SSS-Rank: All My Skills Are at Level 100

The moment Silas stepped through the gate, the air changed.

Gone was the sterile scent of city smog. Here, it was sharp with sap and the coppery tang of something rotting.

He blinked. The dungeon unfolded before him like a forgotten pocket of wilderness—lush green under an artificial sky, trees gnarled and thick, rising like ancient guardians.

Ferns sprawled across the forest floor, and vines crept along tree trunks like veins under diseased skin. A faint mist hung low, whispering promises of death and secrets.

"So this is an E-rank gate…"

It looked peaceful. But he knew better.

The space itself was limited—only about 500 meters in radius. A dome of mana pulsed above the tree canopy, like the ceiling of a sealed world.

The sunlight here was dim, filtered unnaturally, casting long shadows even though it was midday outside.

Silas tightened his fists.

"System," he murmured. "What am I looking at here?"

A chime echoed in his mind, followed by the calm, ever-pleasant voice of the system.

[Scanning environment...]

[Detected monsters: Standard E-rank entities. Three primary types — Goblins, Dire Wolves, and Giant Centipedes.]

[Mini-boss and Boss Room signatures detected, but blocked from scan due to mana distortion.]

Silas exhaled slowly. "That's fine. You helped already."

[Caution: Incoming threat. 11 goblins approaching from 10 o'clock direction.]

His spine stiffened. He turned. Through the trees, he saw them—small, hunched figures with pale green skin and jagged rusted blades.

They chattered in high-pitched, shrieking tones as they ran, their yellow eyes glowing like embers.

"Shit."

His heart kicked up. Instinct screamed at him to turn back, to run toward the gate—

But the gate was already gone.

Trapped inside.

He grit his teeth. "Why the fuck am I panicking?"

He barked a laugh, hollow and defiant.

"I was about to off myself a day ago. I got another chance, didn't I?" he growled. "Then I'm taking the damn risk."

[Boss, shall I summon the weapon in your inventory?]

"Yes. Do it."

[Summoning: Standard Iron Sword.]

In a blink, the weight of a blade landed in his right hand—nothing special, just a plain longsword, but the steel glinted clean. Real.

He grinned. "Thanks, System."

[Of course, Boss.]

He took a breath, then exploded into motion.

His feet slammed against the mossy earth as he dashed forward, sword raised. Branches tore at his clothes. The goblins shrieked louder, fanning out, claws flashing.

Silas didn't hesitate.

The first goblin lunged with a crude spear. Silas ducked under and slashed upward, splitting its throat wide open in one clean arc. Blood sprayed across his cheek.

The second one jumped from a branch, but he spun and slammed his boot into its chest. The goblin flew back, crashing into a tree with a wet snap.

"Two down."

Another goblin came from the side—this one faster. It grazed his arm, drawing a shallow cut. Pain flared, but Silas didn't flinch. His blade flashed again, carving through its ribcage.

Adrenaline flooded his body.

They're weaker than I thought… or maybe I'm stronger than I remember.

Five more came at once.

He weaved between their blades. One of them slashed his shoulder—he hissed but countered instantly, stabbing its eye.

Another leapt on his back—he rolled, crushed it against the ground, and drove his sword through its skull.

His breathing grew heavy, but his hands didn't shake.

He was drenched in goblin blood, wounds stinging, but there was a fire in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Come on…" he muttered. "Is that all you bastards got?"

A low growl answered him.

Silas froze. The system chimed again, voice slightly tense.

[New entity detected. Dire Wolf. Threat level: Moderate.]

The underbrush parted. A beast emerged—taller than a man, with fur as dark as night and fangs like ivory daggers. Its eyes burned red with dungeon energy, and its breath curled like smoke.

Silas took a step back.

"Shit…"

The wolf crouched, muscles coiled.

Move. Now.

He jumped sideways just as it pounced. The beast tore through the air where he'd just stood, claws shredding bark behind him.

"System," he grunted, dodging again. "Any tips?"

[Aim for the underbelly or the throat. Avoid frontal engagement.]

"Helpful."

He circled the wolf. It snarled, pacing, watching.

Silas glanced at his sword. Still sharp. Still holding up.

Then he charged.

The wolf met him head-on, jaws snapping. Silas ducked under, rolled beneath its leap, and as he slid across the grass, he slashed upward with both hands.

The blade cut deep into its belly.

A scream tore from the beast as black blood gushed.

It twisted midair, slamming him with its hind leg before crashing into a tree.

Silas tumbled across the ground, groaning. His ribs ached. His vision spun.

But he stood.

The wolf staggered, growling low. It lunged again—but slower this time.

Silas sidestepped and plunged the sword into its throat with a roar.

The beast collapsed, spasming… then lay still.

Silas stood over the body, panting, chest rising and falling like a war drum.

Blood dripped from his chin. His clothes were torn. His hands trembled—not from fear… but from exhilaration.

He looked at the mess around him—the corpses of goblins, the dying wolf, the blood soaking into the earth.

Then he laughed. Low. Rough. Alive.

"I was supposed to die in some alley… and now look at me."

[Excellent performance, Boss. EXP gained. Dungeon clearance: 14%.]

He sheathed his blade across his back and whispered, "Not bad for a suicidal newbie."