Smugglers and Dungeons!

Icarus paced before the giant stone. There was nothing on either side of it.

 He looked at the walls.

Now, the legends had it that people hugged walls and moved around to find the leavers hidden there. But…

Well, if he did that, then he'd just waste time! Basila didn't have time! She might be lying in a ditch somewhere, her leg broken, or…

Icarus shook his head.

"No! I can't think that!" He yelled to himself. "She is strong!"

He looked at his system screen. He had not managed to get that one skill point sorted out. The boy looked at what he had to work with:

Vitality: 5

Agility: 10

Intelligence: 6

Strength: 3

Basila hadn't told him where he should put his one skill point. And he hadn't gotten any more. No matter how much he had tried to chop wood until he dropped.

Then he saw it!

A system message in yellow in a tiny print. He tried to read it, but it was so tiny it was hard. He sighed, waved his fingers in the air to warm them up.

The mine was as still as a grave and just as cold. He wouldn't be surprised if he ended up sneezing by the end of this Smuggling Mission.

His first one.

As he opened his eyes, the text was bigger!

Icarus waved his fingers at the yellow text. Finally, he could read it!

"Warning: The available skill point is not distributed. Please — pick an area to use the skill point on. No new skill points will be given before the current one is used up!"

Icarus opened his mouth.

The dungeon core began to take notes. Now those were some interesting horselord curses… it could use them later.

To scare the blood elves.

When Icarus finally began to calm down, he didn't think. He dumped the point in strength, which was his weakest area, and then he looked at the EXP bar.

It was empty.

He opened his mouth once more.

The dungeon core took some more notes. This time marveling at the crudeness of a language as fine as the one of the blood elves…

Icarus really wanted to grind more points, but he really didn't have the time. He looked at the stone. There was no way he would be able to remove it with raw strength.

He cursed some more for the fact that he had not paid attention to what he was choosing.

The dungeon core prepared a bar of soap. For the possibility that Icarus made it to the core room.

Icarus began to think. If he used mana, and then turned the stone into fine dust, then he could just follow Basila, right?

He took a step towards the stone. It echoed in the darkness. He looked to the left, then to the right.

But there it was, whispering!

Something was whispering. Icarus couldn't understand what was being said. He couldn't understand why the being was so quiet.

Icarus touched the stone and poured some mana inside of it. He began to try to unweave the stone. So, as if it were one of the many shirts of Master Tang which had fallen victim to his and Basila's training exercises.

The stone didn't unweave. But as Icarus felt something fall on his boots, he knew he was making progress!

He poured more and more mana.

But soon, he ran out!

"Darn it!" He punched the stone.

It cracked!

But he had no time to be happy about that. For his hand was now a bloody mess.

He fell next to the stone, into the dust on the floor. The boy cradled his hand next to his chest.

But there were no tears in his eyes.

"You can't have her!" He roared, as he took in a deep breath, then another. "You can't!"

He jumped back on his feet.

The dungeon core watched on, as Icarus balled his fist. The core noticed that the fingers were perfectly curled. There was no breaking any of them.

But the core knew that the boy's knuckles were going to end up ruined.

Icarus punched the stone once more, his scream silenced by his roar:

"You can't have her!"

Punch!

"She is my friend!"

Crack!

"We are partners!"

Snap!

Icarus fell next to the stone.

The dungeon core looked at its captive, who was looking at the scene with wide and puffy eyes.

"Selfish of you," the being out of mana said. Ever the poisonous snake. "To not give your all, when he is dying."

"And she's strong!" both Basila and the dungeon core heard. She let out a sob. Her legs and arms chained up.

She didn't believe Icarus.

Even if she had believed in the same herself, once.

"And I have two arms!" Icarus roared. The horselord jumped to his feet. "And you are going down!"

The dungeon core shuddered as the boy began to turn his other hand into a bloody ruin.

"Well," it said, for it was neither a man nor a woman. It looked at Basila. Then, with a sly smirk, it went to her. "I guess you want to live, don't you? That is a very human thing to want. I want the same."

Crack!

The dungeon core jumped as the stone broke.

"Darn," it said, for it hadn't believed that Icarus could do it. "I need him!"

Basila let out another sob. The cold, unseeing eyes of something which had no mother but was alive stared deeply into her soul.

"Now," the dungeon core knelt before her, taking a hold of one of her pigtails. "Care for a dance?"

Basila screamed as the mist entered her body. Soon, she was the mist!

She looked on, as she saw how the chains snapped from around the dungeon core. It stretched, dusted itself off, and then slowly made its way to a mirror.

"You are a pretty one," it said, using Basila's stolen voice. "I can get an Emperor with this shell."

Basila let out a sob. No… her body was going to…

"But fear not!" For a second, Basila thought that it had been just a threat. That the dungeon core would keep her here. Let her use her own limbs from time to time.

She was cold. Cold and hopeless. The stolen smile the dungeon core showed her gave her a thread of hope.

A rotting one.

"You won't be around to feel any of it!"

And Basila's soul went in a marble around the dungeon core's neck…