The most recent Mature Dungeon destroyed in Namasia was over a year ago in the familiar, not-so-far nation of Bhizdom. To be safe rather than sorry, the ruling merchant clans had invited the Justicators to aid in suppressing the dungeon, which I rather thought closed the matter. It was nearly inconceivable that the Justicators would claim to destroy a dungeon and not have done so, or that they would believe a dungeon destroyed when it was not. The Justicators were called many things -- too harsh, too hidebound, too self-righteous -- but nobody would accuse them of corruption, deception, or incompetence.

Happily, my mentor agreed with my assessment. "I also do not believe a Core could survive a day, much less a year, outside a dungeon."

I was all set to excitedly declare my dungeon anomalous, when a sudden thought gave me pause. "But... what if it wasn't outside? What if this isn't the first time they've relocated the Core and pretended it's a new dungeon?"

We stared at one another with matching grim expressions. "A complete investigation would be unworkable," Senior Rubrik finished my thought. Since the majority of dungeons were destroyed as soon as they contained Developing Cores, dungeons weren't even named and registered until they'd survived their Developing Stage for a full year. Not to mention we were up to an average of ten new dungeons formed or at least discovered every year, sometimes as many as eighteen, where less than a third survived to registration; trying to trace such a trail back to a single Mature or Elder Dungeon's reported demise sounded a miserable task doomed to failure.

My first investigation, and I'd already hit a dead end. I kept wracking my brain for some solution, when suddenly I felt my mentor's aura brighten. I waited patiently until he spoke: "You are mana-sensitive, as I recall. Did you notice any difference in mana between the two Cores?"

I thought back, but eventually shook my head. "No, nothing. If anything..." I hesitated, then continued, "Perhaps the second was slightly denser, but that might've just been the greater mana on the second floor, or the longer period I spent closely examining it."

"That is slight evidence in favor of an anomaly. On the other hand, perhaps the Core's density is more influenced by its dungeon's current size than its stage of maturation, contrary to our current understanding. Or perhaps the conspirators have a method to conceal its true density. I would consider this second theory more probable if you had not been with the adventurers who bound the dungeon."

"Or perhaps I couldn't tell or simply didn't notice." I frowned. "The obvious next step is to study a confirmed Mature Core... No, too dangerous. I suppose I could try a Developing Core first..."

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But instead of leaping with excitement, Bessie shook her head. "Much as I love this escalation, no can do I'm afraid. No Developing Dungeon is easy for just anyone to access, no offense, otherwise it'd already be gobbled up."

"I'll swear my peaceful intentions on any truth stone," I said. "And the Scholar's Guild can vouch for me."

"That could work, but you would need to go through your guild, not ours. And I thought you were trying to keep this quiet?"

"I can just write up a vague research proposal, I think." I hadn't actually done anything like that before, but I'd ask my mentor. Meanwhile... "Blake, do you think Underworlders might know more about dungeons?"

He stared at me. "Um, yeah? Some have lived in one. Actually, some probably still do or know those who do."

I stared back. "And you didn't think to mention this before?"

"Why would I? Not like you can go down there and interview them." Seeing my expression, he raised his hands. "Oh, no. Bessie, talk some sense into her."

"I don't mean I'd go alone. But with an escort--"

"Rena," Bessie said, placing a friendly hand on my shoulder. "No way, no how are we taking you into the Underworld unless you can confidently defend yourself. We're not trained bodyguards. Some situations we definitely can't handle, and we've taken actual classes in recognizing those situations, escaping, and regrouping... which we can't do without abandoning you, not as you are."

"But... is it really that dangerous? I mean, I've been in the Underworld. More than once."

That surprised them. After a moment, Blake asked, "Were you with someone powerful or well-connected?"

"Well, yes," I admitted. "To both."

"Lucky you, then."

"Someday you have got to tell us your whole history," Bessie said. "I bet you could give Blake a run for his money on interesting stories, and hopefully yours will be less... gruesome."

"Try depressing," Hannah said.

"Terrifying," Tom added.

Blake scoffed. "They're exaggerating."

Hannah nearly screeched, "That one about your poor bunny friend you ended up eating? I still cry when I think about it!"

"Me too!" Bessie said. "And your spider story gave me nightmares. I haven't had nightmares since I was in diapers!"

"That's... just because you're afraid of spiders," Blake said, but he was starting to look uncomfortable.

"We weren't afraid of them before," Tom said.

"Perhaps I should revisit my idea to learn about dungeons in the Underworld," I interjected. "But for curiosity's sake, what would it take for you to accompany me?"

The adventurers exchanged a look, before returning their gazes to me. "That's easy." Bessie arched a brow. "Become Silver-Ranked."

I was definitely not turning into an adventurer. However, now that she'd thrown down the gauntlet, I couldn't help but look up the requirements. Great deities, in addition to a three-quest completion requirement it was disgustingly expensive just to take the Silver-Ranking test, and there was no refund for failing. The exact details of every test varied, and candidates were severely discouraged from seeking information on them, but combat would certainly feature. A number of classes at the Adventurer's Guildhall were suggested, including, and my blood drained on reading this, the heavily recommended Skills [Pain Resistance] and [Mental Resistance].

After all that, and I was only still reading for completeness' sake, the rewards for success were higher fees and 'credit requirements,' meaning Silver-Rankers were required to earn credits from guild missions, failing to meet the quota for which meant dropping back to Bronze. That was hardly a disincentive except for losing easy portal access, not that I could afford the portal fees. Or the examination fee. And no way, no how was I suffering through the requisite pain for [Pain Resistance]. I'd probably beg to quit the class during the first session, grimly return the next day, and then lose all will to continue or live by the end of the week. Why was I even thinking about this?

Some Meditative introspection later, I decided that I genuinely wasn't interested in becoming a Silver-Ranker, but I was also increasingly aware of my mortal weaknesses. I was at a crossroads: I could remain the protected VIP, separate and apart from the capable combatants, or I could strive to become someone who could handle all situations, and more importantly, who could conduct valuable but potentially dangerous field research. Someone who could study the new plant in Ticamira's dungeon, or who could explore the Underworld, or who could examine a Mature or Elder Core. No, I was getting ahead of myself.

I wanted to become someone capable of passing the Silver-Ranking test, even though I had no intention of taking it. After all, presumably each guideline was chosen for a reason, most especially the three highlighted: combat readiness and the two Resistances.

[Mental Resistance] was probably to prevent becoming a dungeon's thrall, but it might be even more relevant for me personally; I'd taken note of my uncharacteristic behavior before and during my recent trip and concluded I must have been affected by my newly upgraded [Advanced Empathy]. The biggest clues were when I'd sobered along with the mood, which shouldn't have happened if it'd only been the alcohol, and my misery on the away journey, though the mourners weren't even sharing my wagon. Could I perhaps be normally influenced by the studious atmosphere in the library? I'd read before that those new to [Empathy] often found it distracting, even overwhelming, but I'd had the initial Skill what felt like my whole life and long since grown used to [Intermediate Empathy]... or so I'd thought. More research was required.

Without a doubt, [Pain Resistance] would be my biggest hurdle. I understood logically that danger sometimes led to injury, and that my body's natural reaction could cost me my focus and then my life. However, I was illogically, vehemently unwilling to subject myself to the necessary process. Just imagining it made me break out in a cold sweat. Was I weak-willed? Was this the one instance where I knew too much for my own good? Was I overthinking it like a stereotypical Scholar?

Beset by doubts, I sought out my mentor for advice. He strongly supported learning [Mental Resistance] and offered to investigate [Empathy] through [Advanced Empathy], including any restricted information. Then he disclosed the results of his previous research. "I could not find any reference to [Universal Translation] that did not presume a single-tier Skill. You are likely the first person documented with [Intermediate Universal Translation]." I gasped then guiltily clamped my mouth shut and looked around, relieved when nobody shushed me. Senior Rubrik smiled, his eyes and aura shining. "With your permission, I would like to report this achievement to the Board."

My mind was spinning. "But... how?"

"As to that, I suspect the Mage-Flight Paradox Model. Are you familiar with the theory?"

"Isn't that the one about how humans have to work harder to fly? At least compared to some other species."

"Correct. The critical point is that humans have discovered numerous Skills for flight, but none of them come naturally to us, so we typically must upgrade a Skill to its topmost tier before we can compete in the air. Meanwhile natural-born fliers, such as dragons, lack any flight-related Skills, while others such as genies, who have a racial affinity for [Flight], rely on their initial Skill for their whole lives. For this reason, we used to believe [Flight] was a single-tier Skill, before one dedicated Archmage proved otherwise."

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"You believe [Universal Translation] isn't a Skill intended for humans?" I surmised. "Then how did I advance it? Oh... the dungeon."

"Correct again. We already know Elder Dungeons demonstrate a similar ability, though whether this is an inborn property, [Universal Translation], or another Skill has not been answered by any dungeon or Contractor. If only Herohall was more communicative... Ahem. After your first contact, you mentioned a mental barrier you had to overcome and then a connection formed, as..." He consulted his notes. "You 'felt something reaching back.' Your Skill then upgraded upon second contact. My theory is that you formed an empathetic connection with the dungeon that allowed it to bridge your communication difficulties, aiding your breakthrough. If true, I would consider this strong evidence in favor of it being anomalous."

I sat there absorbing everything he'd said and was unable to find any fault in his reasoning... until the last part. "Wait. Why should that make it anomalous?" He looked at me, perplexed. "In the usual case, the only ones who'd approach a Mature or Elder Core are seeking to consume it or form a Contract with it. Neither offers much motivation or opportunity to make my awkward attempt at contact."

He pondered this. "I suppose it is possible previous attempts were not made, rejected, or otherwise unsuccessful. In any case, do I have your permission to submit my report?"

"If you think it best." I felt a brief surge of excitement at the idea I'd made history, or a footnote somewhere, before reminding myself I'd probably just been in the right place, right time. "I need to study the dungeon again. According to your theory, I owe it much."

"You do not owe it your life. Be careful," Senior Rubrik said sternly, before the lines of his face softened. "Apologies, you originally came to me with a different concern. I do not have specific advice for handling [Pain Resistance] and optimizing your combat capability, but I know someone who does. You."

I just stared at him, so he continued, "You may have decided against becoming a Path Advisor, but your eminent qualification remains. Your friends have all benefited from your guidance, correct? I suggest treating your issue not as a personal hurdle, but as an intellectual puzzle. How would you advise someone else with your exact goals, strengths, and disadvantages? I believe you yourself are the best person to answer that."

I realized he was right, as usual. I had been thinking too narrowly. My goal wasn't to gain any specific Skill; even the adventurers labeled [Pain Resistance] as 'heavily recommended,' not required. And who better than me to advise on a choice of Skills?

The possibilities opened in my mind like a beautifully bound book. Closing my eyes, I pictured them one by one, casting [Scribe] to form each new page with a related line of Skills. When the number of pages started to become ridiculous, I grouped lines of Skills together into similar categories. Then I laid them out across an empty table, overlapping slightly when they would have spilled over the edge.

Right away I could see most of these were not suitable for me. I created a 'Reject' pile, starting with the Berserker line of Skills. Given the choice between crippling pain and mindless aggression, I'd probably choose the latter, but I most definitely preferred to never have to choose. Well, unless I was somewhere like Hellsfell... moving on. I added the Enlightenment line with its opposite problems; I was pretty sure it wasn't intended for combat. And the Conduit line, since I wasn't some psychopath who'd pass on my pain to followers and supposed friends.

The Healer line was beyond tempting, but in a wishful-thinking sort of way. Healing was notorious for its crazy difficulty in learning without a teacher, and Healers nowadays charged either a fortune to teach or a pledge of undying loyalty. Possibly both. Besides, learning Healing for the relevant Skills numbing pain was incredibly roundabout, like learning how to create life-sized gold statues out of thin air in order to earn some gold. I sighed, setting the page aside in an 'I wish' pile.

The Healing-opposite Poison line went onto the 'Reject' pile. I didn't think it was a good idea to poison myself before or during every battle. After a moment, I moved it to the new 'Probably Not' and added the Drunken line as another bad but doable idea. Then I set the standard Resistance Skill line firmly in 'Reject.'

So it went until I had a half-dozen in the 'Reject' pile, a half-dozen more in 'Probably Not,' a single 'Maybe,' and a whole stack of 'I Wish.' This last was because I'd included various methods of avoiding pain entirely, things like sending forth an astral projection or swapping places with a clone or hiding inside a puppet golem, which, while probably effective, also meant I should be a solid Platinum in power. Too bad nothing had jumped out at me as a resounding 'Yes!' but I supposed if such a convenient, superior Skill existed and was readily accessible, I'd already have thought of and probably learned it. I picked up the one 'Maybe' and whispered to myself, "By process of elimination, I choose you!"

The Reduction category, instead of making the user better at resisting pain, reduced the amount of pain felt temporarily without any notable side effects. I'd finally narrowed down my options to fifteen initial Skills. However, looking them over, only two could be learned in a reasonable time frame without a teacher or Skill Book. Neither was worth a 'Maybe.' [Mana Body-Burst] could potentially be excellent for fighters with the right reflexes and combat instincts, but would be almost completely wasted on me. [Incarnation of Righteous Wrath], which overlapped with the Trigger category of Skills, required the titular mental state, which definitely didn't come naturally to me. On the other hand, learning a Tier-3 Skill would take a year, and that was assuming I wasn't bottlenecked. Forget Tier-4. The whole Reduction category was obscure enough I doubted I'd find a teacher easily, and Skill Books were ridiculously expensive. This was the point where I should either give up on obtaining a relevant Skill to deal with pain or give in to the general pull toward [Pain Resistance].

I decided to sleep on the decision, and in the meantime, hunt down my anticipated reading on Anomalous Skills. Who knew, maybe the author would reveal a heretofore unheard-of Skill that just so happened to be applicable.

The book was interesting, but rather than learn of any new Anomalous Skills, I identified one that was missing. With my mentor's blessing, I sent a letter to the author in which I pointed out the omission, cited relevant sources, and while I was at it sent my thoughts on some of the presented conclusions, drawing on other non-Anomalous Skills that I nevertheless found relevant.

Somebody watching might have perhaps found my method of letter writing unusual: I scribbled out a very rough draft, read the whole thing through as it should be written rather than as it was, visualized this ideal version in my mind, and finally used [Scribe] to create the finished letter in beautiful calligraphy on traditional Scribed paper. I repeated this process several times, even as the hour grew late, since I'd been reminded of my other neglected correspondences.

The next morning, I did not suddenly realize a solution to my dilemma. Rather than stew in indecision, I once again approached my mentor. He considered the matter at some length, before stating, "As it happens, I am somewhat familiar with a Senior Copyist Scholar."

My eyes widened. [Scribe] was a seven-tier Skill, starting at the initial Tier-2 [Basic Scribe] and culminating in the Tier-8 [Ultimate Scribe], where each tier was more difficult and time-consuming to obtain than the last. If I upgraded my Skill twice, to [Enhanced Scribe] and then [Intermediate Scribe], I would automatically be promoted to Learned Scholar, even were I new to the guild. With the Tier-6 [Greater Scribe], I would be a Senior Scholar; and with the Tier-7 [Advanced Scribe], Master Scholar. The value of the higher-tier [Scribe] Skill could not be overstated. Simply put, these were the people who could copy and repair Skill Books.

In truth, I had mixed feelings on Copyist Scholars. On the one hand, I recognized they absolutely deserved their status and the guild's protection. On the other, I couldn't help thinking that a true self-respecting Scholar should advance in the ranks through the brilliance of their scholarship, and not this one fortuitously upgraded Skill. However, now that I was for the first time in a position to possibly benefit from a Skill Book, I felt nothing but the deepest respect toward my potential savior.

Seeing my excitement, Senior Rubrik cautioned, "He is an unusual character, and I would be asking him for a major favor. Furthermore, the rarer and higher-tier the Skill, the greater the favor and the less likely he will agree. I merely raise this possibility because it costs nothing to try."

"It's much easier on him if he has the Skill himself, right? Do you think he might have [Pain Resistance] or something similar?" For the opportunity of a Skill Book, I would absolutely go back on my previous resolution.

"I sincerely doubt he would have anything other than [Intermediate Meditation] that would interest you."

I just nodded, unsurprised. Another feature of Copyist Scholars was that since even copying Skill Books with a Skill took time, effort, and most vitally, a great deal of mana, they rarely had the energy or inclination to learn much else. They were the greatest and fanciest of one-trick ponies. "What about [Enhanced Scribe]?"

"That is strictly restricted, I'm afraid."

I sat and thought the matter over some more. Of course I had to try, but if this was my one chance... "What if I could attempt to return the Book in pristine condition?"

Senior Rubrik's eyebrows rose. "Could you?"

Repair a Skill Book with only [Scribe], [Advanced Appraisal], and my knowledge and daring? "It would be difficult," I admitted, "But possible. Truthfully, even if I failed I should like the experience. What if I repaired a Book for one of my own Skills? [Advanced Empathy], perhaps?"

"The offer will likely prove tempting. I certainly could not resist seeing if you should succeed. Ah, I truly envy your mind sometimes. However, I advise extending your proposal only when you are ready to promptly follow through, should he accept."

I frowned. "I feel ready right now, though?"

"Rowena," my mentor said, "Do you intend to repair a Book with only your bare hands?"

Oh, right. I blushed and then paled in realization. "But... everything I'd need is so expensive."

"Still a pittance compared to the usage cost for the cheapest Skill Book," he pointed out. "I believe you are fully capable of earning the sum yourself. I would however be willing to make a contribution, should you need it."

That was less generous than his usual wont, but I supposed I'd been asking more and more from him lately. "Thank you," I said sincerely. "I will think on it."

He took his leave to meet with an associate, returning after lunch with a pleased smile. "Fortune favors the boldly bright," he said, passing an envelope to me. I unfolded a letter from within and read:

Dear Junior Loress,

After receiving your letter regarding my recent publication, The Definitive Compendium of Anomalous Skills, 2972 AD, and confirming the veracity of its contents, I was astonished to learn you are but a Junior Scholar scarcely beginning your own academic career...

The writer continued in this slightly patronizing tone to describe meeting my listed mentor -- truthfully, I had not even realized our relationship was so official -- and learning of my current undertaking and difficulties. Though he personally recommended staying far away from dungeons and other dangerous places, preferably within the Scholar's Guildhall, as the best assurance of personal safety, he also remembered what it was to be more youthful and daring and applauded my determination to conduct field research. Thus, as both a token of his appreciation and encouragement to a talented junior, he'd enclosed... a Skill Exchange Slip!

I practically snatched up the envelope, this time noticing the paper dream tucked innocuously inside. The card was deceptively simple in appearance, containing only my name and the SES's properties: Rowena Loress, Single Skill, Unrestricted Only, Up to 10 Uses, Up to Tier-4. However, I knew it was worth its weight in... more than gold, let's say pure Medium-Grade Manacite. Senior Clements, bless the man, had done me a tremendous service, probably comparable to whatever he had done for the guild to earn such a boon. I wasted no time trading it in for an SES form, which I then spent a considerable amount of time fully filling in with my request. And sent!

If only the SES had allowed for a restricted Skill like [Enhanced Scribe], it would have been perfect. I shook my head at myself. Truly, I was greed incarnate.

Just then an immediately familiar glyph appeared in the air in front of me. As I stared, agog, it shivered, for an instant revealing the intricate runic design comprising the greater construct, before the entire array collapsed, leaving behind a single envelope that dropped to the floor, seeing as I was still too busy gaping. This travesty shook me from my stupor, and I reached down with trembling hands to read the first ever Priority Message I had received.

Dear Junior Loress, hmm this was familiar,

It has been brought to our attention that you have recently come into possession of [Intermediate Universal Translation]. As you are both a dedicated Scholar and the first known recipient of this Skill, we would like to extend the offer for you to create its first Skill Book. Not only is this a priceless opportunity, you will be compensated with personalized tutors and access to Skill Books for the restricted line of Skills starting with [Basic Scribe]...

Wait, what? Filled with disbelief, I skipped down to the bottom signature.

Sincerely,

The Scholar Board

I stared. And stared. My mind was having difficulty accepting the truth shown by my eyes. I needed to bring this to my mentor to confirm it was real. But first...

I took a corner, then another, until I was in an empty, mostly disused corner of the library. Only after I'd taken a good look around and even confirmed with [Advanced Empathy] I was alone did I relax my guard, taking deep breaths. Then I whisper-shouted:

"Also I wish for a million Skill Books!"