I took another step forward, moving in perfect synchronization with the five other figures beside me—naked, bald, and grey-skinned like myself. Our footsteps echoed wetly through the cavern, each one a quiet slap against the slick stone floor, and though I imitated their movements as precisely as I could, there was no shaking the creeping sense of wrongness threading through the moment.
My first reaction upon waking in this place—a dark, damp, and disturbingly silent cave filled with eerie nudists—had been somewhere between stumbling in horror and doing a double take. I nearly gasped aloud. But then, realizing that the others were neither reacting nor acknowledging me in the slightest, I held my breath.
Thank whatever higher force governs this nightmare that the cave was so thoroughly cloaked in darkness. No one seemed to have seen my clumsy start, and I wasn't about to draw attention to myself now.
The deep, disembodied voice thundered again—unseen, omnipresent, vibrating against the walls of my skull rather than resonating in the air.
**"Unit Three."**
The line of homunculi shuffled forward, each of us taking another step into the murk.
At this point, I'd mostly pieced it together: I was inside the game, likely at the introductory sequence tied to the Homunculus race selection. Everything—the cave, the emotionless drone of summons, the soulless procession—it matched what we'd written into the mod. And if my memory served, the unique Occultist class was the only one to receive its own introductory ritual like this. The other available classes for Homunculi—Aura using Knights and silent Rangers—simply dropped before the dungeon Entrance , no ceremony involved.
That meant one thing: I was an Occultist.
Which was…interesting.
Not that I had any intention of standing out. If there was one thing more dangerous than not knowing how you got somewhere, it was doing anything that marked you as different. Especially when surrounded by what were, functionally, lab-grown war machines.
So I kept my mouth shut. Not a breath, not a word, not even a twitch beyond what the others did. No more slip-ups.
"Unit Nine."
My turn.
I stepped forward, the cool stone floor slick beneath my bare feet, and was swallowed deeper by the dark.
I still had no idea how I got here. None of this made sense. But if this was the game world—our modded game world—then I'd better act the part. According to the lore I'd helped craft, Homunculi weren't supposed to develop independent thought or true personalities until after entering the dungeon proper. Until then, they were blank slates. Disposable tools.
That meant any individuality I displayed now might not only break the illusion—I didn't even know who or what might be watching—but could also get me flagged as a defect. Or worse.
I couldn't afford to think about the absurdity of it all. Not yet. I needed to stay focused, because I knew what came next.
Soon, I would have to select my starting gear.
As an Occultist, the standard loadout was familiar: three [Low-Grade Herbal Remedies], a set of [Simple Leather Armor], and one grim, bloodstained [Mundane Sacrificial Dagger]. Bare bones, but functional.
The real choice—the important one—was about to present itself.
I would be offered three *Eldritch Cantrips*. Spells that lacked the raw power of a proper mage's repertoire, but could be cast with nearly no delay and served a unique function—instant understanding over scholarly Mastery, maddening efficiency over versatility borne of wisdom l
Suddenly, I heard it.
**Plup. Plup.**
Wet, squelching sounds emerged from the earth in front of me. I turned—cautiously—and saw them rise.
Three mummified heads, shriveled and sunken, erupted from the stone like grotesque fungi. Each one pulsed faintly with a sickly glow—color-coded, just as I remembered.
The first glowed red and yellow,a clear marker of the [Crimson Seal] cantrip. A wide-area debuff spell that weakened all enemies within range. In the early game, it was a powerhouse of utility—great for survivability, adaptable to nearly any situation. Objectively, it was the best of the three.
But I couldn't take it.
Not because I didn't want to—but because I knew how this would play out. A debuff was only as useful as your ability to follow it up, and I…well, I had no idea how to actually fight. Waving a dagger around like a lunatic wouldn't get me far. Without a proper offensive spell, I'd be relying on skills I didn't have.
The second head glowed pink and orange, indicating the irritating [Twisted Locus]—a summon spell that called forth a swarm of insectoid horrors, mutated and mindless. They would attack everything living in the vicinity, enemy or ally.
It had the highest damage output of the three and minimal drawbacks…
Except that I couldn't control it.
And the last thing I wanted, this early on, was to be surrounded by friendlies with an untargeted swarm spell in my arsenal. It was unpredictable, and this world already felt far too fragile to risk chaos.
That left only one option.
The final head, glowing purple and green, signified [Eldritch Blast].
It was relatively Weak. Inconsistent. Practically useless against most undead. The impact damage was negligible—less than a basic arrow. If overused, it even caused minor backlash to the caster.
But… it was easy. Reliable.
And it had its quirks.
Unlike the others, it didn't chip away at a Homunculus's Sanity stat—a valuable advantage, considering how quickly this world could fray the mind, even with the high resistance and quick sanity recovery of a Homunculus.
Its effect on undead was weak not because of resistance, but because it induced unstable mutations and distortions on contact , and the undead had little flesh that was required for vital functions.
That odd behavior, however, gave it a powerful side effect:
It could randomly trigger conditions such as wasting,burning , weakness—depending on what part was hit and luck.
It was a Cantrip for the unexpired, simple in use and effect.
But it was practical.
And right now, practicality was all I had.
I made my decision.
The moment my thoughts solidified around the spell, the world seemed to respond. My vision was swallowed whole by a surge of green and violet light—blinding and all-encompassing.
I winced and stumbled back, instinctively raising a hand to shield my eyes. But it was no use. The light wasn't just around me. It was inside me, unraveling everything.
Whispering sweet curses and hateful truths into my mind.
And then—
Silence.
Weightlessness.
Change.
:::Cut:::
「The Product Quality test event is completed .」
「New equipment has been equipped.」
「Total item level has increased by +31…」
「Nr. Nine」
Level: 1
Body: 15 / Mind: 45 / Supernatural Ability: 1
Item Level: 31 (New +31)
Overall Combat Index: 79 (New +11)