The setting sun highlighted an idyllic village located in a picturesque valley. The large forest nearby provided all the lumber and wood they could ever require, as well as meat from the wild game that roamed the woods. A large river carved its way around the outermost wooden buildings, powering a water-wheel and supporting several types of fish and other aquatic based life, as the rich mana from the environment boosted the vitality of the wildlife.

It wasn’t an easy life, far from it, but the villagers couldn’t find it in themselves to complain. Though they were far from any kingdoms or larger towns, which kept them free from most politics and potential recruiting drives, it also meant they were quite far from any form of support or military aid. Though they possessed several retired adventurers, the lack of boisterous young men and women sauntering through town like they owned the place was a mixed blessing and curse.

Those who braved the depths of the dungeons, especially the newer ones, could be considered either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish, maybe even a bit of both. Either way, facing death's door over and over again left the younger folk who performed such daring tasks jaded and with a tendency to perhaps overcompensate a bit. Raucous drinking and partying was quite frequent in the more heavily-laden areas containing dungeons.

While the village had many young men and women themselves, the parents in the village were happy to profess that (for the most part) their kids were hardworking, diligent and not just a waste of space that also happened to eat their food. They worked hard and they played hard, but at the end of the day their families were the most important thing in the world to them. The village, with the size it was, was practically in and of itself one giant family.

They were happy to keep the politics of ‘who owned this dungeon’ and ‘we claimed it first!’ or the ever-so popular ‘your kingdom doesn’t deserve this dungeon!’ and sometimes even ‘we saw it first!’. It was hard to say who was more childish, the governing bodies and ‘men’ that oversaw their laws as well as enforced them, or the nascent dungeons that were effectively at the first-steps point of childhood.

So, had they known, it would have been much to their chagrin to realize what was happening within a stones throw of their once perfect village.

Somewhere far, far away:

“Why would I try and fight you? You’re clearly an entity with powers that humanity has yet to realize exists or even knows of, and I highly doubt me, a mere baseline human, stands a chance of harming a metaphorical hair on your non-existent head.”

“Oh ho ho, I like you human. If you cannot fight then why are you not running?”

“The reasons I listed before still apply here. I’d rather have an interesting conversation before you do whatever it is you're here to do than just die tired and sweaty.”

“I like you even more now! Tell you what, just for that I’ll make this experience pain free for you, okay? Appreciate me later, transference now!”

The man winked out of existence, his soul plucked by a great power and moved to a far more interesting place.

The dungeon core formed from thin air, appearing in a roughly hewn room of rock and dirt, roots hanging from the ceiling, a very short walking distance from what was once a perfectly calm and dungeon-free village located next to a burbling river and a lovely forest.

Nothing was the same again.