The next attack came before Elara had even caught her breath. A blur of motion—something small, fast, and vicious—darted toward her from the undergrowth. She barely raised her dagger before claws raked across her arm, sending a sharp jolt of pain through her body. She hissed through her teeth, stumbling back. No time to think. React.

  Her fingers pulsed with magic. Void Bolt. The dark energy surged from her palm, striking the creature mid-motion. It staggered, just for a fraction of a second—just enough. She lunged, Dragon's Precision driving her dagger deep into its side. The screech of pain was cut short as the creature collapsed.

  One down. More to come.

  Darius, watching from his usual distance, gave a slow nod. “Better. But you let it get too close.”

  Elara wiped the blood off her blade with the edge of her shirt, her arm still throbbing. “Hard not to when they’re faster than me.”

  Darius only shrugged. “Then make yourself faster.”

  Easier said than done. The rest of the day blurred into a brutal cycle of ambush and survival. They never needed to look for monsters. The creatures of the dungeon hunted them, not the other way around.

  Each fight pushed her to new limits. Her enemies were stronger, faster, and tougher—all of them many levels above her own. Even a single misstep meant another wound, another draining cost to heal herself.

  She rationed her mana carefully, keeping her skill usage tight. Void Bolt when it mattered. Dagger when she could. Healing Touch only when absolutely necessary to close wounds.

  Still, it wasn’t enough. After a particularly brutal fight with a massive, boar-like beast, she collapsed against a tree, gasping for breath. Blood streaked her side, soaking through her armor. She pressed her palm against the wound, golden light spilling from her fingers.

  Her limbs trembled. The healing magic felt sluggish, like she was trying to push warmth into something already burning.

  Darius crouched nearby, watching her with a cool, unreadable expression. "You’re running low."

  She knew that. But stopping wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to get stronger. She clenched her jaw and focused, feeding the magic in slowly, carefully. The wound closed bit by bit, but the pain remained, a dull ache lingering beneath the new skin.

  She exhaled sharply, flexing her fingers. Not perfect. But enough. Darius smirked. “Good. Now do that while fighting.”

  She tried.

  She fought. She bled. She healed.

  But something wasn’t clicking.

  He was right—she needed to keep her distance. She wasn't fast nor strong enough to keep up with them. But with every battle, she was stuck in the same brutal pattern: monsters closing in, forcing her into close combat, forcing her to take hits. She needed an edge.

  A new opportunity came when a sharp-toothed rodent, fur bristling, lunged from the branches above. Elara dodged in time. It landed and spun toward her, ready to strike again. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger—

  —and she threw it.

  The blade spun through the air, striking the creature in the chest before it could leap again. It crumpled with a shriek. A sharp ping rang in her head.

  [New Skill Acquired: Dagger Throwing – Level 1]

  Her breath hitched. Darius chuckled, stepping closer. “Took you long enough.”

  She barely heard him. She was still staring at her empty hand. It worked. Finally, something that could finish the monsters at a distance that did not cost mana.

  The rush of victory hadn’t even settled before the next attack came. A shadow moved in the trees. She barely registered it—something large, fast, its presence sending a sharp chill down her spine.

  Her fingers tightened around—

  Nothing.

  Her dagger wasn’t there. The realization hit just as the blur of muscle and teeth lunged. No weapon.

  She hands clapped together. Umbral Shift activated. The world turned cold, muted. But the impact never came.

  A silver arc. A single, precise motion.

  By the time she phased back into reality, the creature was already dead. Two halves of it hit the ground with a dull thud, blood steaming against the dirt. Darius stood in front of her, blade still angled downward.

  He glanced at her hands—still pressed together—then at the remains of the beast. “You’re safe. Next time, do not lose focus after a victory.”

  Elara swallowed hard. Nodded. He flicked the blood off his sword before sliding it back into its sheath. His gaze shifted to her.

  She was breathing hard but steady, her clothes torn and streaked with dirt and blood—some hers, most not. Her limbs ached from exertion, and the lingering sting of half-healed wounds reminded her just how outmatched she had been. But despite all that, she was still standing. She let out a slow breath, forcing her shoulders to relax.

  He studied her for moment longer, then gave a short nod. "That’s enough for today."

  She didn’t argue. She wasn’t sure if she could push through another fight—not without risking more than she could afford. Her mana reserves were running dangerously low, her body sluggish from fatigue. If another creature lunged at her now…

  She flexed her fingers, testing the lingering tremble in them. Not ideal. But it wasn’t just exhaustion.

  She glanced at the tree where her dagger was still buried deep in her last target. Without it, she had been helpless. The moment she lost her weapon, she had lost all ability to fight. Her maxed out Dagger Handling skill did nothing without a dagger. The thought sat heavy in her chest. It wasn’t just about strength—it was about control. And without her dagger, she had none.

  She swallowed hard and exhaled through her nose. Darius was watching her, arms crossed. He didn’t need to say anything—he had seen it too.

  Finally, he spoke. "Let’s head back."

  She hesitated, glancing around the clearing one last time. The torn-up earth, the scattered bodies, the tree painted in blood. The remains of every fight she had struggled through today. It was ugly. Brutal.

  But she had won.

  A small flicker of satisfaction settled in her chest. It wasn’t pretty, but it was progress. She turned, falling into step beside him. The exhaustion pressing down on her shoulders was expected, but something else gnawed at her—a realization that made her uneasy.

  "I noticed that I lost my reaction speed the moment I threw my dagger," she said, voice quiet but steady. "I felt… slow."

  Darius glanced over at her but didn’t stop walking. "Makes sense," he said simply.

  She frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "You only have a Dagger Handling skill, right?" he asked, his tone more statement than question. "You’ve trained with a dagger, fought with one, relied on one—but do you have an unarmed combat skill?"

  She opened her mouth to answer—then hesitated. She had her Dragon's precision. But the skill description said it was an evolution of any weapon handling skill.

  Darius let the silence stretch before continuing. "If you don’t, then the moment your dagger leaves your hand, you’re not skilled anymore. You can still move, still fight, but you’re doing it without the precision and ability your skill grants you. No guided reactions, no enhanced instincts. Just you."

  Her stomach twisted. She had never noticed.

  Every fight she’d been in, she’d had her dagger. Even in the direst moments, it had been on her person, a constant, reliable presence. But now that she thought about it—the way she dodged, the way she anticipated an opponent’s strikes—it had always been filtered through her skill. And without her dagger? She was just normal. Her hands clenched at her sides. This was dangerous.

  She exhaled sharply. "That’s a problem."

  Darius nodded. "Yeah. It is."

  He kept walking, but his tone remained thoughtful. "The animals back there? They were all faster than you. Stronger too. But you still dodged many attacks." He glanced at her. "That was your Dagger Handling skill at work."

  She’d felt it in the fight—how her body had moved before she fully processed the attack, her dodges sharp and precise, her footwork instinctive. It hadn’t been her own raw ability carrying her through. It had been her skill guiding her. And the moment she lost her dagger? That instinct had vanished.

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  She nodded slowly; the realization settling uneasily in her gut.

  He hummed, his expression still unreadable. "Then you’ve got two options," he said. "Either you start working on an unarmed fighting skill, or you make sure you never run out of daggers."

  She’d been so focused on getting stronger, on sharpening the skills she had, that she hadn’t even considered what would happen if she lost the weapon that let her fight at this level.

  "Backup daggers," she muttered, mulling it over. "Enough that even if I lose one—or two—I’m not left with nothing."

  Darius nodded. "Exactly. Weapons break. You’ll get disarmed. If you don’t want to be helpless when that happens, you either learn how to fight barehanded or make damn sure you always have a blade within reach."

  She set her jaw, determination sparking in her chest. "Then I need more daggers."

  Darius smirked. "Smart choice. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t consider learning how to fight unarmed too. A backup plan for your backup plan."

  He glanced at her, his tone still level. "There’s a third option."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  He nodded. "Using active skills that rely on mana. Most don’t need a weapon to be channeled—you can cast them barehanded."

  She considered that. It was true. She’d used Void Bolt plenty of times without a weapon in hand. And Umbral Shift didn’t need anything but herself.

  "But mana runs out," Darius continued. "Fast. And when it does, you’re done. If you rely only on skills that burn through it, you’ll find yourself completely defenseless at the worst possible moment."

  She frowned. She had already felt the strain of trying to balance her mana usage—holding back in fights so she had enough left to heal afterward. If she had to fight purely with magic too…

  "I take it you wouldn’t recommend it?" she asked.

  He scoffed. "No. It’s an option, but not one I’d ever advise relying on. Magic’s a tool, not a crutch. It’s good for turning the tide in a fight, not for keeping you alive in every fight."

  She exhaled. "Alright," rolling her shoulders as the camp lights came into view ahead. "Guess I’ve got some thinking to do."

  He smirked. "Good. Thinking's the first step. Acting’s the second."

  She huffed but didn’t argue.

  The sun hung low on the horizon, staining the sky in deep hues of orange and violet as they stepped out of the dungeon’s mist-laden boundary. The sudden shift back to the mundane world was jarring—no more eerie silence, no more luminescent fog curling around their ankles. Just the crisp evening air.

  The day had been long, and her body ached in more places than she cared to count. But at least she had learned something today.

  Darius, as always, seemed unfazed. He strode forward with his usual unhurried confidence. They had barely made it past the treeline when a voice called out.

  “You’re back earlier than normal.”

  Elara turned to see a small group standing near the edge of camp. Their clothing was practical enough not to stand out, but there was a refinement to it—fine fabrics, careful tailoring. Wealth, even out here.

  The speaker, a blond man with sharp features, watched them with a neutral expression.

  Darius didn’t slow his pace. “It went faster than expected.” His tone was even, uninterested.

  The man hummed. “I see.” His eyes flicked to Elara, studying her. “So? Did he spend the whole time ordering you around?”

  Elara tilted her head slightly, holding his gaze. “Not really. We managed.”

  A woman at his side scoffed. “Going into the dungeon with just a rookie? Hard to believe, after the way you left our team.” Her words were light, but something sharper hid beneath them.

  Darius gave the faintest shrug. “Just how it happened.”

  The blond man exhaled, his posture still relaxed. “Well, I suppose we’ll see soon enough how that plays out.” He stepped aside, his group shifting with him.

  There was no outright hostility, no open challenge—just an unspoken weight behind the exchange. She didn’t let it sink in. She walked past without another word, her exhaustion making it easier to push the encounter from her mind.

  As they moved deeper into camp, the murmurs of conversation faded behind them. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows over the worn dirt paths, and the scent of cooking fires mingled with the crisp evening air.

  Darius exhaled through his nose, his usual easy confidence absent. “Now that you’re openly associating with me,” he said, keeping his voice low, “you might start catching flak from some people.”

  Elara glanced at him, noting the tension in his jaw. “Like them?” she asked, tilting her head slightly back toward the group.

  “They’re the most likely.” He ran a hand through his hair, then let it drop. “They won’t be friendly about it.”

  Elara frowned. “Because of you?”

  “Because of a lot of things,” he admitted. “But mostly, yeah.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “You didn’t ask for that, so… if anyone gives you trouble, let me know.”

  The words were casual, but there was something deliberate in the way he said them. He wasn’t just offering—he was apologizing.

  She studied him for a moment. It was strange, hearing him sound almost... guilty. She shrugged, the weight of the conversation lighter than she’d expected. “I’ll deal with it.”

  He gave a short, humorless huff. “Yeah, figured.” Then, more seriously, “Still. Don’t let it get out of hand.”

  His tone made it clear—if it did, he’d step in.

  She didn’t push back. She wasn’t planning on letting anyone bother her, but it wasn’t lost on her that he’d been through this before.

  He slowed his pace, glancing at her. “Tomorrow, same time.”

  She straightened slightly, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “We going back to fighting?”

  “Not exactly.” He rolled his shoulders, the tension from the earlier encounter fading. “I’ve got a good sense of where you are combat-wise. Next, we start pushing forward—actually exploring the dungeon.”

  She felt a rush of excitement. The thought of diving deeper into the unknown, testing herself against whatever challenges lay ahead—it sent a thrill through her.

  Darius must have noticed her reaction, because a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

  She caught it and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  His expression smoothed out, but there was still a trace of amusement in his voice. “Didn’t expect you to be that eager.”

  She grinned. “Why wouldn’t I be? We’re actually moving forward now.”

  He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turned toward his own tent. “Get some rest, then. You’ll need it.”

  She barely registered the warning, still buzzing with anticipation. She made her way through the camp, weaving past clusters of mercenaries talking in low voices and the occasional flickering firepit. The excitement still hummed under her skin, but now that the weight of the day was settling in, she could feel the exhaustion creeping in as well.

  She ducked into the tent she shared with Lana and Kurda, the familiar warmth of the enclosed space a welcome contrast to the chill outside.

  Lana looked up immediately from where she was seated, her eyes scanning Elara before she reached over to grab a bowl from beside her. “You’re back,” she remarked, handing it over. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

  Elara took the bowl gratefully. “Thanks.”

  Lana sat forward, clearly eager. “So? What was it like?”

  Kurda, sitting at a desk, let out a short snort. “Give her a second, at least.”

  Elara smiled, but didn’t hesitate to answer. “It was… eerie. The mist made everything feel like it wasn’t real. And the monsters—” she exhaled, remembering the relentless fights, “—they were no joke.”

  Lana’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What about the plants? Anything strange? Rare?”

  Elara blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—” She winced slightly. “Didn’t really pay attention to that.”

  Lana groaned, tossing her hands in the air. “Elara!”

  Elara held up a hand, half-laughing. “I was kind of busy trying not to die.”

  Kurda chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

  Lana huffed, but waved it off. “Fine, fine. Next time, though, keep an eye out. Some dungeons grow things you won’t find anywhere else.”

  Elara took another bite of food, considering that. Next time, she’d try to look—but only if she wasn’t dodging claws and fangs at the same time.

  She finished her meal, the warmth of the food chasing away some of the lingering chill from her adventure. She hesitated for a moment, staring at the slew of notifications that had piled up while she was busy fighting. She scrolled through them, her eyes widening as she took in the numbers.

  You have defeated 4 Pyre-Rats (Lv. 130, 122, 111, 105) and earned 31,469 Exp.

  You have defeated 2 Leap-Squirrels (Lv. 134, 120) and earned 18,150 Exp.

  You have defeated 1 Sunbearer Boar [Lv. 112] and earned 7,247 Exp.

  Your Voidstalker has leveled up to Level 57

  Your The First Unanswered has leveled up to Level 28

  You have 190 unspent Stat points

  But it wasn't just the numbers that caught her attention—it was the sheer volume of unspent stat points.

  Her breath caught.

  She stared at the numbers, blinking, as if she’d misread them.

  That was… a lot of stat points.

  Her heart thudded against her ribs as she did the mental math. Her healing class had jumped twenty-seven levels in a single day—and it had given her just as many stat points per level as Voidstalker did.

  Her pulse quickened.

  That meant—

  Her total power had skyrocketed.

  A second class didn’t just give her new skills—it doubled the rate she gained stats. If she only had her Voidstalker class, she would have gained 35 stats points.

  She had known that gaining a second class early was a huge deal, but she had never seen its effects firsthand. People didn’t unlock their second class until level 200 and by then, they had already spent years leveling their first class.

  She had gotten hers at level 50. She swallowed, her fingers curling against her knees. This was insane. She had always thought of herself as being behind, struggling to catch up to stronger fighters. But now… Was she?

  Her mind reeled at the implications. Even if The First Unanswered wasn’t a purely combat-based class, its growth meant that her raw stats—her speed, endurance, mana pool—were all accelerating at a rate no one else at her level could match. A slow, stunned breath left her.

  She had been thrown into this world with nothing. No experience. No training. But now?

  Her lips parted slightly, a thrill of realization curling in her chest. She was no longer just keeping up. She was surpassing them. Elara exhaled slowly, her fingers hovering over the system interface.

  190 stat points.

  She had never held onto this many at once. Normally, she kept a few until she was sure where to spend them, but with everything that had happened today, she wanted to improve and spend it.

  Her eyes flickered over her stats. The numbers were higher than they had ever been, but there were still gaps—places where she felt herself lacking.

  Strength: 63

  Vitality: 62

  Dexterity: 45

  Intelligence: 65

  Wisdom: 78

  Luck: 1

  Her instinct was to dump most of her points in Dexterity. Speed and precision had always been her greatest strengths in combat, and today had only reinforced how much she relied on them. Without her dagger in hand, her reactions had slowed. Was it because she had grown reliant on her skill? Or was it because she simply wasn’t fast enough on her own?

  She needed to be smart about this. Strength was easy to dismiss—she currently relied more on speed and magic than brute force. Vitality was tempting, but she had ways to heal herself, and she didn’t plan on getting hit in the first place. That left Dexterity, Intelligence, and Wisdom as her main priorities.

  She allocated 40 points to Dexterity.

  Next was Intelligence. It increased her experience gain, letting her gain levels quicker. Her magic potency would also increase. If she wanted to improve her control over her abilities and read enemy movements better, this would help.

  She assigned 55 points to Intelligence.

  Her gaze lingered on her Wisdom. More than anything, she needed a larger mana pool. Every fight had made that painfully clear—she was always running low, always forced to ration her skills. Healing Touch alone drained her reserves at an alarming rate, and if she wanted to use her trusty voidwalk in a crisis, she couldn’t afford to be running on fumes.

  A higher Wisdom stat wouldn’t just give her more mana, it would give her more breathing room. More opportunities to act instead of always holding back, afraid of running out at the worst moment.

  95 points. It was a heavy investment, but she didn’t hesitate. She confirmed the allocation.

  Strength: 63

  Vitality: 62

  Dexterity: 85

  Intelligence: 120

  Wisdom: 173

  Luck: 1

  Health: 519/744

  Stamina: 356/356

  Mana: 12/865