As we all remain deep in thought and no one says anything, Mary finally speaks, hesitantly, as if unsure whether her idea is valid or just plain foolish.

“What if we retreat to try breaking the rock that’s blocking our way out of the pyramid? Or hold out from there? Those scorpions are too big; they won’t be able to reach us.”

Ronan shakes his head.

“This is only the beginning,” he says. “There will be more waves of mummies, not only stronger but possibly bringing even worse creatures. If we don’t stop whatever’s generating them, we’re finished.”

Whatever’s generating them? What, they weren’t just lying around in their beds or something?

Oh, crap, mummies are undead. Could a certain little wolf be enhancing them somehow?

“Ronan…” I hesitate, trying to find a way to phrase it without revealing too much to the others. “This dungeon, does it have any darkness?”

“You already asked that,” the prince interjects, looking slightly puzzled. “It’s earth and fire.”

“Ronan?”

“No, my lady. I do not sense any darkness in this pyramid.”

“But… aren’t the mummies undead?”

“Not all undead belong to darkness. These are animated by the desert sun scorching the sand, the earth desperately trying to reclaim their bodies, and the stones of the pyramid that have imprisoned them for eternity.”

I think about what mummies are on Earth. Oh… they used to remove their organs. Were those broken jars in the sleeping quarters’ rooms what held them? I must have made a face of disgust because Ronan asks:

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Yes, sorry. Thank you for the clarification.

The pup, who’s back in my backpack after causing chaos earlier, lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a bark and a dry laugh. The little rascal… It seems like he’s having fun at my expense. I bet if I take him out, he’ll give me those puppy eyes and try to lick my face. And the worst part is, I’d probably end up apologizing to him for even thinking that this adorable creature could be enhancing the mummies.

Anyway, with what Ronan has told us, it’s clear we’ll have to face the scorpions.

Vincent suggests splitting into two groups. Alistair, Bob, Tom, and I will take on one, while Darius, Vincent, Theodore, Ronan, and Mary handle the other.

I’m stunned. The other group has two human warriors, two powerful mages, and a healer whose magic weakens the undead. My group has two skeleton warriors—no offense to Ronan, but they obviously can’t match Darius and Alistair—a human warrior, and me, an earth mage who neither has Theodore’s affinity for his element nor spells as advanced as his undoubtedly are. Someone explain to me why the prince has divided us so unevenly. Maybe Alistair is more capable than he seems? Because I certainly am, though only Ronan knows that.

And since I can’t show it, I might as well just be an earth mage…

If Vincent thinks I can control stone, I should probably tell him no. From the textbooks I studied thoroughly during my first two months at the academy, I know that when your earth control reaches high level—one above my intermediate level—you can manipulate stone: shaping, softening and compacting it. For now, I’m just grateful I can harden soil enough to turn it into stone. But that’s it. I can’t collapse the stone slabs from the ceiling above us—I don’t have that level of control.

Anyway, my chance to question the seemingly unbalanced distribution passes, and the others have already decided on the plan: eliminate one scorpion first while distracting the other. Trying to take down both at the same time would be suicidal.

Ah, so that’s why—because my group is the distraction. I have decent agility. Ugh, that's disappointing. For a moment, I thought my earth magic, at its current level, might be capable of more than I realized.

Regardless, we position ourselves at the edge of the hallway, cautiously observing the chamber. The scorpions’ pincers clicking in the air put everyone on edge. Ronan turns to me.

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“Do you want me to call it?”

At first, I’m confused, but when I realize what he means, my eyes widen, and I can’t help but murmur:

“The bear…”

My comment draws everyone’s attention. Ronan nods with a smile and adds:

“Whatever you command, my lady.”

Thankfully, the others are already used to him addressing me this way and don’t think it’s strange anymore—just another one of Ronan’s peculiarities.

“Uh… more like whatever you think,” I reply. “You’re a better strategist than I am.”

Which, as much as I hate to admit it, is the absolute truth. I never would have thought of the strategy he used to hunt the bears.

The guy stares at me for a moment, then tilts his head slightly and responds:

“You are too innocent,” he says calmly, glancing at Mary. “Like all light users. That is why you must be protected, to preserve that purity.”

Is he calling me naive? I think so. And not because of my intelligence stat of 6, but because of my light affinity. Don’t mess with me, Ronan—I’m nothing like Mary. She’s pure goodness, while I just manage to survive.

Bianca L'Crom

Race: Human

Age: 18

Level: 7

Stats:

Constitution: 7

Strength: 4

Intelligence: 6

Agility: 7

Wisdom: 8

HP: 7

MP: 8

Magic Affinities:

Elemental: Earth, medium level. Water, medium level. Fire, medium level. Air, medium level. Spirit, high level.

Non-elemental: Light, medium level.

Skills:

Minor runner: Passive. +1 Agi. Run 10% faster.

Minor sword mastery: Passive. +1 Stre. Wielding a sword feels natural.

Minor scholar: Passive. +1 Wis, +10% memorization speed.

Spells: Intermediate earth control. Low earth wall. Minor stone bullets. Minor fire arrow. Minor breath control. Minor splash. Minor healing. Minor channeling with water and air. Low channeling with fire and earth. Minor flash. Minor meditation.

Mary watches us, utterly confused, while Vincent, Darius, and Alistair approach Ronan, curious.

“What’s this about a bear?” Darius asks bluntly.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Ronan says, adjusting his cloak. “Just give me a second.”

At that moment, one of the scorpions moves to the other side of the chamber. Through the entrance gap, we see its legs, the underside of its body, and its tail pass by. Vincent smiles as he observes it.

“It’s time.”

Tom moves to the edge of the chamber and signals us to advance. We move out in formation, running toward our targets. Ronan stops at the chamber’s edge and begins his ritual. The words he murmurs are incomprehensible, but the air around him thickens with dark, dense energy, shifting like black flames until it concentrates in his hand.

Meanwhile, the scorpions react to our entry. The one on the left charges at our group. Bob and Tom do their best to block its attacks, dodging skillfully until Tom decides to stop one of its pincers with his shield. The tough chitin collides with the metal. The sharp, loud sound cuts through the general noise of the battle. The impact sends the skeleton flying backward, shattering the shield instantly. Alistair seizes the moment to strike one of the scorpion’s legs with a direct blow from his mace, but he only manages to inflict a minor wound. I also attacked, but my unchanneled sword didn’t even leave a scratch. So, I retreat a few steps. I’ll either use my earth magic or find a more effective way to hurt it.

On the other side, the second scorpion charges at Vincent and Darius. Its speed is astonishing. Darius leaps to dodge the attack, but Vincent, weighed down by his heavier armor, is caught off guard. Just as the pincer is about to close around him, a high-pressure stream of water strikes the scorpion in its eyes and jaws, forcing it to shield itself with a pincer, preventing any damage. Theodore holds his position, ready for another attack.

Mary, who seems to be watching the same way I am, conjures a sphere of light and positions it directly in front of the scorpion’s face, momentarily blinding it. I notice this gives Vincent and Darius an opening to attack its tail, though I doubt they’ll succeed—the carapace is far too tough. I see Darius approaching the creature and…

And that’s as much as I manage to see of their group because I´m under attack too.

“Bianca!” Alistair shouts.

If we were on Earth, I’d probably give him a kiss for that. How careless of me—to feel safe and forget, even for a second, about the massive arachnid in front of us that’s coming straight for me.

I see Bob and Alistair holding it back as it tries to grab (or maybe crush) me with one of its pincers. Not happening.

“Control,” I say.

Not even the full name of the spell. I don’t need it. I’ve mastered it so well that just the start of the word focuses my mind, letting me call upon the energy of the earth, sense it, and manipulate it.

Immediately, the sand covering the ground—and the creature itself—gathers around the joints of its pincer and hardens, locking it firmly in place. I compress the sand so much it turns into stone. That pincer isn’t going anywhere.

I see the scorpion raise its jaws—those disgusting mandibles I loathe—and emit a sound of protest.

Alistair doesn’t hesitate. Seizing the creature’s distraction, he delivers a powerful blow with his mace, breaking the already damaged leg with a loud crack and further limiting the scorpion’s movements. The skeletons, wasting no time, target the joint of the trapped pincer, striking it with force and precision in an attempt to sever it, though so far without success.

I sense something—a dark magic I’m now familiar with. As I step back to distance myself from the scorpion, I quickly glance around.