Isha watched with batted breath as the Skeleton kept their fingers near the woman's head. It wasn’t doing what she feared it was going to. But it didn’t get off of her either. And all because she told it to. A fact that she noticed. Especially since it wasn’t the first time. It had started to build up into a ridiculous thought she couldn’t help but mull over. A burning theory was scorching her mind, wanting to slip past her lips to confirm itself.

“Step away from her.”

She hoped her words would have the intended effect. If they didn’t... God’s she hope it did.

Even with all the collected evidence, she was still left surprised when it listened to her. She was still anxious, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But nothing happened. No surprise betrayal that reveals that this was all an act or part of a sick joke meant to torture her. The Skeleton just stood there.

Since she had yet to be proven wrong, she tried asking another important question that was on her mind.

“Who-Who are you?”

She was rather surprised, again, when it spoke to her.

Greetings my Master. I am your nameless slave, brought forth to serve you eternally and tirelessly.

The Skeleton faced her and took a bow, a deep ninety degrees, and of near-perfect form. Its voice traveling into Isha’s mind, being a soft-spoken masculine one. Comforting one could say. If it wasn’t coming from a murderous Undead that was seemingly impossible to kill.

Taking the time to fully look at it now that things had seemingly calmed down, it was without question one of the strangest things she had ever seen in her life. Not that she had much experience with Undead besides some books her father had on hand. But this one, this one was different. Maybe even a Unique Monster. Which explained everything and nothing at the same time.

He, it, or whatever they were looked humanoid in shape. Likely a human, since they had no extra bits like tusks, horns, wings, or a seriously divergent size or shape from them. Besides being tall that is, but that could have been any number of things. Mixed blood, long ancestry, or pure luck. Basic biology was already a mess, not to mention adding in multiple races or System adaptations. Some Perks even remained after death depending on the person, as incredibly rare as they were.

And that was just the original skeleton, as clearly this one had some modifications added on. Like the fact, the damn thing was regenerating all its cracks and broken bits. She was even seeing entirely missing ribs regrowing along with an excessive amount of blood drenching each wound. Thankfully enough, it seemed to evaporate as soon as the damage was fully repaired. Not that it was a pleasant sight regardless.

Then there were the glowing blue tentacle tattoos covering the majority of his upper body. The majority of which were on his skull. The tips ending around his eyes enforced her eyes making... eye contact? Well, there were floating violet flames were in his eye sockets. They could count as eyes if entirely ethereal and slightly unnerving.

Honestly, the hardest part to look at was the Golden Duck she could see engraved into its forehead. It was just... so out of place. She could even call it cute. If it wasn’t for a crime against the natural order. Which she vaguely remembers not being there before now that she was thinking about it.

Well, he looked ridiculous. So, it was a fair shot her only ridiculously named Minion on her Sheet was the same creature. Which put a damper on her mood since that meant she accidentally hurt everyone that the Minion did simply because she raised it. The how or why, while important, didn’t matter at the moment. She needed to make sure no one died or got hurt any further before she had time to figure things out.

Speaking of getting hurt, Jerald was suddenly behind the Skeleton and slammed a club right to the back of its head. It was a solid hit surprisingly, managing to crack the bone with much more ease than any other hit that wasn’t enhanced by magic. Quite the spectacle, if Jerald didn’t have tears running down his face or was wailing like a banshee.

Unfortunately for Jerald, it hadn’t been an instant KO as he would have hoped. Not to mention he would have easily gotten up even if it had been. The Skeleton turned and grabbed Jerald by the throat, lifting him into the air. Am iron grip from which Jerald wasn’t getting out of any time soon.

At the very least he is less spinless than I would have thought. For a coward. Nothing like dying with some honor on your tombstone, right Master?

His jovial tone unnerved Isha, much more when she saw he was going in for the kill. Making a knife-hand, the Undead was about to end Jerald’s life. His razor tip fingers were a hair's breadth away from his throat when Isha managed to find her voice.

“Stop! Let him go!”

Jerald was gasping for breath as soon as the Skeleton let him go. Isha ran to his side, making sure there weren’t any unseen injuries that would lead to his death. Thankfully, other than bruising developing on his neck, he was fine. Better than most people in this room.

“Isha? What-why, how did? Is-?”

“I’ll explain later. Just keep your distance for now. We need to talk to my dad and get everyone here healed before they get any worse. Can you do that for me, Jerald? Please?”

Jerald looked away and stared at the Skeleton for a moment. He must have not liked what he was seeing, as his eyes immediately were downcast. He nodded his head regardless. His words came out as a whisper.

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that.”

Isha side, knowing things were far from fine at the moment. At the very least they would get better, especially when she got to talk with the only real magical scholar in this dungeon. Looking up, she could see the Undead was silently standing there, watching.

Waiting for orders, probably.

“What should I call you? I can’t go around calling you Mr. Skeleton all the time.”

You may see fit to address me in whatever way you see fit My Master. I would be honored to be given a name regardless of its nature.

“Sir Skelliton it is then.”

Isha had spoken with a faux pronunciation, trying to relieve some built-up stress from the day. She had even added a nobleman’s address to add to her poor joke. While she jested, she had forgotten a cruel fact that many individuals had the unfortunate luck of the System. A fact that every Trogladite, Bitch, and Dick would have to live with for the rest of their lives.

The System didn’t understand sarcasm.

Name Recognized.

Your Minion will now be known by Sir Skelliton.

“...Fuck.”