[System] Welcome, Bob. 0/7 Bosses defeated.

  Bob woke up gasping on the cold, coarse floor, breath loud in the vast emptiness of a circular antechamber. He sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders. No aches, no stiffness. Just a phantom of exhaustion, lingering somewhere deeper than his bones. Yet the air pressed against him, not with cold or heat, but expectation, as if the space itself had been waiting in anticipation of his arrival. A colossal door, crude, darkened and solid, loomed ahead. Its surface almost refused to reflect anything but inevitability, yet its presence yielded one singular truth: he was supposed to go through it. In time.

  Yeah. There is definitely a fight worth having on the other side of that thing..

  Silence broke with a wet sloshing noise. A small, gelatinous form, blueish of color, with twitching ears and one stubby tendril bounced into his peripheral vision. Above it a floating textbox flickered to life.

  [Echuu] Oh good! You’re awake. And broke by the looks of it. I’d say.. Both in equal measure!

  Bob narrowed his eyes. Okay, that little one got the jump on me, yet it is not outright hostile. “Should I be concerned that you’re happy about my.. state?” he asked, scratching at the back of his ear and neck.

  [Echuu] Concerned? No. Conflicted? Most possibly!

  It’s got spunk, alright. Bob groaned and pushed himself to a stand. The room stretched around him, its edges shrouded in gloom from sparse sources of light. Ten stalls lined the outer perimeter of a central square. They were but small skeletal husks of rotting wood and rusted iron. Chain hung wooden signs stated a fact about nine of them: ‘Feature locked’. At the room’s center, a massive box on a low pillar. Gothic. Heavy. Wrapped in thick chains. It looked like an offertory you’d find in old cathedrals. You know, if those places also casually demanded blood sacrifices during Sunday mass.

  “What’s that..” Bob said pointing and Echuu wobbled in excitement at printing again.

  [Echuu] That’s good ol' Development Fund! Invest coin, unlock a variety of stalls, build a brighter, slightly less miserable, future.

  Bob eyed the chains. “And the heavy-duty security?”

  [Echuu] You have no idea. I never saw a withdrawal. Only investments. All donations are final.

  “Ruthless.” Bob let out a low whistle and Echuu pulsed in agreement. Then his gaze flicked back to the one open stall.

  It wasn’t particularly inviting, just a trashy looking counter and a single candle guttering beside a stack of parchment amidst rot and tear. But the figure, posing as a tradesman, was another matter. It did not seem to breathe, no subtle shifts. It simply stood there, draped in flowing black robes. Its face was covered by a smooth porcelain mask devoid of features except for one: Ink-like patterns bled and writhed, vaguely pulsing in slow measured contemplation. Bob felt his stomach knot. He hadn’t spoken to the thing. Yet every instinct screamed a truth taught to him by vintage, Japanese horror flicks: That thing holds grudges.

  He suppressed a shudder and nodded in its direction. “That guy over there, is he a friendly?”

  [Echuu] Oh, don’t worry! Debt Keeper is extremely fair. No tricks, no surprises, just soul-crushing consequences.

  Bob gulped and a long pause stretched between them. He had so many questions. Too many, yet unease held most of them back. Right, first things first, what are we working with here? He clenched his fists, then said and thought hard: 'open status'. To his surprise, it worked. Staring at the words and numbers forming before him felt.. underwhelming.

  [Status Window]

  Name: Bob

  Class Path: None (True Soul)

  Level: 0

  Primary Stats:

  HP: 10/10, MP: 5/5, SP: 20/20

  PHY POW: 1 (Base 1)

  ARC POW: 0 (Base 0)

  PHY DEF: 1 (base 0)

  ARC DEF: 0 (base 0)

  Secondary Stats:

  HP Regen: 1 (p/m)

  MP Regen: 1 (p/m)

  ST Regen: 1 (p/m)

  Attack Speed: 0

  Cast Speed: 0

  Movement Speed: Walk 1.5, Jog 2.5, Run 4, Sprint 8 (m/s)

  Jump Power: Vert 0.5, Hor 2 (m)

  His eyes narrowed. "That's.. worse than I thought. Level 0 even?" A soft ding accompanied by a bouncing blur of blue went off beside him.

  [Echuu] Oh, look! You’ve got room for improvement. Who could have guessed?

  Bob rubbed his temple. "Yeah, thanks for that. I was hoping for something else here. Just a tiny hint at ‘will-unlock-insane-abilities-later.’ This seems.. fun.. " The slime beside him wiggled smugly.

  [Echuu] Way to look on the bright side. Plus, your movement speed isn't zero! That means you can loop to your tomb-stone slightly faster!

  Bob grunted and flipped to the next tab. Class, greyed out. Skills, greyed out. Inventory, greyed out. Three dots at the bottom, whatever that meant, also greyed out. The only thing currently accessible besides status was..

  [Equipment Window]

  Equipped Gear:

  Polka-dotted Boxers (+1 PHY DEF)

  Bob starred. Then, as if a slight but freezing draft had pushed past him brushing against everything but his privates, he realized something. Eyes darted down himself, back at the window, and down again. The fuck?! They stripped me!

  [Echuu] Ah, self-awareness has arrived! Took you long enough!

  Bob inhaled sharply, steadying himself, then closed the window with a quick afterthought, as if already used to navigating the interface. Then he crossed his arms over his chest in a last-ditch effort to reclaim some dignity. “I.. Okay.. I don’t need gear. I don’t need skills. I’ve done naked runs before. But.. Echuu, why don’t I have a class and level?” The slime vibrated slightly, tendril wiggling.

  [Echuu] Because you chose ‘True Soul.’ Which, surprise-surprise, means you don’t get a predetermined class path. You get to figure it out yourself. Through honest to god suffering! And all that small fine print strategically placed where the sun doesn't shine.

  Bob frowned deeper. "That’s it? No hidden perks? No bonuses?"

  [Echuu] Oh, you definitely have hidden perks. They’re just so soaked in secret lore, even the system won’t tell you about them.

  Bob exhaled, scanning the menu again. "And what’s with the ‘…’ at the bottom?"

  [Echuu] Got to have a teaser for future features you’ll unlock. Keeps the world engaged, wondering.. An ‘If the pain doesn’t kill him’-kinda deal, right?"

  Bob groaned, dismissing the interface. He had a grand total of nothing. No stats worth mentioning, no weapons, no armor. He ran a hand through his dark, ruffled hair. “Okay. We work with what we have.”

  [Echuu] Which is nothing!

  Bob shot him a look and Echuu wobbled innocently against his leg, its single tendril stretching up, as if pointing.

  [Echuu] Okay, okay. Slight exaggeration. You have boxers! Now, are we done with your existential crisis? Because the first boss fight isn’t going to get easier while you sulk.

  Bob exhaled sharply, straightening. Right. No point whining about it. He'd beaten worse odds before. Granted, those odds usually had a ‘save’ option attached. “Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s start with the only thing that’s open for buisines.” He stepped toward Debt Keeper, but the slime wobbled into his path with an urgent jiggle.

  [Echuu] Oh no, no, no, hold your wild long, legged horses put, Bob! We’ve got some groundwork to cover first. Basic tutorials, foundational knowledge, the kind of stuff that makes you slightly less likely to go SPLAT! immediately.

  Bob crossed his arms, leveling a look at the creature. “Alright, hit me.”

  [Echuu] Right, I’m [Guide Slime: Echuu], nice to me-chuu. Consider me your very own survival consultant! I offer emotional support, tactical advice, and best of all.. FUN!

  “Fun?” Bob echoed, skeptical, and another text box popped up as Echuu bounced, clearly pleased.

  [Echuu] See? Learning already.

  Bob sighed and glanced back at the stall, considering his options, or lack thereof. “Fine. Explain the basics.” he said prompting new text to flicker forth:

  [Echuu] Welcome to the antechamber! This is your hub between fights. You see that big, ominous door? That’s Boss Door. He is where you go to get violently humbled by whatever nightmare the system decides to throw at you. Every time you win, you get delicious rewards. Every time you lose, you experience deep, existential regret. The real question lies in what you do between stepping through.

  Then the system chimed in.

  [System] The Antechamber houses essential service stalls that unlock as you invest coins into the Development Fund. Currently available stalls: 1/10

  Bob eyed the single open stall again. “And that place over there? I'm thinking there's a reason why it is the first and only thing to be unlocked at spawn.”

  [Echuu] Good catch! Consider it your introduction to the economy of suffering. Also known as a bank, but with delightful twists! Available services include all the standards: deposits, withdraws, cursed loans. A convenient, not-risk-free way to get the resources you need.

  “Not.. risk-free? Clever. I might have missed that back in the day.” Bob said, squinting at the slime. Echuu’s next textbox was suspiciously slow to appear.

  [Echuu] Well. The interest rates are conceptual rather than financial. If you fail to repay, it’s less about money and more about being permanently disadvantaged.

  Bob closed his eyes for a long moment. “So, let me get this straight. I start with nothing. I fight bosses to get something. Seven of them in total. But if I want to prepare for the first fight, I have to take out a loan, cursed with consequence if I fail?”

  [Echuu] Congratulations! You understand predatory lending. I’d hand you an achievement, but the system handles that. Besides, you chose to start with nothing, remember. All about try-hard'ing and true-soul'ing.

  Bob couldn’t exactly deny that last part. Instead his eyes went to the lone figure waiting in the open stall. It stood perfectly still, and Echuu’s text popped up again.

  [Echuu] Don’t look so dramatic! Failure is just a stepping stone here. A very sharp, very painful stepping stone. Fun fact! Debt Keeper doesn’t sleep, doesn’t blink, and never forgets a single transaction. Which means, if you take out a bad loan, it will just haunt you.. forever!

  Bob ran a hand down his face. “I need a minute.” He had a decision to make. No gear, skills or currency. And no basement of rats to farm for essentials. Didn’t have to see the first boss to know his odds were abysmal. But taking out a loan now, risking a curse.. that meant stacking the deck against himself in the long run. Was the tradeoff worth it? Echuu wobbled in place, watching him with unblinking enthusiasm, then, another textbox.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  [Echuu] Do take all the time you need pondering your demise! Boss Door WILL eventually claim you. Now, Bob. Before you have an existential crisis, let me give you some good news.

  “Claim me.. “ Bob straightened. “Wait, there’s actually good news. Man, show me that pop-up!”

  [Echuu] Hell yeah! The initial boss fight has a first try survival rate of.. 0%. Okay, bad example. But look at it this way! You can’t do worse than most! Good news indeed, at least for your self-esteem.

  Bob dragged a hand down his face. “Jesus.” Then, clenching his jaw. “Alright. No way around it. Let’s see what the Debt Keeper has to offer.”

  The Bank stall was simple, even up close there was no lavish gold filigree to spot, no false warmth of oiled wood. Just a single aging counter, and the presence standing behind it. Bob felt the weight of being measured by a gaze unseen. He was sure that something beneath the surface of the mask kept a tight tally on debts long paid, and those yet to be collected.

  “Uhm.” Bob cleared his throat, fighting the inexplicable sense that speaking loudly was somehow an affront to the stillness. “I’d like a loan, please?”

  “All debts must be paid.” The Debt Keeper did not move, but when it spoke, the words bled across reality like ink seeping into paper: soft, steady, absolute. A parchment materialized in front of him, its edges crisp, scribbles of madness scrawling itself into existence upon it. In front of Bob, a window popped up in English.

  [Loan Quest Terms]

  Easy: 50 coins. (Minimal risk, minimal reward.)

  Normal: 100 coins. (Manageable repayment, modest return.)

  Hard: 150 coins. (Risk escalates. So do the rewards.)

  Epic: 250 coins. (Not for the faint of heart.)

  Legendary: 500 coins. (Does fortune favor the bold?)

  Objective: Retrieve a marrowbloom from the arena.

  Bob exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw as his eyes lingered on the highest tier. The objective remained the same across all levels. Get the item, return with it. How hard could that be? He glanced back at Debt Keeper, searching for some hint of fine print, some buried stipulation that would turn this into a faustian bargain. The mask remained motionless. Waiting.

  “Just retrieve the item?” he asked, skepticism laced into the words.

  The Debt Keeper did not answer. Of course not. That would be too convenient. Bob stared at the contract again. His instincts whispered caution, but another part of him, the one that had spent too many hours grinding bosses with razor-thin margins, the one that loved high-risk, high-reward mechanics, nudged him forward, and before rationality could intervene:

  ‘Sign’

  The ink flared turning into black tendrils that slithered and writhed, dragging the parchment into the counter beneath it. Left behind were five fist-size golden coins with the number one-hundred on them. The contract was sealed, and Bob grabbed his cold, hard cash. Debt Keeper did not react, but for a fraction of a second, the ink on its mask seemed to coalesce into something almost deliberate: the hint of an expression, not unlike that of amusement. Bob shrugged it off and left the stall, examining his coin. He had done foolish shit before, with naught but the promise of just an antidote or lesser potion waiting on the other side.

  Echuu, the ever-opinionated guide slime, bounced into view, and before it could float its next box, Bob sighed. “It was a calculated risk. Don’t sweat it. Let's check out that fund-thingy” He went over and placed a hand on the chained chest. ‘Open interface’. Again, it worked. At least this part of the game-design seemed intuitive.

  [Development Fund]

  Bank. Tier 0. Invest (500c)

  Gear Merchant. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Skill Trainer. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Crafter. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Alchemist. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Enchanter. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Healer Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Gambler. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Summoner. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Wayfarer. Locked. Unlock (250c)

  Damn. I have coin to unlock just one stall if I want change for shopping. Guess gear is the top tier choice here. My stamina is way higher than my MP. This place is giving me major souls-vibes, which means basic weapon-attacks and dodging should run on SP. ‘Unlock Gear Merchant’

  Putting three coins into the dark slit in the box, there was no sound of them hitting the bottom. Instead, a loud stomach-y growl emanated from.. somewhere.. followed by a deep, booming, beastly voice: “Nom, nom, nom!”. Another stall flickered to life, slightly, it's 'gated'-sign snapped and dropped to the ground. From the shadows a hulking figure stepped to its counter. His chest was armored in patched steel carrying the weight of battles long past. Scars criss-crossed his exposed, bulging arms, his lower jaw reinforced with crude metal plating, riveted into his skull. The man’s single remaining eye raked over Bob with something between evaluation and mild disappointment.

  Bob didn’t see him at first. He was busy finding out where spare change would pop out the ominous, clearly hungry, dev-fund. It didn’t. Then he looked at Echuu in bewildered confusion. “My fifty coin, bro?!”

  [Echuu] Yeah, maybe I should have spilled the beans on that one. Try to pay in even money, or Mr. Box does an extra nom just for you.

  Bob let out an annoyed 'humph' kicking at the ground. "Yeah! Probably should have led with that, slime-guide.” Then he turned to the new stall.

  “Iron Jaw.” The man called out, with thumbs resting in his belt.

  Bob gave a curt nod. “And I'm Bob. Man, I need some good gear right about now.” He said crossing the nearly abandoned market square.

  Iron Jaw let out a sound, somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle, the rasp of metal scraping against old wounds. “Need sense too, but we work with what we got.”

  Bob glanced at Echuu, then back at the merchant. “Right. Just list what I can afford.”

  Iron Jaw reached under his stall, pulling out an assortment of worn but functional equipment. His gaze flicked up once. Measuring. Assessing. Maybe even judging. However, that part was lost on Bob who instantly started to examine the wares by scrolling through a window. Nothing special, Tier 0 after all. But some stuff did seem more suited for him, or, at least, useful. His selection:

  [Shop Inventory]

  …

  Common Everyday Outfit, Grey / Brown. 50c (boots, belt, pants and shirt.)

  Common Dagger. 30c. (light, fast, fragile.)

  Small Sheath. 10c. (For equally, or fractionally larger, weapons.)

  Common Buckler. 30c. (a scrap of strapped metal masquerading as protection.)

  Crowbar. 10c. (useful for getting it off.)

  Sackpack. 10c. (5 slots. Not really a backpack.)

  …

  Bob paid after making sure Iron Jaw gave change. Then hurriedly put on clothes. Finally.. After some struggle he also attached the buckler to his forearm. Both the crowback and his remaining 60c went into the sackpack. As he threw it over his shoulder, it dematerialized merging with his being.

  [System] Inventory slots x 5, unlocked

  Oh, that’s really nice. Can’t even feel the weight on my back.

  Bob looked at the gear merchant. “Thanks. Really. This will do, I think.”

  “It's what I’m here for, lad.” Iron Jaw’s ruined mouth didn’t allow for smiles, but something about his tone made it clear he was amused. “I’m all about keeping dead men walking a tad longer.”

  Bob ignored the ominous prediction and shifted his grip on the newly acquired dagger to test the weight. It was barely better than a shiv, but he’d made do with worse. The buckler felt like an afterthought too, a half-hearted nod towards defense.

  Iron Jaw threw more crumbled words out his plated mouth. “You did a solid pick with that crowbar. It's got more use than most credit it.”

  Bob smirked. “A tool and a conversation starter.. what’s not to love?”

  Iron Jaw grunted in what might have been agreement. “You’ll need better gear soon. This lot’ll get you through a fight if you play smart and got the skills to put it to fair use.”

  Skills.. That was just the thing. He didn’t have that. Not in the sense of the game-mechanics at least. A familiar blue blur bounced into view, a text box popping up above it.

  [Echuu] Oh, wow! Big spender, eh! You’re not going in bare-knuckled after all?

  Bob glanced down at the slime. “Not now. Can’t you go somewhere until I need.. guidance.”

  [Echuu] So touchy! You should really work on that social skill tree. Might unlock ‘Basic Friendliness’, or even ‘Mildly Approachable’ if you grind hard enough.

  Iron Jaw let out another rasping chuckle. “Slime’s got more personality than you.”

  Bob was caught of guard by the NPC's remark. “Wait. You see Echuu's prompts too?”

  Iron Jaw raised a brow at him, and Bob hesitated, then changed course. “Do you know this slime?”

  The merchant gave a small shrug. “Slime’s been around a while. Knows its way through this place better than most.” He tapped a finger against the iron plate of his jaw. “Even found me a spare scrap once. It fit just right.”

  Bob looked down at Echuu, whose text box flickered briefly before vanishing. The little guide was definitely more than a nuisance with whacked sense of humor. Bob crouched slightly, reaching out. Echuu, to his surprise, didn’t immediately bounce away. Instead, it wobbled in place, then leaned into his touch.

  [Echuu] Oh no. Affection. This is a criiii.. siiiis..

  Bob let out a quiet chuckle and got up fast. “Shut up.. ”

  Iron Jaw watched the exchange, tilted his head forward slightly. “Y’know, gear’s important. But so is knowing who’s got your back inhere.” He gestured at the meager selection of equipment Bob had purchased. “A blade’s a blade, but people? They’ll save you in ways steel won’t.”

  Bob straightened, rolling his shoulders. Echuu wasn't a person. Despite it's interestingly coded personality, it was still a monster-type. He couldn't let his guard all the way down just yet. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jaw.”

  Iron Jaw nodded, satisfied, his plates grinding as if he was taste-testing the sound of just Jaw. “Good.. Now get out of here before I start thinking you want a discount.”

  Bob didn’t bother arguing. He adjusted the fit of his gear, and stepped away, Echuu bouncing along beside him.

  [Echuu] Look at you. Buying things. Having conversations. Next thing you know, you’ll be forming bonds and experiencing emotional growth. This is one terrifying.. I mean, terrific.. character arc indeed.

  Bob shook his head, a small smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Echuu.”

  Moments later he stood before Boss Door: a monolith in its own right. He flexed his fingers, reached out, and let his hand press against the surface. Then, nothing. Echuu’s floating text box popped up beside him.

  [Echuu] Gotta want it, will it. This is where most before you gave up. Succumbed to good old mister Boss Door here. Well, not at first. They always tried a bit of bossing about before shattering into unfixables.. What I am getting at is this: Don’t let this big fellah taste weakness, ‘lest he devour you too.

  Bob frowned at the blatant information overload. Will it.. Unfixables.. Devour.. He shook it off. Opening doors with sheer intent was not his strong suit, but sure, he’d try. After all, he wanted it bad. The fight ahead, a real, worthy challenge? Just sitting there, up for the grabs and waiting. The moment those thoughts solidified, a window appeared between him and the door.

  [Boss Door]

  Encounter 1/7 - The Bone Assembly. Choose a Difficulty Tier from 1 to 5. Greater Tiers bring more rewards, more challenge.

  Bob would not decide with reckless bravado. His decision was instead a culmination of instinct, experience, and a near hardwired understanding of risk versus reward in game design. He had spent thousands of hours learning what made encounters tick, the hidden triggers, the phases, the sudden shifts from ‘manageable’ to ‘you're about to regret every life decision that led you here.’ First encounters were traps, especially in souls-likes. Go in thinking you had a freebie round, and the game would gut-check your arrogance so brutally you'd swear it was personal. The best fights didn’t just test reflexes, they tested mentality. How fast could you read a pattern? How soon could you adapt? Could you spot the tells, the baited openings, the lies hidden in enemy movements?

  Yeah. Going in at a lower tier would give him breathing room, sure. But it wouldn’t teach him what he needed to learn. A fight played on ‘safe mode’ taught bad habits, let you coast, let you win without really winning. That first boss wasn’t just an enemy. It was a syllabus. A list of mechanics, pacing, punishments, a chance to get acquainted with the mindset of the devs. Every attack, every gap in its defenses, every cruel trick embedded in its design was a lesson for what lay ahead. If he didn’t learn it at the highest level now, he’d pay the price later. The choice was simple, really.

  ‘Tier 5.’

  Bob barely had time to suck in a breath before the world unmade itself. The moment his selection locked in, Boss Door reacted. Not with another prompt, not with a countdown, but with something deeper, something hungry. First yank, then pull. In an instant he went through now open jaws formed from ancient dark metal that snapped shut behind him, his body propelled far into the unknown darkness beyond. It wasn’t travel, it was a correction. As in a god simulator, an almighty invisible hand had reached into reality, adjusting the mistake of his presence, dragging his sorry excuse of a meatsack across time and space.

  A break.. Abyss. Silence. A vast, endless nothing. A split-second absence where even existing was an argument lost.

  'Whooosh!' The pull returned. His stomach lurched as it grew even more violent, a sensation like being crumpled up like paper-ball, space itself trying to fold him into a shape that fit it's design, his body curling in ways that should never be possible while still alive to feel it.

  Then impact. He slammed down hard, his breath leaving him in a sharp, gasping wheeze. Grit bit into his skin, coarse as shattered bone. The silence left with the groan of distant metal, a sound vast enough to make the ground tremble, as if Boss Door was wishing him good luck. Bob lifted his head, blinking against the stark contrast of his surroundings. A landscape painted in a dusty white and dark grey palette sprawled before him.

  [System]

  Entry Confirmed. Welcome to The Grave Pit.