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Exploring the Secret Level of the Pyramid.

I glance at Vincent, who observes the scene with tense calm. We’re all impressed by the naga warrior’s resilience, fully aware of how lucky we were to defeat it so easily before. Theodore, looking nervous, can’t stop darting looks at the prince, waiting for his command.

“As soon as it falls, cast your spell,” Vincent orders, his eyes fixed on the corridor.

The naga warrior retreats a little further, still fiercely attacking its enemies, but it’s not enough. The mummies, using the pile of corpses as a platform, begin leaping onto him. His body is covered in deep wounds, and with one last effort, he tries to defend himself. But there are too many. The coordinated attacks of the horde bring him down. It doesn’t take long before they finish him off, mercilessly slashing and stabbing him with their weapons, tearing at him with their claws.

“Now!” Vincent shouts.

With a quick motion, Theodore raises his staff and repeats the spell he’d used earlier in the corridor. A massive jet of high-pressure water surges forth with overwhelming force, obliterating the mummies clustered in the hallway. The parapet of corpses offers little resistance, breaking apart under the relentless power of the water.

This time, the spell lasts longer. The current sweeps away the mummies that were trying to advance from behind the parapet, tearing them apart and slamming their remains against the corridor walls. The air fills with the sound of snapping bones and dead, fragile, embalmed flesh hitting the walls and tearing apart. I’m not sure, maybe it’s just self-suggestion, but I think I can smell old dust, dirt, and mold.

The water continues to surge forward with devastating force. Even the shields some of the mummies attempt to raise are wrenched from their bandaged hands, utterly useless against the intensity of the attack.

I glance at Theodore. The high-pressure stream bursts from the tip of his staff as though it were connected to a firefighter’s hose, showing no signs of slowing down. I know he has a high affinity for water, but what level must he have in this spell? I feel a surge of admiration—and excitement—because it means my own magic could improve significantly as I level up my spells.

When Theodore finally lowers his staff, the corridor is cleared. He staggers slightly, and Vincent steps in to steady him, helping him retrieve a mana potion from his backpack.

I look ahead. The remains of the mummies are scattered across the floor, mixed with pieces of the naga. My gosh... A heavy silence fills the corridor, broken only by the sound of water dripping onto the ground and Theodore drinking his potion.

The only light comes from Mary’s spell. Her orb glows faintly, illuminating the immediate area and revealing shadows stretching down the corridor in front of us. Farther ahead, the torchlight from the boss room still flickers, but the rest of the hallway is shrouded in darkness.

It doesn’t take long for the shadows to start moving. We hear hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor, quickly approaching.

“Again,” Vincent commands, his voice firm.

Without hesitation, Theodore raises his staff and casts the water jet spell once more. The sheer force of the spell sweeps through everything in its path. The noises stop immediately, but the effort takes its toll. Theodore collapses to the ground, exhausted, letting his staff fall from his hands in defeat.

Mary rushes to help him, quickly pulling a mana potion from her bag and offering it to him with concern.

“Thanks, but I think you’ll need it too,” Theodore responds with a tired smile.

Before Mary can insist, he takes another potion from his own bag and drinks it quickly.

I wonder if these potions are like the ones my professors used to give me. Those restored six mana points. I can’t help but wonder how much mana a spell like that must consume to maintain such immense power for so long.

Meanwhile, Darius, Vincent, and Tom remain in a defensive position in front of us, alert for any sound or movement that might signal another threat. Tension hangs thick in the air, but no one says a word.

Ronan doesn’t seem particularly upset. I imagine the naga wasn’t like Joe—he had only just summoned it.

Mary conjures another light orb, this one brighter, and moves it forward, gradually illuminating the corridor. The light reveals the mangled bodies of mummies scattered across the floor. Some, surprisingly, are still trying to crawl toward us.

“Well done,” Vincent says, acknowledging Mary’s spell.

His calm tone helps ease some of the tension.

Darius surveys the scene and suggests checking one of the openings the mummies had emerged from.

“We could search one of those passageways. Maybe we’ll find something useful—or at least a safe spot.”

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We hesitate. No one wants to move forward without knowing what might be waiting for us—or worse, risk the white stone slab resetting and trapping us even deeper inside the pyramid.

Then, without warning, Bob moves past Vincent, Darius, and Tom. He places his spear on his back and picks up a curved sword and shield one of the mummies had dropped. Walking along the wall, he efficiently dispatches any crawling mummies in his path.

"Bob, wait! Bring them here alive, drag them to us," Ronan orders.

I watch in disbelief as Bob grabs a mummy, missing an arm and part of its torso, by the ankle. Then, without hesitation, he begins dragging it across the ground. The mummy writhes and tries to bite him, but the skeleton doesn't stop until Ronan commands him to halt, just a meter away from us.

"Mary, hit it on the head with your staff and finish it off."

"What?" Mary exclaims, horrified.

"The experience. Finish it," Ronan clarifies as he steps toward the creature and presses his foot firmly against its neck to keep it from snapping at Mary.

The healer hesitates, but with visible fear and revulsion, she raises her staff and complies. A sharp crack echoes as the mummy’s skull shatters.

Mary's face lights up immediately, awe-struck.

"I… I feel different. Better. Did I level up? Is this what it feels like?"

"Feels good, huh?" Darius chuckles.

"Bob, good work. Bring another," Ronan says.

Vincent looks at the necromancer with newfound respect in his eyes. I imagine he’s rethinking his opinion of him—maybe even realizing that, as the group's leader, he should have been the one ensuring Mary got the experience points.

As for Bob, he repeats the process with purposeful steps a few more times, and my friend levels up again.

When Bob finally approaches the first opening in the wall, we all hold our breath. No one takes their eyes off him.

"Mary, move the light," Vincent whispers.

Mary guides the orb closer to the opening, illuminating it just enough for Bob to get a clearer view inside. Bob hesitates for a moment before stepping in cautiously. No one says a word. Only the sound of his footsteps echoes in the corridor.

After what feels like an eternity, Bob emerges from the passageway as if nothing happened. He raises both hands, looks at the group, and shakes his head, indicating there’s no immediate danger. Then he takes up a defensive position in the corridor, facing forward.

“It’s safe to move up to there,” Vincent says, though his tone remains cautious.

We start moving slowly, staying in formation behind the warriors advancing with their shields raised. The silence is broken only by the occasional heavy breath, the sound of our footsteps, and the dripping water still falling from the walls. No one dares to speak, but the tension is palpable. Everyone’s eyes are fixed on the shadows still surrounding us.

As we approach the opening, Tom moves to stand beside Bob, positioning himself to guard the corridor against any remaining mummies still crawling toward us. Darius and Vincent shift toward the passageway where the stone slab had once been, standing in front of it.

“Mary,” the prince whispers.

“Yes.”

The orb of light floats into the passageway, revealing what looks like a spacious, abandoned dormitory. Rows of bunk beds line the walls, each with a small, worn chest at its foot. Amid the dust and rubble, broken bowls and large clay jars are scattered across the floor, most of them shattered.

Alistair is the first to move. From the doorway, he crouches down and peers under the bunks, carefully inspecting every corner. Finding nothing, he lifts his gaze toward Vincent, who nods briefly. Standing up with steady confidence, Alistair steps inside, his mace at the ready for anything unexpected. One by one, the rest of us follow, cautiously searching the room.

Darius and Vincent quickly sweep the bunks and surrounding area, confirming that there are no creatures hiding within. Vincent motions to us with a whispered command:

“Quickly, and keep quiet.”

The two of them move back toward the entrance, joining Bob and Tom to secure the corridor while the rest of us continue to investigate the room. Dust covers every surface, and most of what we find is worthless—old, tattered clothing that’s completely unusable. Mary returns with empty hands.

“Just trash and junk,” she says, brushing the dust from her fingers.

Meanwhile, Alistair examines the large clay jars. With a surprising display of strength, he picks up one that seems mostly intact and shakes it gently. A faint sound from within catches his attention. Without a word, he carries the jar over to Vincent. Ronan, on the other hand, remains focused on inspecting the walls. His calm demeanor doesn’t mask the furrowed brow that signals he’s still uneasy. It’s clear from his expression that whatever is going on here isn’t over yet.

When we regroup, I approach Alistair, curious about his discovery.

“What’s in the jar?” I ask.

He grins, a contagious sort of smile that’s rare given the circumstances, and replies, “Oil.”

While Alistair shows the jar to Vincent, the prince, distracted, gives Bob a light pat on the back—as if he were just another member of the team. For a moment, we all forget that Bob, dressed like one of us and cloaked in fabric, is actually a skeleton.

“Advance to the next passageway,” Vincent says.

Bob obeys after a brief pause, moving cautiously along the wall with his sword and shield at the ready. The openings in this section of the corridor are directly across from each other, so before stepping into one, he glances quickly at the one opposite. Seeing nothing, he proceeds into the closer entrance, the light orb floating just behind him.

A few moments later, Bob emerges from the first room without a word and crosses to the opposite opening. He enters slowly, staying alert, and after thoroughly inspecting the area, he backs out, still facing the room as if guarding against an unseen threat. Stopping in the doorway, he takes up a defensive stance, clearly signaling that he’s found something.

Vincent motions for us to move. We advance carefully, ready for anything. Before we reach him, Vincent gives clear instructions:

“We’re splitting up.”

Darius and Tom move to join Bob, backing him in his defensive stance against whatever might come from that passageway. Meanwhile, Alistair places the jar of oil on the ground near them. The rest of us enter the other room, only to find the same thing: decrepit bunk beds and absolutely nothing of value.

With obvious curiosity, Vincent steps up to Bob. “What did you see?” he asks, expecting an answer.

The silence that follows, strangely enough, is almost reassuring. We all share small, relieved smiles, the tension that’s been building finally breaking, if only for a moment. Even Alistair lets out a stifled laugh, drawing a puzzled glance from Vincent. But the prince’s expression changes quickly when his eyes widen, realization dawning on him.

Ronan breaks the silence with a faint smile, his gaze steady, as if appreciating Vincent’s instinct to treat Bob like any other teammate.

“He sensed something… a threat, likely from the other undead. There are fewer of them now, but we must remain cautious. The power I’m detecting is very strong.”