Chapter 1: The Cruelty of Mortal Affairs

"What? Are you stupid?"

These were the words that echoed through the courtyard, piercing the depths of my heart. In my foolishness, I had dared to approach the girl who held my interest, seeking to confess my feelings. Yet, she regarded me with nothing but disdain, laughing in derision as she retreated to the embrace of her clique. They cast their mocking gazes upon me, reveling in my humiliation.

A searing pain gripped my soul. We had toiled together on a shared project, pouring my heart and soul into the endeavor while she gallivanted off to her cheerleading finals. The weight of her success rested solely upon my shoulders, but in the end, it was all in vain. The contempt etched upon her countenance now revealed the truth—I had been naught but a pawn, a mere tool for her ambitions.

As the final bell of the school day tolled, I became acquainted with the harshness of mortal existence. The school's sports team, driven by underlying envy, ambushed me with relentless ferocity. How was I to know that a member of the baseball team harbored affection for the very same girl? Wasn't her rejection of me enough to satiate their thirst for dominance? Evidently not, for the tormentors decreed that I must be taught a lesson—a cruel reminder of my place in this world.

"Don't you dare approach her again, you wretched fatty!" The ringleader, his boots imprinted upon my broken form, delivered one final blow.

How refined.

Bruised and battered, I mustered the strength to crawl towards my humble abode. The house stood desolate, devoid of any semblance of familial warmth. My father had perished in a tragic accident years ago, leaving only my toiling mother behind. I was bereft of siblings, spared the agony of witnessing their disappointment in my existence. Perhaps it was for the best. My corpulence and lack of popularity would have surely cast a shadow upon any kinship I possessed.

Seeking solace, I retreated to the sanctuary of the bathroom, retrieving a modest first-aid kit. Self-reliance had always been my forte, whether it be tending to injuries, sewing, cooking, or cleaning. I diligently tended to my wounds, a peculiar observation manifesting in my mind—I seemed to heal faster under my own care. Nevertheless, I concluded my ministrations and reclined, allowing a momentary respite.

"A girlfriend... I yearn for one."

Even after the torment I had endured, my heart clung to the fervent desire for loving companionship. I longed for the presence of a woman to share my existence, to come home to, even if I were destined to become naught but a housebound husband. I would dutifully care for our children, tend to the hearth, and maintain a pristine abode—a life of profound fulfillment. Was this aspiration too lofty? Alas, my sigh mingled with the growls emanating from my stomach, reminding me that sustenance could only be attained through my exertion.

Boiling water in a meager pot, I prepared a simple meal of instant ramen—a testament to the frugality that governed my existence. The quantity of my food did not breed corpulence; rather, it was the nature of its composition. My mother and I treaded the precarious path of financial scarcity, relegating ourselves to the realm of inexpensive sustenance. Rare were the instances when we could indulge in a decent repast, but my mother, perpetually burdened by fatigue, lacked the capacity to prepare such meals. Thus, culinary prowess eluded me, for I never had access to superior ingredients.

With supper consumed, I retreated to my room, settling before a diminutive 22-inch television. Grasping a bag of games procured from a thrift store, I perused through its contents. My thriftiness dictated my selection, for my games resided within the realm of discount bins, the remnants of previous generations. Among the disappointments, occasionally I unearthed a hidden gem—a precious jewel that surpassed my expectations. The thrill of this treasure hunt invigorated my spirit, for the triumphs eclipsed the failures.

"What do we have here?"

One game caught my attention, an enigma that eluded my recollection. Its exterior bore no discernible labels or markings. Intrigued, I flipped the case over, only to discover an absence of text. With a surge of curiosity, I unwrapped the package, revealing a game cartridge. Its surface bore but two words, inscribed in simple font—Dungeon Life. An accompanying insert accompanied this enigma, bereft of artistry, featuring a solitary paragraph.

"Are you weary of your mundane existence? Do you crave adventure, wealth, sustenance, and the embrace of women? Join the ranks of Dungeon Life, where the pursuit of monsters, rare treasures, and the conquest of perilous depths shall bestow riches, fame, and dungeon points upon the courageous. Assemble a party of diverse classes to navigate the labyrinthine corridors and ultimately face the dungeon's formidable lord. Let the grand odyssey commence."