After determining to purchase just the one outfit with my new earnings, I was unable to resist splurging on a comfortable traveling dress I stumbled upon. It was love at first sight. The magical enhancements were all relatively minor, but they were so exquisitely crafted it was a real pleasure and privilege to wear them against my skin. The two-silver-something price made me wince, but... I imagined an up-and-coming Artisan of rare talent had labored over this creation.

Returning to the library, I recounted my recent adventure -- if it could be called that -- to my mentor. He in turn congratulated me on my new dress and detailed his own discoveries regarding my [Advanced Empathy]. I'd already known my Skill was Passive, which made it infamously impossible to turn off, and that its range, penetration, and sensitivity all increased dramatically with upgrades, which was why the separate warded wagons had been unable to block my Advanced Skill. To my pleasant surprise, however, Senior Rubrik did offer three new pieces of information that were restricted.

First, and most immediately pertinent, Empaths were known to be subconsciously influenced by their Skill, and the degree of both the influence and its imperceptibility increased the more advanced and the greater the natural affinity. Second, gaining [Advanced Empathy] most typically involved one-sided empathy with an adversary in a stressful, dangerous situation, with the Empath achieving some amount of success in overcoming the barrier of indifference or hostility. Third, the Skill was secretly quite desirable because it boosted its user's speed of acquisition in the Skills of those with whom the user shared an emotional connection, the stronger the better.

I sat for a long moment after he finished, chewing over these revelations. The first part was as I'd suspected but even worse than I'd feared, especially since I was almost certainly a natural Empath and had recently upgraded my Skill to Advanced. "How are we influenced?" I had to ask.

"By your environment. Empaths surrounded by kindly people tend to become extraordinarily kind," said perhaps the kindest person I knew. "On the other hand, those who know mostly cruelty or indifference tend to reflect the same attributes. Every person can be molded by their circumstances; Empaths are just noted to be relatively more moldable."

"I... I see." I repressed the instinctive terror -- who was I? How much of me was me? -- and tried to think logically. My grandmother must have known; though she hadn't balked at influencing me, she had repeatedly drilled me in separating my feelings from those I sensed. She'd also forced me to gain [Meditation] despite the difficulty due to its bad combination with [Empathy], a difficulty I still found incredibly unfair considering in all other ways I seemed perfectly suited to the Skill.

I didn't have to wonder why she hadn't told me. Empaths were already regarded with enough wariness -- nobody appreciated having their personal feelings bared like an open book -- without adding easy manipulation, advancement through empathy for the enemy, or super-soldier potential to the mix. More surprising was that Senior Rubrik was so freely giving with restricted information.

No, perhaps I was more moldable and had been easily and willingly molded into a Scholar, but I liked who I was. Besides, agonizing over the authenticity of my feelings was neither useful nor enjoyable. I really needed to gain [Mental Resistance], but otherwise, moving on. "Does this mean the dungeon already has [Intermediate Universal Translation]?"

"Not necessarily. The form of the ability is less relevant than its substance. I believe more telling is your speed in gaining [Fireball]."

"What?" I said, surprised. "I thought a month is nothing special?"

"For a combat mage," he pointed out.

Right, I obviously didn't place the same life importance on such Skills, so I couldn't expect them to come as naturally to me as more scholarly Skills. No wonder my friends had been amazed. Considering my knowledge of [Fireball] before I gained it, I still didn't think one month was that fast, but it had taken me much longer to obtain [Mana Shield], which was only Tier-1... although I'd mostly practiced before bed on Senior Rubrik's advice and urging.

Did this mean from now on whenever I helped Bessie, I was technically also helping myself? She would do most of the hard work, unknowingly paving my future Path for me.

As if sensing the guilty direction of my thoughts, my mentor warned, "Remember you can never repeat restricted information to anyone else who is not at least a Learned Scholar. I should not even be sharing with you, but I trust you, and perhaps more importantly, I trust you will soon earn access on your own merits."

I flushed and looked down. "Thank you." Perhaps I really ought to decide on an accreditation paper soonest... No, investigating the possibly anomalous dungeon was too important. "Um, do you happen to have any additional information regarding [Advanced Appraisal]?" Not that I was disappointed with the Skill in the least; not only did it provide a wealth of information, it also effectively became an optional Passive Skill costing mana only with focused use. But who knew I would be so blindsided by [Advanced Empathy].

"That Skill is unrestricted."

I nodded, unsurprised and almost a little relieved, and wondered what the Intermediate upgrade to [Universal Translation] did. Presumably the Scholar Board was similarly stumped, since the contract would require me to comply with testing if called upon and to report any discoveries, which Learned Anderson had said seemed rather generally worded.

Speaking of the contract, she soon finished negotiations on my behalf. An Executive Scholar led me to the signing room, whereupon I was shocked, awed, and somewhat flattered to discover I was signing an individualized magical contract. Magical contracts were rare -- from what I'd read, their creation process made Skill Books seem easy by comparison -- and in fact I would've originally been just one more signatory joining the long list of all current and former Copyist Scholars, before I'd made my more peculiar demands. The special contract's existence suggested a Head Scholar was personally overseeing my case, to say the least.

To my delight, the Board had agreed to cover all costs of creating Scrolls if I repaid with half of each type of Scroll I made, rounded-down and guild's choice; this in effect gave me one freebie each but made continuing to recreate the same type of Scroll not worth it, which I supposed was their way of incentivizing me to keep challenging myself and thereby advance the Skill faster. To buy back my right to create and sell Scrolls freely, I would need to trade a single high-quality copy of a Skill Book.

As for my future Skill Books, the best thing that could be said was that the costs were covered. I supposed the terms had been stringent even before renegotiating based on my poverty. Similarly, I would get no help purchasing a focus or mage robes, which was fair; good equipment was not particularly relevant to training [Scribe]. However, this meant the new contract had neither magically vanished my financial difficulties nor enabled me regarding [Mind Over Matter]. It did, however, offer the resources to attempt impressing a certain Copyist Scholar.

More out of morbid curiosity than anything, I carefully reviewed the consequences for breaking the terms. Not only would doing so warn the Librarian (what! Did she personally come to smite every transgressor?), it would also cripple my magic, potentially killing me from the backlash. Thank mana for the inbuilt warning function. The Executive Scholar even suggested testing it, which was easily done: I simply attempted to break the contract by using my new funds to purchase something unrelated to Scrolls or Skill Books. Instantly, dread pooled in my gut, while figurative alarm bells clamored in my head. I withdrew my coin-carrying hand, and the sensation dissipated along with my lingering concerns.

Not only was I quite happy with the final contract, it was an honor and privilege to Appraise the greater working throughout. I clearly still had a long way to go before I could even begin to retrace the steps left behind by the true genius Scholars.

My first lesson in [Scribe] was scheduled for later that same day. My teacher, whose name I'd requested and promptly Scribed, was surprisingly only a few years older than me, around Hannah's age, with glasses, scruffy hair, and lingering traces of acne. Learned Westwick instantly endeared himself by bringing with him a Skill Book. He smiled at my visible excitement. "Have you used one before?" I nodded. "Let me guess, you drained all your mana on your first try?"

"No, but only because the Book tried to sap me straight away."

"Ah, one of those," he said with real sympathy. "Well, I want you to try inserting as little mana as you can. Take the briefest glimpse into this Book and return immediately."

I had known to expect a whole new experience, but... the difference from [Mind Over Matter] was stark. Whereas the Tier-4 Skill's Book was like being tossed willy-nilly through a maze of mana-guzzling thorns, [Enhanced Scribe] was a return to a familiar if renovated library. The shelves may have been expanded and rearranged, but any true lover of literature would quickly find their footing. Unlike my previous forced entrances and eager departures, I was reluctant to quit the Book, and I almost felt as though the Book was likewise sorry to let me go. I dutifully described the episode in its entirety when prompted.

"A library!" My teacher's eyes lit up. "I'm almost jealous. No, perhaps it's just as well or I'd have to be dragged off the Book!"

"What was your experience?" I asked.

"A dungeon," he said to my disbelief. "My breakthrough came after I had mapped it out in such detail it had to stop changing on me. I suggest trying something similar with your library to start. Catalogue all the sections, or better yet, if you can find a map or catalogue in the library..." When I returned what felt like hours later, drained and overwhelmed, he just nodded. "We had to try," he said apologetically, "Sometimes shortcuts are possible. Since you succeeded in gaining a feel for the general layout, we likely just have to fill it in section by section." Then he proceeded to guide me through my first comprehensive mapping.

"Is this normal for using a Skill Book?" I asked, wondering how I'd missed mention of the methodology in my reading and also whether I could somehow apply it to training [Mind Over Matter].

"No," he said. "This is the best approach for most Scholars training [Enhanced Scribe]. Fortunately for us, it's a well-trodden Path. But different people and different Books are, well, different."

I was most definitely a typical Scholar, judging from how easily Learned Westwick anticipated my stumbling points -- "Experiencing a Book is like a lucid dream. Most people can't read in dreams, whereas you must be an avid reader in real life, so you suffer dissonance when you try" -- and how helpful his insights were, so that I returned to the Book each time with restored vigor and confidence just as soon as my mana refilled. I really felt like I made more progress in the Skill in the one session than in my entire past year, though as Blake had pointed out, I didn't exactly challenge myself regularly. Afterwards, I was left with the assignment to busy myself making Scrolls, which I had intended to do anyway.

It was on the heels of such a soaring success that I attended my first lesson in [Mental Resistance]. The open-enrollment class was held every day, or rather night. It cost a whole silver but let the student attend any ten sessions on their own schedule. My friends had all attained the Skill through this class by spending one to three silvers.

The instructor, a tired-looking older man, explained the necessary steps clearly and concisely, exactly as I'd read. Essentially we each sunk into [Meditation] -- the Skill was a prerequisite -- and then worked to maintain our mental bearing while under external pressure. I coolly circulated my mana, thinking myself prepared.

Then I felt it.

An overwhelming wave of hatred, hunger, and aggression sent me scrambling for distance. Even before the monster, whatever it was, was brought from the backroom, I was already swinging open my exit. Passing adventurers jumped, reaching for weapons, before I slammed the door shut on a mental scream of primal rage. I managed to make it all the way outside before heaving into the grass.

"What happened?" the receptionist asked after I returned into the building. "Have you encountered Mindreavers before?"

"No," I said and hesitated before admitting, "I have [Advanced Empathy]."

"I see." The concern significantly abated, replaced with disapproval and wariness. "You really should have known better, or at least informed us beforehand. You either need to obtain a method to block your Empathy -- perhaps an appropriately tailored robe? -- or purchase private lessons to accommodate your special needs."

She pointedly did not offer to reimburse my silver or session. I couldn't bring myself to mention it, too busy feeling like an absolute idiot. She was right: I should have predicted the bad interaction, rather than glibly proceeding based on my friends' recommendations and my own hopes. Nodding, I reflexively thanked her and stumbled back to my sanctuary of books.

"At least you only wasted one session," Bessie said, having come to see how my first adventuring class went. "That's like, what, one large copper? I'm sure you'll figure it out, don't give up! In the meantime, why not try a class in [Mana Barrier] or [Mana Dome]?"

I stared at her, thinking she was my secret shortcut to both. "I hardly need a teacher. I taught you, remember?" Indeed, under my tutelage she'd gained the Tier-1 [Mana Shield], Tier-2 [Mana Barrier] and [Mana Dome], and was now working toward the Tier-3 [Mana Skin] in that order. She'd taken my advice to skip [Mana Sphere]; the more mana-intensive Skill was mostly useful to combat mages preparing for future flight and certain specialists such as miner teams.

"See, this sort of attitude is what gets Marie upset. Marie, the receptionist?" They had three to six working at any one time and rotated regularly; how by the Book did she know which one I'd talked to? "Boneheaded adventurers who always think they know best," Bessie said, clearly mimicking someone else's speech.

"I'm not--"

"Great, so let's go ask! Or do you really think you know better than the actual professionals in charge of advising us on classes?"

Thankfully, we were waved over to a more friendly-feeling stranger at reception. Stranger to me, that is: after asking after the plump middle-aged lady's family, Bessie explained our dispute and asked her not at all biased friend to arbitrate. "You... already can cast both spells?" said Veronica, whose name I'd discreetly Scribed.

"With a circle and few minutes each," I clarified.

"Show me."

I obligingly trooped to a training room, chalked the runes, and cast one then the other. Veronica had her eyebrows raised, while Bessie for some reason felt smug. "No, you obviously don't need the class," she said, but before I could turn triumphant added, "More importantly, how do you not already have either Skill?"

"Because I would have to waste weeks or months grinding them?"

"What is more important than learning to defend yourself?" she said, shaking her head and sounding like a strange combination between avid adventurer and disappointed mother. "Besides, you could cast inside any dungeon and save yourself both time and boredom. In fact there's conveniently a new one nearby right now."

"Oh, but Veronica," Bessie said, "I asked around and it's closed-off."

"Sure, officially," the receptionist said. "But the bigwigs also are requiring our guild help guard the dungeon. We can always use more 'guards.' Say, at the rate of one silver per week?"

"That much?" Bessie said in shock. I was also shocked but more in the manner of internal exclamations of glee.

"It's not for me, sweetie. The real guards are all Gold-Ranked; I can't just ask them a favor and tip less than silver." She flipped through a personal planner. "Ah, here. Yes, I know the team on dungeon duty through the end of next month. I can put in a word for you tomorrow?"

Just like that, I regained access to the dungeon. I did have to swear on truth stone I had no intention of damaging or using the Core, which I thankfully passed; apparently studying the Core didn't count as using? The Gold-Ranked team, who were taking it easy while one of their members recovered at the Healer's, was even generous enough to wave away the offered coin. "We'll just be playing cards around the entrance," the leader said. "Don't expect us to come running to your rescue or anything, but so long as you don't bring trouble, it's no problem."

My long-awaited reunion with my first dungeon -- I was so excited I even forbore bringing a book -- started with a rush of rats. "Is it just me, or are there a lot more minions here than last time?" I asked after they'd been stopped and my heart resettled into my chest.

"No, there are," Hannah said. "I guess the dungeon's been busy during all this time without any visitors."

I took out my chalk and eyed the earthen floor dubiously. "Well, here goes."

We'd agreed I may as well accomplish three goals in one visit, so I had given it some thought and altered the six foot diameter runic circle for Mana Barrier to allow quick successive recasts of the spell at the cost of its mana efficiency and defensive power. I confirmed it was working with an initial cast: "Mana Barrier."

The glowing bluish pane sprang up, and unlike with [Mana Shield], I was able to manipulate it after casting, including by spinning it like a whirligig, lying it flat to use as a floating table, or sending it away from me to the wall. However, both the speed of movement and strength of the spell left something to be desired. After playing around with the barrier for a bit, I decided to stop procrastinating and brought it back to hover in front of me, then said, "Ready."

I wasn't. What kind of insane person was ever ready to face a potential horde of ravenous monsters charging at them with intent to kill? No, I already knew the answer to that: adventurers. Despite my official Bronze-Ranked status, I was definitely not one in spirit, because as Blake came sprinting back into the room with monstrous rodents hot on his heels, I did not think of courage or glory, of slaying my foes or gaining strength from battle. No, I thought of the Core probably slumbering peacefully through this but waiting for me at the end. I thought of the mystery I wanted to solve here and the future research that might be required. And so vowing not to waste time, I drew up my Mana Barrier, readied to cast [Mana Shield] and [Fireball], and stood firm.

That was it for my personal heroics. My barrier did block some gnashing teeth, but really, the credit for my still-living self after it was all said and done went to the true adventurers. I clearly had a long, long way to go when it came to defending myself. Could I be blamed for lacking combat reflexes? Those rats were seriously fast! And when they swarmed like that, ugh. I was never coming into this or any other dungeon without a prepared escort.

"Congrats on your first time fighting back, Rena!" Bessie said. "I think you maybe even singed a few rat hairs?"

"How did you manage to miss all of them?" Blake said, sounding almost impressed.

"I... I was concentrating on my Mana Barrier..." I mumbled.

"I saw that, you had a good combination going with your [Mana Shield]," Hannah said encouragingly.

"Defense first," Tom agreed.

"What do you think, should we pin one down so you can have your first monster kill?" Bessie said.

I tried to imagine it, a screaming rodent blaring hatred and fear until I lobbed a [Fireball] into its face, silencing it forever and wafting the smell of burnt meat. Or if the first shot didn't kill it, I would have to wait out the cooldown, all the while feeling its sickening pain and fear... "Um, no thanks. I think I've had enough excitement and personal growth for one day."

Thankfully, my friends didn't seem surprised. Leaving my runes in tatters -- there was no such thing as littering in a dungeon, anyway -- we proceeded deeper inside, with Blake and Hannah picking off any stragglers.

We hadn't yet reached the Core room when I felt it awaken. , , succinctly summarized its reaction to our reunion.

"Rena?" Hannah said, and I realized I'd stopped.

"It's... um, I can hear it already," I explained somewhat absently, trying to figure out how to communicate back. I was used to perceiving across distances with Empathy without sending anything in return.

"Oh, can we try staying here then?" Bessie said. "Derrick wasn't too happy when I admitted to checking out the Core last time, even though I hand-waved it as you being a curious Scholar. If you can talk to it while letting us say we stayed away..."

"Working on it." I suddenly wondered if this newfound ability was related to the Intermediate level of [Universal Translation]... and the instant I thought that, I knew I would have to report the theory to the Scholars. Did this mean I would have to report the possible anomaly as well? No, I could always claim I heard the same ravings as from the Orinavia dungeon, just so long as I stated I'd heard the dungeon before reaching its Core and suspected long-distance communication was possible with a sentient dungeon.

Longer-distance, anyway, since I was still intruding inside, as the dungeon helpfully reminded me: . . , , . "Oh... I think it's trying to ask us to stop killing its minions!" I said, excited at the discovery.

My friends did not share my enthusiasm. "Right... You mean the same minions that keep trying to kill us?" Bessie said. "Those minions?"

"Hm. Good point." With actual information I wanted to communicate, I found it significantly easier to achieve communication, basically by piggybacking off the dungeon's signals to send similar ones out: , , , , . Wow, on the one hand I could not believe I had been reduced to such rudimentary expressions, but on the other... this felt like a revolutionary new way to speak. As someone who had swallowed languages whole practically from birth, I felt enthralled and a bit humbled.

"You know, she looked like she had an easier time before, by the Core," Blake said, "And at this point it doesn't really matter if we admit to poking around there, since we clearly haven't broken anything."

"It's her call," Bessie said.

. . . "Um... I think that was a communication failure," I said, "And now it wants to sleep again."

Bessie and Tom groaned. "No... why?" Bessie said. "We came this far, can't it stay awake a little longer? Maybe you can try talking directly to the Core?"

. I sent. "I... think I managed to ask. Come on, let's hurry in case the answer's yes."

Distracted as I was, I didn't notice the monster until it let loose an ear-piercing shriek as Hannah's arrow hit home. "[Pinning Shot]." Its screeching continued unabated as we approached.

"Hannah," Blake said, "Is there a reason you've nailed the thing to a wall?"

"Because the dungeon asked us not to kill," I answered for her. "That's brilliant, thanks Hannah!"

"No problem," she said, sounding quite proud.

We edged around the trapped minion, which had quieted down and simply stared at us with beady eyes. "Have to say it feels incredibly weird to let one live," Bessie said. "Waiting at our backs for us to return..."

"We hope," Tom said.

, said the dungeon. I had the distinct feeling it was curious, possibly from drawing close enough to distinguish nuances or possibly from my imagination. The delay in responding also suggested it had given the matter some thought. Or possibly just dozed off.

Right next room from the Core, I suddenly could feel it much more definitely. I hesitated, but my curiosity won out over any thoughts of caution. Entering its room, I observed the sharp spike in clarity, approaching the Core until it sent: .

Then I sent: , while trying to attach a mental image of minions swarming us and an attendant feeling of wrongness.

, , .

That took me a few moments to parse before understanding dawned. "Oh... It's explaining that it doesn't want us to kill its minions because then it has to make more, meaning it has to sleep more." I replied , again, this time trying to transmit an image of minions stopping their attack along with a feeling of rightness.

"Poor dungeon. What about its minions trying to kill us?" Bessie said.

, , , .

I thought I was getting better at translating this awkward form of communication, as I almost immediately answered, "It says it can't do anything about them when it's sleeping. They're too stupid not to attack intruders unless it's awake to stop them."

Blake perked up. "But it will stop them?"

,

,

"It's asking if we'll stop killing its minions in return?"

Bessie looked around, taking in her team's opinions, before shrugging. "Sure, why not? It'll be a fun challenge!"

"Tell it we can try but no promises," Blake said.

I stared at him. "Um... I don't think I can communicate something that complicated. But I can try."

My attempt to indicate this was an attempt ended up sounding like indecision.

. .

The dungeon, by contrast, knew exactly what it wanted right now.

"All right, we have a deal," I said. Logically, I knew this was a semi-momentous occasion and I should be happier about it, but... my communication failures weighed on me. I couldn't help worrying we would be unable to avoid killing minions, and the dungeon would take this as betrayal. Or worse, what if one of my friends was injured or... or badly injured while trying to hold back? "We should leave so it can sleep."

Bessie laughed. "You know it has to be anomalous, right? Only Starting Dungeons sleep this much."

I stumbled, stopped, and stared at her. My friends all stopped as well, looking back at me with expressions ranging from amusement to confusion. The silence stretched.

"You didn't think of that, did you?" Bessie grinned. "In your place, I'd be wondering whether to be more excited or embarrassed. No offense."

"Rena, sometimes you can be so smart you're stupid," Blake said, "So only naturally Bessie can be so stupid she's smart. No offense."

"Liar! You definitely meant to offend there."

I started forward again, feelings of mostly excitement bubbling up. "I think you're brilliant, Bessie." I'd seriously been lucky enough to stumble onto a rare anomalous dungeon? And just made a deal with it? I needed to talk to my mentor!

We passed the rodent where we'd left it, thank mana. "Aw, I liked that arrow," Hannah said.

To everybody's surprise, Blake nimbly stepped forward, grabbed the still-attached arrow while braced against the wall, and in one violent motion yanked it out. Bessie reacted first, jumping forward, but the now-freed rat was already retreating backwards, huddling into the farthest corner. We all stared. Construct-type minions were not supposed to act like that.

I glanced at Blake, who shrugged. "I couldn't sense any danger from it."

The dungeon, I realized, must be stopping its minion... meaning it was staying awake to see us out. I suddenly felt a whole lot better about our recent conversation, difficulties and all. At the exit, I brushed a hand against a wall. , I sent, before leaving the dungeon, already planning my return the next day.