A week.
A full, miserable week had passed since we'd arrived at the Briar estate, this crumbling stone-and-timber prison. A week of my mother, Clarisse, locking herself in her room, emerging only for meals, her green eyes hollow and cold. A week of Baron Theodore and his mistress, Marie, acting as the new lord and lady of the house, which, I noted with grim satisfaction, was bleeding money they didn't have.
And a week of him.
Gideon.
"My lady, please hold still," a small voice mumbled.
I looked down. Thomas, my six-year-old half-brother, was dabbing at a fresh scrape on my elbow with a cloth soaked in antiseptic. It stung.
"Damn it," I muttered, flexing my small hand.
Gideon Briar, `[Lv. 3]`, was the single most annoying obstacle I had ever encountered. The first day, he'd been wary, but the moment he saw his father ignore me and his mother sneer at me, he saw his opening.
He was a classic bully. He'd "accidentally" trip me on the stairs. He'd "coincidentally" knock my plate off the table. Just now, he'd shoved me into a stone wall in the garden, all under the guise of "practicing his swordsmanship."
I could have broken his arm.
My `[Level 12]` stats made him look like he was moving in slow motion. My `[STR: 10]` and `[AGI: 18]` meant I could dodge, counter, and put him on the ground before he could even blink.
But I couldn't. He was his father's precious "heir," and I was the "Useless Sidekick." My greatest weapon, my cover, was my perceived weakness. So, I had to take the hits. I had to fall. I had to let the `[Lv. 3]` brat win, all while my System screamed at me about `[DAMAGE TAKEN: -2 HP!]`.
It was... infuriating.
And it was keeping me from my real objective. My `[Warden's Spear Tip (C-Rank Material)]` was sitting in my inventory, useless. I couldn't just walk to the nearest town. I was a seven-year-old noble girl. I couldn't go anywhere unescorted, and Gideon made sure I was never left alone.
How do I leave to sell this?
"You can stop, Thomas," I said, my voice flatter than I intended.
He kept dabbing, his honey-blonde hair falling in his face. "It'll get infected if I don't." He was an odd one, this kid. While Gideon bullied, Thomas just... watched. Then, later, he'd find me with his little box of salves and bandages.
"Do not hate Gideon for what he has been doing," Thomas said, his voice barely a whisper. "That's how he has been."
I raised an eyebrow. "To you?"
Thomas looked up at me with his wide, brown eyes and nodded once. He went back to cleaning the wound.
"Do you ever feel the need to stop him?" I asked, testing the waters. "Make him never try it again?"
His small hands paused. "I do," he admitted. "But I don't have the ability to do that."
He was `[Lv. 1]`. He wasn't wrong.
"Do you hate your brother?" I asked, my voice low.
He was silent for a long moment. He carefully applied a small, sticky plaster to my elbow, his movements precise, like his mother wanted him to be a swordsman, but his soul wanted to be an apothecary.
"...Yes," he finally whispered.
I narrowed my eyes. 'Is he being honest?'
`[TARGET: Thomas Briar - TRUST: 10 (WARY)]`
`[System Analysis: Statement is TRUE.]`
Well, well. A potential, if very weak, ally.
Before I could reply, a soft knock came at my bedroom door.
"My lady? My lord Thomas?" It was Iris's voice, hesitant as always. "Dinner is ready."
Thomas packed up his little box with quick, efficient movements and scrambled to his feet. "We're coming!" he called out, his voice instantly becoming brighter, more "normal." He gave me one last, nervous look and then bolted from the room.
I stood up, rolling my shoulder. The scrape already felt better. My `[VIT: 12]` meant I healed fast.
I was sick of this. Sick of this house, sick of Gideon, and sick of being stuck at `[Level 12]` with a C-Rank item I couldn't even sell. I needed to get stronger. I needed to get out.
As I straightened my simple dress, ready to go down and face another miserable dinner, the all-too-familiar ping echoed in my head.
`[MANDATORY TRAINING REGIMEN DETECTED.]`
`[Anomaly's power level is insufficient for 'Hostile Takeover' protocol.]`
`[Anomaly's combat skills require immediate improvement.]`
My heart leaped. Finally!
`[TRANSPORT TO 'THE ETERNAL DUNGEON' IN: 10]`
I smirked, all thoughts of dinner vanishing.
'Right on time, System.'
`[9]`
I sat down on my bed, closed my eyes, and waited for the world to go white.
`[8]`
I closed my eyes. There was no point in fighting it. The thought of dinner with my new family made me want to `[Cower]` for real. A few hours of fighting monsters seemed like a vacation.
`[7]`
Iris, still standing at the door, began to turn, "My lady? Are you..."
`[6]`
Her voice slowed, the sound stretching out like a warped record.
`[5... 4... 3...]`
The world compressed.
`[2]`
From an outside perspective, I was just a seven-year-old girl, sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. A child "zoning out" before dinner.
`[1]`
`[TRANSPORTING...]`
The familiar, blinding white light enveloped me, and the sounds of the rundown estate vanished.
When my vision cleared, the crimson sky of the Warden's arena was gone. I was in a new environment. A crypt. The walls were made of dark, mossy stone, and the air was cold and smelled of dust and ancient, dry bones. Faint, flickering torches, burning with a cold blue light, were set into sconces on the wall, illuminating a narrow, descending hallway.
This was Floor 11.
I was still in my training gear; the blouse, trousers, and boots. I looked at my empty hands.
Ping.
`[PROTOCOL 'VILLAINESS SIDEKICK GEAR' ACTIVATED.]`
`[Anomaly is unarmed. Providing basic set.]`
A new `[Trainee's Practice Rapier (F-Rank)]` materialized in my hand. It was identical to the one that had shattered on the Warden.
"Another one of these?" I muttered, annoyed. "My last one broke. Can't I get an upgrade?"
`[The Anomaly is expected to clear 10 floors,]` the System replied, its text devoid of emotion. `[This gear is sufficient. Do not be wasteful.]`
I was being called "wasteful" by a magic System that was probably powered by a dying star. Right.
At least my other rewards were permanent. I focused my mind, and my new skill popped into my vision.
`[Rapier Arts (E-Rank)]`
> Type: Active/Passive Skill
> Effect (Passive): +5% to piercing damage. +5% to critical chance when striking a vital point.
> Effect (Active): Unlocks [Form 1: Thrust] and [Form 2: Lunge].
This was it. This was the real prize. My `[Level 12]` stats were great, but this was knowledge. The System had downloaded the basic, muscle-memory forms of fencing directly into my brain. I knew how to stand, how to hold the blade, how to move my feet.
Now... for the other new toy.
I held out my free hand, palm up, and focused on the warm, tingling pool of energy in my gut. My `[MP: 50/50]` bar was full and vibrant.
"Fireball!" I commanded, putting all my INT-8 brainpower into it.
...Nothing.
Not a spark. Not even a puff of warm air.
Ping.
`[No spell of 'Fireball' type detected in Skill List.]`
`[Please acquire a [Spellbook], [Tome], or [Scroll] to learn new magic.]`
I groaned, letting my hand fall. "An engine with no gas. Figures." I had the mana pool, but zero spells. The System was forcing me to be a pure melee fighter.
Clack... clack... clack...
A new sound echoed from the darkness down the hall. A new enemy.
`[MONSTER: Decrepit Skeleton (Level 11)]`
`[HP: 60/60]`
A skeleton, this one human-sized and armed with a rusty, broken short sword, turned the corner. It saw me, its jaw clacked open in a silent roar, and it charged.
It was faster than the Warden, but slower than the Giant Rats. I planted my feet, my body automatically sinking into the [Form 1: Thrust] stance.
The skeleton swung its rusty blade in a wide, clumsy arc. I didn't even need `[Quickstep]`. I just leaned back, the sword whooshing past my chest.
Its ribcage was wide open. I didn't just stab. I executed a `[Thrust]`.
Clink.
`[-3 HP!]`
My blade skidded off its ribs. It barely did any damage!
The skeleton swung again. I dodged, my mind racing. 'Right. Armored Bones. Skeletons are resistant to piercing attacks unless you hit the gaps!'
This wasn't a slime. I couldn't just aim for the center. This was a precision test.
The skeleton raised its arm for an overhead chop. I saw my opening—the gap in its "armpit," where the humerus connected to the shoulder.
`[Skill: Quickstep]`
I dashed in, my rapier flashing out, not in a crude stab, but a controlled, E-Rank `[Thrust]`.
Shhhk!
The blade slid perfectly into the joint.
`[Critical Hit! Vital Point Struck!]`
`[-55 HP!]`
The skeleton's arm went limp, its sword clattering to the floor. Before it could react, I executed `[Form 2: Lunge]`, a longer, more powerful attack, driving my rapier straight through its empty eye socket.
`[Critical Hit!]`
`[-5 HP!]`
`[HP: 0/60]`
The skeleton crumbled into a pile of dusty bones.
`[VICTORY!]`
`[+50 EXP!]`
`[Skill: [Rapier Arts (E-Rank)] has gained 3 EXP.]`
I grinned. My skill had its own EXP bar. I didn't just have to level myself —I had to level my skills.
This was a true grind. And I loved it.
Floors 11 through 19 became a blur. It felt like weeks. I "died" four times, twice to a trap (poison darts, which my B-Rank salve instantly cured) and twice to a pack of `[Skeleton Archers (Level 15)]` that pinned me in a crossfire.
But every "death" just sent me back to the start of the floor, my HP and MP full, my determination doubled.
I practiced. I stopped being Yumi, the sleepy college student, and became Silvie, the grinder. I learned to use `[Lunge]` to shatter knee joints. I used `[Quickstep]` to get behind them and stab the gaps in their vertebrae. I learned to parry, a feature of `[Rapier Arts]` that I hadn't even known existed until I did it by accident.
My `[Level 12]`status became `[Level 13]`, then `[Level 14]`, `[15]`, and finally `[Level 16]`.
My `[Rapier Arts (E-Rank)]` skill bar filled, and with a satisfying ding, it evolved.
`[Skill: [Rapier Arts (D-Rank)] has been acquired!]`
> Effect (Passive): +10% to piercing damage. +10% to critical chance.
> Effect (Active): Unlocks [Form 3: Feint] and [Form 4: Flèche].
I was a seven-year-old `[Level 16]` fencer with D-Rank skills.
After I cleared Floor 19, I stood in the now-familiar white portal room, my body humming with power. I was exhausted, but I was ready for the next Milestone Boss on Floor 20.
Ping.
`[MANDATORY TRAINING REGIMEN COMPLETE.]`
`[Anomaly's power level has increased by 34%. Still insufficient. Prepare for next session.]`
"What? Already?" I protested, "I'm just getting warmed up! Let me at Floor 20!"
`[EXITING 'THE ETERNAL DUNGEON'.]`
The white light surged. "Wait..!"
The world snapped back into focus with a painful lurch.
I was in my tiny, sparse bedroom. The sun was in the exact same position in the sky. My body, which moments ago was a `[Level 16]` warrior's, calloused and sore, was now just... a soft, seven-year-old's.
But the power was still there. Compressed. Hidden. My `[HP: 160/160]` and `[AGI: 22]` hummed beneath my skin. My perception was so sharp I could see the individual dust motes dancing in the air, each one a tiny, distinct point of light.
At the door, Iris was just finishing her sentence.
"...ner is ready," she said, her voice sounding slow and muffled to my newly enhanced senses. She smiled, "My lady? Are you coming?"
I stood up. I looked at my small, clean hands. Just moments ago, they'd been covered in bone dust. Now, they were soft. But I knew exactly how to put one through a skeleton's eye socket.
I smiled, a small, cold smile that did not belong on Silvie Briar's face.
"I'm coming," I said, my voice quiet.
I'm starving.