Once we reach the bottom, we find a tunnel carved into the rock, which we follow until we arrive at a fork. As we already knew, the second level of the dungeon is a labyrinth of narrow, icy passages that force us to move in single file. I know that the exit of the labyrinth connects to an adjacent cavern—a huge one—with a small frozen lake at its center.

In this case, when I say huge, I mean a couple of thousand square kilometers of terrain.

The dungeon core that established itself here really put in the work digging and building its dungeon.

According to the information we were given at the academy, that cave is a complete ecosystem with trees that can withstand the low temperatures. It contains three types of enemies we might encounter, in addition to the ice worms.

To start with, the worms live in the cave walls, inside small tunnels that they leave only to lay eggs. They coexist with trolls and snow wolves, both of which have made the frozen land their home. The trolls are blue-skinned giants who protect themselves from the cold with clothing made from the white pelts of snow wolves. They have a brutal charge attack, wield heavy clubs, and regenerate quickly. Snow wolves, on the other hand, move in packs, with each pack leader granting a buff to their wolves through a howling ability. They attack with both claws and bites, and their strikes freeze the areas they hit.

The final and most fearsome enemies of the lake cave are those that dwell beneath the frozen lake itself. They are ice wraiths—creatures trapped within the cold, seeking the warmth of the living to drain and devour as mana.

According to the information we received, they are ancient spirits drawn to the mountain dungeon core when it first emerged. Somehow, its mana called to them, and in their greed to consume it, they fell into its trap and became imprisoned by its cold. Now, they have become its creatures. Only faint echoes remain of the souls they once were, driven mad by hunger and the dungeon's will. They lurk within the ice, and if a traveler dares to touch or step onto the frozen surface, there is a high chance the wraiths will sense their warmth and rise up from the frozen surface to attack.

It is believed that the core is hidden at the bottom of the lake, and that the wraiths are its fiercest guardians.

These creatures possess a freezing touch that not only causes damage but also drastically reduces your movement and attack speed. They do not actually freeze your body, but they slow it down as if they did. Moreover, they can vanish and reappear at will. But the most dangerous thing of all—the reason they are called mage slayers—is that they feed on your mana. If they manage to immobilize you, their incorporeal face moves close to yours, draining your mana through your breath.

Charming, right?

Also, Ronan told me that they're extremely dangerous to his undead, as it is the dark mana that animates them and brings them back to life—and if it's drained, they die.

Because of all this, the academy is counting on us to have enough brain cells not to approach the lake. As long as we do that, the wraiths will leave us alone.

In fact, no one gets close—not even the army's soldiers. After all, it is forbidden by the Crown to harm a dungeon core, since dungeons are a resource for the kingdom so that its troops and any willing citizens can level up.

At the beginning, when the dungeon was first discovered, a couple of those wraiths got loose and also attacked the soldiers in the labyrinth, phasing through its walls. But once it was discovered that if you left them alone, they would never leave the frozen lake, the dungeon's level was classified as "veteran" instead of being ranked higher.

So, to summarize, we have worms, trolls, and wolves in the cave—because we aren't dumb enough to go near the lake.

Obviously, the first thing we have to do is get through the labyrinth and reach it.

The danger of this labyrinth lies in its traps—thin frozen cracks that shatter and drop you into a pit of ice spikes. To avoid them, you have to stay alert, and just in case, Ronan's golems go ahead, since they levitate. That is, they roll across the floor and, if they happen to trigger a trap, they are ordered to levitate to safety.

Who would have thought little ice balls could be so useful. Eh… well, Ronan, I suppose.

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And since I handed over command to Ronan—he's the one who knows about strategy—we're moving forward in the formation he arranged. The golems take the lead, except for a few left to cover our rear. There are no enemies here, but despite that he has distributed the large golems, the ones that shoot ice bolts, in both areas. The bats fly above the golems in front. Then he walks, followed by me, then Tom, and finally the remaining golems.

I think he's preparing in case the unthinkable happens and one or two wraiths approach us, even though no one goes near the lake.

Actually, we're all here in the labyrinth. I reach a hand behind me to touch the backpack's side pocket. Yes, there's the pup, stirring a little at the pressure of my fingers through the fabric.

That's why I can understand the golems at the back, and also why he's protecting Tom—if his mana were drained, his soul would be sent back to the afterlife. The necromancer, of course, could reanimate or summon him again.

However, if a wraith were to attack the golems, since they can use magic, the creature would first drain their water mana—a remnant from when they were alive. And then it would drain the dark mana, annihilating them.

If that happened and we suffered losses, Ronan would no doubt keep the small cores of the golems and maybe some other ingredient from the bats.

By the way, the labyrinth's walls go all the way up to the ceiling, so Ronan's minions do not have the advantage of scouting from above to tell us which way to turn or which path to take to find the exit.

Normally, we would have been given a map. But it turns out these ice walls shift every time the boss on the third floor is defeated, rearranging the paths of the labyrinth.

"Are you sure you do not want me to go wild with fire arrows against one of these walls to see if I can open a straight path?" I ask Ronan after we have already been walking carefully for over fifteen minutes, crossing a golem bridge every time one of those cracks opens in the ground, leaving a decent-sized hole right in the middle of our path.

So far, we have not seen a single wraith. As it should be.

"We do not know if the walls of the labyrinth support the ceiling's structure. It is not worth risking a collapse," he replies, and I grumble something under my breath.

Because it's like he knows me too well. If I get carried away firing and causing explosions, who knows what kind of mess I could cause. And yeah, he's right, but this part of the dungeon—the slow, careful part—is boring.

Three minutes later, when we get attacked by wraiths, I regret ever thinking that.

There's nothing wrong with being bored for a while—especially if the alternative is getting jumped by an apparition emerging straight out of the wall you just passed, right at your back and to your right.

And you know what? If I could, I would bet a point of intelligence that a certain seed of evil is no longer inside my backpack.

I don't even see the apparition. What I feel is a sharp pain in my back, and although I try to turn around quickly, my body does not respond the way it should.

In front of me, there is nothing but a wall—Ronan has just turned ninety degrees to round the corner at the end of the corridor we are walking through.

"Ronan!" I scream mentally, because even my mouth opens too slowly to get the words out.

If this is the wraith's freezing touch, it's way more intense than Ronan's Exhaust spell.

"We are under attack by several at once. My lady, channel fire through your body."

Several? They were supposed to only come at you one at a time, maybe two at most if you provoked them…

"Catrina already made me try that. It does not work, it does nothing," I reply, thinking as fast as I can while still struggling to turn around.

"Then channel it into the bow on your back—you must melt the ice."

Ice?

I am puzzled but fortunately my mind works quickly, not freezing up like the rest of my body from that point in my back where the creature continues touching me. And all this time, all I've managed is to twist my torso, shoulders, and head just a little.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the translucent figure of my enemy. It's a man—his clothes look like rags made of wind. I think he has literally shoved his hand into my back. His eyes are like two shards of blue crystal, completely devoid of any emotion other than a ravenous hunger.

Obviously, I do what Ronan says. I even manage to utter the minimum words needed for the spell. It's hard—my throat and jaw feel like they're freezing too—but I say them.

Immediately, I hear a hissing sound behind me, and the creature vanishes. I didn't kill it. It could come back at any moment, ready to strike again.

My body, now that I am no longer in contact with the wraith and the bow is radiating heat, recovers surprisingly fast.

If I had actually been frozen, I imagine my flesh would have shattered to pieces. Good thing that, just like the briefing said, their attack only feels like freezing—it does not actually freeze. It must be more of a magical sensation of cold and paralysis than a real drop in temperature.

Of course, the fact that my body recovers doesn't mean I regain the 2 HP the wraith took from me with its freezing touch.

"Damn it, Ronan, they're undead. Can't you make them your slaves or something?"

"I have a new spell," I hear him say in my mind, "one for lost souls. But these found a home in the dungeon. They will not come with me."

I think I catch a note of tension in his voice.

I'm such an idiot.

If fire is these creatures' weakness (and light magic too), then how is a necromancer supposed to defend himself?

"Ronan!" I shout as I break into a sprint to round that corner.

And there he is—standing with a creature larger than my pup coiled around his waist, leaning against his chest and spewing flames at two wraiths trying to attack him.

I blink.

That fire lizard—salamander or whatever it is—is alive, right?

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