He wasn't sure if he would ever make it out of this dungeon. However, an opportunity had arisen out of nowhere. Now, he had to take a gamble—a dangerous one—on whether Enya could be the key to his freedom. If this gamble didn't pay off, he would waste weeks, maybe even months, training the girl, all for nothing. Worse yet, he would risk pissing off an entire family of High-Nobles. That alone was enough to make him uneasy, but the potential fallout from this plan was staggering regardless. It was that crazy of an idea that, if successful, may even earn him a title—though it felt more likely to get him killed.

Enya’s class was still unassigned, which was the only reason this wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Actually, it was still pretty bad—extremely bad, the more he thought about it. It was probably the second worst idea in the world. The only thing worse would be a child reviving the demon king to assist them with their homework.

The little girl had potential for a class, and given her nature as a noble, held little in the way of stopping her from obtaining one. But the fact that she was not just any noble, but a High-Noble, made his plan infinitely worse. If she were a regular noble, someone with low prestige, maybe he could deal with the consequences. But now? After learning she was a High-Noble and still considered his plan a possible solution? He was essentially shooting a flaming arrow inside of a dark mining cave, hoping not to hit anything explosive.

People only ever had one class in their lifetime. Sure, there were exceptions—pills that could reset a person’s class—but those were nearly impossible to get. Pell suspected even High-Nobles would struggle to acquire them. For everyone else, choosing a class was a one-time deal. Whatever you chose stuck with you for the rest of your life. That’s why nobles and the wealthy invested so heavily in their heirs, nurturing them with immense resources to ensure they made the best choice possible.

Some of the class records kept by the magic associations had requirements so difficult they bordered on the absurd. Pell had heard a rumor about a time-related class that required someone to be either reincarnated or to regress—he couldn’t remember which. Either way, achieving that would require the assistance of a god. Being chosen by a god was unheard of, bordering above the absurd, and teetering on the insane. Even if it was just a rumor—the idea that some classes had such extreme requirements was enough of a sobering thought to break him out of a five-day-long drunken stupor.

"The danger of...how would they... ah but I can... no..." Pell was subconsciously muttering aloud.

Enya just stared at him as he did so, patiently waiting for him to finish as they walked. He was so incoherent that Enya just ignored him, as deciphering his words was just too much.

For him to leave this dungeon, someone needed to claim the dungeon core and turn off the dungeon's restrictions. But how would he, a merchant, a non-combat class, safely delve through the lower floors and also defeat the boss? This was an undead dungeon, after all. To be specific, it was the dungeon of an undead researcher. Who knows what abominations could be on the lower floors?

The floor Pell and Enya were on right now, was floor five. This dungeon was a reverse tower-type dungeon. One that started from above, at floor one, and then led into lower floors, with increasing difficulty. The first five floors were quite easy, with just a few lower-level monsters. Pell had scouted out the first two floors by himself when he was alive and determined this to be a lower-tier dungeon. That was why Pell hired D-rank adventurers. People strong enough to clear the dungeon, but still green enough not to be overly confident and greedy. The last thing Pell wanted was for a higher-ranked adventurer to murder him and claim the dungeon as their own spoils.

The fifth floor, filled with skeletons and zombies, had been their party’s limit. He hadn’t expected there to be so many floors. Typically, lower ranked dungeons only contained three to five floors, yet this one contained more than that.

Of the monsters on this floor, he could fight one or two with a sword, but whatever lay past on the 6th floor was going to be too difficult for him to handle. Pell just wasn't a fighter. He had gotten into many a scuffle when he was younger in his thievery days, but he wasn't a trained fighter. He was an adult now, so he could match a young E-rank adventurer, but that was it. Pell wasn't strong enough to claim the dungeon core for himself. Not with his merchant class. But perhaps someone else could.

There were only a few classes Enya would learn enough about and be eligible to ascend with here. Monster Fighter required being strong enough to slay monsters yourself with bare fists. Swordsmen or Swordswomen—while there were plenty of swords all around—there was no instructor to teach her the basics. Just swinging a sword around wouldn't do her any favors.

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A trapper might have worked. Pell did have plenty of rope and a few poisonous potions—though none of those would work against undead. He also didn’t know how to make traps, and from a practical standpoint, trying to conquer a dungeon with just traps was unrealistic. He could also technically teach her himself and help her become a merchant—if he really wanted to die.

He silently cursed himself inside his head. Pell was never good at anything but thievery and leeching off others, and trying to keep himself safe. That’s why, after everything he had been through, he had earned the option of selecting the thief and rogue as a class. It was tempting at first, but he knew that it would just get him killed sooner than later. Those classes never lived long, besides only the top echelon of the gifted and talented.

In the very end, Pell decided to save his class choice. He wanted to get something better. Maybe he would get something rare if he waited long enough. And so, he waited. And waited. Over 20 years passed by, and nothing new ever showed up. He was one of the few people that held no class past the age of 8.

Pell had setup a small farm for himself in the meantime, going straight into his innate class’ specialty. A run-down shack, and a few small plots barely larger than his own home. Rittertops were the best vegetables he could cultivate. Easy to grow, and crunchy to eat. Fine textures, and an alright taste.

Only by mere chance did he come across old books about merchantry. Being a merchant meant being able to get wealthy and form connections. If he couldn’t fight and kill monsters, then perhaps he could simply talk and bullshit his way into a wealthy life. Merchants were greedy assholes who only cared about profit. Pell fit that role perfectly.

Greediness was exactly what caused Pell to die. He wanted to conquer the dungeon and loot all of the resources for himself. That was a large reason why he had gathered greenhorn adventurers to come with him. That, and also he wanted to keep the price low. But in the end, Pell’s greed caught up to him. He had finally died. Died alone, with no one by his side. Just like his life had always been.

There was, however, one person who had stuck by him. The only person who had truly tried to save him, who had seen past the facade and glimpsed the real him. That person was why Pell had chosen to become a merchant. She was someone who cared for a failing orphanage and had walked over a pitfall because of a noble’s demonic and revolting scheme.

Pell’s hands clenched together. The sound of bone cracking as they ground against each other sounded aloud as he walked. Perhaps she was dead now. Perhaps she even forgot about him. Four years stuck in the dungeon would do a lot to a person. He was no stranger to the changes that could happen in that amount of time.

Pell’s class was rooted as a merchant. There was no way to change it. At least, not any viable way he could realistically think of. Class gems were only an item of dreams. He wouldn’t be able to get his hands on one. Even if he did, he had no affinity for anything else. He was a useless person. No skills in magic or swordsmanship. Pell was relatively strong, but it wasn’t anything impressive. His agility and fortitude were also average at best for his age.

But now, there was a blank slate. A blank slate in the shape of a little naive girl. A girl who didn’t have a class, and was also a noble at that! Her potential would obviously be high. He’d be damned if she was as useless as he was. Pell tried to reassure himself, coming up with more and more half-hearted—forced compliments—inside his mind. She even had three different skills relating to magic! She had to be amazing. There’s no damn way a noble kid like her wouldn’t excel at something. It’s just how unfair the world was.

Pell’s soul flames inside his skull flickered violently as he walked. Embers trickled out of his eye sockets and turned to ashes in the air beside him. Unbeknownst to him, he had long since taken his hand off the wall. Now, Pell was walking in a determined manner, both arms to his side, fists clenched. If someone had seen Pell walking towards them, they would think he was some kind of mutated skeleton—a demonic monster filled with bloodlust.

Enya’s young age didn’t diminish the value of her nobility. When it came to affinities with magic, she would surely breeze through without a problem. That was her only redeeming quality. Noble bloodlines ran deep, and there was no getting rid of who you were.

The little girl could save Pell. He just needed her to be ready. If she could attain a class, become a fighter—clear this accursed dungeon, then the sight of the bright sun may once again shine upon his sockets. The only problem was the class that he needed her to obtain.

Freedom. It was so damn close.

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

Both Enya and Pell continued walking for several minutes. The dungeon was an absolute mess. Torches had fallen off their walls, and creeping shadows formed monstrous apparitions from the holes in the walls. The ground had been annihilated, upending rocks and sharp edges of earth into deadly spikes. One false step and they could fall, impaling themselves on the multiple spears of rock.

Enya was smaller and more agile than Pell. She could take small leaps over certain gaps and avoid the hazardous traps. Pell also tried to avoid some of the sharp edges, but didn’t do that well of a job at it. He didn’t need to worry about the ground as much as the fleshy human behind him. He felt no pain. No physical pain.

They soon approached a slightly more lit area, and Enya spotted a long hallway that actually led to a dead-end. Squinting, she could see a very slight divot, a small discoloring of… something near the corner of the wall. Before she could ask about it, Pell spoke up first.

“Hey kid, do you want to become a necromancer?”

Enya, having heard the word before, but not knowing exactly what it meant, simply tilted her head at the question.