It's a heartache
Nothing but a heartache
Hits you when it's too late
Hits you when you're down
It's a fool's game
Nothing but a fool's game
Standing in the cold rain...
— "I'm not gonna lie... this song is really good," said Malaca, crossing her arms as she watched me slumped on the porch. "Even if I have to listen to it while you're sitting there looking like a worn-out rag. Still, I don't think it's a waste of your power to play it."
She wasn't entirely wrong. I really was a wreck, sprawled out on that wooden chair that looked like it came straight out of a low-budget Clint Eastwood western. But not everything was sadness. Helena had finally arrived at the place where she'd spend the next few years training. She now had access to the money I'd left for her, which should've made me feel more at ease... but even so, an emptiness refused to go away.
— "Since you're just sitting there doing nothing... how about helping an old lady in the kitchen?" Malaca teased, with a mischievous grin.
— "Malaca, as far as I know, I'm paying for everything properly. What you're looking for is a slave."
— "HAHAHAHA! You got me, kid! But hey... I'm just trying to cheer you up. Sitting there moping won't get you anywhere."
As much as I was irritated by how Malaca always showed up at the worst times, I couldn't deny she was right. I needed to do something. Hanging my head never helped me... well, I couldn't just give up again.
— "Hey, since you seem to be wasting time there, how about doing some reading? I have a few books that might help you find some purpose... or at least distract you. Sitting like that is scaring off the customers."
That was a blatant joke. Malaca's "customers" were currently crawling through dungeons, fighting monsters or hunting forgotten treasures. But thinking about that suddenly gave me an idea.
— "Malaca... I don't think I've ever asked you about the dungeon. I mean, I know you all face creatures in there, but from an economic point of view... why does it exist? Why do we have to do this?"
Since I arrived in this world, the dungeon had always seemed like a distant topic for most people. Even among adventurers, it was treated like just another job — paid for by the kingdom, not much thought beyond that. But I felt there was more to it... something deeper. And now, finally, I had the chance to ask.
— "Look, there's not much mystery to it, really. Most people never cared, and for adventurers... the ends justify the means. I've always thought we live on autopilot, without questioning. But maybe that's just the rambling of a grumpy old woman. Either way, I'd love to explain it to you. Only thing is, if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that time is money. But don't worry, I won't leave you hanging. Wait here a sec. And please, stop singing that cheesy song!"
I didn't take the criticism personally. My wife would probably think that song was tacky too. But my daughter... oh, she loved it.
Malaca came back about ten minutes later, carrying three massive books about the kingdom.
— "Here. This should save time. They were written by people way smarter than me, and they'll definitely give you answers — and maybe even some you didn't know you needed. Listen, kid... she's fine. But you need to be fine too. You don't want to be left behind, right? So start with what matters most: your head. And no, I'm not telling you to go around headbutting people. I'm talking about intelligence, got it?"
— "HAHAHA... I bet you think I'm an idiot. But don't worry. I'm fine. Thanks for the help."
— "Don't mention it. Oh, and try to get better soon. That rich kid is gonna be here with his family till the end of the month. I've got a bad feeling about him... anyway, I'm off."
Malaca had managed to get me some extra time with my employers. We were lucky, considering the boy's father had to leave for almost a month due to some deal with another kingdom. That gave me space to think, breathe... try to understand myself. But something was still missing. A song. One that was truly interesting.
I had already spent three days buried in theories, trying to understand how my power worked. The first time, it doubled my stats. The last time, it summoned an absurdly powerful angel. There was no technical logic, no scientific explanation. But in this world, I had already given up on looking for normal answers — because here, "normal" simply didn't exist.
What worried me was precisely the "abnormal." Even in this fantastical world, some rules were immutable. No one was too powerful without having weaknesses. There was a balance — uneven, yes, but still present. And my power? It seemed to completely ignore that balance. It didn't follow logic, didn't obey patterns. Everything could be defined by the words that came out of my mouth, by the melody, the tone, or something else entirely...
Finding meaning in all of it was Herculean work. But if I wanted to move forward — and become someone worthy of walking alongside Helena — I needed to understand it. I needed to master it.
— "I guess I'd better head to my room... If I want to understand this world, I'll need to dive into these books and start with the basics."
The three volumes Malaca had given me were dense, nearly intimidating paper fortresses. A true manual for understanding the economy, politics, and culture of a kingdom with a name as unconventional as its history: Tevandria.
Tevandria was a vast kingdom, but not exactly a powerful one. If I had to compare it to something from my world, I'd say it was like an agricultural planet, more focused on cultivation than technology.
"So we're the grain silo for the other kingdoms..." I thought, with a touch of irony.
Tevandria maintained a series of diplomatic agreements with other kingdoms, ensuring protection against more distant invaders. The map revealed that this world was structured around a single massive continent — something like a new Pangaea. At first glance, an agricultural kingdom seemed like the last place where anything interesting could happen. But even here, technology showed its face, especially in the three capital cities.
Yes, three. Because, apparently, this kingdom had achieved the near-mythical feat of having three twin princes who ruled separate regions without killing each other in the process.
"At least they're more evolved than my world in some ways."
I was under the rule of Pomodoro, the most eccentric of the brothers, ruler of the only region entirely surrounded by water — a true archipelago, specializing in fishing and navigation. His brothers, Tartufo and Marziano, managed the regions dedicated to agriculture and livestock, respectively.
Having an economy focused on the primary sector was a clear sign that military investment was, at best, secondary. But who in their right mind would attack the place where food comes from? That was good news. Living in a kingdom ignored by war was comforting. On the other hand, it also meant living far from centers of knowledge, research, or anything that didn't involve food and hard labor.
"I need to stop focusing on the surface and find something truly important..."
It took several good hours of reading until, in the second book — dedicated to the kingdom's fauna and flora — I finally found what I was looking for.
"So that's why we need to clean the dungeons..."
The truth is that Dungeons were, even now, a great mystery. There was a theory, upheld by the boldest historians, that if a dungeon were destroyed completely, all of its secrets would be revealed. But of course, talking was easy... doing it, not so much.
These structures seemed endless.
"Floor 122... whew... that's far."
The deepest record was achieved by an elite team sent by the central kingdom of Teymar. They had chosen to explore a dungeon considered to be very low-level, thinking it would be easy. They brought supplies, equipment, support magic... but even so, they discovered something terrifying: the dungeon had no visible end. After nearly three years of exploration, they returned exhausted but alive — and carrying an uncomfortable truth.
From then on, the kingdoms understood: dungeons couldn't be defeated. Only contained.
If they weren't "cleaned" regularly, they began to expel creatures — monsters that had once been trapped in their depths and now threatened nearby cities. It was a constant cycle, an endless task.
But not all was despair. The adventurers also returned with a fascinating discovery: every ten floors conquered, a powerful entity appeared to grant a wish.
They weren't just any wishes, of course. The simpler ones came from the earlier floors — gold, weapons, rare items. But as the depth increased, the wishes became more dangerous… and more valuable.
The kingdoms, realizing the potential, began to view the dungeons not as curses, but as sources of power. That's how the guilds were born, along with magic colleges and combat schools. More than protecting the people, the goal was to find individuals strong enough to reach the deepest levels and, who knows, alter the fate of an entire nation with a single wish.
"So, in the end, they don't care about the monsters you kill — only what you get when you reach this 'genie'..."
It all made sense now. The kingdom's payment to adventurers wasn't an act of kindness — it was an investment. A way to attract power, influence, and prestige.
Of course, there were side benefits: mana and life crystals, which could be used in magic or to prolong life, were extremely valuable. But even that became secondary in the face of a far greater promise.
Tevandria, being more peaceful and agricultural, didn't have many elite guilds. But that also meant less competition. And with accessible, underexplored dungeons… maybe it was the perfect place to start.
Even so, this information was buried among hundreds of pages about crops, grain types, and livestock plowing techniques — a textual labyrinth, as confusing as the dungeons it described.
— "So? Did you finish reading the books?"
At dinner, the bar — as usual — was packed with the same familiar faces. In a small town with few active adventurers, everyone knew each other — and knew newcomers like me even better.
— "I haven't finished the second book yet, but… I'm finding it really interesting. I just had a question about Teymar..."
As soon as I said the name, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations died down slowly, as if someone had turned down the volume of the world. All eyes turned to me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Even Malaca, who was cleaning a glass, turned her face away in disgust and spat a thick wad of phlegm on the floor that echoed like thunder in the sudden silence.
— "BAHHHH!" she growled. "Don't say that name around here, please. You never need to know those sons of bitches."
— "Hm… sorry. I didn't know there was some kind of rivalry between you."
— "Rivalry?" She laughed loudly, drawing attention even from the most absorbed drunks. "Those arrogant bastards think they're the tip of a dragon's dick! Always the first to try and screw everyone over. But thank the good gods, I haven't seen one of their sorry faces in years."
— "Well… from what I read in the book you gave me, Teymar was the first kingdom to discover the endless nature of the dungeons. They were called heroes everywhere..."
Malaca gave me a look that was half pity, half fury. Then she sighed heavily, as if she'd just swallowed a shot of poison.
— "Kid… history is written by those who win — or those who write it. Those bastards are good at two things: dressing up words and stealing credit. The truth? They wouldn't know the difference between a dungeon and a cave even if a goblin came out holding a sign explaining it!"
— "So… what I learned was wrong?"
— "Not wrong, but… twisted. They weren't the ones who went into the dungeon. It was twelve heroes from twelve different kingdoms. But guess who ended up with the glory, the books, and the pens? And who got stuck with the burden, the trauma… and the bill?"
I swallowed hard.
— "So they don't produce the strongest adventurers?"
Malaca, already a little drunk, threw her head back and let out a laugh so scandalous it could have cracked the ceiling.
— "BAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" She turned to the crowd, slapping the bar. — "Everyone, listen to this! LISTEN TO THIS! Repeat it, kid… go on, repeat it!"
I hesitated, but it was too late. My curiosity had put me center stage.
— "Uh… Teymar… doesn't produce the strongest heroes?"
It was as if I'd performed a profane ritual. Everyone present, in perfect synchrony, turned their faces to the side and spat on the ground — each trying to outdo the others in volume, thickness, and disgust. The sound was grotesque… and oddly well-coordinated.
I stared at the scene, wide-eyed, trying to figure out if this was a curse, a local tradition, or just years of accumulated hatred in liquid form.
— "Well… I guess that's a 'no'."