“Damn you monsters!” Jakk spat, eyes blazing with fury as he locked onto the armored skeleton, its fiery gaze mocking him with every flicker from within its hollow skull. “I’ll take your core first!” he snarled. Before the words fully left his lips, he lunged forward, bone sword in hand, determined to end the undead menace.

His sword arced through the air, but the skeleton was faster than it looked. Its bony arm shot up to block, and the sound of bone meeting bone rang out, followed by the sharp crack of splintering. The blow had barely shifted the creature’s arm, a few measly centimeters at most. Only small chips of bone had splintered off from both the skeleton’s arm and Jakk’s blade, leaving him with a sinking realization—this thing was far stronger than he’d anticipated.

Growling through gritted teeth, Jakk whipped his sword back and struck again, harder, faster. But each time, the skeleton’s arm met his blade with an eerie precision, sometimes blocking, sometimes slipping out of reach. Slow punches came in return, just enough to remind Jakk that even a glancing blow could crush his bones, or worse, his skull. The wind from its missed punches whistled past him, an ever-present warning of the monster’s terrifying strength.

Meanwhile, the four bandits near the carriage had gathered in a tense huddle. Greeve clamped a hand over Lile’s mouth, muffling the man's pained cries as he writhed from the gruesome injury to his leg. “Shut up for a second, you idiot!” Greeve hissed, trying to keep him still. Another bandit, the one with their full face masked, knelt beside them, hands glowing faintly as mana gathered in their palm and formed a spell circuit.

The female archer stepped forward, taking her place as lookout with sharp, watchful eyes scanning the area. Bow in hand, she stood poised but hadn’t yet drawn an arrow. In her other hand, one lay ready, just a heartbeat away from being nocked onto the string should anything shift in the shadows.

“You sayin’ it’sa mage?” she asked, her voice rough and thick with a heavy accent, almost grating to the ears. It wasn’t pleasant, but it got her point across.

“Yes,” came the flat response from the man crouched by Lile, his hands glowing faintly as healing magic pulsed from his palm. “For a moment, I could feel the mana shift before that spike shot up from the ground.” He worked with steady precision, magic seeping into the gaping wound where Lile’s leg had been. Slowly, the torn flesh began to come together, as if knitting itself back into place. The bleeding would stop, but the leg wouldn’t regrow—no, that was something that needed a dedicated healer’s attention.

As Lile’s screams were muffled and the sounds of Jakk fighting the skeleton echoed in the distance, the tension in the air thickened, creating a heavy atmosphere. The sound of bone meeting blade reverberated in the distance, gradually fading as their fight continued to move away.

As the man finished sealing up Lile’s injury, his expression changed. “It’s coming again!” he barked.

Instantly, all three of them stiffened, bracing for the next attack. Lile, too wounded to respond, could only writhe in pain, helpless as the ground trembled beneath them.

A tremor rippled through the earth, and the bandits sprang into motion, leaping aside with quick, nimble steps. The attack could come from anywhere—predicting it was impossible, but if they kept moving, maybe they would have a chance to dodge whatever was coming their way.

Bursting from the ground once more, a white spike shot upward, slicing through the air at the very spot Greeve had just vacated. Dirt and rubble flew in every direction, showering Lile in a gritty mess of debris.

“What the hell is that? It’s smaller than the last one!” the archer shouted, her sharp eyes narrowing as she stared at the spike.

The three bandits, now spaced several meters apart, paused their frantic dodging to glance at the new formation. The spike was smaller, noticeably thinner than before.

“That thing’s tinier than Greeve’s—”

“You say one more thing, Yrivell, and I’ll crush your windpipe,” Greeve growled, his voice as rough as gravel.

Yrivell let out a small, amused chuckle. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“I’ll bust your windpipe no matter what it was,” Greeve shot back, a snarl curling his lips.

A thunderous crash echoed from the road, cutting their childish banter short. They whipped their heads toward the sound, eyes widening as they saw Jakk slammed into a large tree. The impact was enough to crack the trunk, though it still held. The fight between their leader and the armored skeleton had reached a fierce deadlock, each blow from the undead met with equal force as Jakk pushed back.

Yrivell squinted, her focus sharpening. She quickly grabbed an arrow, nocking it onto her bowstring and drawing back. The moment the arrow reached half-draw, the face-covered bandit’s voice rang out again. “It’s coming! Bigger this time!”

A half-chuckle died in Yrivell's throat as the ground beneath her erupted once more, this time faster, more violent than before. The earth cracked beneath her feet, and before she could react, a massive bone spike shot upward, aiming straight for her.

Her expression twisted in horror as she jerked backward, arms flailing wildly to regain her balance. The spike surged toward her, ready to impale—but in a chaotic, desperate flinch, she narrowly avoided it. The sharp bone missed her by a hair’s breadth, but just as it reached a fraction of a meter above the ground, it vanished.

Yrivell stumbled, dirt and shards of earth exploding outward around her, but her mind reeled in confusion. The spike was gone, leaving her off-balance and disoriented. She barely registered her teammate shouting over the roar of the shattering ground, but the noise behind her—behind her?

Her head whipped around mid-fall, panic surging through her body—only to be met with nothing.

Sprrlk!

“Yrivell!” The cry of her comrades filled the air, their fists clenched in helpless rage as they watched her fall. But 'fall' wasn’t quite right.

Her body hung limp, impaled by a towering, jagged bone spike, almost two meters tall. Blood dripped from the spike’s tip, piercing clean through her back and out her chest. No scream escaped her lips—everything had happened too fast. Her frantic stumble had only sealed her fate and assisted in guiding it.

“What the hell was that, Jean?! You saw it, didn’t you?” Greeve bellowed, his voice raw with frustration. The small man clenched his fists, his stocky muscles bulging beneath his frame. As he did so, his skin began to tremble, sending faint ripples across his body. Slowly, the light tan color of his flesh shifted, bubbling up from underneath until all of his skin was a dark gray, like metal in appearance and texture.

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His voice deepened, echoing with a new metallic tang. “What the hell is going on? Find out where the damn mage is already!”

Jean, silent until now, pulled down his mask, revealing a scarred, almost melted face. One eye was completely gone, fused shut, while the other was blackened—its pupil unnaturally large, absorbing what should have been the whites of his eye.

Without a word, Jean slammed his palm against the ground. Instantly, a dome of shimmering blue magic spread outward, enveloping both him and Greeve in a wide, translucent barrier. The protective field hummed with energy, shielding them completely from the road ahead. From the outside, only blurry figures were visible, ones that moved all around, clearly inspecting their surroundings from within the newly formed domed sanctuary.

Far away, Enya watched with sharp eyes, sensing the surge of mana from Jean’s spell. The barrier was eerily familiar—similar to the one that had once protected the study. She could feel the raw power pouring from Jean’s hand, enough to encase them entirely, even penetrating the ground below. The bone spears she had relied on would no longer be an option. She could feel it—as long as they stayed inside that shimmering dome, they were out of her reach.

Enya let out a small breath. Something she wanted to test, had actually worked out like she imagined.

Skill: Recast has come off cooldown.

This skill of hers, was one she had gotten after dispelling and recasting her summon skeleton spell. It let her cancel any ongoing spell effect, and recast it without any mana loss, and at incredible speed. This meant, if she was quick enough, which her absolute focus state definitely allowed, she could recast her bone spear mid activation, and use it again immediately. This was precisely how she made the spike vanish from before the archer and reappear behind them before they could react.

“Hey, what’s happening now?” Pell asked. He was laying down beside her, covered in leaves and branches, soul flames thinned, like he was trying to squint and see hundreds of meters away through thick brush and trees. It was a dumb idea to even try, considering that dozens of trees blocked his sight, not to mention the sheer distance the bandits were from them.

"That guy... one of them looks weird," Enya murmured, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied the figures ahead.

"That’s just plain rude. But fair. How ugly is he?" Pell asked, his voice a blend of amusement and curiosity.

"That’s not what I meant. I think," she replied, uncertain if “weird” was enough to describe it. "One of them has like... only one eye. His other eye is melted or something. And the one he does have is completely black. It looks weird."

Pell’s soul flames flickered back to their usual steady size, giving up the futile attempt to see what she was seeing. "That sounds like an Umbrari," he said.

Before Enya could ask what that meant, Pell continued. "Umbrari are sort of like humans. Mostly. But you’ve already noticed one of their biggest differences—the black eyes. They also usually have tails, though some of their tribes cut them off. So it’s like a fifty-fifty chance an Umbrari you meet will still have a tail."

Enya nodded, turning her focus back to the man walking freely within the barrier. No tail, at least none that she could spot.

"One more thing," Pell added. "They’ve got really sharp senses. Like bloodhounds. Some people call them nightstalkers because they make excellent assassins. They’re also usually pretty good at magic, though not very strong physically. Then again..." His voice trailed into a chuckle. "I once met one in the first layer who could probably wrestle a horse and win."

"He cast some kind of spell," Enya said, thinking aloud. "There is some kind of barrier now protecting them. It sort of looks like the one that protected the study. He and the really short guy are both in it right now, and I don’t think I can hit them any more.”

"He's called a dwarf. Don’t you know this? They’re in, like, every single book I’ve given you," Pell said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Oh. He just looks short, so I wasn’t really sure," Enya shrugged.

"Well, I can’t see him, so for all I know, he could just be really short. Don’t know, don’t care, honestly."

Enya's eyes shifted back to the barrier. "What do I do now? That guy with the sword is inside too, but I don’t think he can move anymore. He’s screaming really loudly. And that yellow person is dead now, I think."

Pell’s soul flames flickered, a sudden spark of interest igniting them. "Yellow person? You mean someone with yellow skin? Like..." His voice trailed off, growing quiet. Yellow skin only meant one thing. "There’s a lootgoblin with them?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! We need to loot their body and haul it with us right now!" he exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Enya blinked and retracted her senses, feeling her body relax. "Uh, no. Her skin isn’t yellow. I think her name is Yellow? Or maybe Yevlow? Something like that... I forgot. It’s hard to hear exactly what they are saying. Sometimes its just mumbles."

The flames in Pell’s skull dimmed back to normal, and his shoulders slumped. "Way to get a merchant’s hopes up, brat," he grumbled.

Enya stood up, brushing leaves off herself as she stepped out from the bush, Pell lumbering behind her.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked again, sounding a little more unsure this time. "Mr. Bones is still fighting the leader guy, but I don’t really know who’s winning."

"Seriously? That giant hulk of a skeleton is evenly matched with a bandit?" Pell asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "If that’s the case, he might be at least a high bronze or low silver Paragon of War. Though, if he was silver, I think he’d beat Kidirge quite easily. And if that happened, we'd be dead meat and bones."

Enya glanced over at him, watching as Pell tugged leaves and branches out of the gaps in his ribs. "What’s a Paragon of War?"

He shrugged, letting out a tired sigh. "It’s a ranking system for strength. Basically, it measures how powerful you are in a fight. Adventurers, skills, spells—they’re ranked by letters, F to S. Paragon of War is more focused on fighting prowess. It starts at copper and goes all the way to obsidian. A Silver Paragon of War could take on a bunch of D-rank adventurers without breaking a sweat."

Enya tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "But don’t adventurers always fight? Why is there a difference between this paragon thingy and adventurer ranks?"

With one last leaf yanked from beneath his collarbone, Pell tossed it aside and replied, “Adventuring’s more than just fighting, kid. Sure, you fight a lot, but sometimes you sneak around, gather herbs, or run errands. Paragon of War only ranks combat skills. An S-rank adventurer might be incredible at all kinds of quests but will lose to an Obsidian Paragon of War in combat. Unless that adventurer is also an Obsidian rank Paragon of War. But if two Obsidian ranks were fighting,” Pell said, shaking his head before continuing, “then something has gone terribly wrong. Like, war-levels of wrong.”

Enya hummed, processing the information. "That still doesn’t tell us what we should do now, though. I saw that merchant guy before, hiding behind a tree. The other bandits are inside the barrier now, watching the forest."

Pell squinted at the treeline, the direction of the battle still out of sight but echoing in the distance. “We’ve got two options,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Kidirge is much stronger than you, kid, so it’s safe to assume their leader is as well. We either abandon Kidirge to his fate, or we figure out how to get him to retreat while stopping that guy from chasing us. But helping that merchant? Forget it. He’s on his own. No way we can do anything for him.”

He turned to face Enya, stooping slightly to look her squarely in the eyes. “Listen, kid. You got me out of that dungeon, but from what you told me, you barely put a dent in that dungeon boss—who’s now Kidirge. If Kidirge can’t win this fight, then that man is going to gut you, understand? We’ve already done more than enough for that merchant. If he doesn’t escape, well, he deserves what’s coming to him.”

Enya nodded at his words.

“I don’t exactly want to abandon Kidirge, though,” Pell added, his tone softening.

Enya’s eyebrow shot up. She had fully expected him to suggest leaving Mr. Bones behind, to ‘figure it out’ on his own.

Pell caught her skeptical look and grumbled, “Hey, I’ve been with that guy for almost four years now. I may be scum, but I like having some company once in a while. Plus, Kidirge is valuable. He’s a tireless bodyguard who doesn’t need a single coin. You can’t bribe a merchant with anything better than that.”

Enya sighed, understanding. “So what do we do?”

Pell shrugged. “We leave.”

“Huh?”