Inola decided to just wait for an opportune time. It was too risky to sneak her way through. With the rogue-caster stationed near the rear and the archer scanning the flanks with trained precision, a single misstep could unravel her veil. [Phantom Veil] was powerful, but not infallible. Prolonged use while under tension wore on her stamina, and she could feel the faint strain already tugging at her limbs.
She shifted back slightly into deeper shadow, nestling herself between broken masonry and curling root-veins.
'Later,' she told herself. 'I just need one opening.'
Her eyes flicked to the pedestal in the distance, tucked behind the Warden-class beast they were fighting. Whatever Essence Stone it was must be either dream or mind aligned on account of the way the monster's way it fought. The way the creature moved wasn't random. It responded to thought, hesitations, doubt. It intercepted attacks it shouldn't have seen. It turned just before spells were cast.
That wasn't raw instinct. That was clearly mental interception. I high tiered version of the skill as well.
'It's either Dream-aligned… or Mind,' she concluded. 'Maybe even both.'
Inola narrowed her eyes, her ears twitched in irritation. That made it dangerous.
Dream-aligned creatures played with perception through hallucinations, memory fog, and false paths. Meanwhile, mind-aligned ones attacked the core with fear, confusion, and doubt. With the right trigger, they could even fracture a fighter's will mid-battle.
The Essence was worth guarding.
Inola let out a silent breath and refocused, her ears twitching at the distant clatter of a deflected strike.
Just then, the gray-haired high elf girl with the crimson eyes stepped forward and unsheathed her sword.
It was a smooth, deliberate motion, one that held no tension, no fanfare. The blade itself was elegant, dark with streaks of silverlight running through its core, shaped like it had been carved from a single breath of moonlight. The hilt bore no crest. No name. Just quiet promise.
And before Inola could fully register what was happening, the rest of the party fell back without a word.
A silent invisible corridor opened between the elven girl and the Warden-class beast, and she began to move. Her cloak barely brushed the ground as she glided across the chamber, every step poised, every motion practiced and fluid, as though she were walking across a mirrored ballroom floor rather than a dungeon strewn with rubble and blood.
Inola's eyes widened in amazed disbelief. No one stopped her? Not even the leader? She glanced at the others who moved to the sidelines. The swordsman lowered his shield with calm finality, as if his role had concluded. The archer shifted his stance, no longer aiming, but standing at ease, one gloved hand resting lightly on his hip. The rogue-caster stepped back into the shadows, not before looking around once last time. The entire party moved with the precision of a dance, like dancers flowing into a familiar formation. Every angle of their formation subtly realigned to funnel focus toward the girl, her dark-gray hair catching threads of ambient light. The battlefield had become her stage.
They reacted as if they expected this. Interesting.
It felt like it lasted mere seconds, a blink stretched thin by disbelief, but she watched, breath shallow, as the girl moved with ethereal calm straight to the beast.
And then… she stopped right beside it.
The Warden-class creature turned, its massive claws flexing, breath steaming from its fractured mask of bone and glass. It raised an arm.
Inola's instincts screamed. Her hand twitched toward her belt.
The girl did nothing. At least, nothing visible.
There was a sudden stillness then a soft, wet thump. The monster's body shuddered and fell face first, like its strings had been cut. There was no resistance. No delay.
Inola blinked. 'What… was that?'
The Warden-class beast lay motionless, its massive frame already beginning to dissolve into light motes—the System's way of reclaiming fallen dungeon matter. The party didn't cheer. They didn't relax. No one rushed to secure the loot.
The elven girl sheathed her sword in a slow, soundless motion. Her cloak swayed gently behind her as she turned—graceful as ever—and began walking back toward her group.
But before she fully rejoined them, she paused.
Her head tilted slightly. Her crimson eyes, luminous even in shadow, shifted ever so lightly.
Inola froze. Her heartbeat felt like thunder in her chest.
The girl's gaze wasn't wandering or casual. It was locked straight toward the dark alcove where Inola crouched, cloaked beneath root-veins and shadow-stone.
She didn't speak or signal to the others. She just looked. It was long enough for Inola to realize she knew where she was hiding. Whether it was full detection or subtle awareness, the result was the same. Inola's cover, her veil, her practiced stillness, it had been pierced.
The elven girl's expression didn't change. It stayed calmly regal, almost... curious.
Then she blinked once slowly then turned away.
Inola, so entranced by what the girl's crimson eyes that were so similar to her own, she didn't notice the rogue-caster had disappeared from where she last saw him. Not until the cold kiss of metal met the side of her neck.
A dagger, fine, curved, and humming with quiet enchantment, rested lightly against her skin, just above the collarbone. Not deep enough to draw blood, but close enough to say don't move.
'I hadn't heard him approach. There was no sound to his movements. He moved like a ghost. This guy must have a high leveled Rare class at the least.'
His voice followed a second later, low and controlled, barely a whisper beside her ear.
"Do not move. If you do, I will not hesitate to slit your throut."
Inola didn't flinch. Her mind sharpened in an instant, muscles locking into a silent readiness. Her hand twitched, then stilled.
[Phantom Veil] had faded just moments ago.
She cursed herself.
The rogue's presence was subtle, but suffocating. His Essence was woven into the shadows like thread through cloth. She hadn't sensed him move because he hadn't moved, he'd become part of the space around her.
A System-trained tracker. An experienced killer.
"Relax," he said softly, still not pressing the blade. "You didn't interfere. That's worth something."
The dagger shifted slightly, not a threat, but a prod. "We just have questions."
A pause.
"…like what a classless beastkin is doing in a mythic-tier dungeon."
Her stomach sank.
The rogue stepped back just enough to let her breathe, but not enough to release her.
"Come," he said. "Let's go meet the others."
And with the dagger still close, he guided her forward, toward the team who were now waiting.
Inola didn't resist.
There was no point, not with that dagger grazing her neck, not with the elven girl's eyes following her every step from across the chamber. The rogue's grip was light, professional. Not tight enough to restrain, just enough to remind her not to do anything stupid.
She moved with practiced control, matching his pace. Her tail twitched once, an involuntary flick of frustration.
As they neared the group, the human knight turned first. He stood tall, silver-gold plate catching what little dungeon light flickered down through cracks in the ceiling. His gaze was sharp, princely even—though not unkind.
Behind him, the archer gave a short whistle and lowered her bow. She was striking up close, even more so now that Inola could make out the finework in her armor—layered leather etched with leaflike patterns, emerald gems glinting against forest-toned cloth. Her eyes, a vivid shade of green, were unreadable.
The high elf girl simply watched. Her hood remained drawn, casting most of her face in soft shadow, but her crimson gaze stayed bright, alert… and unwavering.
"Classless," the rogue confirmed as they reached the center. He sheathed his dagger smoothly. "Wasn't reckless by trying to interfere or steal from us. Not that she could. She was just watching."
The knight gave Inola a once-over, brows drawing down slightly. "Her eyes...there like the princess's. Are you a Crimson-vein, girl? It would explain how you could survive a mythic-tier dungeon till now."
Inola looked up at the human man in utter confusion. "What is a Crimson-vein?" she asked flatly, ears twitching.
The knight's brows lifted, just slightly. "You don't know?"
Behind him, the archer muttered, "That's… not possible. Look at her eyes. That shade of red, only the children born from the Survivors of the Crimson Descent have those eyes." He flicked his gaze to the elven girl. "And we already have one of them."
The rogue spoke next, arms now crossed as he leaned against a broken pillar. "Maybe she's an offshoot. A diluted heir. Something dormant that never awakened."
"Or she's lying," the archer said, suspicion sharpening his tone.
"She's not," the elven girl finally said. Her voice cut through the room like frost through silence.
All eyes turned to her. Still cloaked in shadow, she stepped forward again, just a single stride, but it changed the air in the chamber.
"She doesn't carry the arrogance of someone who knows," she continued, calmly. "She doesn't even recognize the name." Her gaze flicked to Inola softly, almost pitying. "She's sealed."
The word landed like a blade tip.
Inola's tail bristled. "Sealed?"
The knight nodded slowly, thoughtful. "That would explain why [Analyze] fails. I get question marks across the board, and my skill is high tier. I should be able to read even Mythic-ranked classes."
His eyes locked with hers again, colder now. "You're classless, and yet you've made it this far. That suggests a goal." His tone sharpened. "Are you here for the Essence on the pedestal? Answer truthfully."
Inola's eyes narrowed, ears flattening slightly. "Yes," she said simply.
The knight didn't move. "To use it or to sell it?"
"To use it," she replied without hesitation. "I need a four more Stones to get a class."
The group exchanged glances.
"That's bold," the rogue muttered, almost amused.
The elf girl's gaze lingered on Inola. "You're here alone. You've survived on two support skills from what I can tell. And you reached a hidden chamber of a mythic-tier domain of a lesse-boss." She paused. "That's not just bold. That's unheard of."
"She's still sealed," the archer reminded them. "If she bonds with another Stone before that seal breaks—"
"She won't," the elf interrupted again, quiet but firm.
The knight looked at her. "You're certain?"
The elf nodded once. "The System wouldn't allow it. The seal suppresses growth past a certain threshold. Until it fractures, she's capped—stalled at potential."
Inola's eyes narrowed. "And what if I want to break it?"
The elf tilted her head slightly. "You can't. Not alone."
That made Inola's jaw clench, but she said nothing.
The rogue stepped forward again. "We've already cleared this lesser-boss. The Essence is technically ours by right." He studied her. "But I'm not inclined to be unfair."
The elf girl turned to him. "We should let her take it."
The archer frowned. "Why?"
"Because no one survives this place without a reason," she said softly. "And the fact that she did, as a child no less, means the System itself might have plans for her."
She looked back at Inola. "We won't stop you. But you'll take it under temporary party protection."
The knight crossed his arms, nodding. "Agreed. We'll cover you while you bond."
The rogue gestured lazily. "[Party Seal] is ready when you are."
Inola hesitated, then gave a single nod.
The elf extended a hand and summoned a glowing seal of translucent magic between them. Inola reached out and touched it. It flared once with warmth and dissolved.
[You have joined Temporary Party: Donella's Banner]
[Shared Protection Active | Buff: Aura Shield | Duration: 3 hours]
Donella stepped aside, her voice low and clear. "Go. Claim your Stone."
Inola nodded and walked toward it, her heart pounding with each step.
To bond with an Essence Stone, the individual must be in direct contact with the stone and allow the System to scan for compatibility. This compatibility is influenced by the user's traits, past experiences, emotional alignment, and mental resilience. Classless individuals must be especially cautious, as bonding to the wrong essence can lead to rejection or damage. When contact is made, the System initiates a brief scan and if approved, the user's soul-thread and internal System interface integrate the Essence, embedding it into their growing internal architecture. Bonding multiple Stones builds a path toward class convergence. When five compatible Stones are collected and bonded, the System will evaluate the synergy and conceptual thread among them and automatically generate a Class, potentially unique or rare depending on the combination. It would then update the user's interface accordingly.
Inola reached the pedestal.
The Essence Stone hovered just above it. Smooth, translucent, and veined with soft pulses of violet and silver. It radiated no heat, no sound, but the air around it felt… aware.
She extended her hand. And the System reacted instantly.
[Essence Stone Detected: Mind-Aligned Variant]
[Current Slot Capacity: 4 Remaining]
[Proceed with Bonding? Y/N]
Inola selected Yes with a blink.
The Stone dissolved into light.
That was it. No ceremony. No explosion of power. Just a quiet surge, cool and quick, threading into her chest like mist sinking into cloth.
[Essence Bond Complete]
[Essence Type: Mind]
[2 / 5 Essences Acquired]
[Class Progress: Unavailable — Sealed]
Her breath left her in a slow, steady exhale. No pain. No resistance.
But she felt it.
A clarity behind her eyes. A slight pressure against her thoughts, like a third awareness humming just beyond perception. The Mind Essence had settled inside her, soft and calculating.
Inola stepped back from the pedestal, ears twitching as the others watched. The moment she re-entered the protective field, the rogue-caster clapped once, a sharp sound that cut clean through the silence.
"Now," he said with an easy smile, "let's talk."