On the run!

The dirt road stretched ahead, winding through dense forest, the trees whispering with the wind. The heavy silence of the group had only deepened since Duskhaven's fall.

They had been walking for hours, putting as much distance between themselves and both the undead horde and the paladins searching for survivors. Cedric had left at dawn, his figure disappearing toward the capital, carrying the weight of vengeance on his back.

Now, it was just them.

Arlan glanced at the others. Beren was quiet, his axe strapped to his back, eyes scanning the surroundings warily. Mira walked ahead, her staff resting against her shoulder, lost in thought. Tomas and Leila moved near the rear of the group, occasionally speaking in low voices, but something about the way they acted had changed.

Less bickering.

More stolen glances.

Arlan narrowed his eyes slightly, watching as Leila absentmindedly brushed dirt from Tomas's shoulder before realizing what she was doing and quickly pulling away. Tomas, meanwhile, looked a little too smug about the whole thing.

Weird.

But there were more pressing matters.

Like the fact that they were now fugitives.

A Harsh Truth

As they walked, Mira eventually slowed, falling into step beside Arlan.

"We need to talk," she said quietly.

Arlan exhaled. "I figured."

She glanced at the others before lowering her voice. "You're hiding something. I know it, and I'm done pretending I don't."

Arlan kept his expression neutral. "That's a strong accusation."

Mira gave him a sharp look. "Don't start. I'm not Gareth. I actually pay attention."

Arlan felt his stomach tighten.

Mira crossed her arms. "The thing in the crypt knew you. It spoke to you differently than it did to the rest of us. And when it left, you didn't even look surprised."

Arlan tried to think of an excuse, but Mira's eyes burned into him, demanding honesty.

Finally, he sighed. "I don't know what's happening, alright? I just… I feel like this isn't over. Like it's following me."

Mira studied him for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not she believed him. Then she sighed, shaking her head. "We're in deep, Arlan. And if you're keeping secrets from us, it's only going to get worse."

She walked ahead, leaving him with her words hanging in the air.

Bones, the Unhelpful Mentor

A few hours later, they finally stopped to rest by a shallow creek. As the others refilled waterskins and adjusted gear, Arlan sat down on a fallen log, pulling his cloak tighter.

Bones scurried out from his hiding spot, clicking his teeth before settling on Arlan's lap.

Arlan sighed. "What do you think, buddy? Am I in trouble?"

Bones tilted his skull, then opened his tiny skeletal jaws.

"P-probably."

Arlan flinched. "What?"

Bones clicked again, his glowing green eyes flickering. "Bad. Lying. Lying bad."

Arlan stared. "Since when can you talk?"

Bones's tiny ribcage expanded slightly. "Since… now?" His voice was strange—broken, words choppy and unnatural, like he was forcing them out through something that wasn't designed for speech.

Arlan ran a hand through his hair. "Of course. Of course this is happening now."

Bones clicked his teeth, almost like laughter. "Chaos… grows…!"

Arlan groaned. "I hate my life."

Tomas plopped down next to him, completely unaware of the existential crisis Arlan was having. "What's wrong with you?"

Arlan shook his head. "Nothing. Just my undead rat gaining sentience."

Tomas snorted. "Yeah, okay. Sure." Then, as if realizing he might have been sitting too close to Arlan, he abruptly leaned back a little, clearing his throat.

Arlan raised an eyebrow.

Tomas's gaze flickered toward Leila, who was currently tying her hair back, and then just as quickly away.

Arlan narrowed his eyes.

"…Tomas."

"Yeah?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

Tomas's expression didn't change. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

Arlan stared at him. "Because you've been acting weird ever since we left Duskhaven."

Tomas sighed dramatically. "Arlan, we're fugitives. Of course I'm acting weird."

Arlan glanced at Leila again. She was muttering something under her breath while adjusting her quiver.

"…Uh-huh," Arlan said, unconvinced.

Tomas didn't meet his gaze.

Suspicious.

A Rude Awakening: The System

They had been traveling for another hour when Arlan finally admitted something to himself.

He was exhausted.

And not just from running for his life. No, this was something else. He felt… drained, like his magic had been tugging at him since the crypt, shifting in ways he didn't understand.

He didn't even know how much stronger he had gotten.

And that was when it hit him.

He had no way of knowing.

He looked at the others. Did they have a way to track that?

"…Hey," he said, slowing his pace. "How do you guys check your level?"

Leila looked over her shoulder. "What?"

"Your level," Arlan repeated. "How do you check it?"

Mira gave him a look. "You're joking."

"…No?"

Leila squinted. "Wait. Do you not know how?"

Arlan frowned. "How would I?"

They all stopped.

Mira rubbed her face. "Arlan."

"Yes?"

"You know you can check your status screen, right?"

Arlan blinked. "My what?"

Silence.

Tomas and Leila exchanged glances.

Mira let out a long, suffering sigh. "Oh my gods."

Beren folded his arms. "You're telling me you've been running around doing quests, fighting monsters, using magic, and you didn't even know you had a system interface?"

Arlan felt heat rise to his face. "I—I didn't grow up with anyone to teach me, alright?"

Leila looked baffled. "You've just been guessing how strong you are this whole time?"

Arlan shifted awkwardly. "Uh. Yes?"

Tomas groaned. "This explains so much."

Leila pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay. First of all? How are you still alive?"

Arlan crossed his arms. "I'm very resourceful."

Mira ignored the banter and waved a hand in front of his face. "Arlan. Just think Status. Say it in your head. It'll pop up."

Arlan hesitated.

Then, slowly, he thought:

Status.

A flickering notification appeared in his vision.

[STATUS SCREEN]Name: ArlanClass: Necromancer (Unique)Level: 9Summons: 1/2Active Summon: BonesAvailable Skills: [Shadow Bolt] [???]

Arlan stared.

"…Oh."

Leila threw her hands in the air. "Unbelievable."

Beren chuckled. "He's actually an idiot."

Mira just sighed. "We need to fix this."

Arlan barely heard them.

Because his gaze was locked on something else.

His summon slots.

There were two.

Which meant…

He could summon another undead.

And somehow?

He had a feeling…

Whatever he raised next would be far more dangerous than Bones.