Pell strained his eyes, but Enya had already disappeared from his field of view, swallowed by the encroaching darkness. The faint flicker of torches along the walls did little to illuminate the path ahead. As the torches that served as his waypoints began to fade, only the looming veil of darkness remained.

He had begun sprinting after his countdown, inadvertently also snapping Enya out of her concentration. That was his bad—he’d forgotten that disrupting her skill would give her a mental backlash. Not that it mattered now. The brat had bolted ahead, leaving him in the dust almost immediately. Worse even, she had ditched him mid-sentence as soon as they reached the first left turn.

Following their—well, his—plan, Pell made that same left turn, his skeletal feet clattering clumsily as he tried to redirect himself. He was now barreling down the first of three hallways that stood between him and the neutral hall that they had just been in. The echo of Enya’s footsteps ahead had grown faint, while behind him, the ominous sound of four heavy, horse-like footsteps was growing louder by the second. The demon rat was gaining on him. But with the flailing skeleton strapped to his back, Pell couldn’t afford to glance behind—lest he get elbowed straight in the skull.

As he reached the first intersection, Pell didn't stop. He veered left without breaking stride, sneaking a quick glance behind him. He might have caught the edge of the demon rat coming into view, but it was impossible to be sure with the dim lighting and flailing arms of his captive.

A few seconds into the second hallway, Enya’s voice echoed from somewhere ahead, cutting through the tension like a blade through butter.

"Argh, what the hell!" she yelled, her words bouncing off the stone walls.

"I heard that!" Pell instinctively yelled back, though his voice lacked the breath to carry far. What was she yelling about? It didn’t sound like she was in danger, more like she’d stubbed her toe or tripped over something. She must have put some serious distance between them, as her voice was barely audible even with the echo. But a much closer sound drowned out her sudden complaint—the rapid stomping of four legs pounding the stone floor—sounds that grew too loud for comfort. The demon rat was dangerously near, the vibrations of its pursuit reverberating through Pell’s bones.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Pell muttered through clenched teeth, his sprint never wavering. His undead body might be immune to fatigue, but that didn’t mean he was immune to the mental toll. The bizarre nature of the undead still baffled him—why did he need sleep at all? He didn’t get tired in the traditional sense, yet every few days, if he didn’t rest, his control over his body would start to slip away—almost like he’d become feral. And right now, the last thing he needed was to lose focus with a ravenous demon rat breathing down his neck.

Soft but unyielding tremors rumbled the stone floor beneath him. Small pebbles crunched and cracked under the weight of the approaching beast. Low, deep breaths, laced with menacing growls, echoed through the tunnel.

Pell knew the demon rat was nearly upon him. If he didn’t act fast, it would inevitably reach him, and that would likely be the end. Pell wasn’t a regular dungeon resident like the others. He couldn’t simply respawn like all the other monsters. If he could, then his former party would have still been alive. The thought of being chomped in half by those massive teeth filled him with dread—not because of the pain, but because of the unbearable discomfort he knew he’d experience. When his body was damaged, it wasn’t physical or mental pain that tormented him; it was something far worse, a soul-rending agony that felt like his very essence was being torn apart.

“SquEaAhHH!!” The rat’s growls intensified, a blood-curdling sound that signaled it was almost within striking distance. It was probably near in visible light now, inching closer and closer.

In a split-second decision, Pell tightened his grip on the rope that tied the skeleton to his back. Summoning every ounce of his strength he had, he leaped into the air, twisting his body in mid-flight. With a dramatic swing, he flung the skeleton backward, hoping to catch the demon rat off guard. It was a bit of a ridiculous maneuver, but he had to try it anyways.

In hindsight, he should have assessed the distance to the rat before making his move. Ideally, the skeleton would have struck the rat in the face, disorienting it and buying Pell some time to escape. They could always retrieve another skeleton later.

Reality, however, was less forgiving. Pell’s strength allowed him to carry the 15-kilogram skeleton with ease, but hurling it a few meters was an entirely different matter. The skeleton flew through the air, but fell short, landing about two or three meters behind himself, and ahead of the demon rat.

Despite the miss, Pell’s desperate plan worked in an unexpected way. The rat, unprepared for the sudden obstacle, barreled straight into the skeleton lying in its path. Its legs tangled in the scattered bones, and the monster stumbled, its massive body tripping over itself.

Pell knew that while the demon rat’s teeth were terrifyingly powerful, capable of crushing bone with ease, its body was still composed of relatively soft flesh. That is, if you compare iron to steel. The rat’s immense biting force didn’t translate to an indomitable physical body.

For a brief moment, the beast was off balance, its rhythm disrupted, and Pell saw his chance to gain some precious distance.

The skeleton’s bones had served their purpose better than Pell could have hoped. As the demon rat’s legs became ensnared in the skeletal remains, it collapsed under its own weight, sending it hurtling forward. The rat’s snout smashed into the cold stone floor with a loud, hammering-thud, the force amplified by its furious speed. It was as if the bones had become a makeshift “skeleton banana peel,” which was more than enough to trip the giant overgrown rodent.

Momentum carried the rat’s body sideways, crashing it headfirst into the stone wall. The impact left a small but noticeable dent in the wall and brought the creature to a halt. For a moment, the rat lay still, stunned by the abrupt collision.

Pell seized the opportunity with a grim smile. He let out a malevolent chuckle as he turned and sprinted off into the darkness. His laugh echoed through the hallway, perhaps a bit more sinister than he intended.

A minute passed by of constant running, though it only felt like a mere dozen seconds. A set of torches came into view, helping illuminate the surrounding area, but not by much.

As Pell sprinted down the hallway, he spotted a large pile of decayed roots in his path. These roots had long since wilted and were void of any life or vitality. They were scattered about and cluttered the floor. Further ahead, a massive root stretched from wall to wall, its middle section conspicuously missing for some reason, as if it had been vaporized.

“SqrueEaaAAAaaaHH!!”

Another throaty squeal echoed from the darkness, signaling that the rat had shaken off its disorientation and was now charging back at Pell with renewed vigor. Its footsteps thundered down the hall, growing louder and more frenzied as it closed in on its prey. Pell had only managed to buy barely a minute of time with his little banana peel.

“Fuck… Fuck!” Pell cursed under his breath. He knew he was running out of options. There were still several minutes left of sprinting between him and the neutral hall, and even once he reached it, he would still need more precious minutes to make it back to the study.

This was time he didn’t have.

Pell resolved himself, as he began to think of a solution. Pell’s tone remained stagnant as he spoke. “Status.”

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Name: Pell Meltere

Level: 14/33

EXP: 447/1851

Class: Merchant

Innate Class: Farmer

Skills: Bargain Sense [C], Appraisal [C-], Inventory [E+], Crop Analysis [B-], Coin Bag, Ledger, Guaranteed Transaction

Titles: Realm Hopper, Merchant of Aces, Alchemist, Wandering Merchant, Black Snake Authority, Orphanage Assistant

Pell’s eyes squinted. It had been a long time since he had actually read his stats. Surprisingly, he still held the Orphanage Assistant title. That meant that place was still up and running…

Pell shook his head. His demeanor changed, standing tall and at attention as he ignored his stats completely. “Mana.”

Mana: 40/40

Pell’s mana reserves were brimming with 40 points, topped off and ripe to use. His gaze darted back toward the encroaching darkness of the tunnel. The demon rat, now a rapidly approaching shadow, was mere moments away from reappearing in Pell’s line of sight. Outrunning the demon rat seemed futile without some form of spell or other way to hinder its relentless pursuit.

“Damn it… You’re really going to make me waste this…” Pell muttered, frustration evident in his voice.

With a decisive flick of his wrist, Pell thrust his right arm into the air. In an ethereal display of spatial magic, his skeletal arm and hand vanished into the ether, slipping into a sub-spatial dimension only available to him.

This was one of the most coveted tricks up a merchant’s sleeve. Very few classes had an ability like this. While his appraisal skill served admirably for assessing an item’s worth or its effects, they needed more than just that. They needed a means to safeguard their treasures.

Skill: Inventory [Active] [E+]

Open a small personal subspace to store any non-living item. Retrieving an item costs twice the amount of mana.

[Mana cost: 5 MP]

Inventory was Pell’s personal pocket dimension, a small, ethereal vault where he could stash away any item of his choosing, as long as it met the space requirement. Accessing it required a bit of mana and a brief moment of concentration. Pell’s current skill rank of E+ meant that the space was rather tiny, and extracting items from it was still an expensive affair.

From the miniature portal, Pell retrieved a small red orb. It was no larger than a fingernail, its surface a deep, blood-red hue, stoic and solid. This was an item he had gained years ago, initially intended as a defensive countermeasure against bandits or ambushes. That was its marketed use, but many preferred to use it in far more… direct way. Pell had several more of these orbs tucked away in his backpack, but they were all defective. This was the sole gem he could count on.

He held the orb up, feeling its weight—absolutely weightless. However, the mere power within this orb was a surprising one.

This was an alchemical pill, crafted by an alchemist—a true alchemist, not just one who had simply received the title—like Pell did—for making the most basic of pills. This pill was of an inferior quality—Pell’s appraisal deeming it a gold tier, rank D+ pill, a stark reminder of Pell’s unfortunate overpayment. He’d been swindled, technically. Pell knew he was paying nearly double for a subpar pill. Still, Pell had purchased it with the hope of re-engineering the formula, hopefully with the help of a commissioned alchemist. It was a business investment, one that he would have to now forgo.

The demon rat’s thunderous approach grew louder, and Pell knew that activating this orb might be his best shot at buying some time. With a determined but much more reluctant nod to himself, Pell resolved himself.

Mana trickled from Pell’s bony fingers into the red orb, causing it to hum and shiver with increasing intensity. He shifted into a throwing stance: left foot forward, right shoulder cocked, and right hand clenched into a fist.

These pills were called Sparks of Hellfire, a name befitting of their nature. The more potent versions of these pills were prized even in the 3rd and 4th layers. Pell had been fortunate—or perhaps unfortunate enough—to acquire a lesser version. However, he would have to waste it here, all just to survive.

“Damn rat bastard… I don’t think this’ll kill you, but I fucking hope it hurts like hell!” Pell growled, his voice a mix of grim determination and fiery rage.

As the relentless sound of the rat’s footsteps grew nearer, Pell tightened his grip. His bones creaked with the effort as he hurled the Spark of Hellfire into the abyss. The moment it left his hand, Pell spun around, sprinting past the tangled mess of roots and decayed vegetation that lay in his path.

The pill glowed with Pell’s blue mana for a fleeting moment, before its light faded into a fierce blood-red. It quivered as it soared through the air. From within the deep shadows, the Pill briefly lit up the rat’s face as it came into view, right before-

BOOM!!!

A massive torrent of flashing lights, immense waves of heat, an ear-shattering thunderous boom, and a shock-wave strong enough to knock over concrete walls burst free. The entire hallway quaked with the raw power of the explosion. The walls cracked and splintered, and the ceiling above where the demon rat had once been began to crumble. Fiery tendrils swiped outwards in a twenty-meter radius, consuming and enveloping everything around it.

Though Pell had bolted away the instant the pill left his grasp, he was still too close to the blast zone. The shock-wave slammed into him with the force of a battering ram, sending him hurtling forward. He tumbled several dozen meters before skidding, skull-first, across the now heated stone, coming to a stop after several micro-bumps along the way.

He quickly regained his footing, shaking off the disorientation. Despite the chaos, Pell emerged with minimal damage. The lack of impressionable skin or a central nervous system had its perks—he was merely a bit shaken, but otherwise intact.

“Hah… goodbye six gold coins…” Pell muttered, the sting of lost profits resonating deeply within him. “Damnit…” He grumbled as he set his gaze forward once again and resumed his sprint.

The demon rat’s furious pursuit had vanished into silence. In fact, Pell could barely hear anything at all. The fires from the pill continued to blaze, and the fallout of debris cascaded from behind him, causing additional rubble to plummet from the ceiling.

Pell wasn’t sure if the Sparks of Hellfire was strong enough to take down the demon rat. It was a powerful explosive, sure, but it was still only a rank D+ item. This was especially worrisome, when Pell hadn’t received an experience notification. The demon rat was still alive.

After what felt like a span between mere seconds and several minutes, Pell emerged into a new section of the hallway. The destruction from the pill had long since left his view, but perhaps he could see a tiny tinge of red fire in the distance. Or perhaps he was just deluding himself.

Thankfully, solace reached Pell, as he noticed quite a few miscellaneous bones just lying on the ground in several places. Some were short and small, but as long as it was not attached to anything—they were fair game. Pell took a few seconds every so often and picked up roughly six bones. He didn’t know what they were called, but four of them were small, and the other two were larger, possibly bones in the arm. This will make up for the summoning ritual. Pell thought.

After taking a few precious seconds to pick up the dregs of dead skeleton droppings, Pell continued to run forward, until he saw a fresh sight.

Revealing itself from the darkness, something crawled into view. A lone figure lay sprawled on the ground, dragging a trail of blood that led back to its lifeless body. It was a zombie—one with a severed arm that was missing. Well, both arms were severed. Pell could only spot one of the severed limbs—it was next to the wall, lying in a pool of blood. The other one was nowhere to be seen.

Enya was nowhere in sight, so she must have already darted past the zombie. The zombie's… sluggish state, one that comprised more of dragging and crawling, made it for quite an easy avoidable obstacle. Suddenly, a very whimsical idea flickered into Pell’s mind.

It was reminiscent of those childhood games where you’d jump from tile to tile on the pavement, driven by some inexplicable, childish urge. A game with no real purpose, just an odd, satisfying game with no winners. Pell never indulged in such trivial amusements as a child, but now, facing the opportunity, he felt a sudden, irresistible urge to play along.

In front of Pell was a large tile that was just extremely… step-on-able. With a mischievous grin, Pell leaped forward.

His foot came down with a decisive stomp, landing squarely on the zombie’s head. The impact was brutal, squashing the head into a pulpy mess. Pell’s elevation shifted with the squelchy thud beneath him. Then, Pell regretted his decision, as he could almost feel the gooey and mushy texture on his skeletal foot.

He quickly adjusted his stance, straightening his knee joints to bounce off the now-squashed zombie head. With a nimble spring, he landed a meter behind the zombie.

He looked at the zombie for a moment and realized something. Although gross, Pell spotted that its large tibia bone was exposed, as the surrounding flesh was also rotting away.

Pell sighed, feeling disgusted with what he was about to do. Reaching down, Pell grabbed at the leg of the zombie, and ripped out its tibia. It snapped off easily, having already been rotated and misaligned. The bone itself held a few fractures, and was missing some large bone fragment chunks near the bottom, but other than that—it was in fine shape. Pell pocketed the large tibia within his rib cage, along with the other bones he had found, and angled it so that it wouldn’t fall out.

Pell continued to run forward, jumping on one foot in a comedic manner to remove the rest of the zombie’s slimy brainy-innards, when a sudden noise resounded within his mind. Ding!

Party Notification: Pell has assisted and landed a killing blow on Zombie (Level 4).

“What?” Pell said, as he stopped dead in his tracks, all but for a brief moment. "Assisted?"