She dealt with the Skeleton that tried to ambush Edmund.

Ling flicked her long hair with practiced swagger, like a swan preening under moonlight.

In her head, she queued up a sparkle-dandruff special effect.

She looked up, hoping for awe, but Edmund studied his sword, eyes like still water.

The snub stung her pride, so she strutted over and patted his head, like shooing a sleepy cat.

“What’s on your mind, big guy? If you’ve got time to stare at your sword, watch me flex instead.”

In the real world, that line would earn glares.

Here, cute is its own amnesty; the loli charm smooths ripples.

“My apologies. I lost focus and didn’t catch your words, Miss Ling…”

Ling hadn’t meant to blame him; it was a throwaway quip.

His earnest apology left her a half step off, like sand shifting underfoot.

“Well… forget it. I don’t care about that. Let’s just keep moving.”

She pivoted without forcing it, yet the new topic fell like a stone, and silence spread in ripples.

This place wasn’t an RPG; beating one floor didn’t conjure the next, like clouds refusing to part.

A serious problem loomed. Twenty-some doors and a dozen stairways led who-knows-where, like branches in a winter forest.

Dammit—if I’d known, I wouldn’t have killed that big Skeleton.

Maybe we could’ve pried answers from him, like shells hiding pearls.

Please, let no one ask how to move forward.

“How do we move forward?”

…Damn!

I just prayed that question away, and here it is—out of Alicia’s mouth.

Helpless, Ling scratched the back of her head, masking her awkwardness like fog hiding a cliff.

“How about we wander a bit? Maybe we’ll stumble on a path.”

With this many paths, wandering is the only shrug.

None of us knows the right way; you can’t bank on luck to pick the perfect door.

“Alright, then we’ll just—”

THUMP—!!

Alicia was about to accept the unreliable plan when sudden footsteps cut her words, like thunder snapping a banner.

She spun her mana alert, warding herself like a lantern flaring in wind.

Clack-clack…

Not just footsteps—bone scraping armor, a dry rattle like pebbles in a gourd.

“When did I ever approve you wandering here?”

A tall figure rose from a stairwell, his voice sharpening as the shape stepped into the torchlight.

“Who?!”

For unknown foes, Alicia kept twelve parts caution; her voice carried steel, like frost on the blade.

But the newcomer strolled through her pressure, a leisurely gait like wind through pines, and even had breath to smile at them.

“Just a masked Skeleton passing through. No need to remember me, okay~”

He was, in fact, a masked Skeleton.

Three meters tall, he wore a clown mask that covered everything above the mouth.

The bare bone jaw jutting below looked awkward, like a grin carved in chalk.

“Fine! Then I won’t remember you.”

Ling crossed her arms and spoke for Alicia, throwing the masked Skeleton a mocking look like a pebble at a crow.

“Since you’re just passing, and you’ve got a bit of brains, here’s a tip—leave.

If a fight breaks out, Alicia and I can’t guarantee you won’t die.”

Alicia blinked at Ling’s sudden ‘kindness’, surprise flickering like a moth, but she let it pass without a question.

But the Skeleton refused the favor, standing his ground, eyes locked on Ling, and he shook his head like a bell.

“That won’t do… If I leave, what happens to this place?”

Ling narrowed her eyes; the look turned serious, like clouds bruising before rain.

“What do you mean?”

The Skeleton ignored her and kept talking, words marching on like ants.

“A fight will happen here, that part’s true.

But I’m a big Skeleton, after all; I don’t need protection from a few little girls.”

As he spoke, his bone hand, big enough to cup a grown man’s head, reached to his waist.

He pulled out a flute hung there—a flute carved from bone.

Shans’s warning rang in Ling’s ear, sudden as a struck bell.

A Skeleton with a bone flute—this one fit the picture perfectly.

Enemy—!

She reached that conclusion in a heartbeat, and the masked Skeleton confirmed it without delay.

“Me? As a big Skeleton—and your enemy—I won’t be asking for your protection.”

He raised the bone flute to his mouth, and a strange music burst forth.

♬#♪♬#♬Ⅹ♪♪□♪*♬

There was no beauty in it; a child’s random piping would sound sweeter.

It had no rhythm, like an amateur sawing wood; no melody, like TikTok blasting from a phone speaker.

It threatened ear-splitting ruin; even Alicia clapped her hands over her ears, afraid the noise would punch through her drums.

But…

The grotesque tune drew an answer—shattered bones on the floor began to tremble, like leaves quivering in winter wind.

Smashed pieces and powdered dust alike vibrated hard, as if cheering for the song, like sparks hopping in a brazier.

The bone shards lifted and flew to the masked Skeleton’s back, a pale flock homing to a roost.

Skeletons that should’ve taken ages to reform took shape at once.

They lacked armor and cleavers, just bare frames with no bite, yet numbers pressed like a tide.

That sheer count weighed on both sides, an oppressive swell like storm surf.

When the performance ended, he ignored their pained faces.

He dipped a small bow, the neat etiquette of a musician stepping off stage.

“Thank you for listening. By the way, I’m Ban, an Undead~”