With my chains wrapped around my forearm, I stood waiting in the middle of the woods, straining to catch every sound surrounding me and the evolved version of my Eagle Eyes skill surveying through a 360-degree angle.

It was then that it came—not from behind me, nor from the sides, left or right, but from above. A red blade swung down at me wielded by a young, haired man.

Raising my arm, I blocked the attack. Clang! Licht's blade met my chains with intense force, one that, despite all his weight and a vicious roar to enhance it, barely budged. Smiling at his attempt, I reached out to him.

Seeing my attempt, Licht quickly withdrew, retreating half a dozen meters away from. Without a moment’s pause, he assumed a stance, unleashing a flurry—no, a dance—of midair swings. Each strike birthed light-infused blade attacks, cutting through the air as they closed the distance between us.

With practiced ease, I wove through the narrowing gap, evading every strike. The dozen or so attacks failed to find their mark, instead carving a destructive path into the ancient trees behind me, their centuries of growth wasted in an instant. Frustrated, Licht abandoned his ranged assault and charged forward, swinging his blade in a powerful leftward arc. I met it calmly, deflecting the blow with my chains. Another swing followed, then another, and yet another—all of them met with effortless blocks.

As his relentless strikes failed to gain ground, I could see irritation creeping into his expression. Then, abandoning any pretense of honor, he resorted to a cheap shot—a vicious kick aimed at my stomach. Though I managed to intercept it with my knee, the attack was so ungentlemanly that I couldn’t help but feel a bit offended.

"Erm, excuse you," I said, raising an eyebrow at him teasingly.

At these words, Licht withdrew twice the distance he had earlier, and as relentless as he was, he immediately stanced for another attack. This time, I didn't just stand around letting him do so; I closed in on him, which prompted him to make a rapid response that came in the form of a skill.

The skill released a blinding flash that instantly engulfed our surroundings, effectively blinding anyone who relied on sight. However, I was an exception, thanks to my two skills that rendered me immune to such tactics. Licht watched in horror as I advanced unimpeded, closing the distance between us swiftly.

To his credit, he managed to respond, swinging his sword in desperation. But it was a futile effort—his ordinary strike met my bare left hand and stopped cold. Without hesitation, I reached out with my right, gripping his face and hurling him backward. His head slammed into the ground with such force that a dull thud reverberated through the forest, accompanied by a strained "Garf!" from the now-pinned Licht.

Smiling down at the arched-in-pain Licht, I asked, as I removed my hand from his face, "You're alright?"

"Argh! I'm fine!" he groaned, still arched in pain.

"Sorry," I apologized, lending him a helping hand, "I might have failed to properly tone down that last blow."

Accepting the hand, as this was nothing more than a sparring between us, Licht rose up and asked with a frown, "Because you were toning down the one before that attack?!"

"Of course, I'm still a level 76 after all. Even without using my curse, spells, or magic."

"But you said that as if you only used physical attacks you were far weaker than that," he complained.

"Did I say that?" I feigned with teasing eyes.

The truth is, yes, I did say that. If you were to look at me from a class perspective, without worrying about how the system categorizes things, I would be three things: a Hexcaster, a Mage, and, lastly, a Weaponry Ascetic. All of these classes share a reliance on MP—except for the Weaponry Ascetic, which uniquely draws on both SP and MP. This dual reliance grants its wielder the ability to deliver both physical and magical attacks.

However, anyone familiar with the system’s sense of balance would know that such versatility comes at a cost. The class doesn’t make its magical or physical capabilities as potent as those of a strictly MP-centric or SP-centric class. Instead, they’re toned down. So yes, my physical capabilities may pale in comparison to my magical ones—but that doesn’t mean they pale when compared to others. For instance, a monk of the same level as me might surpass me in raw physical offense. But a level 43 knight? Certainly not—and even less so when you factor in a certain title I wield.

"I think you forget what I am," I reminded Licht, "A kin-slaughterer, a being wielding the Bane Human skill at its high level. Passively, I'm dealing far more damage than I want to, so if I don't hold back..."

At these words, it sank into him. So when he nodded, I added, "I'd say you took my word a little too literally when I said that I physically wasn't all that strong. I'm still a level 76, sure that makes me a level 26 half-physical monk, but I still bear the full stats of a level 76."

At these words, he sighed depressively.

"It's alright," I said, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat. "You did great... for your level. We could work on how to execute low blows properly, but honestly, that was a solid first attempt. That was your first time, right?"

Frowning at me, he asked apprehensively, "How do you know?"

"It shows," I said with a laugh. "It was obvious you weren’t used to it, considering how long it took you to resort to that tactic. Honestly, though, it wasn’t a bad attempt—just the wrong match-up. Your real issue isn’t that you’re bad at it; it’s that you’re not used to fighting humans."

In the world we came from, we’d seen our share of bloodshed. So when I said he wasn’t used to fighting humans, I didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to kill when he would have to—I have no doubts that he would.

What I meant was that in Fiendfell, human fights are handled differently. Back home, combat often revolved around guns, explosives, and technology. Here, it’s about skills, abilities, and direct physical clashes.

During the sparring match, it was clear he wasn’t holding back—he knew I wouldn’t die. Still, I could tell he wasn’t accustomed to opponents weaving past his attacks. That’s a common issue for fighters who’ve spent most of their time battling large monsters, which tend to tank hits rather than dodge them. Humans—or sentient beings in general—instinctively avoid harm; it’s in our nature. So, when someone used to fighting stationary or straightforward opponents suddenly faces someone effortlessly dodging their attacks, it often throws them into a state of panic.

I’d faced the same problem once, back when Vittorio and I cleared that dungeon. His death there forced me into the life of an adventurer, under the watchful eyes of the Church. In other words, I was forced to lead a slaughter-free existence for a time, leaving me unable to deal with humans the way I once could. So, when I eventually got back into the field, I was rusty—hesitant and inefficient against human opponents. It took a few bandit lair raids to shake off that hesitation and regain my edge.

What I believed Licht needed was a baptism of blood.

"We’ll fix this," I said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Unless you don’t want to?"

He shook his head firmly.

"Good," I replied. "I was worried it might go against your principles."

"Why would it go against them?" he asked, puzzled.

"I don’t know..." I said, grinning. "You know what? Do you want to know the real reason I asked?"

"Yes," he said with a nod.

"I thought Dungeon Master 07 wouldn't want me teaching those kinds of things to you."

I wasn’t making baseless assumptions. For a long time, Dungeon Master 07 had kept him out of my reach, despite both of us being adventurers. Normally, that would have given me plenty of opportunities to interact with him. I didn’t blame 07 for the distance he wanted Licht to maintain from me; I understood the reasoning all too well. Despite striving for the same end goal, he and I walked different paths. It made sense to keep those he directly influenced from crossing paths with me—it was better and safer that way.

"Oh…"

"To be honest, with you," I said, "Despite the good points I made when I requested your presence, I was really surprised to hear him accepting my offer to involve you in all of this—his favorite and so-exemplary dungeon master," I said, nudging him teasingly.

"I'm..." he responded, clearly unsure how to snap back at that, but just moved away from me.

I'm gonna have a fun time corrupting you, I laughed maniacally internally.

"What's with that devious smile?"

"What devious smile? I was just smiling at how strong you're going to be when we're done with all of this."

"Why do I doubt that?" he asked apprehensively, then, as if coming to an understanding, "Wait, do you remember the bet we made about me finding the main reason for which I wanted you here."

"I never forget. You still have three tries."

"Is it just because Luc—Dungeon Master 07 didn't want you anywhere near me."

At these words, I exploded with laughter, one that I was only able to repress after a moment. "You're down to two tries. I wouldn't lie to you—that could have been the reason, if there wasn't the true reason. So, well played."

"Oh," he sighed, disappointed.

"Did you think of something to request in exchange for the answer already?"

"Not yet," he answered, "I'm still hesitating about a lot."

"Like?"

"I’m not sure yet but the first thing that comes to mind is whatever you did after your class change to end up like this." He pointed a finger at me. "You make it sound like it’s normal, but it’s not—it doesn’t add up. There’s no way you could be this physically strong, not when your previous classes were both MP-focused. You might say it’s because of your new class, but you’ve only been in it for two levels. So, you must have done something—something I can’t figure out."

I smiled.

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He was right—something about my strength didn’t add up. The first to notice it, albeit a bit late, was Alexander. Still, credit where it’s due—he managed to figure out that something was off even without knowing my actual level. So, kudos to him for that belated realization.

Class changes come with a steep cost. So they’re something you only do when you’ve really badly messed up your class choice and thus truly regret it. Not only does a class change risk throwing off your stats balance, but it also comes with significant drawbacks. For instance, if you change classes at level 25, you’re often left with just a handful of level 1 skills to scrape by with. At level 75, you can at least rely on the skills from your original class to get through.

By that logic, it made no sense for someone like me—at level 75 and fresh into a new class—to hold my own in a physical fight against Alexander, who was around level 80 and had been a martial artist for at least 30 levels. It just didn’t add up.

"Oh, you were curious about that?" I said with a sly grin. "It’s not really a secret. You could’ve just asked—I would’ve answered. Want me to tell you what I did?"

He nodded.

"It's simple really, it's true that I'm only a level 76, and thus am only two levels into my monk special class, but the thing is, I've been, that I've been at that level for fifty years, you know about that already, don't you?"

"Yes, and that's the part that confuses me."

"Alright, alright, I'll explain," I chuckled, deciding to stop teasing him anymore, "It's simple. I might have remained a level 75 for 50 years as I said, but just because I did so doesn't mean that I just stopped acquiring skills and leveling them up. In fact, I'd say that those 50 years were the most I've been active when it comes to picking up skills since I had to catch up after the 'setback' my class change put me into."

"That...How?"

How? That was a good question. Acquiring skills is typically tied to leveling up one’s class, just as experience is usually gained by defeating others—whether people or monsters. The only exception might be innate skills, which are granted due to a mysterious predisposition or as part of one’s class. These skills are usually unlocked at key milestones when a class is newly acquired: levels 1, 25, 50, and 75.

When I initiated my class change at level 75, I unlocked several innate Weaponry Ascetic skills. Initially, they were all at level 1. Even though I’ve only leveled up once since acquiring them, they’ve advanced far beyond that. They’re no longer at levels 2 or 3—most of them have evolved well beyond their original forms.

"Simple," I began before explaining, "I trained in the best place one could possibly train—the Voidborne Catacomb, under the watchful supervision of the domain's dungeon core—Dungeon Master 00."

"Wait... I'm even more confused, wasn't it said that we can't level up by using creatures spawned by the Voidborne Catacomb?"

That was a realization Dungeon Master 07 came to in his third incarnation. It’s likely because the system perceives the dungeon’s spawns as being akin to familiars summoned by us. Just as you can’t harvest experience from defeating your own summon, we can’t gain experience from slaying monsters produced by the Voidborne Catacomb.

If it were possible, we’d have trained every Dungeon Master in that place. But unfortunately, leveling up through experience there is impossible. And no, you don’t acquire skills, abilities, or titles from fighting those monsters either—the system sees through such attempts. However, there is a way to work around the restriction when it comes to leveling up skills. While it’s still impossible to gain experience, there’s a trick—a not-so-simple one—that allows you to actually level up your skills.

"You're right, you can't, but you can level up your skill if you are parasitized by those," I explained, pulling out something I’ve always been carrying around.

"A rock?" Licht asked, eyeing the object with confusion.

It certainly looked like a rock—at first. But as I slowly lifted the curse I had cast on it, the creature beneath began to squirm. Licht shuddered, a visible chill running down his spine. I couldn’t blame him; the worm-like eldritch beings were truly unsettling to behold.

"What is that?" he asked, his voice tinged with unease.

As a former dungeon core, he should have pieced it together from my explanations and the creature's appearance. But not every Dungeon Master retained memories as I did, with every detail etched into their mind. So, layering another curse to petrify the wriggling thing, I held it up and introduced him properly to them.

"Licht, meet the Soulstriders—or, as they’re known in the Underworld, Fate Gluttons." I gave him a moment to absorb the name before continuing. "These little abominations are eldritch parasites. They latch onto a host and either condemn them to the most wretched existence imaginable or, if the host is highly compatible, establish a form of harmony. Symbiosis, if you will. In that both fortunate and unfortunate scenario, the Soulstriders leech every bit of experience their host earns, feeding on it as sustenance. Ungrateful little bastards, for sure, but not stupid—they know keeping their host alive is in their best interest. So, while they deprive you of leveling up, they’ll allow you to grow stronger in other ways."

Licht’s expression twisted as he processed my explanation. "You’ve spent the past fifty years with those in you?"

"It's kind of weird when you put it like that. But yeah, I’ve spent fifty years being parasitized by these things," I admitted. "In this case, though, the parasitism works in my favor. When I'm parasitized, the system perceives me as a different entity—likely just an extension of the Soul Strider. Because of that, it grants experience to me. Well, technically to them. Sure I don’t get experience, since the Soulstriders keep it for themselves. But in return, I get what I truly want from this exchange: skill level-ups. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship—symbiotic, like I said," I explain with a smirk. "Want to try it someday?"

"Why would I ever want to do that?"

"Sure, there’s the risk of dying, the constant pain, and the possibility that you might never get rid of them without the proper skills. But if you can look past all that, it’s actually worth it."

One look at him made his stance clear, but still I advised, "if you’re curious about that method, I’d recommend using a Soul Eater instead. The name isn’t exactly comforting, and neither is their size—they’re much larger—but that size makes them significantly easier to remove. They’re also less greedy. Unlike the smaller, more insidious cousins, Soul Eaters are vicious but more direct. For your level, you'd at best need to host two or three, unlike me, who had to host an entire colony."

"You speak as if, after everything you’ve said, I’d actually consider doing that."

"I just wanted to give you your options," I replied with a smirk, "in case you ever decide to take advantage of Dungeon Master 00’s spawns. Besides, even if you don’t plan on doing what I did, I think you should visit Dungeon Master 00 from time to time."

Dungeon Master 07 had emphasized it repeatedly, and I had come to understand it even in my first incarnation: time flows differently for us Dungeon Masters, especially when we are in our Dungeon Core states. For a Dungeon Core, time doesn’t feel fast or slow—it simply exists. From a human perspective, what might feel like a century to us would pass as mere moments to a Dungeon Core.

Because of this, I doubted we could live long enough for Dungeon Master 00 to ever feel loneliness—assuming, of course, that a Dungeon Core is even capable of such an emotion. Still, I believe he genuinely enjoyed the fifty years I spent with him.

Feeling a pang of guilt over how brief the reunion between Dungeon Master 00 and Licht had been, I added, "You wouldn’t have noticed it, since he withdrew so quickly when you two met, but he was really eager to see you, Licht. During my time with him, he always loved hearing tales of my adventures and mishaps in Fiendfell. I doubt enough time has passed for him to start missing those stories, but if you ever get the chance, you should visit him and share some of your own adventures. Heck, if you manage to lure one or two adventurers into his domain, I’m sure you’d make his day. No—what am I saying? You’d make his whole century."

Listening, Licht nodded. "I'm not sure about the luring adventurers part, but I will definitely visit another time."

"That's good—" I began before looking up when I noticed something approaching in the upper corner of my right eye.

Following my glance, Licht looked up and wondered out loud, "What the hell is she doing here?"

"I was asking myself the same question."

Lowering her broom to the ground, she landed and approached.

"Aquaflora, what a surprise to see you here."

Without returning my greeting, the girl went on to rant, "So you were really serious about not doing anything. Lives are at stake, aren't they? You've said it yourself. Yet here you two are! Casually do–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down," I interjected, cutting off the ranting ashy blonde-haired elf girl mid-sentence. "First off, good morning."

She clearly had no intention of returning the greeting but, realizing I wouldn’t entertain her until she did, conceded with a sigh. "Good morning."

"And Licht? You’re not going to greet him too?"

Another sigh. "Good morning, Licht. Now, I—"

Before she could continue, I cut her off again. "Secondly, what are you doing here? Or, more precisely, how did you even get here?"

After obtaining the approval of the Umbryan family patriarch, we left the capital. Our next destination was none other than the mansion we had parted ways with the others from, where we barely stayed a day to get here, to do what I promised them upon leaving the Umbryan capital: To hunt monsters, train, and level up.

A war against the Argyrian patriarch and his stampede was in motion, and it was best to have everyone ready for it. This not only concerned Licht but me as well. It was time for me to finally acquire some levels. I tried to rope Aquaflora into our "remise-en-forme" as she seemed intent on seeing this whole conflict through, but she refused and parted ways with us, heading for, I believe, her little place in the middle of swamps.

It's been over a week since our departure from the Umbryan capital, three days since our arrival, and barely two days since our separation, and here she was again.

"I...I followed you here," she explained.

"You followed us here? From the mansion, you followed us here?" I asked incredulously.

It was worth mentioning that the spot we currently trained at had been suggested by Goblin. As the most familiar with these woods—thanks to his bonded creatures—he had pointed out that this corner of the forest was frequented by Primes. In other words, it was a highly dangerous area. That was precisely why we chose it; it was perfect for our level-up program.

And now, here she was, casually telling us she had flown over on her little broom to get here.

"I've seen bravery, you're something beyond that level."

If Goblin was there, he would have gladly named what it was: stupidity.

"Spare me your sarcasm, I'm here because—"

"Because you don't agree with my methods."

"It's not your methods. You said it yourself, didn't you? That the patriarch is heading next for the Aurian family capital, right?"

"I did say that. So what? What do you expect me to do about that? To go after the Argyrian patriarch myself?"

"I..."

"See, you're at a loss for words because you realize how ridiculous your expectation of me is."

"I'm not expecting you to do that, I'm expecting you to try something, I don't know, do anything to help avoid something like what happened in the Umbryan capital from happening there."

"I sent Goblin and Blondie. The Umbryan patriarch also sent envoys to the Aurian family that'll reach the capital before the Argyrian patriarch and his stampede. If she's stupid enough to still engage, then she deserves to get what's coming to her."

"It's not about her, but her people."

It took me some time to realize it, but now I see it clearly. This girl…she got a little taste of action and got a little too infatuated by it. Now, she clearly wants more of that. That explains her disappointment over us settling down.

Hehehe, I can’t say I don’t understand, but she chose the worst person to rant to.

"Listen here. I’m not going to argue about this since we’re talking about a worst-case scenario. The Umbryan matriarch can’t possibly be that stupid. Her most likely course of action will be to accept our offer—if she hasn’t already. I didn’t send Blondie and Goblin out there believing they’d fail. Her next move, assuming she has even a shred of intelligence, will be to secure the safety of her people, just as the Umbryan patriarch is busy securing what’s left of his capital."

These words effectively silenced the girl. Since we’d already gotten to this point, I decided to press further.

"Which is why, Miss Aquaflora, the smartest—and dare I say, the sanest—thing for us to do is to get ready for the battle that’s bound to happen. That’s exactly what my little Licht over here and I are doing—raising our levels. So, excuse us for not jumping on board with whatever plan you’ve cooked up."

She bit her lip, clearly frustrated, then turned on her heel, ready to take flight—likely to head back.

"Oh, hell no," I muttered under my breath.

"Huh? What are you doing?" Aquaflora barked as she found herself wrapped head to toe in my chains, falling to the ground with a startled yelp.

Her iridescent-colored loong, usually wrapped around her neck like a scarf, lunged at me with all the bravery of a snake defending its master. A quick snatch to its neck, however, left it wriggling and hissing helplessly in my grasp.

"What are you doing?!" she shouted, her voice rising in panic.

"Me?" I replied, feigning innocence. "Nothing much. I was just thinking that since you’re here, and it’s pretty obvious you’re not going to stay put when we go fight the patriarch, you might as well take part in our little level-up program."

Grabbing her like a bag of supplies, I turned to Licht with a grin. "Got you a humanoid training partner, Licht."

Licht raised both hands in immediate protest, his expression screaming that he wanted no part of this.

"Let me goooooooo!" Aquaflora wailed, struggling futilely against the chains.