The fall was nearly forty feet, a sheer drop into the lightless throat of Derinkuyu that would have shattered the legs of any ordinary adventurer. Danikeli, however, didn't land like a stone. As he descended, the air beneath his boots began to superheat, creating a pressurized cushion of rising thermals. He drifted down like a falling leaf caught in a chimney fire, touching the cavern floor with a soft, silent puff of dust.

  He stood in a vast, circular chamber where the walls were carved with the geometric precision of the ancient Nev?ehir architects. It was pitch black, but not for long. As Danikeli tilted his head, the "Great Sage" magic responded to his curiosity. A soft, pulse of white light radiated from his skin, revealing the limestone pillars and the deep, jagged gouges in the floor left by centuries of dungeon activity.

  "Hello?" Danikeli whispered, his voice echoing up the shaft. "Is anyone down here?"

  A soft, melodic meow answered him.

  Danikeli’s eyes lit up. Emerging from behind a fallen stalagmite was a creature that looked remarkably like a Van cat from the surface. It had the same plush, snow-white fur and striking odd-colored eyes—one amber, one a piercing sapphire blue. It trotted toward him with a rhythmic sway of its tail, looking far too clean and well-fed for a dungeon denizen.

  "Oh! A kitty!" Danikeli dropped his sword—which clattered loudly against the stone—and reached out with both hands. "Are you lost too? Did you fall down the big hole?"

  The creature stopped three feet away. In the guild’s manual, this was a Level 5 Marble-Prowler, a predatory mob known for mimicking domestic pets to lure in unsuspecting prey before unhinging its jaw to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. To Danikeli, it was just the cutest thing he had ever seen in the First Multiverse.

  The cat arched its back, letting out a purr that vibrated through the floorboards of the boy's soul. It began to weave between his legs, rubbing its soft fur against his shins.

  "You're so soft," Danikeli giggled, looking down. "I'm going to call you Snowflake. Do you want to come home with—"

  He stopped. He realized, with a sudden pang of worry, that his legs felt much warmer than usual. He looked down and saw that his "Great Sage" aura, which usually stayed in check, was reacting to his spike in happiness. The air around his ankles was no longer just shimmering; it was glowing with the intensity of a magnesium flare.

  The Marble-Prowler didn't even have time to hiss. The moment its mimicked fur touched the invisible heat-boundary of Danikeli’s passive defense, the "cute" mob didn't just take damage—it underwent instantaneous molecular combustion.

  There was no struggle. There was only a quiet pop, like a bubble bursting, followed by a small cloud of sparkling blue essence. A Level 5 loot drop—a single, pristine white whisker—fluttered down and landed in the center of a fresh scorch mark.

  Danikeli stared at the empty space where Snowflake had been. His hands were still shaped as if he were holding a small animal. His bottom lip began to tremble.

  "Snowflake?" he asked the empty room. He picked up the glowing whisker, his eyes filling with tears. "I... I just wanted to pet you."

  High above, the sound of grappling hooks hitting stone announced the arrival of the Wolffire Group. White Wolf descended rapidly, his white armor gleaming in the light of a chemical flare, only to find the seven-year-old standing in the center of a blackened crater, weeping over a piece of monster loot.

  "Status report!" White Wolf shouted, hitting the ground and drawing his blade. "Where is the mob? The scanners picked up a Level 5 signature right here!"

  Danikeli turned around, holding out the whisker. "I broke the kitty," he sobbed. "I didn't even touch him and he turned into a shiny hair!"

  White Wolf stared at the shimmering whisker in Danikeli’s trembling hand, then back at the scorched, cat-shaped silhouette on the floor. He lowered his claymore, the tip clinking against the stone, as his brain struggled to bridge the gap between "Grade-C Predator" and "Harmless Kitty."

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  "A kitty?" White Wolf’s voice was flat, echoing hollowly behind his visor. "Kid, that was a Marble-Prowler. It was trying to bait you into a kill-zone. It doesn't have a soul; it has a hunger index."

  "No, it was Snowflake!" Danikeli wailed, the heat from his frustration making the air in the chamber wobble like a desert mirage. "He was purring! He liked me! And then I got too happy and now he’s gone!"

  Red Wolf and Green Wolf hit the floor behind their leader, weapons leveled at the shadows. They scanned the room frantically, their HUDs flickering with the ghost of a threat that had vanished in a microsecond.

  "Where’s the Prowler, Boss?" Red Wolf grunted, his axe humming. "The scanner said it was right on top of the brat."

  White Wolf didn't look back. He just pointed a gauntleted finger at the scorched outline at Danikeli’s feet. "There is no Prowler, Red. There’s only... 'Snowflake.' The boy passive-fried a Level 5 mimic because he tried to give it a hug."

  "He did what?" Green Wolf stepped forward, staring at the charred stone. He looked at Danikeli, who was currently trying to wipe his eyes with a sleeve that was beginning to smoke from the sheer intensity of his "Great Sage" grief. "Kid, you just vaporized a mob that wipes out whole rookie squads. You didn't 'break' a pet. You cleared a threat."

  "I don't care about threats!" Danikeli shouted, a small burst of white-hot mana snapping off his shoulders and melting a nearby stalagmite into a puddle of glass. "I wanted a friend! This dungeon is mean!"

  White Wolf took a step back, his armor creaking. He had spent years studying the hierarchy of power in the Nev?ehir region, but he had no frame of reference for a seven-year-old who could accidentally delete high-level mimics while having a temper tantrum.

  "Listen to me," White Wolf said, his voice forced into a strained, professional calm. "If you call the monsters 'kitties,' you’re going to get yourself—or more likely, this entire cave system—blown up. Put the whisker in your pocket. We’re moving to the second level, and for the love of the Hero Malaccus, stop trying to pet the scenery."

  Danikeli sniffled, carefully tucking the glowing whisker into his tunic. "Fine. But if I see another kitty, I'm going to be extra cold so I don't break that one too."

  White Wolf exchanged a look with Red and Green. He could see the same thought reflected in their visors: they weren't leading an expedition anymore; they were following a walking sun with the emotional maturity of a second-grader.

  The transition to the second level was a narrow, winding staircase that smelled of damp earth and ancient magic. White Wolf led the way, his claymore held in a defensive position, while Red and Green Wolf flanked the rear. Five hundred yards back—per the "official" rules—Danikeli trudged along, his head down as he muttered a quiet eulogy for Snowflake.

  As they emerged into the second hub, the air grew noticeably colder. This chamber was vast, supported by pillars carved in the likeness of weeping giants. Perched atop these pillars were the Level 10 Gargoyle Guardians. Their skin was the color of bruised slate, and their eyes were closed tight, though their talons gripped the stone with bone-crushing strength.

  "Halt," White Wolf signaled, his voice a sharp whisper. "Gargoyles. Level 10. They’re sensitive to sound and vibration. If one wakes, they all wake. We move in a staggered formation and—"

  "Oh, look!"

  The voice came from right behind White Wolf’s elbow. He jumped, his armor clattering as he spun around to find Danikeli standing there. The boy had ignored the five-hundred-yard gap entirely, drawn by the sight of the giant stone figures.

  "Kid! I told you to stay back!" White Wolf hissed, but it was too late.

  The vibration of Danikeli’s voice, combined with the unintentional heat radiating from his skin, triggered the dungeon’s defense mechanism. High above, stone cracked. Dust rained down as the gargoyles uncurled their wings, their eyes snapping open to reveal glowing orbs of malevolent purple light.

  "They look so sad," Danikeli said, his eyes widening with pity. "They’re all gray and lonely up there. They look like they haven't had a blanket in a hundred years."

  "They aren't lonely, they're hungry!" Red Wolf yelled, raising his axe as the first gargoyle shrieked and dove from its perch, its talons extended like iron hooks.

  "Don't be grumpy!" Danikeli shouted, stepping in front of White Wolf. "You just need a big squeeze!"

  As the gargoyle reached the "kill zone" around the boy, Danikeli didn't draw his sword. Instead, he reached out with open arms for a "comforting" embrace. The Great Sage magic, sensing a "threat" to the boy’s innocent gesture, didn't just flare—it surged.

  The air around Danikeli didn't just shimmer; it turned into a solid pillar of white-hot plasma. When the gargoyle’s stone chest made contact with the boy's outstretched hands, the monster didn't just break—it underwent a thermal shock so violent the stone turned to liquid. The gargoyle's wings melted into molten glass mid-flap, and the creature splashed against the floor in a puddle of glowing slag.

  "See?" Danikeli said, looking at the puddle with a satisfied nod. "He’s much warmer now. He’s not even gray anymore!"

  White Wolf stared at the bubbling pool of stone that used to be a Level 10 elite guardian. He looked at his own enchanted blade, then at the seven-year-old who was already looking up at the other nineteen gargoyles with a "helpful" smile.

  "Boss," Green Wolf whispered, his voice trembling. "He's... he's 'hugging' them to death."

  "I can't do this," White Wolf muttered, his shoulders sagging as the rest of the gargoyles began to shriek in genuine terror, trying to climb back up their pillars to get away from the "kind" boy. "I literally cannot do this."