The next troll village isn't too far away. We just need to keep moving through the forest, maintaining proximity to the cave wall, until we reach the settlement—about a ten-minute walk. What still blows my mind is how this massive forest exists entirely underground. But then again, according to what they told us in class, some dungeons have been alive for millennia, so I shouldn't be that surprised.

Our strategy remains the same, and it works just as well—until the first-floor bat warns Ronan we're no longer alone in the dungeon.

It's those third-year morons.

And of course, they picked the worst possible timing because we're mid-fight with the trolls.

My lady, Ronan's voice echoes in my mind, the third-year students have arrived. A group of five.

I'm busy dealing with the trolls half-buried in the ground, so I mutter a curse and reply between sword swings.

What's the plan?

They will find the path clear of mobs, since we have already cleared it. After the blizzard, I doubt they will be able to track our footprints once they are out of the labyrinth. However, if they head toward the nearest troll village, they will find the battleground.

And they'll find tracks in the snow, plus three skeletons hauling wolf pelts. So, we go?

My lady, let us finish here first. Do not worry—my friends have strict orders not to kill humans if they can avoid it.

I freeze for a second at "if they can avoid it." Then, a club swing from one of the trolls (immobilized from the calf down) comes straight for my head. Instinct kicks in—I leap back. Maybe someday I'll use that minor flash spell I learned and still haven't used, but for now, I jump.

Ronan, I meant they might kill your friends.

Ah, well, there is no need to worry. They have already reached the village, and the three trolls are with them. As you know, zombies are tougher than their living counterparts

I nod, then immediately realize the guy's too busy collecting worm eggs to see the gesture.

Whatever. I focus on finishing off the trolls—way faster this time, thanks to our expanded undead army. No magic loot drops this round, and Petunia doesn't try to snack on worms. Probably still digesting her earlier feast.

Once Ronan stuffs the newly gathered worm-egg pouches into his bag, bringing our total to 50, I ask:

"How's Joe and the others doing with material collection?"

"Wrapping up."

"Got it."

I figure they've not just gathered the blood and wolf pelts (the trolls' makeshift clothes) but probably snagged some bones too—future undead recruits for Ronan. And, if I'm not careful, they might have even skinned them.

"There is still no sign of the other students. My lady, if you wish, we could inspect the council hut."

"Lead the way."

This time, a zombie troll opens the door. However, we have no luck; there is no chest. We're stepping out when Ronan updates me:

"They have reached the village. The tank used a taunt to draw aggro, and my friends are currently under attack."

"Shit, let's move! Leave the trolls here to guard the village—in case there's loot left."

"As you command, my lady. But do not worry. Taunt only works on creatures. Joe, Bob, and Tom remember their human lives perfectly."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Oh shit, I think to myself, now I really have to run, because the whole "they won't kill them if they can avoid it" doesn't sit too well with me. Not when you factor in Ronan's peculiar moral code.

Erika.

Erika Laltiery was the twin sister of Octavius Laltiery. Just like her brother, she was none other than level 7, thanks to all the training they had received since they were children. They weren't the heirs, but as ducal children, they were expected to excel at the academy, compete in the games, and bring further glory to House Laltiery.

Being a woman, though, Erika had it harder than her brother. Endless etiquette lessons drilled into her how a duke's daughter must move and speak with refined grace—a stark contrast to the crude taunts she had to shout in enemies' faces or the defensive and offensive stances she trained with her tower shield and full plate armor. Growing up as one of Duke Laltiery's daughters had not exactly been pleasant. Without a doubt, these contrasts made her cry as a little girl many nights, always in her room and when she was alone.

The result of this education was a short twenty-year-old young woman, with strong and somewhat robust musculature, who when dressed as a noble had learned to move with the required elegant delicacy, and even had dresses designed for her to make it seem that her thick waist was due to the fat of a somewhat plump girl rather than the reality: hard abdominal and lumbar muscles that resisted under the corset and refused to be compressed into a wasp waist.

Furthermore, she had spent her entire life enduring the slights of her twin, who seemed to always do everything perfectly. The incredible wizard with a medium affinity for fire. She only had a weak affinity for light, which wouldn't have made her a good healer, but which was great for healing herself after exhausting training sessions.

At that moment, they were following footprints in the snow, on the second floor of the Blue Mountains dungeon. Undoubtedly, they belonged to that group of first-year students that her twin had been giving her headaches about for two days, as he seemed unable to talk about anything else.

Melly, her brother's fiancée and one of the swordswomen in the group, joined in his mockery. They seemed perfect for each other, both pale-skinned with dark hair, completely proud of their social position as children of the high nobility, and concerned with trivialities.

Oh... Erika just wanted the holidays to arrive so she could return home, where her mare and her dog were waiting for her. She missed brushing them in the afternoons, once she had finished her chores.

As for the footprints, at the exit of the labyrinth they hadn't found anything but pristine snow, but they could see that, further ahead, there was an area where a battle seemed to have taken place. They approached and could see footprints moving away. There were many, human and wolf prints. And others that were grooves in the snow that they didn't know what type of creature they might belong to. They almost resembled the tracks of a cart's wheels but wider... In any case, in the battle area there were no wolf corpses. Something curious, because the dungeon didn't reabsorb their bodies until it was empty of external visitors. There were simply holes dug in the snow where the wolves must have fallen. And that they were wolves was evident for two reasons: first, they were the ones that attacked here when it snowed. Second, they could see their footprints among those moving away.

Had those two first-year students healed and tamed them?

"Skeletons," her brother had clarified. It seemed that the freshman had a certain reputation because he was a necromancer and had been detained on suspicion of having attempted against the lives of the princes.

The footprints went into the forest and headed toward one of the spawning areas.

"If they've dared to touch our eggs, we'll take them away," she heard her brother say, along with his laughter and that of his fiancée, equally arrogant.

She was really tired of hearing them.

When they approached the village and found that there were only three trolls and three adventurers, all loaded with backpacks and skins tied with ropes, she almost rejoiced.

Not because she liked to fight, but because that way she would stop hearing those two. She glanced sideways at Kaito, the other swordsman. By his expression, he seemed to be thinking the same thing she was.

"Brought a friend? Doesn't matter if it's two rookies or three, or if you raised a few trolls. The result's the same."

A few seconds passed in which the first-years didn't react. Then, curiously, all six at once put the backpacks and the rest of the load on the ground and advanced toward the human group. The leader, Erika imagined it was the necromancer, lowered his hood and...

"Watch out, it's a skeleton!" shouted Ashen, who was the light mage and healer.

"Sending your minions first?" Octavius snorted with contempt. "Coward, show your face!" he demanded.

The other two hooded figures then revealed their bare skulls. No, it was clear they weren't that first-year girl and boy.

"They're mobs! Erika, get the aggro."

Upon hearing his order, the aforementioned felt how her features, normally forced to be relaxed in a soft and serene smile, curved into a grimace of hatred. Because that was how she always had to launch the taunt, with strength, full of rage and anger. And the truth was that she didn't feel that against the mobs, but if she thought about her brother... oh yes, how it worked! And how she broke her self-imposed chains and, for a few moments, was gloriously free.

"Listen up, you six rotting sacks of garbage! Yeah, you heard me, you worthless bastard motherfuckers! I'm gonna kill all of you, I'm gonna piss all over your fucking corpses and make your kids watch. Sons of bitches, assholes, dieeeeee! Come on, you fucking midget pieces of shit!"

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