Kiriti blinked, adjusting to the subtle changes rippling through his body. The dungeon's shadows no longer seemed quite so impenetrable. Sounds resolved with unexpected clarity—the distant drip of water now carried directional information, each droplet's impact creating ripples of sound that his brain processed with newfound precision.
It wasn't overwhelming power. More like someone had removed a layer of gauze from his senses that he hadn't realized was there.
"We need to move," he said, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. He glanced at Tarven's corpse, already calculating the optimal path forward while mentally cataloging the dead boy's equipment for potential salvage. "The blood will attract more of them."
Mira pressed her hand against her wounded shoulder, grimacing. "I can walk," she insisted, though her complexion had paled considerably. Her eyes followed Kiriti's movements with an odd intensity—not quite suspicion, but something adjacent to it. Gratitude interwoven with unspoken questions.
Interesting, Kiriti noted. She wants to trust me, but her instincts are telling her something doesn't align. She's noticed something off in my performance.
"Let me see that wound," he said, adopting the clipped, efficient tone of someone who has dealt with injuries before. Another performance, another layer to his developing character.
Mira hesitated, then lowered her hand. The goblin's dagger had torn through her thin shirt and opened a three-inch gash in her shoulder. Deep enough to be serious, but not immediately life-threatening.
"Should have hit an artery if it wanted to be efficient," Kiriti remarked clinically.
Mira's eyebrows rose. "That's... comforting?"
"Reality rarely is," he replied, tearing a strip from his own shirt to create a makeshift bandage. "Hold still."
As he worked, footsteps echoed from the tunnel they'd originally entered through. Kiriti tensed, positioning himself to use Mira as a shield if necessary. The strategic advantages of his increased Agility were already integrating into his tactical assessments.
Elyse emerged first, her long brown hair now disheveled, her eyes wide with residual terror. Behind her stumbled Rovel, his vacant expression replaced by something closer to disturbed alertness.
"You're alive," Elyse breathed, staring at Kiriti and Mira with disbelief. Her gaze fell on Tarven's body, and she quickly made a circular gesture over her heart. "The Goddess called him home."
"The goblin called him stupid," Kiriti corrected flatly. "What happened to you two? Why did you come back?"
Elyse and Rovel exchanged glances. It was Rovel who spoke, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who had been nearly catatonic earlier.
"The tunnel... changed. We reached a fork, took the left path, and hit a dead end. But when we turned back, the fork was gone. Just a straight passage leading here."
"Impossible," Mira said.
"The Goddess guided our return," Elyse insisted. "She showed me a vision of light behind us and darkness ahead. A warning to turn back."
Rovel's expression suggested he had a different interpretation. "There was something else," he said quietly. "A sigil on the wall. Glowing blue, like... like those numbers above the goblin. But when I reached out to touch it, it vanished."
Kiriti's attention sharpened. "Blue? What shape was it?"
Rovel frowned, considering. "Rectangular. With symbols inside. I couldn't read them—they disappeared too quickly."
A blue rectangle with text, Kiriti thought. Like the notification I saw. But he couldn't read it, while I could. That's significant.
"Did you kill that thing?" Elyse asked, gesturing toward the fallen goblin with a mixture of awe and revulsion.
"Kiriti did," Mira answered before he could. "He saved my life."
Kiriti shrugged, the perfect picture of reluctant heroism. "Lucky hit."
"No," Mira insisted, wincing as she adjusted her bandage. "I saw it. You were... deliberate. Calculated."
Her eyes held his for a moment too long, that unspoken question still lurking in their depths.
"Something strange happened when I killed it," Kiriti said abruptly, deciding to share his discovery. "I saw a blue rectangle—like what Rovel described. But I could read it."
The three others stared at him with varying degrees of surprise and skepticism.
"What did it say?" Rovel asked, leaning forward with sudden intensity.
"Two things," Kiriti explained. "First, the standard monster kill reward everyone gets—a quarter-point to a random attribute. That went to my Intelligence."
The others nodded; this was common knowledge.
"But then there was something else," Kiriti continued. "Something called an 'MC Moment.' It awarded me three additional stat points—one each to Strength, Agility, and Intelligence."
Silence fell over the group.
"That's... impossible," Mira said finally. "Nobody gets bonus points like that. There's only the quarter-point monster kill reward. That's how it's always been."
"The system definitely identified it as a bonus," Kiriti insisted. "It specifically triggered after I said that line about not letting anyone die, right before killing the goblin."
"What's an MC Moment?" Elyse asked, frowning.
"I have no idea," Kiriti admitted. "But my stats definitely increased. That's why I can feel such a difference—it wasn't just a quarter-point boost. I got a total of 3.25 new points all at once."
"That would explain it," Mira said thoughtfully. "A 50% increase in Agility would absolutely be noticeable. And your Intelligence went up by over 40%."
"Show me your stats," Rovel demanded suddenly.
Kiriti hesitated, then nodded. He couldn't actually display his stats for others to see—that only happened during official testing—but he could tell them the numbers.
"Before the kill, I had STR: 1, AGI: 2, VIT: 1, INT: 3, LCK: 1. Now I have STR: 2, AGI: 3, VIT: 1, INT: 4.25, LCK: 1."
Rovel's hollow cheeks flushed with excitement. "And you said this 'MC Moment' triggered when you said something heroic and then killed the monster?"
"Yes," Kiriti confirmed. "The notification specifically mentioned 'Heroic Valor' and quoted my exact words."
"This is unprecedented," Rovel whispered. "A special reward system that no one's ever documented before."
"Or," Mira suggested skeptically, "he's making it up."
"Why would I?" Kiriti countered. "And how would I fake improved physical abilities?"
"She has a point," Elyse said. "We've only your word that you saw this... message."
"Then let's test it," Kiriti proposed. "If I can trigger another one of these moments, you'll have your proof."
"How?" Rovel asked.
"Based on what happened," Kiriti reasoned, "it seems to reward dramatic, heroic actions. I said something about protecting Mira, then killed the goblin that was attacking her. The system called it 'Heroic Valor in Dire Circumstances.'"
"So you need to do something heroic again," Mira concluded, "and see if it triggers another reward."
"Yes," Kiriti agreed. "And this time, you'll all be watching for any changes in my abilities afterward."
"But what triggered it exactly?" Rovel asked, his analytical mind clearly engaged. "Was it the declaration of intent? The timing? The successful kill? The fact that Mira was in danger?"
"Could be any of those," Kiriti admitted. "Or all of them together."
"Maybe it's because you were the weakest of us," Elyse suggested. "The Goddess rewards the most unlikely victories."
"Or maybe," Mira said slowly, "it's because you acted like a hero from a story."
Kiriti's attention snapped to her. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it," she continued. "You made a dramatic declaration about saving lives. You positioned yourself as a protector. You struck down the monster at the perfect moment. It's like something from a bard's tale."
She's onto something, Kiriti realized. The MC in "MC Moment" could stand for Main Character. As if the system is rewarding protagonist behavior.
"That... actually makes sense," Rovel said, eyes widening. "What if there's a hidden reward system for acting like the hero of a story?"
"That's ridiculous," Elyse scoffed. "The world doesn't work that way."
"There's only one way to find out," Kiriti said. "We need to stage another heroic moment and see what happens."
"Stage?" Elyse repeated, frowning.
"Create the circumstances," Kiriti clarified. "Deliberately set up a situation where I can act heroically, then see if it triggers another reward."
"So we're what, props in your experiment?" Mira asked, though her tone held more curiosity than offense.
"Partners," Kiriti corrected. "If this works, it could help all of us survive. I got the reward, but who killed the goblin doesn't seem to matter—what matters is creating the right kind of moment."
"And if we help you create these... moments," Rovel said slowly, "we benefit from having a stronger ally."
"Exactly," Kiriti confirmed.
Mira considered this, then nodded. "I'm in. Better than waiting to die."
"The Goddess works in mysterious ways," Elyse murmured. "Perhaps this is her design."
"We should move deeper," Kiriti suggested, eager to test his theory. "Find another encounter, but this time, we'll be prepared."
As they gathered what usable items they could from the chamber, Mira approached Kiriti again.
"That story you told about the blue message," she said quietly. "It's true, isn't it? You weren't just making it up."
"It's true," Kiriti confirmed. "I saw it as clearly as I'm seeing you now."
She studied him for a moment. "There's something strange about you, Kiriti. You don't act like someone who's afraid to die."
"Everyone's afraid to die," he replied carefully. "I just calculate the odds before acting on that fear."
"If you say so," she said, unconvinced. "Just don't get the rest of us killed testing your theory."
They proceeded through the darkness, following a passage that sloped gradually downward. Kiriti took the lead now, his enhanced Agility and the crude dagger he'd salvaged from Tarven's body giving him a slight combat advantage over the others.
"If we encounter more goblins," he instructed as they walked, "Mira and I will engage directly. Rovel, you observe and call out any openings or dangers you notice. Elyse, stay back unless we need help."
"What kind of heroic moment are you planning?" Rovel asked.
"Something different from last time," Kiriti replied. "The first reward came from protecting someone. Let's try something else—maybe leadership or sacrifice."
"Just don't sacrifice me," Mira muttered.
The passage widened into another chamber, this one more irregular than the last. Phosphorescent fungi clustered more densely here, casting enough light to reveal a disturbing detail: the chamber's floor was littered with small bones, mostly animal but interspersed with what were unmistakably human finger bones and teeth.
"I don't like this," Elyse whispered, clutching her pendant.
A guttural snarl confirmed her instinct. From a crevice in the far wall emerged a goblin, similar to the first but with subtle differences. It was larger, with mottled red patches on its green skin and moved with an unsettling sideways gait, like a crab. Numbers materialized above it:
Red-Patched Goblin (F-Rank): STR: 10 AGI: 15 VIT: 11 INT: 7 LCK: 4 TOTAL: 47
"Remember the plan," Kiriti said calmly. "Mira, flank left. I'll engage directly. Rovel, call out any openings. Elyse, be ready to distract it if needed."
Time to test the theory, he thought. Leadership and coordinated action instead of individual heroism.
"Mira, duck!" he called out suddenly as the goblin lunged.
She reacted instantly, dropping low. The goblin's attack missed, its momentum carrying it forward. Kiriti sidestepped, positioning himself to attack.
"Now!" he commanded. "Strike from below!"
Mira drove her makeshift bone club upward into the goblin's midsection. The creature grunted in pain but remained standing, its VIT of 11 allowing it to absorb the blow. It snarled, swinging its clawed hand toward Mira's face.
"Roll right!" Kiriti called out.
Mira barely avoided the attack, the goblin's claws grazing her arm as she rolled away.
"Rovel, what's its weakness?" Kiriti called, maintaining his leadership role.
"It favors its left leg!" Rovel shouted from his observation position. "And its neck armor is damaged!"
"Elyse, throw something to distract it!" Kiriti ordered.
To his surprise, Elyse immediately lobbed a small bone at the goblin. It didn't cause damage, but the creature turned toward her momentarily, giving Mira time to recover.
"Mira, target the leg!" Kiriti called, deliberately creating a scenario where they would win through coordinated teamwork.
Mira swung her club low, connecting with the goblin's left knee. There was a sickening crack as the joint buckled. The goblin howled but remained upright, slashing wildly around it.
"Together!" Kiriti called. "I'll go high, you go low!"
They attacked simultaneously—Mira sweeping at the creature's damaged leg again while Kiriti drove his dagger toward its neck. The goblin blocked Mira's attack with its arm but couldn't defend against both. Kiriti's dagger found the gap in its neck protection, sinking deep.
The goblin staggered but still didn't fall, its vitality surprisingly strong even for an F-Rank monster.
"One more hit!" Kiriti called. "Together on three! One, two, THREE!"
For the final assault, Mira swung her club at the goblin's head while Kiriti twisted the dagger deeper into its neck. The combined attack was too much—the creature's eyes dimmed, and it collapsed to the ground, finally dead.
As the goblin died, the blue screen appeared again, visible only to Kiriti:
Monster Kill Reward: +0.25 to Random Attribute STR +0.25 MC Moment Triggered: Tactical Leadership in Combat Triggered Action: [Coordinated team attack sequence] + [Successful direction of allies] +5 Stat Points Awarded (Strategic Distribution) VIT +1 | INT +2 | LCK +2 Updated Statistics: STR: 2.25 AGI: 3 VIT: 2 INT: 6.25 LCK: 3 TOTAL: 16.5
"It worked," Kiriti announced, feeling multiple improvements flowing through him simultaneously. His breathing felt more efficient, but more striking was the sudden clarity in his thoughts—connections forming faster, probabilities calculating with newfound precision. Even his spatial awareness seemed enhanced, an intuitive sense of opportunity where before he'd relied purely on analytical observation.
"Another MC Moment?" Rovel asked eagerly.
"Yes, and a substantial one," Kiriti explained, genuinely surprised by the magnitude of the reward. "I got the standard quarter-point to Strength, plus five additional points distributed across Vitality, Intelligence, and Luck."
"Five points?" Mira's eyes widened. "From one encounter?"
"The system identified it as 'Tactical Leadership in Combat' and specifically mentioned the coordinated attack and directing allies," Kiriti continued. "It seems the system values strategic teamwork even more than individual heroism."
"You do feel different?" Mira asked, studying him carefully.
Kiriti nodded, a hint of genuine surprise in his expression. "The changes are significant this time. My breathing feels more efficient, but more striking is the clarity in my thoughts. I can... see patterns more easily. And there's something else—an intuitive sense of timing and opportunity I didn't have before."
"So leadership triggered it this time," Rovel noted, eyes bright with excitement. "Not protection or individual heroism."
"And an even bigger reward than before," Kiriti added. "Five bonus points instead of three. The system seems to value tactical coordination even more than individual heroics."
"Five points from one encounter?" Elyse breathed. "That's... unheard of."
"Maybe different types of heroic moments have different values," Rovel suggested. "With teamwork rating higher than solo action."
"Or it rewards increasing complexity," Mira added. "Simple heroism first, then strategic leadership, each requiring more skill and coordination than the last."
As they discussed the implications, another notification appeared briefly to Kiriti:
Audience Engagement: Rising Character Development: Group Dynamic Forming
Audience Engagement again, Kiriti noted. And now it's tracking group dynamics, not just individual bonds.
"I think you're right about the complexity angle," he said to Mira. "The reward specifically mentioned the 'sequence' of actions, like it was evaluating the narrative flow of the entire encounter, not just individual moments."
"This changes everything," Rovel said quietly. "If we can deliberately trigger these rewards through specific actions—"
"Then we might actually survive this dungeon," Mira finished.
"But only if we work together," Kiriti pointed out. "The system clearly rewards coordination and teamwork far more than individual effort."
"The Goddess values community," Elyse murmured, though she sounded less certain than before.
Kiriti paused, realizing something he hadn't considered. "Wait—did any of you get stat increases from that fight?"
The three looked at each other, then back at him.
"I got nothing," Rovel said, frowning. "But I didn't land any attacks."
"I hit it with the club," Mira said. "But I didn't get the killing blow, so no quarter-point for me."
"I just threw a bone," Elyse added with a shrug.
Kiriti felt a shift in the atmosphere—subtle but undeniable. "So I'm the only one getting stronger from these encounters."
"You got the kill," Mira said flatly. "That's how it works."
"But it's not just the quarter-point," Kiriti said carefully. "It's the bonus points from these MC Moments. Five extra points from one fight. I'm already F-Rank now with 16.5 total points, while you all remain stuck at G-Rank."
A tense silence fell over the group. Rovel studied the floor. Elyse fidgeted with her pendant. Only Mira met his gaze directly, her expression unreadable.
"What are you suggesting?" she asked finally. "That we shouldn't help you trigger these moments?"
"No," Kiriti said quickly. "I'm just... concerned about the imbalance."
"Concerned it might affect group dynamics, you mean," Rovel said quietly. His analytical mind had clearly been working through the implications. "If you keep getting stronger while we remain weak, our roles become fixed. You as the protagonist, us as... supporting characters."
The word choice wasn't lost on Kiriti. Rovel had picked up on the narrative framework faster than expected.
Perfect, Kiriti thought, though he kept his expression neutral. I advance while they remain static. The natural order of protagonist and side characters.
"In my village," Elyse said unexpectedly, "there was a tradition. When hunters made a kill, they shared the meat equally, regardless of who struck the final blow. Everyone who participated in the hunt received their portion."
"This isn't a village tradition," Mira said, an edge creeping into her voice. "This is a stat system. Fixed and unchangeable."
Her tone carried a bitter undercurrent that Kiriti recognized immediately: the sharp sting of jealousy mixed with the dull ache of resignation. He'd written this exact emotional cocktail for side characters dozens of times.
"Is it, though?" Kiriti countered, adopting a thoughtful expression. "We've already discovered one hidden aspect. Maybe there are others."
There almost certainly aren't, he thought. The system is clearly designed to funnel power to a single individual. But they need to believe otherwise to maintain cooperation.
"Like what?" Mira challenged. "A way to share stat points?"
"I don't know," Kiriti admitted. "But maybe there are other types of moments that could benefit each of you specifically."
The lie flowed smoothly, practiced deception from years of crafting manipulative dialogue. Give them hope, keep them invested, maintain their usefulness.
Rovel's hollow cheeks flushed slightly. "You mean... we each need to find our own MC Moments?"
"Possibly," Kiriti said, noting with satisfaction how easily they clung to this thin possibility. "Or maybe there are ways to trigger group bonuses. We've only just started exploring this."
Keep them focused on collaboration, he calculated. Their survival instincts will override their jealousy, at least temporarily.
He could see the conflict in their expressions—resentment warring with pragmatism. They didn't like that he was getting stronger while they remained weak, but they also recognized that having a stronger ally improved their chances of survival. The perfect leverage.
A low rumble emanated from deeper in the dungeon, causing dust to drift down from the ceiling. It wasn't the sound of falling stone or shifting earth—it was rhythmic, almost like breathing. Something massive was moving in the depths below them.
"What was that?" Elyse whispered, clutching her symbolic pendant.
"Nothing good," Kiriti replied. "We should keep moving. Find a defensible position."
As they gathered their meager supplies, Kiriti noticed Mira watching him with that same unreadable expression. When the others moved ahead, she approached him.
"This MC Moment thing," she said quietly. "You really think it's about acting like we're in a story?"
"That's my working theory," Kiriti confirmed. "The evidence points that way."
"And you just happened to discover a hidden system that no one else has ever found?" Her tone was skeptical, edged with something harder than before.
"Maybe others have," Kiriti suggested. "But who would believe them? And how many G-Ranks survive long enough to tell anyone?"
She considered this, then nodded slowly. "Fair point. Just... be careful with this. If you start thinking you're the hero of some grand tale, you might take risks that get us all killed. Or worse, start seeing us as expendable."
I already do, Kiriti thought coldly, but his face remained earnest.
"I'm not interested in being a hero," he assured her with perfect honesty. "I'm interested in surviving. If playing a role helps with that, I'll play it."
"And what about our roles?" she asked. "Are we just here to make you look good? To help you level up while we stay weak?"
The directness of the question surprised him. "That's not—"
"Because that's how it looks right now," she continued, her voice low but intense. "You get stronger with every encounter. We risk our lives to help you, and get nothing in return except the hope that you might protect us later."
Kiriti saw the calculation behind her words. She wasn't just expressing resentment; she was negotiating. Reminding him of their value to ensure he kept protecting them. Clever.
"I need you," Kiriti said, choosing his words carefully. "This system seems to reward team efforts, even if the points only go to me. I can't trigger these moments alone."
A half-truth, he thought. I do need them as props in my performance. For now.
"Good," she said, handing him a more substantial dagger she'd found among the bones. "Because in real stories, the hero's friends often die to advance the plot. And I don't plan on dying for your character development."
Kiriti accepted the dagger, weighing it in his hand. "Thank you," he replied, the words feeling inadequate.
As she turned to join the others, he noticed Rovel watching their exchange with that analytical gaze of his. The boy's expression was a fascinating study in conflicting emotions—envy at Kiriti's advancement, fear of abandonment, desperate calculation of how to remain useful enough to keep around.
And beyond him, even Elyse seemed less certain in her devotion, her eyes darting between Kiriti and Mira with growing concern. Her faith was being tested by the hard reality of a system that clearly favored a single individual.
For the briefest moment, Kiriti felt something unexpected—a flicker of discomfort that had nothing to do with physical pain. Not quite guilt for his manipulation of these people, but something adjacent to it. Recognition, perhaps, that the performance was becoming more complex than anticipated. These weren't just characters to be directed; they were people with their own desires and resentments.
If they perceived him as benefiting at their expense without any reciprocal advantage, the fragile alliance would fracture. And alone, even with his improved stats, he stood no chance against what lurked in the depths.
It's just another variable to manage, he told himself as they moved deeper into the labyrinth. Another narrative thread to control.
But as the rumbling sound grew louder beneath them, Kiriti couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't the only one writing this story. Something was watching. Something aware. And it had expectations of its protagonist that he was only beginning to understand.
And now, a new complication: protagonists needed loyal companions. But loyalty required reciprocity. If he continued to grow stronger while they remained weak, their resentment would only deepen. Yet the system seemed designed to funnel rewards specifically to him.
A perfect narrative trap. Just the sort he would have designed himself.