“...Wait, what?” Breve’s ears twitch up in surprise. “Peach, I don’t have any damaging spells!”

“That is true… for normal situations,” Peach points out. “However, did you see how the enemy was damaged by Dechambul’s second liquid? That was a health potion. You see, when you heal the reanimated dead, you do damage to them as well.”

Breve blinks owlishly at Peach, before the Monk takes Breve’s arm and leads her out the shuttle door with Tiffney. “Do not be afraid. Tiffney and I will remain on the front lines. They will not harm you, and you shall be able to finish all your incantations without any harm,” Peach reassures. “However, you will be required to damage each mob at least once to obtain EXP from killing them.”

“EX...P?” Breve’s eyes flit down to the still-continuing live feed, watching as the undead only seem to multiply in number around Dechambul.

“Yes. With that EXP, you will gain levels… and in eighty levels, you will learn Resurrection,” Peach says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and totally makes sense. For the record, it kind of doesn’t, and Breve continues staring at her dumbly before Peach simply sighs. “All you will need to do is cast Cure on as many enemies as possible. Tiffney, Dechambul and I will surround you, defeating any before they get anywhere close. Is that clear?”

“I can do that,” Breve says. And then she looks down at her feet while Tiffney opens the shuttle door. “...Yes, yes, I can do that. I can do this!”

“Got your confidence?” Tiffney grins widely, before taking her first step onto the prison planet. “Now get out there and do the bare minimum of your job, girl! I believe in you!”

“You’re an asshole,” Breve mutters, and Tiffney lets out a raucous laugh before they’re interrupted by the groans of the undead.

Breve looks around— the rooftop is clear, but from the sounds of it, there are enemies all around the building. “Climb a floor down,” Dechambul instructs from over the sleeve, and another tell-tale explosion rings out from somewhere under their feet. “There’s a ton down here. Careful not to get cornered in the stairwell!”

“Do as he says,” Peach commands, and she leads the charge, entering the stairwell first. Breve follows closely behind with Tiffney watching her back (not that Breve really trusts her to do that), and immediately, one of the undead appears before them, dragging themselves up the stairs.

“COMBAT DETECTED,” the sleeve announces helpfully. “OPENING BATTLE INTERFACE.”

Tiffney points to the new screen that Breve’s CBT sleeve is displaying. “I’m sure you can at least see the undead’s HP bar, right? That’s the red line.”

“I get it,” Breve mutters in response, turning back to the undead.

Peach points at it. “Strike first, Breve. I am afraid that if either Tiffney or I land a hit, it will… cease to exist.”

“I… okay,” Breve quickly agrees. Years of tedious magic practice and days spent poring over tomes she struggled to read flash into her mind, retrieving the memory of the incantation she needs.

The magic from her body flows easily into the staff, almost as fluidly as a fish to water, and Breve looks at the zombie, before targeting the full force of her spell towards it. “Here we go! By my light be healed! Cure!”

The incantation flows uninterrupted from her lips, and a light shines from the lapis lazuli on her staff. It casts… successfully!

...And results in a small gash over the undead’s face, nearly comparable to a papercut. The HP chips away by a single pixel.

While Breve’s greatest efforts fail to even deter the enemy. Peach nods in approval anyway. “Good job. Now… I will take care of this.” She pulls out her polearm, before raising her arm to attack.

Suddenly, a gust of wind brushes past Breve’s face, and just as quickly, the zombie disappears— along with a loud smack that rings out in the claustrophobic stairwell.

Breve looks up. Whatever remains of the zombie is now firmly plastered to the ceiling above, stuck on through the sheer force of Peach’s effortless blow.

“Great, that’s one of them!” Tiffney suddenly leans over, tapping on Breve’s sleeve. “Alright, let me see that EXP gain.”

“Hey!” Breve pulls her arm away, getting her personal space back. The screen displayed above her sleeve has changed, according to Tiffney’s button-presses: instead of Dechambul’s live feed, it now shows the damning empty screen that revealed Breve’s illiteracy to her entire squad. One red bar, one blue bar (with just the slightest portion empty), and now, a new green bar that is halfway filled.

“Nearly half a level,” Peach notes. “Good. These first few levels shall pass in a breeze, then.”

“I knew that, Peach! It’s the last dozen that are a pain in the ass,” Tiffney snipes back.

“Um,” Breve interrupts. “Sorry, but, I only managed to scratch its face a little. Are you guys sure that’s useful?”

Peach turns around. “You misunderstand. No, your spells are effectively useless,” she says patiently, and Breve feels like Peach just punched her straight in the guts with those words. “However, by landing a blow on the enemy, you will gain a share of EXP from their successful defeat. With enough EXP, you will gain a level— and you will learn new skills, as well as increased overall strength.”

“And that EXP is measured by this green bar,” Breve says. “Right?”

“Correct. Now, we should not leave Dechambul to fend for himself for too long.” Peach quickly descends down the staircase, beckoning the other two to follow. “Not that I fear for his safety… more so that I fear for ours, if he throws too many of those explosive potions and causes this entire building to collapse.”

Dechambul clears his throat, and they can hear him over the live feed and nearby. “I’m a demolitions expert, thank you very much! My explosions are all controlled, so don’t worry about me, just focus on getting Breve’s levels up.”

“Of course,” Peach mutters, and she kicks the door open to the floor below. It opens up to a large prison complex, still lit by a series of flickering lights. There’s one problem, though: all the cells are open— and all the prisoners are now undead, groaning and hissing as they slowly march towards them.

Suddenly, one of them pops up from right next to the door, immediately lunging at the monk. “Oh, no!” Breve gasps, and she tries to blurt out the incantation for Cure, but her panic causes her to fumble it. “By the— no, my— no, Peach, watch out—”

A sudden barrage of arrows silently whistle past their heads, before burying themselves deep into the zombie’s open eye socket. It stumbles back, and then collapses onto the floor.

Breve turns around, and nocked in Tiffney’s bow is a shining arrow made of pure light. They seem to manifest in her weapon the moment she pulls the string back. “Like I said, I’ve got your back,” Tiffney says confidently, and Peach huffs.

“I would have been fine without you,” she declares, and then she steps forward, wooden pole in hand. “Get your spells ready, Breve. We will not be leaving till all these mobs are cleared out.”

“ALL of them?” Breve repeats incredulously, before realizing that she’s really in here for the long run. “Oh, by the gods… alright. Let’s go!”

-----

With the quiet whizz of another light projectile, the last of the undead now lies super-dead on the floor, which Breve feels she’s about five seconds from becoming herself. “Aaand we’ve cleared the room!” Tiffney pivots around, ignoring the way Breve is barely able to stand up and instead opting to just grab at her arm. “Wow, you got up… only 14 levels! We’ve got to do a lot more of these.”

“I think I’m going to faint,” Breve wheezes, and Peach steps in front of her in case she actually does. Even if her empty MP bar wasn’t displayed on screen, Breve can literally feel all her reserves drained out of her body. “There were so many of them… all those incantations… I really need a drink...”

“Well, good news,” Peach tries to comfort. “In that short span of time, you have leveled up more than you ever have in your many years of study before this.”

“Basically, going to school will only get you so far! Killing things is the best way to get stronger,” Tiffney summarizes. “Not that your schooling was any good, seeing you can’t read…”

As Tiffney jabs once more at Breve’s sorest point, the catgirl’s ears flatten in misery. “Oh, look!” Tiffney, meanwhile, doesn’t give a fuck, instead pointing obnoxiously at Breve’s status bars. “Isn’t she right on the verge of a new skill, here?”

Breve lifts her head, straining her eyes on her screen. There’s a new symbol next to her EXP bar, one that looks like a small cross— is that what Tiffney means? “Maybe we should clear out another room,” Tiffney suggests, and Breve immediately squeaks in protest.

“No! No, no, I’m out of MP,” Breve huffs out desperately. “I wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

Peach puts a finger on her chin. “That is true… however, you are very close to reaching level 20. Besides, even if you cannot cast a spell...”

And then, the monk gently taps the staff in Breve’s shaky grip. “You still have a blunt weapon.”

Before Breve registers what Peach is getting at, Tiffney jumps towards the next doorway. “It’s settled, then! You guys stay here, I’ll go nab one!”

“Wait, what do you—” Before Breve finishes, Tiffney moves on, shutting the prison door behind her. Through the dirty pane in the doors, she watches as Tiffney lights up the other room with a flurry of light arrows, and the pained (p-pained?!) cries of the undead ricochet through the hallways.

Soon enough, the elf is back— with company. She kicks open the doors, and Breve sees that both her hands are gripped onto the tattered prison clothes of a snarling undead. It’s… a caten, just like her, fuzzy ears and all, along with shining-yellow eyes that look way too alert for a corpse, now that she looks a little closer.

“Alright!” Tiffney hauls the enemy in front of Breve, looking almost like a house pet proudly presenting some prey. “Now, bash its fucking head in.”

Breve jumps back. “W-what?”

“All you need to do is take your staff and hit it over the head,” Peach says, and Breve looks at her staff. Then, back at the drooling undead, and it was probably a guy when it was still alive, probably had lighter hair, probably had a name, a family…

Breve doesn’t even know why she’s hesitating. They just killed a whole room full of them, by the gods, it’s just— it’s different when you’re casting a spell, rather than personally staring down its eyes while whacking it.

“COMBAT DETECTED,” the sleeve begins again. It’s enough to remind Breve that this… person— no, it’s a thing. An enemy. Something to be defeated.

...Or so she tells herself. Doesn’t make her feel any better, though.

“...Sure,” Breve hesitantly agrees, and with the vestiges of her remaining strength, she raises her staff to swing down on it.

It clunks the zombie on the head with the same weight of someone hitting their sibling with a roll of newspaper.

“Harder,” Peach immediately says. “You need to do damage to it.”

Breve steps back, ignoring the zombie’s growing snarls, and closes her eyes. “Okay! I’ll do it. Here we go…!”

She swings her staff up before bringing it down wildly. Except, from the sound of Tiffney’s hollering, she probably didn’t hit the right target. “Ow, that’s my arm, you dumb bitch! Open your eyes and hit the undead!”

“Okay, okay, I will…!” Breve cracks an eye open, immediately making eye contact with the zombie, and whimpers to herself before raising her staff again. “...Sorry…!”

Finally, her staff connects with enough force. The lapis lazuli makes a dent in its half-rotten skull, and the zombie shudders at the damage taken. “Finally,” Tiffney says, before roughly tossing the undead to the floor.

Immediately, the elf puts her (impractically) high heel on the back of its neck. Breve, anticipating what’s coming next, turns away with a wince as Tiffney slams the sharpened end of her stiletto into the zombie’s head. With another rough kick, Tiffney decapitates it entirely, and Breve feels absolutely terrible.

...And then, suddenly, she feels a whole new source of magic rush through her body. “LEVEL UP,” her sleeve robotically declares. “CURRENT LEVEL: 20. NEW SKILL: PRAYER.”

“And would you look at that!” Tiffney sounds way too happy as she points at Breve’s status bars. “An AOE healing skill! Now, Breve can do the bare minimum of her job, but just slightly more efficiently!”

“This is perfect for grinding,” Peach says. “Breve, do you know what an AOE skill is?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Breve nods. At least she knows what that means. “Prayer’s an Area of Effect skill! That means anyone nearby gets healed when I cast it.”

“Exactly.” Peach points at Breve’s MP bar. “And, as with the previous levels, your MP has been restored to full. Therefore, we can continue grinding.”

Breve’s eyes nearly bug out of her skull. “C-continue? Wait, can we… take a brea—”

“Absolutely not!” Tiffney smacks Breve’s back with a loud guffaw. “Plus, with Prayer, now you can attack a bunch of enemies with one spell! We just gotta round ‘em up and bring them close to you, and you can tag every single one!”

C-c-c-close to her? “Uh,” Breve wheezes, “how close are we talking?”

“Errr…” Tiffney leans over. “Let’s see how big the AOE is first. Looks like your range is… damn, just six and a half feet? That’s fucking pathetic!”

“Tiffney,” Peach blurts in a dangerous tone. “Stop that.”

“Alright, alright, it’s workable,” Tiffney corrects with an eye roll. It doesn’t make Breve feel any better. “But, well, to answer your question… probably close enough to get some brain matter on you when we blow their heads up! Hahaha!”

“Oh, by the gods,” Breve groans in despair. Looks like her first day of planetary destruction is going to be a very long one.