Enya's eyes widened in surprise. Pell had killed the zombie? For a moment, she was left speechless. Considering that Pell had been right behind her, it could only have been one zombie—the same one that had tried to attack her. Pell had caught up, faced the creature, and ended its stupid existence.

A grin spread across Enya's face. Of course, he did—Pell was awesome. He had taken care of that stupid zombie, just like he'd tackled the other one down the staircase before. The thought filled her with a mix of relief and pride.

She straightened her back and puffed her chest out in a haughty and complacent attitude. "Serves that zombie right. Enya isn't food!" she declared confidently. She had a beaming smile on her face as she looked at the rest of the message.

Party Member: Enya has received 24 EXP (84% contribution)

Party Member: Pell has received 2 of 4 EXP (16% contribution)(-50% incompatible EXP)

"This must be... the experience points Pell was talking about," she murmured, regaining her composure as she pieced things together. Pell had mentioned how important it was to level up classes to grow stronger. The higher your level, the more powerful you became. You would gain access to more abilities and skills, so it was good to gain as much experience and levels as possible.

Enya had a combat class and a non-combat class. Or, at least, was going to have a combat and non-combat class. Right now, all she had was the visionary class, which, most likely, would not be regarded to as a combat-class.

Combat classes grew stronger by fighting monsters and defeating enemies, that much was clear. But the Visionary class? She had no idea how it was supposed to gain experience. Maybe it was like a scholar class, which advanced by learning more and reading books. That seemed straightforward enough, but what exactly did a "Visionary" do? How was she supposed to gain EXP for it? Could an innate class like that even level up? Or was experience reserved only for her main class?

Visionary gave her the ability to see the truth, or so the class description had said. But what did that really mean? Did she need to uncover lies, find hidden truths? Enya pondered this, imagining a scenario where she could ask Pell to lie to her, just so she could catch him in it. She chuckled at the thought.

But then, a system notification blinked into her view:

System Notification: 24 of 24 EXP has been allocated to “Unassigned”

"So that's what happens if I don’t have a class," Enya muttered, blinking a few times as she processed the message. "But… wait… does this mean…" Her voice trailed off, confusion creeping in. Her experience points were being funneled into something called "Unassigned" instead of going towards her Visionary class. That answered one question, at least. But now another one popped up: would this unassigned experience transfer over when she finally became a necromancer?

As she swiped away the system menus, her body froze mid-motion. "Wha-?" Her sentence was abruptly cut off as a familiar sensation washed over her. It was the same feeling she’d experienced the day before—the sensation of her skill activating.

Her mind went blank as a new scene formed right in front of her. It was an image of a hallway. The main neutral hallway that she had traveled through.

The hall didn’t seem any different from where she just ran from. So it must be a relatively close vision, time wise.

A blur rushed past her vision—a white blur. Immediately following it, a large brown blur almost completely filled her sight. The scene shifted slightly, giving her a new perspective from near the ceiling, looking down at the intersection of all four hallways.

After a brief second, she saw what the white blur was. Pell. He ran into view, sprinting frantically without the skeleton tied to his back. As he glanced around, the brown blur revealed into something terrifyingly familiar. Mr. Rat—but its fur was singed and burnt, and its face was marred by a large burn almost blackening its entire head to match its pupils. Mr. Rat pounced atop Pell, pinning him down with its massive forelegs.

Pell's left arm popped free from its shoulder joint, spinning away down the hallway like a lost toy. Bits of his ribs snapped off, clattering to the ground next to his spine, and his knees shattered as Mr. Rat’s massive paws crushed them without mercy.

Pell whipped his head around, turning his skull completely backwards while the rest of his body was pinned down. His hand… distorted briefly, flickering out of existence before reappearing, now clutching a yellow piece of paper. The parchment was scrawled with letters or symbols—though Enya couldn't make them out clearly in the vision. Before he could do anything with it, Mr. Rat’s paw came down like a hammer, shattering Pell’s shoulder and dislocating both of his arms. He seemed to be shouting, but no sound accompanied the vision—just an eerie, suffocating silence.

Mr. Rat loomed closer, its head dipping down, saliva dripping from its furred maw. It opened its jaws wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth hiding behind the two prominent, white spikes. The rat clamped down onto Pell’s skull, cracks forming in the smooth bone as its teeth sought purchase. Then, with a grotesque finality, Mr. Rat’s mouth engulfed most of Pell’s skull, leaving only a sliver of bone visible between its gnashing teeth.

And then, just as abruptly as it had started, the vision snapped away, leaving Enya trembling as if ice had just been poured down her spine. She stood there, breathless, heart suddenly racing.

"P-Pell?" Enya said, as she swept her gaze across the room. She turned in circles twice, snapping into position until she stopped as if bracing for impact.

She let out a shaky breath, her muscles slowly relaxing as the realization hit her. The vision was of the future—one that was rushing toward her far too quickly. That couldn’t have happened just now. It would have been too early. She had barely just escaped from that hallway minutes ago. That had to have been a vision of the future.

Maybe the vision was a lie. Maybe Pell had already escaped and was right outside the door, ready to barge in and tell her it was all fine. But deep down, Enya knew better. That was just wishful thinking, a comforting delusion.

Pell was in trouble. No, worse—he was about to be in trouble. He was pinned down, helpless, and killed.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Enya’s gaze flicked to the door, and she reached for the handle. She had to do something. If she didn’t, Pell would meet his end at the claws and teeth of Mr. Rat.

Her hands grasped the doorknob, but then… she hesitated. Her grip tightened as doubt crept in. What could she possibly do? She couldn’t fight; she didn’t know the first thing about wielding a sword. She didn’t have any useful spells up her sleeve. And when would the vision take place? Had it already happened? Maybe it was just seconds away. There was no way to know for sure.

Slowly, Enya released the doorknob and turned away. Her eyes settled on the large backpack Pell had brought inside. Desperation drove her forward as she knelt beside it, pushing aside heavy swords and blades that clattered against the stone floor.

She yanked the bag open and began to rummage through its contents, her hands darting into different compartments, feeling around for something—anything—that could help. The backpack was full of supplies, more than she had expected. There were health and mana potions in abundance, far more than Pell had let on. He’d told her not to worry about using them, and he was right—she counted at least fifteen mana potions. But those wouldn’t help Pell now.

Enya shoved the potions aside, continuing her frantic search. A few items caught her eye—like a small medallion-shaped object made of metal and stone. It had a spiral pattern etched into it, with four pointed edges forming a cross. She carefully lifted it out and placed it beside her on the ground, unsure of what it did—but was small enough for her to carry.

As she continued her search, she carefully displaced one potion after another, eventually opting to gather them all and remove them from the backpack to clear up space.

As Enya continued to pull out potions, her hand brushed against something that wasn’t glass. Her fingers closed around a small, spherical object, no larger than the width of one of her fingers. She lifted it up to inspect it. The sphere was dark red, perfectly smooth and without any visible imperfections or markings. She had no idea what it was, but it was definitely tiny. Carefully, she placed it beside the medallion, wedging it against one of the edges to keep it from rolling away.

Her search continued, growing more frantic with each second. She rummaged through a different compartment of the backpack, her hand suddenly brushing against something cold. As she pulled it out, she knew what it was. Or at least, how it was meant to be used—more specifically—worn.

Enya looked at the circular object in her palm. It was a bracelet. A black bracelet with small engravings on it. The patterns reminded her of spell circuits, like the ones etched into the light altars she’d seen in the corners of the dungeon, but these engravings were much smaller, and hard to determine that exact patterns—if she’d even recognize them. It was quite large, too large to stay on her wrist. Regardless, she moved her hand into the bracelet and pulled it all the way up her arm, past her elbow, just so it wouldn't accidentally slip off.

Over the next minute, she found two more of the red spheres hidden away in the backpack, identical to the first. But aside from those, there was nothing else of immediate use—just a few more potions, some cans of food, and a metal canteen of water.

Enya sat back and took stock of everything she had pulled out. The black bracelet was now wrapped securely around her upper arm. Three dark red orbs, roughly the size of her pinky finger, lay in front of her. And then there was the mysterious medallion with four pointed edges. It resembled a badge of some sort, hefty and thick, with intricate designs hidden within the center, partially obscured by an outer edge that acted like a metal cage. She squinted, trying to make out the details, but it was too hard to see.

Along with these items, there was finally… a dagger. Tucked neatly into a side pocket of the backpack was a small, well-crafted blade. The metal dagger had a wooden hilt and appeared almost unused, save for some minor wear, perhaps from cutting rope. The blade gleamed, pristine, and the handle was clean and sturdy, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Enya took a deep, composed breath, her resolve hardening. She was going to save Pell. She didn’t know what the items she had found would do, or even if they were truly useful. If it came down to it, she’d throw them at Mr. Rat as a distraction, anything to buy Pell enough time to escape. Her eyes twitched with determination. She had to act quickly, hoping the events from her vision hadn’t already transpired.

She had been in the room for a little over a minute. It wasn’t long, but the uncertainty of the vision’s timing gnawed at her. It could have shown something that would happen in seconds, or maybe hours—she had no way to know. What she did know was that she had to check. If there was even a chance she could help Pell, she had to take it. Because he would do the same, she thought.

Making sure she wasn't missing anything important, she patted herself down one last time. Confirming to herself that she forgot nothing, she reached for the door and opened it. Determination flared within her as she left the room—the door slamming behind her as she broke into a sprint.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ZiLMGqb.png]

Enya raced out of the study, her heart pounding in her chest. She regretted running so fast almost immediately; her legs burned with fatigue. It hadn’t been long since she had fled from the neutral hallway to the safety of the study, and the strain on her muscles was catching up with her. Although she lamented the decision, she didn’t let up. Pell was in danger. Some leg pain wouldn’t match up to that.

The portion of the dungeon near the study was relatively intact compared to the rest of the hallways scattered about. This area seemed to have been the least affected by the dungeon quake weeks ago, which meant Enya didn’t have to navigate the sharp, jagged ground that had turned into dangerous spikes elsewhere.

Pell had mentioned that the dungeon would repair itself slowly over time, and she could see the evidence of that now. Many of the holes in the stone brick walls were filled with fresh gray bricks, and the ground, though still cracked and pocked with holes, had become more stable. She wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, but it seemed as if the bricks that had shattered and fallen to the floor had simply vanished, only to reappear back in their original places.

She was still several minutes away from reaching the specific spot her vision had depicted. But what was she going to do once she got there? Perhaps Pell could use the dagger to fend off Mr. Rat. Maybe—just maybe—Mr. Rat could be reasoned with and didn’t actually want to fight. The blade she held was sharp, and the thought crossed her mind that intimidation might work. Perhaps she could point it at the rat, and it would flee. Pain hurt, and surely Mr. Rat didn’t want to be hurt.

Enya took a right, then a left, and another right. The dungeon was enormous, a sprawling labyrinth of interconnected hallways that seemed to go on forever. It was like a single giant square that had been divided into four smaller squares, each of which was then cut down into even smaller sections. A single hallway could have upwards of ten different connecting passages, creating a massive web, one that took long to navigate.

Enya honestly wanted to just stay inside the study. Every part of her screamed to stay put, to avoid the confrontation with Mr. Rat. She didn't want to run toward danger, toward the possibility of fighting a creature as terrifying as Mr. Rat. But the thought of leaving Pell alone, helpless and in danger, was worse.

She remembered how Pell had protected her from a falling brick during the dungeon quake. That was one of her first memories, the earliest she had since waking up here. She still didn’t know who she was or how she ended up in this place, but Pell had been there from the start. He was the first person to protect her, the first to show her kindness in this dark, confusing world. He had taught her words, helped her with magic, and guided her toward getting a class. Pell might have had a foul mouth, but she knew he was selfless, kind, and if she were in trouble, Pell would help her without hesitation. That meant she had to do the same for him.

She was now halfway to the main intersection, but her pace had slowed considerably. Despite trying to sprint forward with all her might, her body wouldn’t allow much more than a brisk run. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she realized with a sinking feeling that she might not make it to the hallway in time, not in good condition, at least.

As her body continued to betray her determination, something caught her eye up ahead. Enya let out a huge exhale, her knees bending as she leaned forward, hands gripping her legs tightly. Her vision blurred slightly from exhaustion, but she could make out a figure in front of her—a skeleton, sitting down with its back against the wall, staring blankly ahead until she arrived.

“Mr… Mr. Bones?” Enya said, her voice exasperated and in disbelief.