The light sound of a wooden door creaking open could be heard. Noise echoed off the dug-out cave walls.

Trained footsteps followed, barely audible against the dirt floor. A thin man wrapped in brown and black cloth and leather slipped inside. If one were to examine the man, he looked every bit the thug he was. A crooked smile, heavy stubble, and slicked back hair completed the image. Once inside, he grinned.

The man had been staking this place out for the past day. Caution was paramount in his line of work. He'd confirmed all the details of his quarry. While a few of the finer points eluded him, it was enough to take action.

After all, his target was a single teenage girl. While she appeared capable for her age, there was a large gap in experience between them. Stating he was confident was putting things mildly.

And so, with his thoughts focused on a certain reward bounty, along with pilfering all the belongings within, he finally decided to make his move before another opportunist caught wind of this tasty little morsel.

Regret never once crossed his mind.

A foot-long dagger flashed out from the sheath behind the man's back. A buckler was strapped to his left arm, while a pair of thick leather gloves protected his hands. He was lightly armed, armored, and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

There was a small candleholder in the middle of the table—a sign that someone had been here recently. Still was, most likely. He gripped his dagger even tighter as his eyes scanned the dirt walls. Darkness wasn't a beast he was unfamiliar with. It was certainly more his ally than his quarry's.

Further back in the cave, Amalia rustled behind a set of barrels. One was filled with water, the other empty. There hadn't been enough time to hide inside the second barrel, and it was too late to make a clean escape down the hatch leading further into the Dungeon.

Amalia began to panic as she realized she'd been caught unaware. Her sword lay down the hallway and across the room. The intruder was directly between her and her weapon. The only thing she had on her was a small knife kept in a bootstrap.

Retreat wasn't an option. She couldn't flee down into the Dungeon armed like this. As she was wracking her brain, Rozalin's voice entered her mind.

'If things go poorly, I apologize in advance if I break my promise. I won't place this knave's safety against your own.'

This only caused the young woman to panic more. She couldn't see where Rozalin was. Not in this darkness. She began to argue with the older woman.

'Roz! You can't!'

As if only to add fuel to the fire, the man crept forth on the tips of his shoes. His light steps left only the faint sound of dirt being crushed below.

"Where'd ya go, girlie? Don't think I don't know you're here somewhere. Come out and maybe I'll play nice. Might not even have to cut ya up any."

He spoke in a cruel sing-song. It was as if he were treating this as some sort of sick game.

The man's eyes darted around the cave, scanning for possible hiding spots. He also noted the smell of roasted meat, along with what appeared to be a bottle of wine on the table. In the corner of the room was another shelf that housed several gemstones and a leather pouch, along with what appeared to be a few bones and flowers. Alchemy reagents?

Dessert for later, he thought. The man wet his lips and went back to the task at hand.

His taunts only served to infuriate the slime-woman further.

'No, I most certainly can,' came Rozalin's stone-cold reply. Amalia felt it—Rozalin was furious.

Amalia pleaded, 'Please Rozalin, just don't kill him! We can capture him and turn him into the town g—'

That thought didn't get far. While Amalia was trying to bargain and reason with Rozalin, the would-be thief turned towards the passage leading to the Dungeon. He'd concluded his search of the main room and come up dry, so the next obvious choice lay before him.

The thug set his sights on the hallway and began to approach. He narrowed his eyes towards a shaggy bit of fluff peeking up behind the barrels. Normally, one would assume hiding in the dark and spying on someone amidst light meant they would remain unseen. For scum who thrived in shadow, this was not always the case. After all, magic and Skills existed.

"Found you!" whispered the man, grinning. His eyes had a slight glow to them.

He advanced, ever-confident that this job was in the bag. Entering enemy territory wasn't something he normally did, but after his stakeout and scanning the interior of this place he was now certain he'd succeed.

"C'mon out, kid. Keep your hands where I can see 'em."

The young beastkin slowly walked out from behind the two barrels, hands open in front.

"Down on your knees," he murmured, "That's right, nice and slow."

It was funny. He'd heard a few things about this particular beastkin while in town. Fancied herself a fledgling merc or something. He thought she'd put up a fight. There was also the matter of why those two men had gone missing—perhaps the rumors were true and they really had deserted?

Thoughts swirled in the man's head. Amalia sat on the ground before him, tears forming in her eyes and panic in her voice.

"Please, please don't."

It was a quiet, pleading tone. The man's brow creased and a grin formed on his mouth. It wasn't often someone begged him like this. It was nice when things went smoothly. He felt empowered.

"Begging ain't gonna help you, kid. There's a nice bounty on ya and I'm cashing in on it. Yer merchandise now, so behave. Don't wanna have to get 'rough', ya hear?"

The grin on his face receded slightly. This girl's mannerisms were unusual, like she wasn't really looking at him. Something felt a bit off.

"Please, don't kill him ..."

The would-be thief was struck by confusion, w—

Thud!!

And then, confusion was succeeded by a large lump of rock. It was deposited directly to the back of the man's skull. He lurched forward, letting out a strange, high-pitched noise in the process. The blow stunned him for a fraction of a second, but that was enough.

Several slime tendrils swarmed the man, latching around his head, throat, and shoulders. When he tried to suck in air, one of the appendages went into his mouth and nose. He tried to bite down, only to be struck with sudden numbness and feeling faint. Within seconds, he passed out.

----------------------------------------

"That was rather disappointing, in a way," said Rozalin.

The pink Slime turned toward Amalia, who was still off to the side looking rather forlorn. The captured thief was stripped of his possessions and tied to a chair with rope and metal cables of Rozalin's own design.

Rozalin had used a newer variety of toxin to affect the man. Basically, he had been drugged. A few opponents the slime-woman had encountered either hadn't fallen for her usual tricks or proven unaffected by her toxins. That didn't mean she hadn't been perfecting such an approach for those susceptible to it.

"Still, aren't thieves and the like normally poison users? Shouldn't this fellow have had a bit of resistance? And then there's the concussion ..." she muttered to herself.

Really, the man had been a disappointment in more ways than one. Truly a failure as both a combatant and human being.

"What should we do now?" Amalia asked, looking at the thug.

"Boil him and turn him into soup."

"Wh-What!?"

The beastkin's eyes bulged momentarily. Rozalin simply sighed.

"It was a joke. Isn't our next step obvious? We'll extract information, then turn him into the poli—err, guards. Or whatever, I really don't care."

Tension released from Amalia's slim shoulders, her hand going to her chest to calm her heart. Such 'jokes' weren't uncommon from Rozalin, yet she still had trouble judging if the Slime was serious from her vocal tone alone.

Making man-soup was perfectly within what Amalia thought Rozalin might be capable of. Doubtful, but very possible.

Rozalin grumbled to herself, "I still don't understand why you're so against killing such people. You heard what he said, yes? Better to lop his head off and be done with it. Don't knights and guards normally execute such people anyway? This extra step seems ... wasteful."

For her part, Amalia clammed up. She was used to Rozalin's opinion on such matters. That didn't mean she agreed.

"Yes, but ... Roz, once someone dies, they don't come back."

It was simple logic, but that utterance still bothered Rozalin.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I know that." Rozalin groaned, "It's just hard to believe that in a world filled with magic there aren't any Resurrection Spells. Patients can be resuscitated with medicine if you act fast enough, so I don't understand why magic would be different. You really don't know any way to bring back the dead?"

"Only miracles," Amalia frowned, "And that's trespassing on the domain of Gods. The churches might know more. I've heard rogue wizards studying Necromancy can animate bodies, but then they're just soulless undead."

The two both recalled the shambling corpses fueled by Dungeon Mana and base instinct.

"I'll just have to keep studying the undead until I get a better idea. I'm not going anywhere near any religious buildings, lest I catch fire. Honestly, the more I learn the less this place makes sense. Don't do anything too dangerous until I figure out how to fix you if you die."

Amalia's lips thinned at the ridiculous comment, especially the off-hand way Rozalin said it. Wasn't Rozalin the most dangerous threat to her life around here?

"Roz, just what am I to you?" Amalia grumbled.

The Slime mentally hummed for a second, apparently having decided to answer the entirely rhetorical question.

"My future right-hand and a precious pet. ... Er, person. Yes."

Rozalin's inner thoughts slipped through. The 'P-word' only served to irritate the beastkin.

"I'm not a pet!"

"Why bother with semantics?" Rozalin said with a sigh, wishing she could roll her eyes still, "Besides, I like pets and animals more than humans anyway. Much simpler; won't lie to you or anything. You remind me of the chocolate-colored lab I used to have. She was adorable."

While Rozalin got lost in memories, Amalia continued to fume. She crossed her arms and narrowed her brow in annoyance.

"Ahem. Anyway, I don't have a fondness for people, so just take it as a good thing. It's not like I think of you as inhuman. It's just the word 'people' reminds me of scumbags like this fellow here. "

Rozalin waved a gooey tendril at the unconscious man's throat, holding an iron dagger up against it.

Yes, Rozalin had been waiting for the man to wake up this entire time. Should one intrude on the situation, they'd see a pink glob of slime waving around a dagger while a man in his underwear was bound to a chair. Truly one of the more interesting scenes the town had never seen.

The man had been blindfolded and restrained. Rozalin also injected some paralytic toxin in the man's limbs. Even if he wanted to attempt escape, running would be ... bothersome. Crawling was more advised.

"So like I was saying, we'll employ some simple psychology. I'm the angry, blood-thirsty, magical hand in the shadows and you're the saintly, 'I wanna help you'-type person. It's a trick from my world. I can't question him myself, so you'll have to do the talking. I'll be relying on your multi-tasking and speech. Keep an eye out for the usual cues."

"Roz, I still want to talk about the earlier subject," Amalia replied unhappily.

A few awkward seconds went by. The man began to stir. This was, of course, largely due to Rozalin rapidly injecting some Mana into the man to rouse him more quickly.

Rozalin hummed, "Oh darn, there's no time. Imagine that, he's waking! Be ready."

Stifling the indignation in her chest, Amalia could only comply.

And so, what followed was a horrific scene of interrogation. Amalia once again ended up pleading for the man's life—quite earnestly, at times—while Rozalin was busy devising fun ways to torture information out of the man. After all, Rozalin discovered it's much, much easier to torture someone in a world filled with magic. Dying can be considered a luxury, for some.

The thief's name was apparently Jarrod. He was a bounty hunter and simple thug who had noticed a striking similarity to a low-priority, high-paying bounty placed on Amalia. The information was hazy, but there weren't many 14-or-so-year-old beastkin girls traveling alone in the immediate region.

One such gang of bandits operated out of said region. 'Ralph's Raiders'. Rozalin cringed at the horrendous naming sense and nearly forgot to stop attempting to dislocate the man's shoulder during that particular bit of interrogation. A small blunder.

It would seem one of the deceased men Rozalin ate had contacted someone in their group. He told them they'd spotted a teenage beastkin girl and planned to shackle her in the dead of night. It was only a short and casual report, but their immediate disappearance and loss of both said girl and slave shackle was a financial blemish. Thus, a bounty was issued with the limited information available.

Which brought us to the current situation.

"Roz, why is he twitching!?"

"Don't worry about it. I just knocked him out again. I included a little bit extra toxin this time, but he'll be fine. ... Probably."

The topic was quickly changed.

"Anyway! Since you won't let me eat this waste of life, shouldn't you be taking him to the guards? I'll escort you a short way. He won't be waking up, but if he has company, they'll be nearby. I need to keep you safe."

"... Fine." Amalia assented.

Rozalin hummed quietly to herself, while Amalia began to get ready to heft the man out of their small home. He was thin and wiry, but still weighed more than Amalia. This would be tiresome.

"One more thing, my silly do-gooder," Rozalin started, "Just how exactly do you plan to have this man brought to justice?"

The question struck Amalia oddly. She hesitated.

"I'll bring him to the guards and explain what happened. The man is obviously a bandit, thief, and most likely a killer. I'm sure he'll be arrested and tried."

"Ahh, good point. I suppose that sounds logical. Yes, that is definitely a reasonable way to think ..."

Amalia crooked her head at Rozalin, who sat on the table. Rozalin's tone had an almost merry jingle to it. Amalia hated when that happened. It caused a shiver to go up the girl's back.

"What will you present as evidence? If this man is not already wanted for any crimes, then it's simply a beastkin teen without citizenship showing up, having forcibly bound a man, and saying he is a criminal. Are you certain your word is enough?"

The girl's mouth hung open, "Th-that's ..."

"Well, I'm sure you've thought this through. Perhaps they can interrogate the man themselves. They should have a magic item around for sniffing out lies, yes? So long as there's no way for this man to circumvent such a thing, he'll be jailed. I'm certain the guards couldn't possibly be incompetent enough to let him go."

Those barbed words were as if arrows striking Amalia's vital points. The assuredness in Amalia's eyes faltered.

After months of being with Amalia, Rozalin had become accustomed to the girl and how her thoughts operated. While the reverse also applied to a lesser degree, Rozalin was adept at picking apart thought processes once she knew how they worked.

"I-It's the right thing to do. I must!"

The reply given was disappointing. Rozalin sighed at her protege's incessant niceness. It was cute—in an idiotic and endearing way—but Rozalin was sure she would've been able to drive some meanness into the girl by now.

Well, she knew why Amalia was so insistent. And as the girl said, 'once someone dies, they don't come back.'

Ah, mental baggage. How fun.

Regardless, Rozalin had already extracted enough information from the man. She was even nice enough to heal the afflictions she'd applied to him. And so, the two set out.

It was a strange scene, watching the lithe girl carry a full-grown man. While stronger than she should be due to her level, it was still not an easy journey for Amalia. When Rozalin 'parted' ways with the girl, Rozalin was really just lying and continuing to follow her in stealth. After all, she didn't want anything to happen to Amalia. Even if she didn't like expressing her concern.

Outside was dangerous. The Dungeon was dangerous. But it was a necessary danger if one wanted to level up their Skills and obtain experience. Danger was needed to get stronger. So Rozalin could only minimize and plan for that danger as best as possible.

Back on Earth, Rozalin had been subjected to a process known as 'power-leveling' in a few games she'd played ages ago. This very much felt like something similar. Except way too real and with the looming threat of death, or more likely, failure.

There really were too many ways for the world to dispose of a girl in a Dungeon. It had been exhausting.

The remainder of the evening went better than expected. The man named Jarrod turned out to have been wanted for petty larceny among other things, so none of the events Rozalin described transpired. Still, Rozalin wanted to pound preparedness into Amalia.

For her part, Amalia just wanted to not end up on the bad end of one of Rozalin's incomprehensible ideas. Both goals seemed daunting.

Back in their cave-home, Amalia spoke, "Rozalin, are you sure that man won't bother us anymore?"

"Not at all!" the slime beamed, "But if all the drugs and things I did to his body didn't make him fear the 'shadow hand' backing you, then he's too dumb to plan around. I placed a dormant Domain anchor on him, so for the next few days I'll know if he approaches."

The Domain anchors Rozalin spoke of were an offshoot of the Domain Skill that involved injecting Mana into an object and sealing it. A basic level of concealment was also applied from the knowledge gleaned from using Adaptive Coating and myriad other experiments.

While the anchor would dissipate after some time passed, sensing the rough location of an anchor was still possible should it remain within a medium range. Once activated, it would simply sizzle out if moved. It was akin to a disposable, low-tech tracking beacon.

"That being said, what will you do now, Amalia?"

"What do you mean?" asked the beastkin, brows arching in surprise.

"We're safe for a few days. I can either move our hiding location—which would be incredibly bothersome," Rozalin shuddered, recalling how much rock she had to eat, "—or, ... we can do something about this bandit group and the supposed bounty on you."

"Why do we have to move? Do you think someone else will come?"

Rozalin scoffed, "Are there flowers in your head? Of course! If he had accomplices or a way of communicating with them while jailed, he might tip someone off. There could be other bounty hunters. Heck, he might even be idiotic enough to come back if he's let go. We need to prepare for such things!"

While Amalia thought the reaction a bit severe, she found herself unable to argue with the logic the more she considered the matter. It only made her feel more down. Life really wouldn't go so smoothly. Misfortune wouldn't let her rest.

She sighed, "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

"... Wait, you realize that?"

Rozalin had paused, the shock in her voice apparent. Amalia murmured an affirmative.

"W-Well, it's good if you do. That being said, it was inevitable so don't give it much thought. A shame this matter will detract largely from my experiments and training. I'll expect you to return the favor later, but for now, we'll worry about the task at hand. Expect to work overtime for a few weeks."

There was a giddiness in Rozalin's voice, causing Amalia's mouth to twitch. The girl had experienced Rozalin's concept of 'overtime' before, and it wasn't something she enjoyed. Slaying monsters in caves for hours daily was already strenuous enough.

"So what do you think we should do? Run away?"

At this, mental laughter entered Amalia's mind.

"Run away? And leave our home and my research projects behind? I'd rather not. This place is too convenient for our goals."

Uncertainty crept into the beastkin's heart. A lump had formed in her throat, causing her to push it down. One of Rozalin's ... 'ideas' was coming on. She could feel it.

"Running is the last resort, my shaggy little knight. We're going to enact some of that 'justice' you seem so fond of."

Rozalin hopped down from the wooden dining table to the floor, then rolled over to a secret passage she'd carved.

"Rest up and prepare yourself. I'm gathering a few things. If these bandits really have a camp to the south, then I hope they're prepared for a visit. We leave at night."

"Y-You're going to fight them!?" Amalia hollered in disbelief.

Rozalin turned back around, staring at her companion in exasperation.

"Who said anything about a fight? Amalia, you should know better by now. I won't kill anyone without your permission. Besides that, fighting would be foolhardy without knowing the opponent's strength.

"No, ... we're only on a reconnaissance mission. You'll keep your distance while I sneak in. We might be able to reappropriate some of their stolen goods as well. And if I can torment a few liars and thieves in the meantime—perhaps convince a certain bandit chieftain to drop your bounty—then all the better."

Yes, Amalia really should know better by now. What Rozalin said made sense.

But Amalia also realized the tone in which Rozalin spoke meant those bandits would be in for a hellish time. When she thought back to all the tortures Rozalin inflicted to pry information from the thief named Jarrod, she couldn't help but shiver. If they were all at the level and strength of that man, it would be a massacre.

And so, Amalia said a small prayer for any bandits Rozalin caught unaware.