Enya peered out from behind Mr. Bones, her small frame trembling, her eyes wide as they fixed on the demon rat. For the first time, she truly saw it—not just as a nuisance or a terrifying presence, but as a predator. Its eyes gleamed with a feral hunger, its fur bristling with an almost deathly energy. She had watched it eat before, devouring scrap bones, destroying skeletons that were helpless against it. But never had she seen it this up close, feral and ruthless.

Her gaze dropped to Pell’s skull resting in her lap. Her fingers dug into the bone, knuckles white from the pressure. A storm of guilt swirled within her. Was this her fault? Had her weakness led them here? Her inability to study quicker? Too slow to even comprehend the most basic of circuits? Maybe if she hadn’t spent so much time reading those comforting stories instead of studying magic like Pell had asked… Would he still be here if she had listened—if she had focused?

Her eyes tightened as chaotic thoughts whirled about within her mind. Countless possibilities and outcomes could have avoided this. Maybe she could have helped Pell distract Mr. Rat… no, to distract the demon rat. If she hadn’t fled, she could have assisted Pell and they could have safely fled together. Yet, she did nothing and ran off, leaving him alone.

Her heart clenched painfully. Then, like a sudden flash of light cutting through the fog, an idea struck her. Summon Skeleton! Her body jolted at the thought. Her hands instinctively moved to cradle Pell’s skull, as she stared at the hollow sockets. A spark of hope flickered in her chest—just maybe. Maybe she could bring him back. The spell could summon a skeleton from bones—Pell’s bones! Maybe it would work!

But as soon as her hope bloomed, doubt crept in like the unwanted guest that it was. Could the spell really work on Pell? Her mind raced, recalling every detail from the book. One specific passage from the summoning tome surfaced in her memory:

> Please note that you can only use the bone from an actual corpse that is not currently being reanimated. You also cannot use the bones from existing skeleton monsters or summons.

Her eyes wavered, and a knot twisted in her stomach. Pell wasn’t just any skeleton. He was… different.

The spell wouldn’t work on existing skeletons or summoned creatures, but what did that really mean? Did it only apply to skeletons summoned by other necromancers and ones naturally spawned by the dungeon itself? And Pell—what about him? Was he being reanimated? If Pell was dead now, would he come back, even if the spell worked?

Pell’s soul was bound to the dungeon somehow, and the specifics of the process was still lost to her.

None of the necromantic spells in her book described the magic that kept Pell and the other dungeon monsters alive. It wasn’t a simple spell, she was certain of that. The dungeon’s magic could also be something entirely different, some primal force or ancient method. Perhaps it wasn’t even magic that bound Pell’s soul.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she caught movement in the corner of her vision—Mr. Bones’ hand hovering just above her. She glanced up to see him gesturing, a wave backward. His grip tightened on Pell’s dagger, the polished blade reflecting flickers of torchlight.

Enya hesitated, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. She clamped her mouth shut after a pause, and sprang to her feet, retreating into the shadowed hallway behind her. Staying here would only make her a burden to Mr. Bones, and that realization stung deeper than she could have imagined. She felt useless. Helpless. She was simply repeating what she had done before.

As she shuffled away, the demon rat’s beady eyes flicked toward her for a brief moment, watching her movements with mild interest. But it made no move to chase her. It remained fixated on its true opponent, the towering skeleton holding the dagger. The two were locked in a silent, deadly standoff.

Enya’s steps were heavy as she ran further down the dim corridor, her grip tightening around Pell’s skull. She glanced back just once—back toward Mr. Bones, who now stood alone against the monstrous demon rat. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, the sorrow etched across her face a mixture of guilt and regret. She should have said something, anything—a thank you, a goodbye—but the words had stuck in her throat. It was too late now.

She had seen it before. That single attack, a mere swipe of its tail, and half of Mr. Bones’ arm had exploded, knocking him backward as if he was a nuisance. The power behind that blow—it was too great. That demon rat was too strong—too deadly.

In moments, her small figure vanished into the shadows, her footsteps growing faint until they were swallowed entirely by the silence. Now, only Mr. Bones and the demon rat remained. The broken remains of Pell's skeletal form were strewn nearby, while jagged rocks and uneven ground turned the space into a crude battlefield.

The earth trembled under the rat’s paws, signaling its readiness. Muscles rippled beneath its fur, tightening like coiled springs, and its sharp claws dug into the ground. Its jaw parted slightly, not wide enough to devour—no, this was not a hunger-driven battle now. The demon rat’s predatory instinct had shifted. This was no longer just about food and hunger—no; it was about domination.

The tension snapped in an instant. Mr. Bones lunged first, his bony frame moving with surprising speed, dust and gravel scattering in his wake. A moment later, the demon rat launched itself forward, its powerful hind legs propelling it with force, the ground buckling beneath the impact.

Mr. Bones ducked low, his dagger angled toward the ground, as he barreled forward. The demon rat had already leapt halfway into the air, mid-pounce, but not high enough for Mr. Bones to slip beneath it as he had before. With a sharp, bone-cracking twist, Mr. Bones spun his body, his blade whistling through the air in an arc as he attempted to glide past the creature’s side.

The dagger struck home, slicing into the rat’s left shoulder, where the rusted bronze sword still jutted out. Black, viscous blood oozed from the fresh wound, but it was little more than a scratch, barely slowing the beast. With a heavy thud, the demon rat crashed into the ground, shaking off dirt where Mr. Bones had been moments before. The minor injury only seemed to fuel its rage. The air quivered with the sound of its roar—a deep, primal growl unlike anything it had made before.

Without pause—giving Mr. Bones no time to react, it charged forward once again—this time on ground like a rampaging bull. With each stomp, its steel-like legs created tiny dents in the ground, leaving a trail of impressions. As it moved forward, it sent small rubble and rocks flying in all directions, obliterating anything in its path.

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Its maw gaped wide, razor-sharp teeth gleaming, ready to snap and crush. The intent was clear: the demon rat aimed to grind Mr. Bones into dust, to shatter his skeletal frame in a single devastating blow.

Mr. Bones, undeterred, attempted his spinning strike again, aiming for the same vulnerable shoulder. His bony fingers gripped the dagger tightly as he twirled toward the beast, hoping to land a decisive blow. But this time, the uneven ground betrayed him. The jagged stones shifted beneath his feet, throwing him off balance just as he swung his blade. The dagger whistled through empty air, missing its mark entirely.

For the first time in the battle, Mr. Bones faltered, and the demon rat’s blazing eyes locked onto him, hunger and fury burning behind them.

Stumbling, Mr. Bones managed to redirect his fall, pushing off the ground and jumping sideways as the rat charged past him.

The rat, although big and hulking, and sneaky—was not as agile as the small skeleton. Its body turned, and its beady eyes stared at the skeleton as it barreled past him. The beast slammed its right paw onto the ground in anger, sending a miniature shockwave of force in all directions.

Mr. Bones recomposed himself, changing his pose back into a fighting position. He stared at the demon rat before him.

The tension thickened as they began a slow, deliberate dance. Both moved to the right in unison, circling each other like two seasoned duelists, wary of any sudden moves. Their footsteps mirrored one another, with Mr. Bones gliding sideways, pivoting, while the rat's four limbs shifted with equal precision. The ground beneath them held its breath as they measured each other up, calculating the next strike, each movement dripping with intent.

Seconds passed like hours, and then, without warning, the demon rat’s patience snapped. It bared its fangs, a glistening snarl curling its lips, and surged forward again, in a blur of fur and fury.

But Mr. Bones had already prepared. As the beast hurtled toward him, he bent his bony knees ever so slightly, his form crouched and ready. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, Mr. Bones leapt into the air, resembling a pale-white ghost against the dim dungeon lights. His hand found purchase on the demon rat’s snout, using it as a springboard. With a simple push, he hoisted himself up, vaulting over the rat’s head as it snarled in confusion beneath him.

The ground shook and trembled as the demon rat ran wildly forward. Mr. Bones clung to anything he could find a grip on, from long strands of fur, to eventually gripping its scruffy neck and upper back like a makeshift saddle. The demon rat flailed about wildly. Its forelegs bounced and its upper body rose into the sky, in an attempt to shake off Mr. Bones.

The demon rat shook and twisted around, but Mr. Bones held strong. Seizing the panicked motions of the rat, Mr. Bones took this opportunity to strike. His right arm snapped back, dagger poised, and with a quick flick, he spun the blade downward. The rat’s matted fur slapped at his face, but he paid it no mind. His eyes were locked on the bronze sword still lodged in the rat's shoulder—a perfect guide for what came next.

The dagger drove forward, pinching itself against the skin of the beast and the bronze blade. It pierced the skin as it wedged up against the sword and slid down like a makeshift knife-guard. The blade grated against the bronze, forcing itself into the wound with a satisfying hiss as it pried open the flesh.

The rat shrieked—a noise so piercing it could’ve shattered glass, if there had been any around. Its cries grew frantic, filled with fury and pain.

Mr. Bones wasn’t about to let go, even as the dagger hit its limit and refused to budge any deeper. Whether it was its thick skin or tangled fur stopping the blade, he couldn’t quite tell—too much fluff, too little time to worry about it. He pressed harder, as if he wanted to shove the entire dagger inside of its body—handle and all.

As the rat wailed about and swung its upper body side to side, Mr. Bones found it harder and harder to hold on. With the dagger serving as his anchor, he wildly descended down the upper back of the beast, securing his grip on the handle with both arms. Mr. Bones was desperately clinging to it, while swinging wildly side-to-side off of the demon rat.

The demon rat let out a roar before whipping its body back down on all fours. Its eyes were wide open and looking over at the dangling skeleton that was prodding at its wound. It slammed down on all fours, eyes blazing with hatred, and charged with full tilt toward the nearest wall.

Mr. Bones’ skeletal legs finally met the ground again. His knees scraped against the jagged floor as the rat dragged him along like some unfortunate, forgotten accessory.

The wall ahead of them rapidly approached. The rat was aiming to introduce him to that wall in the most violent way possible, smashing its massive body into it with Mr. Bones as the unfortunate cushion.

In one swift motion, Mr. Bones straighten his legs out so that they no longer dragged. He was now standing in a half crouching motion, running alongside the beast as he held onto the blade.

Just before the creature could slam its body into the stone, Mr. Bones pulled back and down with all his strength. The dagger, embedded alongside the bronze sword, resisted at first. But as he applied more pressure, it began to slide through the tough skin. The rat's growl grew louder, a sound of pure agony that echoed around them.

The growl of the monster grew louder and more agonized, echoing through the surroundings, while its heavy paw strikes along the ground boomed out like thunder. Skin from around the embedded sword began to rip and tear. The blade tried to move, attempting to slash down the skin, effectively splitting the tendons and possibly severing the rat’s entire left leg.

As he pumped more and more pressure on the blade, pulling it towards himself, the demon rat decided to change tactics.

Without warning, the demon rat tensed and sprang into the air. Mr. Bones felt his feet lift from the ground as his body bounced up, limbs flailing awkwardly in the brief moment of weightlessness. His grip on the dagger tightened instinctively.

As he rose, Mr. Bones’ eye sockets shifted from the impending wall to the ceiling above. The sudden change in direction caused his body to rotate, flipping him so that his back faced the ground. It wasn’t a high enough jump to crush him against the ceiling—no—it was the opposite.

Understanding the rat's new tactic, he scrambled to react. He tried to bend his elbows and push himself further onto the now-twirling beast, but the effort was futile. The rat's sudden movement and the disorienting effect of gravity made it nearly impossible to stabilize himself while upside down.

Considering his options, Mr. Bones weighed the possibility of letting go of the dagger and attempting to push off of the rat like a springboard. Yet, he had already spent precious moments trying to reposition himself uselessly in the air, leaving him with little time to decide.

The demon rat, meanwhile, completed its leap and twisted mid-air. It was attempting to slam itself back onto the ground, to crush Mr. Bones and reduce him to broken splinters and fine powder.

Mr. Bones displayed an agility and reflexes far superior to any of the other skeletons the beast had encountered. The rat’s attempts to slam its body from a distance had proven ineffective against such a nimble target. Yet, now, it had found a new strategy: using Mr. Bones as a makeshift cushion.

The world that appeared before Mr. Bones’ eyes shifted and crashed into him with a powerful blow. In the next instant, the world became a dark brown, as the crunching sound of his body all overlapped one another in the same moment. His fastened grip on the dagger completely loosened, and his arms fell back onto the ground. Countless cracks marred the once smooth ground, resulting in a large, human-shaped impression.

The demon rat’s fur pressed heavily against him, wedging into every crevice of his skeletal frame. The sheer mass of the rat pinned him firmly to the floor, making any movement impossible. His skull sustained significant damage, with cracks spider-webbing across its surface, though it remained surprisingly intact.

Moments later, the rat’s growls echoed in the oppressive darkness that surrounded him. The crushing weight on top of him eased and eventually disappeared. Mr. Bones’ vision, however, remained obscured. The world was still enveloped in darkness. Above him, a deafening roar was followed by a sharp, resounding snap.

The rest of the world dimmed out, as the sound of bones breaking echoed in the halls.