An additional screen popped up, along with another mental ping.

System Notification: Mana Pool has increased from 20 to 30.

System Notification: Soul-Energy has been added (0/100).

Enya stared at the new information. She’d been given three new skills, which seemed amazing in their own rights—except that none of them were spells. She was really hoping for something more offensive, something she could use in a fight. But instead, she’d received something else entirely.

Her eyes narrowed as she carefully read the descriptions.

Bonecarver’s quill was some type of magical tool that let her engrave spell circuits, or magic-based runes—whatever that was. It seemed to describe something like the skinny spike-shaped knife she had been using to engrave on the bones this entire time.

Next, a new line had appeared beneath her mana pool: Soul-Energy. This one seemed to allow her to collect souls for... energy? But the description was... unsettling. It implied she would have to touch or possibly stab something with the quill to extract soul-energy. Enya frowned, not entirely comfortable with the idea of ripping souls from creatures, even if it sounded powerful. She wasn’t opposed to doing that—she was fine doing it, actually, but she was opposed to potentially putting herself in danger.

The second skill, Transfiguration of Soul, was the most ambiguous. It mentioned using soul energy to forge items, but didn’t explain much beyond that. It was frustratingly vague. She’d have to experiment to understand how it worked, which was less than ideal, but she was used to figuring things out on her own by now.

The last skill, The Grim Pullet, was much more intriguing. The system said it contained recipes and instructions for crafting magical items. Enya’s mind immediately went to the stories she used to read, filled with legendary artifacts—heroic swords, cursed crowns, and ancient relics. Maybe this skill would let her create something of similar power. That thought alone could make up for the lack of offensive spells.

But the part that caught her attention was the suggestion that she could... communicate with someone?

Enya blinked at the description, her mind racing. She was alone—truly alone—in this dungeon. Pell was gone, and though she hadn’t seen Mr. Bones, she knew in her gut that he was likely gone too. Walnut and Dummy D. were still with her, but they didn’t really count. Not in the way she needed. They weren’t... people to talk to.

She dismissed the skill window, already memorizing the key details, and willed her status screen to appear.

Name: Enya Empyria

Level: 3/1

EXP: 11/33

Class: Necrosmith

Innate Class: Visionary

Skills: Bonecarver’s Quill [E+], Transfiguration of Soul, The Grim Pullet, Absolute Focus, Visions Past, Mana Detection [D+], Mana Control [D+], Perception [C-], Sage’s Insight [B]

Titles: High-Noble, Realm Hopper, Apprentice of Terran, Limited Holder

Her stats were practically the same, except for the new additions she received just now. Her level went from (3) to just a regular 3. It seems like all of the experience she had gained was converted over fully intact, without any reductions. Her new skills were listed, and the title “Limited Holder,” had also appeared.

She focused on the new title, and a new screen appeared.

Title: Limited Holder

You hold a limited class that is only available to a limited few.

The title was straightforward enough—nothing flashy, just a simple explanation. Enya found it odd how some titles or skills came with detailed descriptions, while others, like this one, were bare-bones. The skill descriptions for her original passives were examples of this. But regardless, now, with her stats reviewed, it was time to give her new skills a try.

She stretched out her arm, palm up, and concentrated. With a quiet plop, a small spike materialized in her hand. She lifted it close to her face, studying it. The thing looked like an elongated finger bone, only that it was perfectly straight and polished smooth. A gentle curve at its center made it easy to hold, like a pen or pencil, or she supposed, a quill. At one end, there were intricate designs carved into the base, while the tip was razor-sharp, shining with a metallic sheen.

She jutted her hand up, launching the quill only a few inches into the air before it dematerialized and disappeared.

“Okay… so that’s how I use that…” Enya said slowly.

The second skill, Transfiguration of Soul, was passive, which meant there wasn’t much she could do to experiment with it right now. So, all that was left was her final skill: The Grim Pullet.

Enya held both hands out, palms up, and focused. A black book materialized between them, falling softly into her grasp. It reminded her of the tomes and grimoires she’d read about in her novels—sleek and mysterious. The cover was plain, jet black, with a strap wrapped around it that snapped shut with a button. No title, no markings, just a blank black cover.

The book was light, almost unnaturally so, like it was designed to sit effortlessly in her hands. It wasn’t too big or too small either, and Enya guessed it had around 300 pages inside, give or take.

Enya shuffled over to the workbench, sidestepping Dummy D., who moved back to the doorway once he realized she was fine. She placed the book on the wooden surface, carefully popping open the button at the back. As she flipped the cover open, her brows furrowed. The pages were blank. Every single one of them.

She skimmed through, faster now, but still found nothing. The description had said the book would contain recipes and designs, left by other necrosmiths. But the emptiness suggested something different—that maybe, just maybe, there hadn’t been any other necrosmiths before her. A peculiar thought, but one that lingered as she stared at the pristine white pages.

There had to be a way to check.

She considered going upstairs to grab her pen but quickly dismissed the idea. She was too lazy to go back up. Instead, she had a little inkling about what might work. She summoned the Bonecarver’s Quill into her hand and tapped it against one of the pages. It looked like a sharp dagger, but the word "quill" was in the name, so surely it must write… right?

Holding her breath, she pressed the sharp tip down, wincing slightly, expecting the page to tear. Instead, a smooth black line appeared, as though she had used an ink pen. Well… that answers that, she thought.

Without hesitating, she began to write in the book, hoping against hope that someone—another necrosmith, perhaps—might also be out there, with a Grim Pullet of their own, ready to respond.

Hello? My Name is Enya. Is anybody there?

She waited, staring at the white page with her simple greeting. Seconds passed, until an entire minute came by, with no change.

Enya sighed. “Guess I really am the only—"

Ah, what have we here? Quite the unexpected development. It appears someone new has laid their hands on a Grim Pullet. How… intriguing. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Enya. You may address me as The Custodian—though, perhaps that sounds a touch ostentatious, does it not? Very well, you may call me Custodian, instead.

Enya’s eyes widened as the words materialized beneath her greeting, as if they were the next lines in a story. She could almost hear the voice behind them echoing in her mind—a voice that was rich, smooth, and unmistakably refined. It carried the weight of an older gentleman, one that mirrored the nobles in Pell’s novels, with a subtle air of superiority and self-importance. Regal, yet aloof.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

For a few seconds—she froze, unsure how to reply. After some moments of inaction, more words began to form on the page.

Ah… I see. You may be a newcomer to the Grim Pullet. Allow me to offer a small piece of advice: you need not write within the book. Simply will the words to appear as you wish. Go ahead, give it a shot.

She read the new lines that appeared, and complied. She dematerialized the bonecarver’s quill and gripped the book, while sending her thoughts onto the page.

Um… it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Custodian.

Interesting. You sound much younger than I expected you to be. Did you become a necrosmith? Or did you stumble upon the book?

Uh… yes… I became one just now.

A few moments of silence followed before the next reply came.

Hahaha. Well, allow me to extend my sincerest congratulations for such an achievement. It has been over 600 years since the last necrosmith graced the realms.

Are you a necrosmith, Mr. Custodian?

Ah, merely “Custodian” will suffice. And no, I regret to inform you that I am not a necrosmith. As my name implies, I serve more as a collector, a guardian of rare artifacts, if you will. The Grim Pullet came into my possession through my… profession. Unfortunately, I don't believe you'll find any other necrosmiths alive at this time, as far as my knowledge reaches.

Oh, okay. Then… um…

Enya was a bit lost at what to ask, and how to continue a conversation with a person she didn’t know.

Where are you, Mr. Cus—uh, not-Mr. Custodian?

An intriguing question, yet one I cannot divulge. My location is rather secretive, for revealing it would expose my… treasures, you see. I trust you understand.

Ah, yes! I'm sorry...

No offense taken, dear youngling. Now it appears I am entitled to pose a question as well, hm? Back and forth questions are an excellent method for getting to know each other. So, how exactly did you come to be a necrosmith?

I…

A chill ran down Enya’s spine. Something about his inquiry unsettled her. Should she reveal how she became a necrosmith? After all, he wasn't one himself, yet he possessed a Grim Pullet. Was there any harm in telling him? Maybe if she answered some questions, this person could help her out in return? He seemed reasonable enough, albeit unsettling. Besides, was there a point in telling him the method? She had attained the class relatively quickly, so it must not be that rare, even if it was limited.

I was actually trying to become a necromancer myself. I discovered some books about necromancy and then… uh, I found some research notes. There were some things in the notes about enchanting or buffing the undead, and so… I began to test it out. I engraved a create light circuit onto a skeleton and I received the class right after.

Some moments of silenced followed—but this time it felt more natural. It was most likely that Custodian was reading over her long reply.

I see. That makes perfect sense. By enhancing an undead—a zombie or skeleton, I presume—you made yourself eligible for the title of necrosmith. Quite intriguing. Thank you for telling me. That class is a rare one—a limited one, to be specific. The method for achieving such a class has been lost to time for... well, 600 years.

Enya made a mental note that it seemed like Custodian knew more about necrosmiths than she realized.

Um… then my question is… uh… do… you happen to know how souls and dungeons work?

An extended pause lingered as she awaited the reply.

Well, I certainly didn’t expect such a question to escape the mouth—or mind—of a young girl. You are full of surprises, aren’t you? To address your query, I possess knowledge beyond that of the average individual regarding souls and dungeons. However, those are both rather expansive topics.

Then, can you—

Ah, no, lass. Let us play fair now; that is how one shows respect. One question each, yes?

Enya winced.

Yes… I’m… sorry.

Hahaha! I apologize; I was merely jesting. It certainly seems you find yourself in quite the predicament, given the urgency in your tone.

Yes… I am… trapped in an undead dungeon. I have a friend here named Pell. He’s a skeleton merchant… farmer… guy. And… he died—uh, again. He died while undead, and I tried to revive him using a spell I learned from a book. But… it said his soul was still under the control of the dungeon.

Two full minutes passed by, as Enya stared at the white page with her writing, waiting, anxious and eager for a reply.

Hmm… I believe I might know the solution, though I’ll need to learn a bit more about your current situation.

Really? It’s kind of a long story. I’ve been here for nearly two months now, and a lot has happened.

No issue there. You have certainly piqued my interest, young one. I can set aside my obligations for a time. I would love to hear your tale.

Enya began to recount her adventures from her earliest memory. Roughly five to ten minutes passed by, as she gave a more compact summary, leaving out some notable details that she wasn’t sure about letting a stranger know.

Her eyes flashed as she focused, trying to remember important details not to reveal. This included things like who the author of the books she read was, as potentially it could let Custodian know where she was. Maybe she could have asked him to send help to rescue her, but Pell’s words about her status made it quite worrisome. Even in her novels, little children of rich families were kidnapped often and used as ransom. What’s the point of escaping a prison just to end up in another?

She also avoided mentioning her food situation, wary that he might exploit her desperation for escape. His voice was velvety, laced with a degree of hubris and calmness—exactly how the nefarious nobles were described in her books. Other details she kept to herself included Mr. Bones, a skeleton lacking a soul-flame, who could understand her and even protect her. Given what she had read about the experiments conducted in the workshop, he was likely some sort of test subject—an enhanced skeleton utilized by Sable.

And that’s where we are now.

Intriguing. I see. This Pell fellow—he insisted on turning you into a necromancer?

Yes. Pell said he wanted to escape, and since we were stuck here, he thought it would be a good idea for me to learn necromancy.

I certainly grasp that logic… being ensnared in a dungeon with no means to fight your way out is indeed alarming. However… do you realize the sheer magnitude of his errors?

What do you mean?

You mentioned you are a High-Noble, Enya Empyria, correct?

Yes?

Surely, this Pell fellow would be aware of how the nobility treats their own kin. It is quite an accomplishment that you managed to become a necrosmith, a class so rare with enviable capabilities. However, had you truly become just a regular necromancer… I daresay your family would not approve. If my own child were forced into the life of a miner or a mere tailor, I would personally see to it that Pell never saw the light of day again.

Something sank deep within Enya’s stomach. She felt a bit frightened at his hypothetical threat. There was something about it, something… almost too real—as if he really would act upon his words.

Well… Pell left me a note… and he told me everything. And he had a really good reason for why he did it. He knows it was bad, but—but he was just really sad! He even traveled up the layers to help someone he cared about!

Traveled… up the layers? He hails from the lower realm?

Uh… yeah, he was from layer one I think.

What?!

Enya was taken aback by his sudden tonal shift.

This Pell gentleman managed to ascend four layers into the enchanted realm?! What an astounding feat! I have not heard of anyone accomplishing such a thing in the past two millennia! Except, of course, those with certain connections.

Uh, no… he went up just one layer. To layer two.

A heavy silence hung in the air as her words settled onto the page. The direction of the conversation had veered away from her and toward Pell, and a sinking sensation began to bloom in her core. She felt as if she had inadvertently stumbled into a trap, a misstep she couldn't quite pinpoint.

Young miss… You are… in the second layer of the Under Realm?

Uh… yes? I’m… in the second layer, I think. I don’t know about the Under Realm part or what that is.

More silence followed, as Enya was now sure of it. She had messed up somewhere. She had revealed too much information. Whether or not this information was important was irrelevant, as the silence following Custodian’s responses was more than enough of an indicator.

I see. Thank you for sharing your story, Miss Enya. Unfortunately, my obligations are beckoning. I shall have to take my leave for now. However, should you have any questions, do not hesitate to write them in this book. I will respond as soon as I am able.

Oh-okay. Thank you very much Mr. Custodian.

Please, just Custodian will suffice. It has been a pleasure, Miss Enya.

With that, the words on the page ceased, fading into nothingness as the blank sheets returned, leaving her alone once more in silence of her thoughts.