There is a shadow at the bottom of the steps. A shadow that seems to loom over the steps but in a natural way, the way giant monstrosities with tendrils and misshapen body parts tend to do. Because it was a trick of the eye that prevented Matt from perceiving the giant thing as unnatural against the torchlight, and when it moved, the horror of it didn’t become readily apparent until it—

Greg’s mind blanks for a moment. Everything seems… unreal… fake even. This world, this body, Matt’s head rolling toward him after a tentacle moving at impossible speed, whipped through the air, having decapitated him before he had a chance to scream. Greg remembers the words of the dungeon, E rated difficulty. E. E. E. E. And he stands unmoving as the head bounces off his chin as the shadow retreats deeper into the red glow below.

And he hears laughter.

A hearty disjointed sound that is inhuman yet full of madness and pain. But it is laughing; maybe at Matt or perhaps at the skeleton warrior with only two levels.

Greg looks down at Matt’s severed head and sees the expression on it as… hilarious. He really didn’t see it coming. In fact, Greg can see the neurons still firing inside the decaying brain matter as his overactive imagination tries its best to keep his mind rational and in control. In control. A funny thing for Greg to desire at a time like this, in an alien world beyond his comprehension. Yet, someone who was born here lies dead. Didn’t he just level up? Didn’t he know the danger of coming here? Wasn’t he prepared?

But what are these questions? Matt is dead, and he should run. The level 4 necromancer bit it in an E-ranked dungeon, and he should run. Every shred of common sense is begging Greg to flee. But Greg grabs the severed head and walks it to the corpse and past the skeleton warrior, whose mind is blank and unresponsive without a master. Greg kneels down and places the head on top of the neck where the cut was made clean. Then he rips long strips off the wizard’s own robes and attempts to tie the top of the head down with looping knots that swing underneath the armpits.

Greg doesn’t really think while doing this, and he couldn’t really tell you why. Maybe it’s the vestiges of a Catholic upbringing or the instincts that a minion has to protect his master. But Greg’s mind isn’t thinking about religion, and he doesn’t feel like he’s mindlessly following pre-programmed instructions. Quite honestly, he just doesn’t want Matt’s lifeless head rolling on the floor. He doesn’t want him to be found just lying there, having met some absurdly violent end like those Orcs he killed earlier. Don’t ask him why that’s important.

After some time, Greg manages to re-secure the severed head back to the stump and starts dragging Matt’s corpse further away from the steps as the skeleton warrior Matt summoned follows. Only after leaving a blood trail does Greg start to notice that he’s actually getting tired.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Death of your necromancer will result in loss of life-giving mana. Please level up soon or perish.”

“Wait,” Greg starts, his mind flashing back to when he tried to kill Matt himself and shudders at the memory, “What the fuck do you mean perish!?”

The System, not used to be questioned directly, nevertheless reports an answer-

“Your existence is tethered to the being that summoned you. Prolonged existence without your summoner will require a new tether to this reality. This dungeon can be that tether… but I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“But…what would happen if I’m tethered to this dungeon??”

“Loading personality profile…. Symptoms of being dungeon bound unsuited for skeleton warrior variant. Skeleton warrior variant would not be able to leave the dungeon and will slowly go insane under the dungeon core’s corrupting influence.”

Greg’s mind instantly conjures the image of a mob of skeletons being systematically dismantled by a plucky group of adventurers, their axes and maces swinging in cheerful glee as the System announces their XP gain. He imagines himself among the horde of skeletons as they’re mowed down by adventures exchanging quips and jokes over the cries of skeleton warriors fighting for their lives.

Greg shudders, “So I level up, and Matt comes back?”

If the System had a head, it would shake it, but instead, it replies, “No. You leveling up will only delay the inevitable. However, since your summoner is a Necromancer and as a class bonus, he gains a chance to revive upon leveling up. Assuming his body hasn’t deteriorated beyond revival.”

“But how do I level up a dead person?”

“Party members share experience.”

Suddenly a blue menu pops up in front of Greg that details each character’s current status.

Necro-Boys Party:

Matt the Necromancer

Status : Decapitated

Greg the Skeleton Warrior

Status: On the verge of becoming dungeon fodder.

1x Skeleton Warrior

Status: Unaliving as we speak.

Well “detailed” is the wrong word, but Greg will have to work with what he has. Which is himself and maybe another skeleton warrior who, in the absence of a necromancer, sees him as the de facto leader thanks to one point in Skeletal Commander.

But Greg is still staring at the party menu, dumbfounded, edging toward a mental breakdown. He can’t kill that thing that removed Matt’s head in a second. There is no guarantee that he can find something weaker than him to kill for XP, and if he doesn’t…

“I’m dead for real this time…”

Greg sinks to his knees with the options laid before him, his mind blue screening in the face of the inevitable. And while doom and despair wreck havoc on his mind, he doesn’t pay attention to the skeleton warrior walking up to him, stopping short of running into him. He doesn’t notice the moments of hesitation as something…human seems to come over the limited intelligence of the minion’s higher brain functions as it slowly and shakily places a single hand on Greg’s shoulder. And with a solid squeeze of Greg’s shoulder blade, only one thought is communicated-

“Please get up, boss.”