the ground floor. The black SUV was already waiting. He got in, greeting the gentleman inside. This time, the man wore a different shade of sunglasses. Still his usual attire, though. A black suit that matched his overall aesthetic. 

"Hello, Mr..." Klaus paused. He realized he'd never asked the man's name. "I'm sorry, I never actually asked what your name is."

"It's quite alright, Mr. Klaus. My name is George Smith. I'm your chauffeur," the man replied, courteous and composed.

Klaus nodded. "Let me start over, then. Hello, Mr. Smith. How are you today?" he asked with a slight grin, amused by the formality.

"I am very well, sir. Let us commence," George replied, voice even, tone professional.

Klaus stepped in fully and shut the door. George eased the black SUV into traffic, navigating through the Saturday morning gridlock toward the American Guild. The streets were packed, cars inching forward, pedestrians crisscrossing at random. In two days, the Guild would host its national celebration: four months without a single dungeon outbreak. It was as close to a miracle as anyone could remember.

The mood in the city was electric. Players and civilians alike were heading home to be with family. Fireworks were already being set up on rooftops; it felt like the Fourth of July had come, again.

Inside the SUV, silence held for a beat. Then Klaus leaned slightly forward. "You always this formal, or just with clients?"

George gave a low chuckle. "Habit. Comes with the job. Military background, eight years. Chauffeuring has been calmer." 

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "Military? What branch?"

"Army. Logistics and recon. Stationed overseas for most of it. Got out, moved into private transport, then the Guild picked me up."

"Recon, huh? That's serious work."

George glanced at him through the rearview. "You don't seem like someone who scares easy either, Mr. Klaus."

Klaus shrugged. "I've seen some things. Comes with my... past line of work."

"Understood," George said, nodding once. His tone was still proper, but less stiff now.

The city blurred past them in bursts of noise and color. Klaus sat back, a little more relaxed. There was a quiet respect between them, not friendship yet, but the start of something less mechanical.

"George," Klaus said, dropping the "Mr." this time, "you ever go into dungeons?"

George laughed, a deep, rolling sound. "No, sir. I know better than to mess with that madness. I drive the heroes, I don't try to be one."

Klaus grinned. "Fair enough."

The rest of the drive passed in easy conversation, light, but enough to bridge the space between them. As the traffic began to ease, George merged into a clearer lane and brought Klaus to his destination: the American Guild headquarters.

Emily was already inside, seated in the main lobby, her attention fixed on her phone. She was leaning slightly forward, eyes squinting with soft amusement. Klaus approached quietly, catching a glimpse of her screen, a dog and a cat playfully tumbling over each other on a living room rug.

"Oh, that dog is so cute. And that kitten, absolutely adorable," Klaus said in a mock-childish voice, drawing out the words before clearing his throat and straightening his tone.

Emily turned around, her expression shifting from mild annoyance to amused recognition.

"Look who finally decided to show up," she said, raising a brow. "You're, what, thirty minutes late?"

Klaus held his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Guilty. But let's be honest: the traffic today? No one's moving unless they're flying."

She smirked. "Fair. Guild's holiday. Four months without an outbreak, they're already lighting fireworks and grilling like it's Independence Day."

"I could never willingly be thirty minutes late. Not when it means being away from you," he said, voice playfully dramatic.

Emily gave a soft laugh, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I'm flattered... I think." Then, she rose from her seat and straightened her jacket. "Come on. Let's see what you're made of."

They moved to the elevator and descended in silence, both focused now. She pressed the button for the second-lowest level: the Guild's internal training floor.

The elevator doors opened with a metallic hiss. Floor: -3.

They stepped into a wide corridor lined with dungeon gates, dozens of them, each one locked behind a reinforced frame of blackened steel, pulsing faintly with protective magic. Emily led him to one near the end. Without hesitation, she pulled out a red placard and fastened it to the gate's exterior.

DO NOT ENTER.

"This gate's isolated for assessment trials," she said. "We'll have privacy."

She stepped through the portal, vanishing into the light. Klaus followed without hesitation.

The instant he crossed the threshold, the environment shifted. A soft breeze brushed against his face. The air was warmer, fragrant with an earthy sweetness. Before him stretched a vast biome, rolling fields of glowing flowers, winding tree roots taller than men, and patches of vibrant herbs that shimmered faintly beneath the alien sun. The sky was a hue not found on Earth, something between lilac and burnt gold.

Emily had already unpacked a satchel from her side and knelt near a patch of silver-veined leaves. She began harvesting with care, placing each specimen in a padded container.

"These don't grow on Earth," she said, pulling a flower free with a gentle twist. "Scientists studied them after early dungeon incursions. Turns out, some of these are miracle cures, diseases, infections, even chronic degeneration. Certain strains can regenerate tissue."

Klaus crouched beside her, watching her work. "You're telling me people have grown back entire limbs?"

She nodded. "Not instantly. But with the right concentration and compound processing, yeah. Arms, legs, even eyes. Problem is, these herbs are volatile once removed. Some lose potency within hours. Others become toxic if exposed to the wrong air."

"Sounds like gold that melts in your hand."

"Exactly. That's why research divisions are obsessed with these dungeon zones. It's not about the monsters anymore, it's about what the land itself can offer."

Klaus took in the surreal beauty around them, the eerie calm, the alien terrain, the hidden danger humming just beneath it all. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.

"So," he said, scanning the tree line, "where do the monsters come in?"

Emily stood, brushing off her gloves. "Soon. The dungeon senses your presence. It adjusts accordingly." She smiled slightly, eyes gleaming. "Let's see if your skills live up to the hype."

Klaus cracked his neck and stretched his arms behind his head.

"Well, if this place adjusts based on who enters," he said, glancing around with a lazy smirk, "then I hope it's ready for a real fight."

Emily shot him a sideways look, the corner of her mouth curling up. She didn't say anything, just let the silence hang. The smirk on her face said enough.

"You don't believe me?" Klaus said, turning toward her fully now, hands slipping into his pockets.

"Oh, I believe you," she said, voice calm, eyes scanning the tree line. "I just enjoy watching people prove things the hard way."

Klaus opened his mouth to respond, but then the air shifted, just slightly. A tremor moved through the grass, subtle but unmistakable.

He stopped talking.

From between the distant trees, shadows emerged. First two, then three more. Low to the ground, hunched, muscular forms covered in pale, mottled skin. Their limbs were too long, too jointed. Their movements were fast, but wrong somehow, like something skipping frames in a film reel.

The first creature snarled, its jagged teeth slick with saliva. Klaus grinned.

"There we go," he said. "Showtime."

Emily folded her arms, standing still as stone.

"Try not to die too quickly," she said, voice flat, but her grin betrayed her amusement.

Klaus rolled his shoulders and stepped forward as the monsters began to pick up speed.