"Do you have any spell to heal your friend?" I ask Ronan while pointing at the skeleton.

"No. But I could always reanimate him and he would return with his bones and life fully intact. However, to do that, I would first have to dispel the current animate skeleton spell, which would send him back to wherever he went when he died as a human. And that is not something I wish to do unless he asks me to."

Well, I imagine Tom must have some broken bones. He's limping a bit too. His clothes are in tatters in many places from the ice bolts. But he doesn't feel pain and can still fight.

Honestly, it would be nice if Ronan learned a spell that let him heal his minions.

We take out the supplies we brought, and I create an orb of light. I still have two mana points left. More than enough to summon the shadow wolf if an emergency arises. Not that anything has to happen, but I no longer trust going into a dungeon with that innocent little seed of evil—who always causes trouble. And all of it behind his most innocent look and his adorable pup pose.

Ronan brought along some firewood, so we manage to start a fire—easy with a fire dart—to keep the cold at bay. We use blankets to insulate ourselves from the ground as best as we can and have dinner. The pup, as greedy as ever, tries to overeat, but I don't let him. We have to save some for tomorrow. As for me, before going to bed, I meditate for a while to level up the spell and also regain a bit more mana. Now that I'm out of healing licks until tomorrow, I'd rather go to sleep with some mana restored. Like I said, a girl never knows when she might need the shadow wolf. I'd rather have more than just a single mana point.

By the way, this frozen dungeon is of water and earth. It's not darkness-aligned, so my little seed of evil cannot level it up for me to also level up. When I want that, I'll go to a darkness dungeon. Let's hope there's no secret level here but, if there is, it's just Ronan and me. No problem going all out and summoning the divine beast.

At dawn, we woke up, conjured another light orb, had a quick breakfast, and so far, there is still no sign of the third-year students. I guess that is normal—it is not even 6 a.m. yet.

I get a system notification. About time too, since I've been using this spell plenty on my own:

Congratulations. Your spell Lesser Light Orb has leveled up. It is now Low Light Orb.

Low Light Orb: Creates a sphere of light with an 8 cm radius. The sphere remains stationary, either in midair or attached to a surface. Duration: 5 minutes. Mana cost: 1 point.

Huh, neat, I think. Almost like having a miner's helmet.

Also, the pup's scratches are fully healed thanks to food and rest. Ronan is feeling better, too. Just like me, he has passed the 10 wisdom threshold, which means he only needs 20 hours instead of 24 to fully recover his mana and health, as long as he eats and sleeps. Also, if you have less than 10 wisdom, you need at least eight hours of sleep, but with 10, six hours are enough.

Seven hours of sleep feels like a luxury. Back on Earth, I needed more than eight hours just to avoid feeling like a wreck the next day. Now, waking up feeling completely refreshed after only seven hours? It feels like cheating.

That said, when it comes to recovering HP, it's important to understand that sleep won't regrow a lost limb or cure diseases, curses, or stat debuffs. The HP you recover during rest only heals minor wounds—cuts, bleeding, or non-lethal sword injuries. For anything serious, you'll need either a high-level light mage or an herbal healer.

Light mages are definitely more effective—herbal healers are comparable to doctors from Earth's past centuries, relying primarily on herbs and natural remedies. They can perform surgeries, but your survival is far from guaranteed. Consider them the fallback option when no decent light mage is available. In the army, many light mages are also trained in herbal remedies, allowing them to perform minor healing without depleting their mana reserves.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Which brings us to the logical question: what about healing potions? They work on the same principle—healing based on their tier. The lesser potions only treat minor injuries, essentially equivalent to my minor heal spell. As you move up to stronger healing potions, they can repair wounds involving internal organs. But when it comes to curing diseases or regenerating lost limbs, you're looking at legendary or mythical grade potions—formulations that, according to what we've studied in class, no modern-day alchemist knows how to create anymore.

"I see Tom is still limping," I say to Ronan as we start walking toward the stairs at the far end of the cave—the ones that lead down to the second level.

"Yes. Undead do not recover by sleeping. In fact, they do not sleep at all. But now that I have my mana back, I want to try reanimating him in his current state. It should not cause any issues, but I enjoy experimenting."

Ronan casts his spell on Tom, but the wisps of darkness just float over him without merging, without sinking into his bones.

The spell fades, and Tom remains unchanged.

"Well, it was worth a try," I say. "Come on, let's go."

The pup leaps from my arms into Ronan's, offering a consoling lick to his cheek. Ronan appears startled momentarily, then gazes at the seed with reverence as his face softens into a smile.

Immediately, the pup shrinks in size and hops down onto my boots, ready for me to pick him up and tuck him into the pocket of my backpack.

Without further delay, we descend the stairs.

The stairs are carved into the rock and coated with a layer of ice. They are narrow and spiral-shaped. We descend along with all of Ronan's undead, except for the two zombie bears. One stays as a guardian and the other, despite being one of the small ones, wouldn't fit through here. That is why Ronan has canceled the zombie animation spell he used to summon it.

Being a necromancer must be a curious thing. You spend mana to animate creatures, and that mana can regenerate. The creatures don't decay, don't eat, don't sleep... and they remain until someone destroys them or you decide to cancel a spell you might have cast who knows how long ago —one that doesn't even actively drain your mana. On one hand, it seems completely overpowered. But on the other, if Ronan could only have, I do not know—five, ten, fifteen?—animated creatures at a time, he would never be able to command an actual army. It makes sense in a world where stats, including mana, are tracked with such small numbers.

"Ronan, do you know where that magic doorway the bear came through actually leads?" I ask after we have been going down for about a minute.

I am not sure why, but the image of that pit the bear emerged from has come back to my mind. Plus, I had nightmares last night.

"I am afraid I must apologize, my lady. When I first saw it, I attempted to step inside and discover where it led, but there appears to be no access from this side."

I am so stunned by what he says that I misplace my foot on the next step, lose my balance, and slip.

Did he seriously do something that reckless? And now he's apologizing because it didn't work?

Two arms, that feel stronger to me than they look, catch me.

"My lady, are you unharmed?" I hear his whisper close to the back of my neck.

The irritation I was starting to feel—mostly at myself for being so clumsy—vanishes in an instant, replaced by defensiveness.

Why am I in his arms?

Well, it's obvious: Ronan was walking just behind me (Tom and part of the golems were ahead). He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against him to make sure I didn't tumble down the stairs.

I'm convinced that all he feels for me is the devotion his god commands—because I'm the future demon lady and the one who made a contract with the seed of darkness. And I'm also sure that I only see him as a friend.

Then… why do I get defensive? He's not going to try to take advantage of the situation like the prince might. He's just my vassal.

"Yes, thank you. You can let go now," I tell him with a frown.

The boy releases me the moment I ask. I mentally scold myself for being such an idiot and thinking weird things. I step down one more stair to put some distance between Ronan and me, then glance at him.

"Ronan, did you seriously try to step through what looks like a doorway to the realm of the dead?"

"Of course," he replies casually with a shrug.

"But what if you had actually gone through?"

I truly can't wrap my head around it. Isn't Ronan supposed to be the smart one between the two of us?

"Well, I would have satisfied my curiosity."

And he would've been killed—or trapped there, unable to return...

"Do not worry, my lady," he adds upon seeing my skeptical expression. "All the souls and skeletons and zombies come from there, so it must be a pleasant place. I do not think it would be dangerous for me."

"Because you are an acolyte?" I piece it together and let some of my frustration fade.

"Yes. And also because I have yet to meet a dead being who is not polite."

I roll my eyes, turn around, and keep going down—though this time more carefully.

That Ronan… sometimes his answers completely throw me off.

As long as it's just his answers, and not his closeness, then we're fine.

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