The Schoolgirl's Request (4)

This is exactly the kind of place a ghost would pop out of.

That was Grandpa's verdict the moment he laid eyes on the mansion at the back of the alley. Couldn't argue with him, really—it looked properly ominous. The iron gate was rusted through, the walls meant to protect the house were so ancient they seemed ready to collapse at any moment, and beyond them the garden held nothing but withered, browned plants. The mansion looming at its center was, for all intents and purposes, a monstrosity.

...

It hadn't seemed like a big deal through a screen, but seeing it in person? Yeah, this place gave me the creeps.

"So this is the place the young miss spoke of."

Kal's face actually brightened at the sight of the derelict estate. How does anyone look at a haunted ruin and make that expression? Is being thick-skinned a job requirement for knights?

"I used to come here a lot back in my school days."

As punishment, right?

"As punishment?"

"Yes. There were rumors a ghost appeared here, so we came often..."

So the "students who show up to cause trouble" part of the setting was still intact. I wondered if anyone else would show up today. Honestly, an empty house would be more convenient for exploring the interior.

"I visited this place plenty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of times myself, but I never once saw a ghost. It was probably just idle gossip."

There is one...

"There is. A ghost. Timid little thing, though."

"...I beg your pardon?"

She was the daughter of the mansion's former owner, if I remembered right—or something along those lines. Either way, she was harmless, so there was no need to worry about her.

Let's go.

"Let's go, wimp."

"Miss, wait a moment. You're joking, aren't you? Miss!"

Passing through the rusted gate, we made our way into the estate grounds. Nothing in this long-abandoned mansion was intact. If a burglar got a thrill out of breaking and entering, this house would be the one place he'd never touch—every door hung off its hinges in splinters, and there was nothing to stop you from walking in anywhere you pleased.

The moment my foot crossed the threshold, the floorboards groaned beneath me.

"Eek!"

At the shriek, I turned my head to find Kal's face drained of all color.

Wait. What.

Kal. Don't tell me...

"Wimp. Are you afraid of ghosts?"

"No! What manner of knight would cower before an unholy creature?!"

Kal shouted as if to deny my suspicion, but he couldn't hide the tremor in his own voice. I mean, this is a guy who could probably deck a troll with his bare fists, and he's scared of ghosts? What's he going to do if we ever get a dungeon crammed full of them later? That place has jump-scare density to the point where it basically changes the game's genre.

"I am not afraid! Please believe me!"

Fine...

"Fine. Wimp."

Arguing about it here wouldn't change anything, so I let it go. And with that, I led the flinching, jumpy Kal down into the basement.

My destination was an iron door at the very end of the mansion's cellar—the single thing in this crumbling estate that had kept its original form.

"So that key opens this door."

Kal swallowed hard at the sight of it. He managed to stand in front of me, knight that he supposedly was, but the trembling of his hands betrayed how thoroughly spooked he was. Sigh. Is this guy really going to be able to handle the dungeon down there?

As I drew out the key to unlock the door, a thought suddenly struck me. In the game, this door was unbreakable, so using the key was the only option—but that's not the case now, is it? An iron door like this, I could probably smash it open with my mace.

So, mace raised high, I brought it crashing down onto the iron door.

BOOM!

Despite the considerable force behind the blow, the door emerged without a single scratch.

"Miss, no amount of force will break this door."

There are things like this now and then. Objects that won't budge unless their conditions are met—no matter how you beat on them, it's all wasted effort.

The instant Kal saw my attempt, he declared the door unbreakable, and Grandpa chimed in with a lecture about how such things existed. So let me get this straight—doors like this stay locked unless you've accepted the corresponding quest, just like in a game? Ugh. If I could've smashed it down myself, I could've pulled off all sorts of shortcuts down the line. So disappointed.

Resigned, I turned the key in the lock. The door swung open to reveal a staircase descending toward the basement's second floor. Pitch dark, with a slope practically designed to send anyone walking blindly into it tumbling headfirst.

Back in the day I'd have scrounged up a torch, but the present me had a better option.

O holy light.

The instant I recited the prayer in my head, an orb of gentle brightness bloomed into existence before me.

You've gotten quite good at that.

When have I ever been bad at this spell?

Have you forgotten the time you conjured a orb so massive it went off like a flashbang?

Ignoring Grandpa's chuckling remark about how vividly he remembered me rolling around on the floor clutching my eyes, I pressed onward. Grandpa, if you're going to be a senior citizen, then act like one and forget things quickly. Why does your memory have to be this sharp at your age?

"So all that's left is to find whatever that schoolgirl asked us to look for down here, yes? Let's find it quickly."

Don't worry about that.

"Wimp. You only ever see one step ahead, don't you? Don't even sweat that."

"I... beg your pardon? But—"

It was nothing but an excuse.

"That errand-running noble girl just made it up."

The full story would take a while to explain, but the truth is, the "find this item" request was nothing more than a lie the schoolgirl used to lure players here. Her real purpose lay elsewhere.

I gave Kal a vague answer and walked deeper into the basement's second floor. When I opened the door at the very back, a stone portal revealed itself within.

"That's... the entrance to a dungeon, is it not?"

It was a dungeon entrance.

This place...

"Making us clear this dungeon is that noble girl's real objective. Like I said—creepy woman."

"How peculiar. If her aim was to have the dungeon cleared, reporting it to the Academy or the Church would have been the fastest route by far."

I could actually answer Kal's question. The schoolgirl was, in fact, a novice necromancer, capable of speaking with the mansion's ghost. That was how she'd become friends with the ghost. The ghost had begged her to clear the dungeon beneath the mansion. But if she took her request to the Academy or the Church, the dungeon would be cleared and the ghost exorcised in the process—so she'd been agonizing over what to do.

If I'd told him all that, Kal would obviously have chickened out the moment he heard the word "ghost," so I simply shrugged and pushed open the dungeon door.

The scenery around us shifted. What lay beyond was a gloomy graveyard, rendered in every dreary shade imaginable. Not a single starlight pierced the sky choked with dark clouds; in its place, rain came falling down with a cold, steady hiss. A foul stench rose from the earthen mounds soaked with it.

I never paid this place any mind in the game, but in reality? It's obnoxious in every possible way. Better wrap this up and head home before my hair turns to dough.

With that thought, I conjured my shield of divinity.

"One moment we're out of that dreary mansion, and the next, a graveyard?"

Kal let out a long sigh at the sight of the dungeon.

Don't worry, Kal...

"Wimp. Don't worry. There are no ghosts here."

Ghosts. Right.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than movement stirred among the graves. I followed it with my eyes just in time to watch corpses clawing their way up out of the earth, straight out of a B-grade zombie flick.

Zombies. The dungeon's signature monster. Kal the Wimp was surely going to lose it at the sight of them—or so I assumed, waiting for the scream. It never came.

Instead, the head of a freshly risen zombie went sailing through the air.

"Undead? What a relief."

Excuse me...

"What. Wimp. Weren't you the one scared of this stuff?"

"What I despise is the unknowable—not some pathetically weak monster."

Seems like they're both just undead to me, but apparently there's a distinction Kal can accept. Thank goodness for small mercies. I brought him along in case Agra decided to pull something, and it'd be a real problem if he froze up terrified of the undead.

So in the end, didn't the lad just admit he's afraid of ghosts?

Grandpa, when it's a moment like this, you pretend not to notice.

I mean, the poor guy's a knight—having him branded a coward would wound ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his pride, wouldn't it? Mercifully overlooking things like this is a master's duty.

Kal...

"Wimp. Those trash mobs aren't worth our time. Let's move."

"I beg your pardon? But they are monsters."

Do as you're told!

"Dogs follow their master at heel. Got it?"

If we poked at them and they leveled up mid-fight, things would get needlessly annoying. Kal looked disgruntled at my command, but he nodded. Having secured his agreement, I took off running, dragging him along behind me.

Those zombies were excruciatingly slow anyway. Sure, their stamina and strength were decent—but that was it. Run fast enough, and they couldn't keep up. That's why the optimal strategy for clearing this dungeon was to ignore the zombies entirely and sprint straight ahead.

How long had we been tearing across the graveyard? The far edge finally came into view. Beneath a cross split cleanly in two, a figure digging a pit looked up at our approach, set down his shovel, and raised his head.

"Welcome, honored guests. I trust you found my family's greeting satisfactory?"

The necromancer—this dungeon's boss—flaunted his rain-soaked, sagging coat as he swept into an exaggerated bow.

"Miss. Is that man the master of this dungeon?"

Yep.

"He looks deranged. Suits the dungeon, doesn't it?"

"My, what flattery. I am honored."

Undeterred by my insult, the necromancer let out a cackling giggle and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠waved a hand. And that was the moment.

Kal lunged forward. An ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠assault born of pure combat logic—strike the enemy down before he could work any trickery. The necromancer couldn't react in the slightest. Kal's descending blade carved through the man's coat.

"My, my! How impressive!"

Yet the necromancer stood unharmed. Not because he'd blocked it with magic. Not because he'd dodged. Simply because there had been nothing beneath the coat to cut.

"Alas! I exist upon the boundary between this world and the next."

As the severed leather scraps fluttered away, what they'd been hiding came into view. The necromancer's body was translucent. Like a ghost out of a horror film.

"No attack of that sort can wound me, I'm afraid."

The master of this dungeon was a necromancer—and a specter in his own right. To bring him down would require something other than physical force. To deal him real damage, you'd need a cleric or mage of at least level 30 at your side. By conventional methods, this was a boss you simply could not defeat in the game's early stages.

But there was one exploit here.

I swung my mace right past Kal, who stood frowning in dismay.

"A wasted effort."

Grinning, the necromancer spread both arms wide to receive the blow, as if to say a strike of that caliber couldn't possibly hurt him.

The result said otherwise.

"Hrk?!"

The moment the mace connected, I heard the necromancer's breath catch in his throat. Startled by pain he'd never anticipated, he staggered backward, then shrieked at me in a voice stripped of all composure.

"What in the world did you DO?!"

"What, did your rotting brain stop working?♡ I attacked you♡, you puny little wraith♡"

"You—someone like YOU should not be able to harm me!"

That's right. Under normal circumstances, you'd be correct. But here's the thing—don't expect a veteran to play by the rules, you noob.