The deep, thunderous rumble of a colossal creature rolled through the waters.

Every monster nearby froze in terror. Instinct drove them to scuttle behind broken ruins and jagged rocks, their small bodies quivering at the sound.

None of them knew the truth.

The great leviathan wasn’t angry. Just bored. Bored out of its scales. After all, four hundred years of doing nothing would test anyone’s patience.

It let out another guttural growl. Half yawn, half sigh. It lazily stirred its fins. The movement alone churned up a wave that sent smaller monsters tumbling.

“Boss? Boss!”

A human voice? Here?

Impossible. The dungeon towered three hundred seven floors, they’re on top where the strongest monsters reside. Aside from that, reaching the top floor is nearly impossible as all of the monsters in the other floors before them are strong too.

Had humans grown stronger while it wasn’t paying attention?

Stranger still, the leviathan hadn’t even sensed anyone entering their floor.

Around it, the lesser monsters began to snarl, readying themselves for battle.

With a slow, deliberate motion, the leviathan rose from the sea, water cascading from its scaled body. Rows of jagged teeth gleamed as it prepared to greet this mysterious intruder.

“It’s me! It’s me!”

The human waved like they were greeting an old friend at the market. Not a hint of fear. Not even a single nervous sweat drop in the face of the strongest creature in the dungeon.

The leviathan narrowed his eyes and lowered his massive head, enough to rattle the waves. Monsters had long since adapted to human language, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because communication was easier. A curse because now he had to actually listen.

The human raised his arm. For a moment, smooth flesh shimmered into scaled skin. The transformation was brief, but clear enough.

A hydra. One of those types.

“I know you’re bored here,” the hydra said with a grin. “I can help you with that. Come with me to the human world.”

The leviathan let out a deep rumble, not a threat this time, but genuine curiosity.

The idea was… tempting.

But dangerous….

If he left, the dungeon ecosystem might spiral into chaos. Monsters weren’t exactly known for their excellent self-management skills.

Besides, he’d never set foot on earth. Not once. Humans weren’t physically stronger than him. Nothing was. But he knew they were annoyingly clever. Tricky little creatures with weapons, strategies, and, worst of all, teamwork.

The leviathan once shape-shifted to observe humans on other floors. They have their own technique in fighting and sometimes attack in groups.

“Don’t worry,” the hydra pressed. “We can just come back here if the dungeon is in jeopardy. Think of it as a field trip. A chance to observe the species.”

The leviathan stared at him for a long, heavy moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate ripple, his massive body shifted. Scales shrank, fins curled inward, and soon he stood as a towering reptilian humanoid. 

He gave a single nod, water still dripping from his new form.

Finally, he thought. Something interesting.

“That won’t do. They’ll attack you the second they see you looking like that.”

The hydra dug into his satchel and dramatically dumped a pile of portraits onto the ground.

Men, women, young, old. Even a small life form, a dog, is in the portrait.

“Pick one for instant disguise.”

The leviathan, still in his awkward reptilian form, crouched down. His massive claws carefully pinched up one of the flimsy papers. He frowned.

He shuffled through the portraits with the seriousness of a general planning a war strategy. Finally, his body shimmered and shrank, reshaping into the image of one of the faces.

The hydra beamed and shot a thumbs-up. “That would do!”

The leviathan flexed his new human fingers, unimpressed. “Feels flimsy.”

“Eh, you’ll get used to it. Now time to move.”

Without any flair, the hydra stomped his foot. A glowing portal immediately tore open in the air, humming with energy.

The leviathan crossed his new arms, deadpan. “If this portal dumps us into the wrong world, I’m feeding you to the dungeon.”

“Relax, big guy.” The hydra motioned toward the swirling gateway as casually as someone holding open a door. “Welcome to your first vacation.”

They stepped into a cramped room that resembled a human habitat. He glanced around, curious.

“I’ve been on Earth for a while now,” The hydra announced proudly. “So you’re in good hands. I’ll teach you everything I know. It’s not much, but it works.”

He nodded slowly. “So… almost nothing, then.”

His smile twitched. “Moving on….names. I’m Arthur. Humans all use names, even some other life forms. You’ll need one too.”

“Leviathan,” He said flatly, already distracted by his reflection in a mirror. His new human face stared back at him.

Sharper, younger-looking than Arthur’s, though about the same height.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “No human in their right mind would name their child Leviathan. How about… Lev?”

Lev shrugged. “Fine. Easier for your tiny brain to remember.”

Arthur muttered something unrepeatable under his breath.

Suddenly, Lev’s head tilted toward the door. His sharp senses caught a commotion outside. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and grabbed the handle.

CRACK.

The entire door ripped clean off the frame, leaving a massive hole in the wall.

Arthur froze. His soul left his body. “…I just fixed that. Last week.”

Lev turned the door over in his hands like it was a flimsy toy. “I didn’t even use force.”

Arthur facepalmed. “Boss… you seriously need to learn how to control your strength.”

Lev raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t just your house not sturdy enough?”

“No,” Arthur snapped, jabbing a finger at him, “you’re just too strong.”

Lev shrugged, still holding the door like it weighed nothing.

Arthur sighed in defeat. “Fine. Just… leave it. I’ll fix it later. Again.”

Without a word, Lev leaned the broken door against the wall.

The sun hit him in the face like a flaming punch. He winced.

Earth was loud. Too loud. The streets were swarmed with humans, all of them carrying strange little machines, poking at them like their lives depended on it. Others strapped contraptions to their ears and spoke to no one at all.

Lev squinted. They’ve gone mad. Entire species… talking to themselves.

He studied a passing human in a business suit.

Armor?

No. Too flimsy.

Ritual garb?

Possibly.

Another walked by slurping from a paper cup. Lev frowned. They drink… from containers instead of streams.

Pathetic.

Arthur, meanwhile, stayed behind and wrestled with the broken door. He tried jamming it into the frame, muttering curses the whole time, before finally giving up. Fixing it now would expose his powers, and that was too risky in broad daylight.

Humans were nosy. Nosy and paranoid.

Ever since the dungeons appeared, they’d grown stronger, faster, and far more clever than most monsters gave them credit for.

Now, if someone saw him used his power. He’s done for. Humans are intelligent creatures. They’re fully aware that monsters could also shape-shift to blend in with its prey.

That’s why people would always ask for a hunter ‘s license number. Anyone with special abilities that isn’t a hunter are monsters. Humans only obtain special abilities once they pass the hunter exam.

By the time he caught up, Lev was standing perfectly still in the middle of the walkway. Watching people with the intensity of a natural predator, yet doing nothing. His emotionless stare and rigid posture made him look less like a man and more like a lamppost that had given up on lighting.

One little kid even tried to hand him a small cold unidentified object on his palm before being dragged away by his mother.

Arthur sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to Earth, boss.”

Lev didn’t look at him. His eyes were still fixed on the endless stream of humans.

“They’re… so fragile,” he murmured. “And yet… somehow… profoundly irritating.”