The normal skeletons encircled Cassian.
She moved deliberately, keeping them between her and the archers in the back. A living—well, undead—shield, perfectly positioned.
FWOOSH. FWOOSH. FWOOSH.
The archers fired anyway.
Arrows slammed into their own allies.
But Cassian frowned as she observed.
The projectiles passed straight between the bones. Or simply bounced off ribs without causing any visible damage.
“Seriously?” she muttered. “Even their own arrows don’t work?”
The normal skeletons kept advancing, completely indifferent to the fact that they were serving as target practice for their comrades.
The Dungeon Core, directly controlling one skeleton in the middle of the warriors, cautiously approached Cassian from behind.
Just a little closer. Just a little more…
Suddenly, three ice spears erupted from the ground.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
The skeletons surrounding Cassian exploded into bone fragments.
The Core felt a metaphorical chill run through its consciousness.
If I had been any closer…
It immediately pivoted its skeleton and retreated hastily.
Then it ran. Literally ran toward the back, where the archers stood.
A bow. It needed a bow.
It snatched the weapon from the hands of an already-defeated skeleton archer, holding it awkwardly.
I have to keep my distance.
“Missed,” Cassian hissed.
She had missed the intelligent skeleton.
If she had waited just two more seconds—just two—she would have had it.
But now it was over there, blending in among the archers.
Cassian narrowed her eyes, staring intently.
I’m not losing sight of you, bastard.
It was the variable. The real threat.
The other skeletons? Direct. Linear. Predictable in how they wanted to kill her.
This one? It thought. It preserved itself.
And that pissed her off.
She leaped forward, charging straight at it.
Cassian needed to close the distance.
To launch ice spears from the ground, she needed a certain range. Too far and she lost precision. Too close and she risked injuring herself.
If I launch them head-on, it’ll dodge.
She had seen how it moved. How it anticipated.
And I’m not wasting mana on a missed attack.
Technically, she could increase the speed. Make the attack nearly impossible to dodge.
But the mana cost would scale with the speed applied.
I don’t know how many floors this dungeon has.
For now, she was managing. So why waste?
The floor boss skeleton suddenly stepped in front of her, shield raised.
Its sword traced a preventive arc aimed at Cassian’s torso.
She dodged without slowing, spinning around the blade.
Then she raised her hand.
Ice crawled along the ground, wrapping around the boss skeleton’s feet, pinning it in place.
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“Stay there,” she said, brushing past it.
The Dungeon Core saw Cassian rushing straight toward it.
It frantically shoved a skeleton archer in front of itself.
Sacrifice yourself!
Cassian swung her mace without even slowing.
CRACK.
The archer’s skull exploded like an overripe watermelon.
The Core retreated its skeleton farther back among the remaining archers.
Only three archers left. Itself. And the floor boss—still trapped in ice.
Why is she targeting me specifically?!
Cassian suddenly stopped her charge.
Waited.
The archers nocked arrows. One after another, they fired.
FWOOSH.
Cassian swayed to the side, the arrow whistling past her ear.
FWOOSH.
She ducked, feeling it displace the air above her head.
FWOOSH.
A step back, the arrow embedding in the ground where she had stood.
Dodging arrows is hard.
She didn’t really see them. Not clearly. Too fast.
Her body didn’t react quickly enough to evade once they were released.
She predicted. Approximately. Reading the archers’ movements. The tension in their bows. The angle of their arms.
Predict. Move. Pray you’re right.
The last arrow passed.
Cassian exploded into motion.
She crossed the distance in three strides, her mace crashing down.
CRACK.
One archer collapsed.
CRACK.
A second.
FWOOSH.
An arrow flew.
The sound was different. More… precise?
Cassian didn’t see it.
TINK.
The arrow deflected, striking a fragment of bone from the last archer she had just shattered.
It ricocheted harmlessly.
Cassian froze.
I heard that arrow. But I didn’t see it coming.
She turned her head toward the intelligent skeleton.
Its bow was still aimed at her.
Panic rose.
It’s going to shoot. It’s going to—
The skeleton lowered its bow.
And ran toward the floor boss.
The boss had almost completely freed its legs.
Its right leg was already free. It was using its sword as a lever, methodically breaking the ice.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
The Dungeon Core was worried.
Very worried.
At first, it had been excited. Someone in the dungeon! Finally!
That meant resources. Once the person died, their body would serve to expand the dungeon.
New floors. New mobs. Deadlier traps.
It had been pleased that Cassian was strong. That meant she was worth more.
But now?
She’s too competent.
She wasn’t dying. She was adapting. She was winning.
She threatens the entire dungeon.
And it—the Core—could only directly control one mob at a time.
One. Against her.
Insufficient.
Cassian ran, completely ignoring the floor boss.
Her target was clear.
The boss grabbed her wrist as she passed, yanking her sharply toward it.
Its sword aimed for her neck.
She spun, wrapping herself around the skeleton’s body.
The blade whistled through empty air.
The boss readjusted its grip, trying to find an angle to strike.
WHAM.
Cassian’s mace crushed its hand.
The sword clattered to the ground.
The boss tried to shake her off, thrashing violently, staggering in every direction.
The Dungeon Core couldn’t aim.
She’s moving too much. The boss is moving too much. They’re too close.
The boss dropped its shield.
Its free hand grabbed Cassian’s black clothes, pulling, tearing.
Cassian had her legs wrapped around its head, thighs pressing against the skeleton’s temples.
She squeezed.
CRACK.
A subtle crack. But there.
The skull was fracturing.
The boss became desperate, frantically pulling at Cassian.
She squeezed harder.
Every muscle in her legs contracted, amplified by the mana flowing through her body.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
The fissures widened.
Then…
CRUNCH.
Her thighs met in the middle.
The skull exploded into fragments.
The boss collapsed, inert.
Cassian landed on her feet, panting.
She looked at her legs.
I thought bones were harder.
Sure, her body was reinforced by mana. But she had never really prioritized that.
She preferred flashy, stylish magical abilities.
Two options.
Either she was stronger than she thought.
Or their bones were less resistant than normal.
I want to stroke my ego.
But the second option seemed more logical.
She had been destroying skeletons too easily from the beginning.
“Well,” she said, turning toward the last skeleton. “Your turn now.”
The Dungeon Core lowered the bow.
It’s over.
This floor was lost.
It released direct control of the skeleton and retreated deeper into the dungeon.
The skeleton, suddenly freed from direct control, slowly raised the bow again.
Its empty sockets fixed on Cassian.
It drew the string.
Cassian was right in front of it now, less than two meters away.
“Weird,” she murmured.
As if it had given up. Then decided to fight one last time.
She raised her mace.
CRACK.
The skull exploded.
The skeleton collapsed.
Silence.
Cassian stood motionless, staring at the body.
What the…
GRIIIND.
The sound of stone grinding against stone.
She turned.
The floor was opening.
Stairs appeared, descending into darkness.
Torches lit along the staircase.
Cassian approached slowly, peering into the darkness below.
“Third floor,” she whispered.
---
Hiro stepped out of the blacksmith’s shop, grinning widely.
“Finally!”
He now wore a custom sheath perfectly fitted for his lava sword. The blacksmith had used special heat-resistant materials—but it had been worth the price.
The sword no longer drew attention. No incandescent glow.
“Sorry for the wait,” he said, turning to Lena and Lucia. “The sheath took longer than expected.”
“It’s fine,” Lena said with a shrug. “We kept ourselves busy.”
“I bought new medicinal herbs,” Lucia added, showing a small bag. “I was running low.”
Hiro drew his sword.
The motion was smooth, perfect. The blade slid from the sheath with a satisfying hiss.
“Perfect,” he murmured.
He sheathed it again.
“The blacksmith did good work.”
“I FOUND YOU!”
Hiro turned.
Hector was striding toward them, grinning broadly. Accompanied by six guards in heavy armor.
“You thought you could escape me?” Hector laughed, almost hysterically. “I haven’t FORGOTTEN the humiliation from last time!”
A man beside Hector—older, but with the same features—frowned.
“Is that him?” he asked.
“Yes, big brother,” Hector confirmed immediately. “That’s the guy.”
The big brother was clearly a more mature version of Hector. But his eyes carried a cold intelligence Hector lacked.
He stepped forward, staring at Hiro with disdain.
“Apparently,” he said in a calm, almost polite voice, “you used unfair tricks against my younger brother. In a simple friendly duel.”
“Friendly?” Lena repeated incredulously.
The big brother ignored her completely.
“And you have the audacity,” he continued, “to come into our county. As if nothing happened. Pure provocation.”
He crossed his arms.
“I challenge you to an official duel. To restore my family’s honor.”
Passersby immediately backed away. Some hid in shops. Others watched from a distance, whispering nervously.
“More nobles causing trouble…”
“Poor guy. He’s gonna get massacred.”
“The Torbernus family doesn’t joke about honor.”
Hiro shook his head.
“I refuse. I don’t have time for this.”
He looked Hector directly in the eyes.
“And I don’t even know who you are.”
Hector turned scarlet.
“YOU… YOU DARE?!”
Lena snorted.
Lucia hid her laugh behind her hand.
The big brother narrowed his eyes dangerously.
“Pretending not to know Hector is pointless,” he said coldly. “There were witnesses.”
He took a step forward.
“Your refusal is not an option.”
The guards advanced, forming a half-circle around Hiro, Lena, and Lucia.
One of them—a burly guy—snickered.
“Look at him,” he said to the other guards. “Thinks he can refuse a noble.”
Another guard—thinner, with a mocking smile—added:
“The Young Master is generous to offer him an honorable duel. Most would’ve just been thrown in prison.”
“Or worse,” a third laughed.
Hector puffed out his chest, encouraged by his guards.
“You see?” he said triumphantly. “You have no choice. My big brother is going to destroy you. Like I should have done myself if you hadn’t…”
He stopped, realizing he was about to admit his defeat.
“…if you hadn’t cheated!”
The big brother sighed.
“Hector. Shut up.”
He turned back to Hiro.
“The duel will take place tomorrow. At noon. In the public square.”
“And if I leave?” Hiro asked calmly. “If I simply leave your county?”
The big brother’s smile turned icy.
“Then we hunt you down. And the duel becomes… an arrest. For multiple charges. Assault on a noble. Fleeing justice. Resisting authority.”
He made a careless gesture.
“You’d end up in prison. For a long time.”
The guards laughed again.
Hiro took a deep breath.
“Fine,” he said finally. “Tomorrow. Noon.”
The big brother smiled, satisfied.
“Excellent. I’m pleased you’ve chosen the path of honor.”
He turned to leave.
“Ah,” he added without looking back, “and in case you think of fleeing during the night…”
He gestured.
Two guards detached from the group, positioning themselves at a respectful but visible distance.
“They’ll accompany you. For your protection.”
Hector laughed as he walked away.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to SUFFER!”
