Luck of the Dice (A Former Dungeon-Master's LITRPG)

The eerie glow of the Rune Box dimmed as Miles slipped the enchanted dice and Rune Compass into his inventory. But the momentary calm didn't last. A low growl from behind him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Miles turned slowly, his heart hammering in his chest. The Dungeon Guardian, its three heads snarling in unison, stood at the chamber's entrance. Its glowing red eyes locked onto the Rune Compass dangling from his belt.

Behind the guardian, the massive insectoid boss dragged itself out of the pit, its golden carapace gleaming ominously. The runes etched across its body pulsed, filling the chamber with a faint hum.

Miles tightened his grip on his sword. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.

Warning: Both Dungeon Guardian and Boss have entered a state of aggression.

Chance of survival: 7%.

"Seven percent?" Miles laughed bitterly. "Might as well be zero."

The guardian lunged first, its middle head snapping inches from Miles as he dove to the side. He rolled onto his feet just as the boss raised one of its massive claws and slammed it into the ground, sending shockwaves through the chamber.

Miles staggered, narrowly avoiding a falling stalactite. His eyes darted toward the Rune Box still sitting on the ground. Desperation clawed at him as he realized he only had one option left.

"Come on, dice gods," he muttered, scrambling toward the box. "One last miracle!"

He grabbed the Rune Box and rolled to avoid another swipe from the guardian. Pulling out his enchanted dice, he tossed them with trembling hands, praying for a good roll.

Roll for Item Retrieval: Open Rune Box.

The dice clattered across the stone floor, landing on a 6 and a 4.

Success: Rune Box Opening.

The lid of the Rune Box snapped open, releasing a blinding light. Inside was a single scroll, its surface covered in glowing runes that seemed to shift and shimmer as Miles grabbed it.

Item Acquired: Emergency Transportation Scroll (One-Time Use).

Description: Teleports the user to a random safe location. Success rate: 75%.**

"Random?" Miles groaned, dodging another attack. "Of course it's random."

The guardian and the boss both roared, their aggression reaching a fever pitch. Miles had no time to think. He unfurled the scroll and placed his hand over the glowing rune in the center.

"Here goes nothing!"

Roll for Teleportation Success.

The dice flew from his hands once more. They spun in the air, seemingly defying gravity before landing with a 5 and a 6.

Success: Teleportation Activated.

The scroll disintegrated in a burst of light, and Miles felt a strange pulling sensation, like he was being yanked through the air. The chamber dissolved around him, the roars of the monsters fading into silence. He felt a phantom limb of the Dungeon boss go through him before he vanished into light, but Miles was not sure if it was even real or not.

Miles crashed onto soft grass, the cool night air filling his lungs. He groaned, rolling onto his back as the system chimed:

Location: Safe Zone - Village of Faelwen.

Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. His body felt like it had been run over by a cart, every inch of him aching. The system displayed his health bar in the corner of his vision:

HP: 10/120

He tried to reach for the remaining potion in his inventory, but his hand wouldn't cooperate. Exhaustion overtook him, his vision swimming.

"So...that attack did happen. Fuck, it hurts!" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Just as darkness began to claim him, he felt a faint presence—a shadow moving toward him. It wasn't hostile; it was warm, calming. A faint voice reached his ears, but he couldn't make out the words.

Then, everything went black.

When Miles opened his eyes, he was greeted by the dim light of a crumbling ceiling. The faint scent of mildew and wood rot filled his nose, and the sound of dripping water echoed in the distance. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, and his wrists and ankles were tied to the bed with rough rope.

"Fantastic," he muttered weakly. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire."

He scanned the room as best as he could. The walls were cracked, and the wooden beams overhead looked like they could collapse at any moment. Despite the state of disrepair, someone had taken the time to light a small lantern near the bed, its warm glow casting long shadows across the room.

The sound of footsteps approaching made him freeze. He strained his neck, trying to see who—or what—was coming.

The door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the room. Miles couldn't make out their face in the dim light, but they carried a small tray with what looked like a bowl of steaming liquid.

"Well, this is new," Miles muttered, his voice hoarse. "Whoever you are, I hope you're not planning to eat me."

The figure chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Eat you? You're not even worth the trouble."

They set the tray down on a nearby table and moved closer, their features becoming clearer in the lantern's glow. Miles saw a rugged-looking man with a wiry frame, his face weathered from years of hardship. A long scar ran diagonally across his forehead, and his sharp eyes regarded Miles with a mix of curiosity and caution.

"You've got some explaining to do," the man said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "People don't just fall out of thin air around here."

Miles groaned, his head throbbing. "Trust me, I'd explain if I could. Right now, I just need to not die."

The man sighed, his expression softening slightly. "You're lucky I found you when I did. Another hour out there, and the wolves would've gotten to you."

He untied the ropes around Miles's wrists and ankles, though his wary gaze never wavered. "Rest up. You're safe for now, but I'll need answers soon."

Miles nodded weakly, his eyelids growing heavy once more. As he drifted back into unconsciousness, one thought lingered in his mind:

Whoever this man was, he might just be his best chance at surviving this crazy world.