Chapter 39 Not Nira

We pressed deeper into the dungeon, the damp air growing thicker as pale light seeped across the stone. The moss clinging to the walls glimmered with an eerie, luminescent sheen, enough to mark the path ahead without the need for torches. The Bone Temple had earned its name well. It was a place where every turn promised the groan of bones and the silence of the dead.

Among adventurers, the creatures lurking here were categorized by “ranks.” The system, however, was far from absolute. Two skeletons could look nearly identical, yet give one a weapon and its supposed danger level might climb. The truth was, “rank” was less about real power and more about perception: a shorthand for competence, tenure, or reputation. I understood that better than most. On paper, I was an E-rank, a ghost with no feats or history worth noting. That didn’t mean I was weak; it meant people expected little from me. Expectations, after all, were not the same as reality. My companions knew this, and they trusted what I could do.

The stench of death grew sharper the further we walked. Broken forms lay scattered ahead, their limbs and torsos mangled beyond recognition. Ghouls. Their flesh hung in tatters, blackened in places where my lightning had seared through, and many had their heads twisted from their bodies, leaving the corridor streaked in foul ichor. Some corpses had been ripped apart outright, claw marks scoring both stone and bone.

Stabs squatted near one ruined ghoul and clicked his tongue. “This is unexpected. I’ve done a few runs here in the Bone Temple, but this is the first time I’ve seen ghouls show up.”

Lydia frowned as she studied the remains. Her staff tapped lightly against the ground, as if she was trying to steady herself. “Did the dungeon mutate? Should we leave and inform the guild?”

Stabs rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence dulled by hesitation. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I worked as an adventurer, but even then, this is strange.”

Nira pinched her nose and gagged, her eyes watering. “It stinks…”

I glanced at Lydia. “What do you think?”

She pursed her lips before answering. “It should still be manageable. Undead are vulnerable to white magic. And more importantly, we have you. If I were to place you within the guild’s system, I’d say you are at least B-rank. Easily A-rank, if we’re being honest.”

Her words caught me off guard, the comfort in them pressing against the unease that had been building in my chest. I had always considered myself a shadow on the fringes, a stray ghost with borrowed purpose. Hearing her measure me against the guild’s standards with such certainty was… grounding.

Stabs straightened, brushing dust from his knees. “Onwards, it is—”

I raised a hand, cutting him short. “No. Let me do the scouting from here forth.”

There was no objection, and I moved ahead, slipping into the gloom alone. Each step felt heavier, the silence punctuated only by my faint crackle of static. Yet, nothing came. There were only ghouls staggering forward, and skeletons rattling without purpose. The ghouls fell beneath my lightning, their bodies jerking until they were nothing but smoking husks. The skeletons I dismantled piece by piece, leaving their limbs useless on the stone so Nira could finish them with her hesitant but determined strikes.

After the last skull shattered under her swing, I turned and called back to the others. “Clear!”

Nira made quick work of the already downed skeletons. She swung her little staff with all the strength her arms could muster, thumping skulls until they cracked apart. Each strike echoed across the bone-strewn corridor like a hammer on stone. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and grinned with childish pride.

“Hah~! I am going to become a legendary adventurer.”

Sure, dear. Her optimism was infectious, but I couldn’t let myself be carried away. I turned to Lydia, lowering my voice. “This isn’t working.”

It wasn’t that I outright doubted her leveling-up theory. Well, truthfully, I did. It was flimsy, still more speculation than anything proven. But desperation had a way of making even the most questionable ideas worth attempting. Nira’s trauma wasn’t something time alone would heal. Mental wounds could fester, linger for years, and warp a person forever. If her condition had roots in magic, it might be far more dangerous than we could perceive. And so, if there was even a chance we could mend her through growth, strength, experience, or transcendence… then we had to at least try.

I trusted Lydia. That much was never in question.

She shook her head slowly, her expression somber. “This isn’t going to work.”

I frowned. “But we still have to try.”

“No,” she said, her tone hardening. “You don’t understand. The problem is you.”

I blinked at her, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

Her stare deepened, sharp as a knife pressing against skin. Something was unnaturally wrong. A chill ran down my spine as the dungeon’s air thickened, as if her words themselves had weight.

“You are the problem,” Lydia said again, her voice trembling now, though her eyes never wavered. “You shouldn’t have existed. You are a mistake.”

I laughed bitterly, though the sound was hollow in my throat. “Huh? Where’s this coming from? You of all people should know better… I just want to move on to the afterlife.”

Her lips quivered. Tears slid down her cheeks, only they weren’t clear. They dripped black, thick as tar, staining her skin as they fell.

“Nira is… mine,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

I stared, frozen between disbelief and dread. My mouth opened, but no words came.

And then I blinked.

The black tears were gone. Lydia stood before me, her features calm though faintly puzzled. “Is something wrong?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice harsher than I intended. “There’s a ton-fuck lot of them. We should leave this place—”

Nira cut me off, her small hands tightening on her weapon. “Dad, I can do this. If you are worried about me, then don’t.”

She looked up at me with a determination that didn’t belong to a child. For a moment, I hesitated. Her voice carried a conviction that seemed almost foreign, as though something else were woven beneath her words.

Lydia’s expression darkened. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed hard. My tongue felt heavy. What was I supposed to say to her face? That I just saw her crying black tears and telling me I shouldn’t exist? That she claimed Nira as hers?

I forced the words out. “I just suffered an illusion.”

Lydia scoffed immediately, though her eyes betrayed concern. “Just so you know, I didn’t do it… What kind of illusion?”

On second thought, maybe I was hallucinating. A trick of the mind, born of tension and paranoia. But no… That wasn’t it. I knew better. Something inside this dungeon was playing with me. Still, what good would it do to confess the details?

“Forget about it,” I muttered. “It wouldn’t make a difference even if you knew.”

Silence fell between us as we pressed deeper into the Bone Temple. The luminous moss gave way to darker corridors, where the air stank of rot and damp stone. Stronger monsters awaited us such as ghouls wielding rusted blades, their hollow eyes burning faint green, and skeletal beasts larger than any we’d faced before.

But with Lydia’s magic flaring bright, we cut them down like dry kindling. Her white light seared through flesh and bone alike, leaving nothing but ash and silence in its wake. My lightning ripped through clusters of the dead, blasting apart limbs and skulls. And Nira darted in to deliver killing blows, her strikes final and merciless. For a child, she showed no hesitation. That frightened me more than any monster here.

Step by step, blood and bone paved our path until finally, the chamber widened.

And there it was.

The dungeon boss loomed before us. A giant skeleton, its bones blackened as if charred by eternal flame. It wore cracked leather armor that clung to its broad chest, and in its hand it wielded a longsword longer than Nira was tall. Its empty sockets glowed faint crimson, and every movement of its frame creaked with dreadful weight.

It was no mindless husk. It carried menace in its posture, in the way its sword angled low as though it had once fought like a warrior. Compared to the crude skeleton we fought in the beginner dungeon, this one exuded a more dangerous aura.

I exhaled slowly. In a way, this was our last chance. If Nira was truly to awaken, this battle would decide everything.

So I made a choice.

I let my form dissolve into streaks of light and shadow, phasing into the giant skeleton’s hollow body. The world shifted, and I felt the weight of bone, the drag of armor, the hunger of a dead warrior longing for battle.

“Renzo!” Lydia’s voice rang out sharply. “I can’t control my body. Dodge-” She raised her hand, and a halo of silver light burst into being above me, chains of radiant magic snapping around the giant body I now inhabited. My movements slowed, bound by her spell.

And then I saw her.

Nira.

One side of her face was wet with tears as black as tar, trailing down her cheek like poison. The other side, the real her, struggled against it, her lips trembling.

“I… I didn’t do this…” she whimpered, her small voice breaking.

And then, softly, a second voice came from her lips. Not hers. It was calm and assured.

“That’s right.”

Her eyes stared at me with a new light, cold and unfamiliar.

Rage boiled in me, and I growled through the giant’s skeletal maw, my voice echoing in the chamber.

“Who are you? What did you do with Nira?”