The tremor of his past life, the reincarnation of Bruce Gold, still resonated within Kieran's youthful frame. It was a dissonant chord, a life lived and lost, now overlaid onto the awkward symphony of adolescence. He chafed at the confines of his second childhood, a stage he’d thought he’d left behind, a play he was forced to re-enact.

  His parents, Mark and Tina Ely, were loving, if overly cautious. Their protectiveness, a gilded cage, had kept him confined for months, ever since his unsettling growth spurt hinted at abilities beyond the mundane. Only the chaos of the city’s invasion had pried open the cage, forcing them into the relative safety of the mountain dungeon.

  Kieran, however, felt a restless energy, a caged bird desperate for flight. His pleas to explore, to simply exist outside their sheltered existence, had fallen on deaf ears. But the burgeoning magic within him, a power he was only beginning to understand, whispered of possibilities. He had glimpsed the intricate threads of time, felt their malleable nature, and with his parents momentarily distracted by the city's panic, he seized his chance.

  A delicate manipulation, a momentary pause in the relentless flow of time, and he was gone. Not teleportation, but a slippage, a brief stasis that allowed him to slip through the cracks of reality. He moved with a newfound fluidity, a phantom through the cavernous tunnels, until he reached the imposing stone doors that marked the dungeon's exit. Freedom, a heady and intoxicating draught, filled his lungs.

  He wasn't a runaway, he reassured himself. A brief reconnaissance, a chance to explore the city that was now his home, that was all. He'd return, explain, apologize. Teenagers, after all, were prone to impulsive acts, to testing the boundaries of their world. He loved his parents, the warmth of their embrace a stark contrast to the sterile halls of his Earthly orphanage. The guilt, however, gnawed at him, a tiny, persistent worm of doubt.

  He could have escaped from their home, but the ever-watchful eyes of Mark and Tina had been a constant deterrent. Besides, he was still grappling with the sheer impossibility of his abilities. Time magic, a whispered legend, a power he now wielded. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. From orphaned nobody to time-bending prodigy, a transformation bought with the price of his previous life. A bittersweet bargain, he thought, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

  He moved through the deserted city, a silent observer in a ghost town. The citizens, his new neighbors, were engaged in a desperate struggle, fleeing to safety as their lives hanging in the balance. He, however, remained a spectator, hidden behind the gnarled branches of ancient trees, a solitary figure watching.

  A black tower, a monolith of obsidian, loomed in the distance, casting long, menacing shadows. "Where are Varona's defenders?" he whispered, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. A growing unease settled in his stomach. Was this the reason for his parents' overprotectiveness? Was this world, too, a crucible of conflict, a battleground where lives were forfeit? Still, he moved closer until he reached tower.

  Just as panic threatened to overwhelm him, a figure emerged from the shadows. A woman of breathtaking beauty, accompanied by three children. The contrast between their delicate forms and the looming army was stark. The King, the invader, his face a mask of cruel power, unleashed a torrent of dark magic, a blade of pure malevolence that sliced through the air, obliterating everything in its path.

  The children, with a shared, almost instinctive movement, erected a shimmering barrier, but it was a fragile defense against the King's overwhelming power. The attack ripped through their shield, striking the woman with devastating force. She was hurled against the black tower, her body mangled, limbs severed. The children, caught in the periphery of the attack, fell silent, their lives extinguished in an instant.

  Kieran’s breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was a spectator no longer, but a witness to brutal, senseless violence. The reality of war, the cold, merciless efficiency of death, slammed into him with the force of a physical blow. His own power, the ability to manipulate time, seemed insignificant against the raw, destructive power he had just witnessed.

  He could barely manage a ten-second pause in time, a fleeting moment of stasis. Could he even hope to evade an attack of that magnitude? The thought paralyzed him with fear. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on the woman, her broken form a beacon of pain. He felt a surge of desperate resolve, a burning desire to help, to intervene.

  He imagined himself rushing forward, scooping her up, and then freezing time, fleeing with her to safety. A foolish, reckless plan, he knew, a suicide mission disguised as heroism. But the image, the idea of saving her, held him captive.

  Before he could act, the woman spoke, her voice a faint whisper carried on the wind. "Kill them," her voice a chilling command.

  A vortex of darkness erupted, unleashing a horde of monstrous creatures, their eyes burning with malevolent intent. The King's army was engulfed, swallowed by the tide of chaos. The woman, her hand glowing with an otherworldly power, unleashed a devastating blast, a torrent of energy that ripped through the earth, obliterating everything in its path.

  Kieran watched, his mind reeling, his senses overwhelmed. The sheer scale of the destruction, the raw, unbridled power displayed before him, left him speechless. His desire to help, to be a hero, evaporated, replaced by a profound sense of awe and terror. He was a child playing with fire, a novice gazing upon the face of a god. The world he had stepped into was far more complex, far more dangerous, than he could have ever imagined.

  Then, a flicker of movement, a ripple in the fabric of reality, and another woman appeared, identical to the first, but whole, untouched by the King's attack.

  Kieran watched, amazed, long forgetting were the voices of his parents and the stern telling off he was he certain to receive.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Kieran Ely, Time Mage

  Dungeon Stories Volume 4

  Everything is back on track.

  Finally.

  My day-to-day tasks have increased marginally, but it's not too bad.

  Mornings consist of breakfast with the triplets, followed by a meeting at City Hall. The grand, echoing space feels like a tomb as I settle into my chair, the polished mahogany table reflecting the weariness etched on my face. The reports begin, a monotonous drone that scrapes against my nerves. It's a litany of bureaucratic jargon and tedious updates, each word a tiny, agonizing pinprick. This, without a doubt, is the most soul-crushing part of my day.

  Mayor Kana delivers updates on Varona. Her reports are blessedly brief, a testament to the relative tranquility I've managed to cultivate. It's a stark contrast to Raff's theatrical pronouncements about Tune. He flourishes his hands, gesturing wildly as he details the city's transformation, never missing an opportunity to subtly (or not so subtly) imply that my direct involvement would expedite the process. He's a whirlwind of energy, convinced he's single-handedly reshaping the coastal city. Honestly, he seems to have it under control, and I never expected Tune to change overnight.

  Then there's Light. For the Core's sake, Light. His complaints are a constant. Every meeting, without fail, he launches into a tirade about his "banishment" to Orad. He paints the countryside city as a desolate wasteland, a place where excitement goes to die. He bemoans the lack of "action," the "sheer boredom" of his posting.

  I deliberately sent him to Orad. It's safe, predictable. I even dispatched Simon, my gold-loving Categoriser, to oversee the dungeon. Twenty floors of goblins, hardly a threat, but enough to warrant a watchful eye. Simon's there to ensure the city guard doesn't turn simple dungeon exploration into a fatal exhibition of incompetence. We don't need them dying out of stupidity, giving the new dungeon a bad rep. Once they grasp the basics, he can return to Varona.

  But Light, of course, sees it as a personal affront. He gripes about patrolling, about ensuring food distribution, about the utter lack of "stimulating" activities. Sophie, pregnant and needing a safe environment, is there with him. I thought I was doing him a favor.

  Is ensuring the well-being of people's lives truly so dull?

  I'll relieve him soon, I suppose. I had considered Noir, initially. The thought of him "reorganizing" Orad was momentarily appealing, but the potential for collateral damage stayed my hand. I don't need a demolished city on my conscience.

  Still, the image of Light's perpetually disgruntled face is a persistent itch I just can't quite scratch. The meetings drag on, each report a tiny hammer blow to my patience, and I always find myself counting down the minutes until I can escape the bureaucratic purgatory.

  When I finally do, the triplets and I enjoy a nice stroll outside Varona. Moving through the areas already unlocked in the direction of Ishda. It would be faster to port to the opposite side of the dungeon-owned land, but then I'd be out of points before Amber could inform us of lunchtime.

  Plus, it's boring. This way I get to enjoy myself a little.

  Instead, we opt to stroll through the morning sun, taking out a monster or two on the way. Most of the time it's just me holding the creature down while the triplets shamelessly beat it to death, but at least they're leveling now. That's what it's all about.

  I said I'd find a way.

  Plus, they're wild monsters we gang up on so... Who cares about their feelings?

  Don't pop up. Don't pop up. Don't pop up.

  ...

  Thank the Core.

  For a second there, I was half expecting a notification telling me that monsters now need to ascend to the next plane of bullshit. Thankfully, there isn't one.

  At some point during my acquisitions, Amber lets us know it's time and we head to Ali's. Afterward, I drop them off at the Coliseum, which is by far their least favorite part of the day. Sometimes I stay to watch their progress, they're been doing much better recently. The levels they earn on our morning walks have helped them gain enough strength to finally beat the Ringmaster's weakest group of Stone Golems.

  Alone, I might add. Which is a bigger achievement.

  Bear, doesn't participate in the girls' fights anymore. He's over twenty levels and an evolution in front of them. He is also gigantic and can stand and fight on two feet. No longer a cub, the evolution he earned increased his size dramatically, and instead of carrying the Cave Bear, Violet now uses her pet as a mount. He has his own matches and Randy pits him against stronger Golems in his own corner of the Coliseum.

  If I'm not watching them train, I'm buried in other essential work what requires my DP's time. Raff, Kana, and Light, usually have tasks that require my attention. Other than myself, Me, and Sis, no one else can spend my points. Even then, those two are only able to spend what I give them.

  With the triplets finished, we gather for a warm, communal dinner. The day's work behind us, friends and family join in, creating a lively, comfortable atmosphere. Laughter fills the air as we share stories, gentle ribbing, and the kind of playful teasing that only comes from deep affection. Tonight, like every other, is a testament to the joy of shared moments.

  Then, it happens. Or, I think it happens. A flicker, a stutter in the rhythm of the world. Time itself seems to catch its breath, a single, infinitesimal pause before it resumes its flow. It's so subtle, so fleeting, I almost dismiss it. I open my mouth to mention it, to ask if anyone else felt the strange stillness, but Anya slides a glass of Jack into my hand. The whiskey burns a pleasant warmth down my throat, and the fleeting anomaly fades into the background, dismissed as a trick of the light, a momentary lapse in my own perception.

  That bit of strangeness did remind me that I still need to find a Time Mage though. Rare as they are, I'll probably have to unlock and search the entire continent before I encounter one. Not that I'm in a rush to find the hermits of the magic world, but sooner would be preferable to later.

  After dinner, believe it or not, is when I hone my skills. Not physically, though. My evenings are dedicated to reading, to absorbing the chaotic aftermath of Hiroshi's demise. That awful elf. He took three Dungeon Cores into himself before Varona claimed him, and now I'm left with the tangled mess of his acquisitions—monsters and features I've shamefully neglected.

  I'm finally diving in, but it's a slow, arduous process. The sheer volume of dungeon enhancements is overwhelming. I should have really done this sooner.

  Still, it'll take weeks, maybe months, to fully sift through it all. No rush. My laid-back land acquisition with the triplets and low advisor costs leave me with a surplus of points. These evenings are my playground, a time to experiment with new features. It's the chillest of my day.

  Tonight, though, I'm not tinkering with features. I'm focusing on monsters, specifically, intelligent ones. I need them for an important mission when we reach Ishda.

  I start with Lesser Vampires. Human-looking, as expected, but with animal-level intelligence. They obey orders, but independent thought? Nonexistent. An evolution later, and they're your standard Vampires, a slight improvement. But the next step, that's where things get interesting. Standard Vampires are single-minded, laser-focused on serving and advancing. All they talk about is reaching the next rank.

  Which brings me to the Nobles. Stunning is an understatement. They're also clever, calculating, and will be able to blend into Ishda's capital with ease. After all, the city's missing a few nobles, and I can easily erect some mansions upon arrival. That'll establish them as wealthy and capable. I'll also give them a cave's worth of cash, solidifying that impression into undeniable fact.

  Gold is bilingual after all.