Although Pell was undead, his soul still clung to his body. He was what some people would describe as an “ego monster”—a monster with sentience and intelligence. The other monsters in the dungeon were not like him. If they hungered, then they’d roam endlessly, driven by instinct, seeking out something—anything—to devour. The demon rat that lived in the dungeon was the most prominent example. But monsters with an ego were different. They could think, plan, and rationalize. They were aware of themselves and their surroundings, and capable of more than just relying on instinct.

The skeleton—Mr. Bones—may have been another monster just like him. He was the skeleton that guided Enya to Pell’s shop, instead of attacking and harming her. That was an action that no mindless monster would have taken. It was this kind of odd behavior that set him apart from the rest of the slow, shambling, sword-wielding skeletons that patrolled the halls without pause. During his wandering, Mr. Bones, whom Pell assumed to be male, would take breaks. Occasionally, he would spontaneously take a seat against the walls and relax, despite the fact that the undead were supposed to possess endless endurance.

Mr. Bones surely had the soul and an ego of an intelligent being. Pell was sure of this, even though he had never heard him speak before. The little girl’s rescue was enough proof for Pell, making it challenging for him to come up with any other explanation. However, Mr. Bones didn’t have a soul flame inside his skull. This was the only thing Pell couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was located somewhere else? Perhaps it was actually inside of a bone—one large enough to hold one, of course—such as the femur?

Pell noticed a zombie shambling past them far ahead. He lifted his arm behind him, signaling for Enya to stop. They both slowed and froze in place, waiting for the zombie to walk by—hoping that it wouldn’t notice them. After a few seconds, the zombie disappeared from Pell’s sight, walking out of his frame of vision. Only after half a minute more did Pell signal that it was alright for them to continue.

As they walked the long corridors, they stopped a few more times, waiting for the monsters to pass. The dungeon floor was large, so one would only see a dungeon monster infrequently. Enya kept quiet the entire way as they walked. She listened to Pell's instructions and hid behind him whenever he motioned for her to. Pell thought the girl acted like a puppy. He was more of a cat person.

This dungeon was an undead one, obvious by the inhabitants, including himself. The floor they were on now was the fifth floor. The upper floors contained all other types of undead: zombified rabbits, flaming skulls that flew in the air, and wisps that were like ghostly lanterns.

However, Pell had concluded that this wasn’t just a dungeon—it was actually a sanctum, a dungeon that had been converted into a base.

Dungeons typically had themes, a sort of logic that dictated the types of setting, monsters, and treasures within. Despite appearing like a typical D-ranked dungeon, the study clearly gave its identity right away as a sanctum. This dungeon had been owned by someone in the past. Now, was the time for them to make the most out of it.

*****

“We’re leaving? Where are we going?” Enya asked.

She stood up from the table and shuffled to the side. Pell walked past her and entered the closet.

Leaning over the table, Enya snuck a peek at what was inside. It was filled with crates and small chests, but also contained shelves of potions and other bottles of various colors that she was unfamiliar with.

Pell, exiting the closet and strapping two small red potions to the side of his lower ribs responded, “We’re going to a study—one deep in the dungeon.”

A confused expression crept upon Enya’s face. They were going to ‘a’ study? And not going ‘to’ study?

Pell, noticing her confusion, continued, “A study is the name of a closed off and quiet room meant for studying and academic work. There is a study further into the dungeon that is pretty isolated, and that’s where we are headed to.”

“Why?”

Pell finished fastening the potions to himself and turned to face her.

“I have a plan—a plan to get us out of this hellhole of a prison. And inside that study are some tools to help you with that.”

Enya tilted her head before responding, “Help 'me?'”

*****

The study was just a regular room, no different from any study you may have found in a home or a library. Pell had spent hours inside that room, reading the books that had been left behind. There were dusty tomes and books about the basic concepts and theory of necromancy. They detailed the ins and outs of basic necromantic spells and the mechanics of manipulating the dead. They were the leftover research of a scholar who had dedicated their life—or perhaps death—to the taboo study of necromancy.

The connection between the books and the dungeon’s inhabitants was too strong to ignore. The monsters described in the texts matched the creatures Pell had encountered on the previous floors—undead warriors wielding weapons, their skeletal hands grasping rusty swords as they patrolled the dark corridors. Normally, skeletons were just bones given motion, simple and mindless. But these skeletons were different, armed and almost purposeful. The one who wrote these books was clearly also the one who had created these undead, shaping the dungeon according to their twisted designs.

Pell had only learned of this dungeon through a stroke of luck. A group of travelers, clearly out of their depth, had stumbled upon its entrance by accident. They weren’t fighters, just wanderers who happened to find something far beyond their understanding. For a few pieces of silver, they eagerly traded the location to Pell, blissfully unaware of the true value of their find. Dungeons like this, hidden within the layers, were a rarity—often harboring treasures worth many times more than what Pell had paid them.

Most dungeons that adventurers raided were in the outer realms, accessible only by acquiring the correct spatial coordinates, and teleporting to them via the adventurer guild’s dimensional warp crystal.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

During his four years of imprisonment in the dungeon, not a single other person had entered—until Enya appeared. Pell had hoped that the original group of three travelers might have spread word of the dungeon’s location, but as time dragged on, his hopes had slowly diminished. The owner of the dungeon was likely long dead, and the adventuring party that had accompanied Pell on the initial raid had all perished as well.

As they walked, Pell's thoughts became a tangled mess of doubt and hesitation. He tried to keep his gaze fixed ahead, but he slowed down, his steps faltering every so often. He was stalling, reluctant to reach their destination. Going through with his plan meant committing to a course of action he wasn’t entirely sure about.

There was only a single reason he could think of, for why the little girl didn’t have a class. It was also probably this reason, for why she had obtained several skills without a class too. For many nobles, especially the elite—whom Enya definitely compared to, considering she was a high-noble—had their classes stagnated. Many of them obtained their classes late, because they all aimed for a higher tier, a much more rare and powerful class. Considering that Enya had so many magic related skills, it was obvious she was still ascending to a powerful mage class.

Pell looked ahead, at the endless darkness that swirled with the orange flames, ground littered with corpses and debris. The dungeon was a quiet, cruel, and lonely place. It was a prison—a torture chamber for the endless immortals. Pell had already suffered for four years, maybe much more than that, even without the dungeon. He aspired freedom, not encagement.

There weren’t spell books inside of the study. Not general ones for a mage. All of them had been specifically about necromancy. Ones that contained the knowledge of basic necromancy. Ones that contained enough information to surely assist in ascending a beginner…

Pell knew what he was doing. He knew that it was wrong. That it would be one of the cruelest things someone could force upon another. Once he got there, it would be him confirming with himself to go through with his plan. One he was most likely sure to regret.

Enya, the bratty little girl who had been his unwelcome companion for the past two weeks, had done nothing but irritate him with her incessant questions and inability to understand anything he said. Pell had never liked children, but he was above harming them. Still, the thought of what lay ahead gnawed at him, becoming a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions.

Suddenly, a deep hum began to echo through the dungeon walls, causing Pell’s thoughts to scatter. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and Pell’s entire core shuddered in recognition. He recognized this feeling. It was coming.

Enya froze in place, immediately as Pell did. A loud hum shook the walls and the ground. The sound slowly traveled across the walls and made its way to their ears. The vibrations gradually increased and became more violent. Dust and rubble fell from the ceiling as cracks formed along the walls. The air gradually became thick, increasing with a dusty fog. The flames atop the torches that hung from the walls kicked off into a vigorous and spastic dance—their shadows dancing in tandem beneath their feet.

"Shit!" Pell exclaimed, looking around in a panic. His bones shook. Not from fear, or from the quaking ground which was also leaving him inadvertently unbalanced. No, this shaking was from something else. The entire core of his body shook. His soul was shaking. Tiny fissures appeared on his bones. Bone splinters and small chips broke off his bones and fell to the ground like rain drops. They bounced along the ground's surface in unison with the violent rumbles from the dungeon.

"Pell?!" cried Enya, "W-what's going...on?!" She was staring at the ground and wobbling. She desperately tried to keep herself upright, despite gravity's attempts at a confrontation. A shockwave of invisible force pulsed from deep down the hall, causing ripples throughout the ground.

Enya pressed her back and arms against the wall behind her to keep herself steady. The quaking was so sudden that she had nearly toppled over, but luckily was close enough to the wall to use it as support.

The once-solid ground cracked and buckled beneath her, the fissures widening with every second. Enya's body shook, her eyes glued to the floor, focusing intently on managing her footing to prevent her legs from collapsing under the relentless quaking. The wall behind her, which had seemed so impenetrable moments before, began to show signs of strain. The large stone bricks, once neatly aligned, now wobbled precariously, threatening to fall at any moment.

Across from her, she noticed a few bricks from the opposite wall began falling out of their cavities. A jolt of fear shot and crackled down her spine as a large brick fell down beside her, shattering into fragments. She jumped a couple of inches off the ground as the noise of the brick shattering into large fragments rang out beside her. She looked up to her right, directly at the spot where the brick had fallen from. Her pupils dilated as there was a small black gap at the very top of the wall near the ceiling. That brick had fallen from nearly the highest height possible.

As she glanced at the small hollowed-out area of the wall, several other bricks wiggled out of place. This included one that was immediately above her. It was perfectly aligned with her position. She barely registered its movement until it was too late. As the shadowy gray stone above her got bigger, she crinkled her neck to get a better look. The heavy shadow of the falling brick grew larger as it plummeted toward her.

The moment she recognized the imminent danger, a cry escaped from her mouth. Her legs gave out, and she slid down the wall, her silk garment offering little friction to stop her. In a desperate attempt to protect herself, she flung her arms above her head, crossing them in an X-shaped pattern, and snapped her eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

After a quick moment, amidst the chaos and havoc happening all around her, she heard two loud sounds. One was more of a thud from above her, and the second was the same shatter noise she heard before. As the world around her shook, she slowly opened her eyes and tilted her head upwards. She saw the bony arm and elbow of Pell right above her. He stood straight, his body slightly leaning over her, his arm lying flat in a V-shape in the air above her.

"Fuck! You okay?!" Pell's shout stabbed the hesitation dead within her mind.

"Y-yes!" she continued, "thank you!" Enya took a glance over to the right of her, where the shattering sound had come up, and noticed that there was another brick on the ground. It lay a meter away and was broken into two chunks.

Another thunderous rumble sent a shockwave throughout the entire space, jolting her senses that nearly left her body, back into place. "W-what's happening Pell?!" screamed Enya. She placed her hands on the ground beside her to keep herself upright. Her vision blurred and started to shift. It was like the dungeon was tilting on its axis. The world became offset by a few degrees, yet she didn't lean to the side. The dungeon swayed and rotated slightly, but the gravity keeping her to the ground stayed constant.

"It's... it's!" Pell shouted, his legs moving and swaying as the dungeon shifted. A loud snap exploded out from his hand. His gaze moved over to the arm protecting the brat from fatal falling bricks. His entire pinky finger had just blown off his hand, shattering into white dusty particles in the air. "Damn! it!" he blurted.

"It's the...warning sign of the dungeon collapse!" he shouted, his voice rough, brittle, and pained. Pell's entire core was not faring well. The more the dungeon rumbled, the more control he lost over his own body.

Another eruption of white powder, one from the remnants of a bone inside his left foot, billowed upwards past his face. Another pop came out an instant later—this time, it was one of his right ribs. Pell's bones started to explode and dissipate one by one, turning into particles of calcium and collagen.

As more and more of Pell's bones cracked, along with the trembling and periodic cries from Enya, the rumbling of the dungeon eventually began to weaken. After what had felt like centuries, but was only barely a minute in duration, the dungeon calmed. The plane of existence reverted to its correct axis, returning their vision and sense of balance back to normality. The cacophonies of shattering brick, exploding bone, and violent shock waves of pressure also ceased gradually.