Something warm and slick kept brushing against his cheek.
There was also the sound of rapid breathing.
A strange odor mixed with a fishy sweetness drilled into his nostrils.
His head ached terribly. What had happened to him?
Wayne felt a bone-chilling cold.
Cold.
So cold it felt as if he had been thrown into an ice cellar.
He forced his eyes open, and what greeted him was a gray tent canvas and a dim yellow lamp hanging from the tent's ceiling. Beside him was a small black-and-yellow mixed-breed dog—the slick sensation must have been its tongue.
Seeing Wayne awake, the puppy happily wagged its tail and spun in circles, emitting soft whimpers.
Where was this?
A hospital?
Why was there a dog?
He vaguely remembered that before losing consciousness, he had been apprehending a criminal. The suspect had flashed something bright, and then everything went blank.
Were Team Leader Liu and Mengzi alright? Had they been injured?
Why did this smell remind him of pockmarks? Had they placed him in an evidence room...?
As these thoughts raced through his mind, Wayne struggled to sit up and immediately noticed something was wrong.
He was inside a shabby tent, seated on a filthy blanket that did little to block the icy chill seeping from the ground.
The next moment, a violent headache struck, and a torrent of information flooded his mind.
Bruce Wayne, twenty-three years old, former American sitcom child star, divorced three times, bankrupt, homeless, depressed, suffering from the flu, Execution Line...
Wayne abruptly sat up straight.
Had he traveled through time!?
He had crossed into the body of an American homeless man who was also named Wayne!
At least the guy shared his surname and had the same name as in his previous life.
What comforted Wayne the most was that although this man had become a homeless person and died from illness, he had never used Enhancement Drugs.
This was a clean body.
Simultaneously, he suddenly noticed a geometric pattern on the tent floor, forming what resembled an altar design, with himself positioned right in the center.
What was this?
"Cough, cough..." Wayne was seized by a violent coughing fit, feeling as if his lungs were about to be expelled.
Even after rebirth, his flu hadn't healed, and his body was extremely weak, still in danger of dying again at any moment.
He couldn't just wait for death; he needed to find medicine and food as soon as possible...
A foul odor suddenly wafted from beneath a blanket nearby. Wayne struggled to crawl over and forcefully pulled it aside.
A gray-haired, slack-skinned old white man lay beneath, barely breathing, with several syringes and burnt leaf ashes scattered around him.
The moment the old man saw Wayne, his pupils contracted sharply, and he trembled as he spoke:
"Bondye... you... you're still alive... How is this possible? I already sacrificed you to the Voodoo God... I was wrong, I've been wrong from the start... God, please forgive this sinner... I just wanted to survive... I've destroyed my own honor with my own hands..."
Wayne frowned and asked:
"What Bondye? Cough, cough... Where is this place?"
The old white man wept uncontrollably, his eyes already glazed over as if he hadn't heard Wayne's words at all. He continued rambling:
"I was once a soldier defending this nation... I fought for honor, I got wounded in the Middle East for America... Only painkillers could calm me... I lost control, let the devil destroy me... My wife, my daughter... They left me... I lost my house, I lost everything... Damn it! I got injured for this country, how could they do this to me..."
"Voodoo... Voodoo didn't save me... Bondye never descended... It's all my fault, I'm a sinner... All my fault... Lord..."
Suddenly, the old white man grabbed Wayne's hand and shoved a USB drive into it, his bloodshot eyes wide open as he trembled and said:
"Find my daughter Ellie, give this to her, she'll reward you... Be careful, they're looking for you, they want you!"
After uttering these last words, his body convulsed violently, then his eyes became vacant, pupils dilated, and he lay completely still.
Dead.
From the man's fragmented words, Wayne quickly pieced together his story: a disabled veteran injured in combat, addicted to painkillers before moving on to Enhancement Drugs, bankrupt with his family gone, dabbling in Voodooism until he ultimately overdosed.
A classic American white man's downward spiral.
Just then, a bizarre mechanical voice suddenly echoed in Wayne's mind:
[Scanning surroundings... Goblin Alley confirmed... Church catacombs confirmed... Ghoul Nest confirmed... Human-skin Dark Codex confirmed... Ratfolk Thief confirmed... Fallen Knight confirmed... Vampire Coven confirmed... Environment confirmed as Infernal Dungeon, meeting system loading conditions, beginning installation...]
[The magnificent Infernal Dungeon is ruled by the Golden Devil King of the Dark Court. Countless souls weep blood under the devil's trampling. Great adventurer, embark on your challenge, crush the Deep White Demon Nest, defeat the devil king, and you shall be reborn through fire in this fallen Infernal Dungeon!]
[Main Quest: Defeat the Devil King, destroy the Infernal Dungeon.]
Wayne felt an instant chill envelop his entire body, as if something had fused with his very being.
[The adventurer awakens from slumber, beginning his dungeon journey with his battle pet. Examine the Voodoo Fallen Beastman's corpse, you might find unexpected rewards.]
The mechanical voice sounded again, this time taking on a prompt tone.
This is... a system? And a dungeon adventure system at that?
Though not a hardcore gamer, Wayne had encountered dungeon settings in various games, novels, and anime during his previous life. He never expected the system would directly designate America as this brutal, dark Infernal Dungeon.
With this system, his rebirth wouldn't be in vain.
Remembering the earlier prompt, he immediately bent down and grabbed the corpse's clothing, intending to search it.
The moment he made contact, a glowing translucent panel suddenly appeared before his eyes, clearly displaying:
[You have accepted Old John's dying wish. Side Quest: Deliver the message to Old John's daughter. Reward unknown.]
[You searched Old John's body. The poor old man, after retiring from the demon corps, had lost his family and become a fallen drifter. He practiced incomplete voodoo arts and overdosed on voodoo potions. Fortunately, there were still some relics left.]
[You have acquired Tactical Dagger Specialization]
Wayne's mind was instantly flooded with vivid first-person memories of tactical dagger training and combat, mostly set in desert environments. Many scenes depicted the slaughter of women and children.
In almost an instant, he had mastered the skills of using tactical daggers.
Clearly, Old John had once served in Iraq and Afghanistan as a member of the Marine Corps.
Meanwhile, Wayne's status panel displayed his personal attributes:
[Occupation: Adventurer (Beginner, career path not chosen)
Stamina: 0.1/0.3
Intelligence: 1.2/1.3
Spirit: 0.3/0.6
HP: 5/60
EXP: 13/100
Skills: Bard Performance (Beginner); Tactical Dagger Usage (Specialized)
Companion: Wildland Hound (Level 1, 30%)
Status: Severely Hungry, Critically Ill and Weak
Warning! Once HP drops below 5, the Infernal Dungeon Execution Line will be triggered!]
Next to this was a shop option. Opening it revealed items like recovery potions, magic elixirs, and spell scrolls, each marked with their required gold coin prices.
Wayne couldn't help but smile wryly. The previous owner of this body was far too feeble.
If an average person's stats were rated at 1, his current condition was essentially that of someone with severe disabilities.
As he pondered this, a tickle in his throat triggered another violent coughing fit—this time uncontrollable—until he spat out a bloody phlegm.
Immediately, his HP on the panel plummeted!
[HP: 4/60. Warning: You have triggered the Execution Line. HP will decrease by 1 point every hour until complete execution.]
A chilling sense of death enveloped Wayne. He struggled to his feet, steadied his breathing, and forced himself to calm down.
He had to act fast—find a way to restore his HP above 5, or he would truly die.
He needed food, warmth, and medicine.
The stinging pain in his lungs suggested severe bronchitis, if not pneumonia.
He needed antibiotics.
There was no time to waste.
Wayne quickly searched Old John's body again, finding only 5 dollars, a small knife, and a battered phone in the pockets.
These were Old John's final gifts.
Wayne layered all his own clothes with Old John's jacket, steadied himself, clenched the 5 dollars, took a deep breath, and prepared to leave the tent in search of something to keep himself alive.
Just then, the mixed-breed puppy began barking fiercely toward the tent entrance.
Whispers drifted in from outside:
"You sure they're both dead in there, bro?"
"I saw Old John drag someone in two days ago. He spent all his cash at Big Daddy's on the latest Enhancement Drugs and never came out. They're definitely dead."
"Perfect. Two corpses—we can get over a thousand bucks for them. No one's gonna claim them. We can throw a few more parties."
"Same as always, we split whatever we find fifty-fifty. I want this tent..."
A line of text appeared once again on the panel before Wayne's eyes:
[Adventurer, you have encountered two filthy goblins. This is your first challenge in the dungeon. Kill/defeat/drive them away, and you will receive a reward.]
Goblins?
Wayne understood that this reward would be his precious chance at salvation!
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to stand upright and abruptly threw open the tattered tent.
Outside stood two gaunt, dark-skinned homeless men, their eyes bloodshot, staring at him in surprise.
The puppy rushed forward, positioning itself in front of Wayne and barking fiercely at the two men.
Only then did Wayne get a clear look at his surroundings.
This was a dilapidated neighborhood. The tent was set up by the roadside, and the walls nearby were covered in chaotic graffiti. Not far away, piles of trash and black garbage bags were heaped together.
In the distance, he could vaguely make out a few motionless humanoid figures standing at street corners, their bodies twisted at unnatural angles.
Yet just one block away, Halloween decorations twinkled with colorful lights, and neon signs atop tall buildings flashed the words "Welcome to Seattle."
He could even see silhouettes of people feasting in upscale restaurants on the top floors.
A sea breeze swept in, carrying the mingled scents of food
from the tourist areas and the fishy stench of the docks.
A flock of seagulls perched on the roadside railing, staring coldly at the tattered tent, their yellow beaks stained with traces of crimson.
In the pitch-black sky, a mixture of rain and snow fell as icy sleet, chilling to the bone.
A Seattle night of icy rain.