When Misha reached out her hand, the sphere of light was hovering exactly ten feet above her head. The soft holy light flowed down from the top of her head, enveloping her entire body in a thin, silvery halo.
Her hair was light flaxen, shimmering with an almost translucent gold under the holy light. A few strands, damp with sweat, clung to her temples, making her face look exceptionally clean.
Perhaps influenced by that previous succubus or something, her features weren't exactly breathtaking, but they possessed a reassuring softness—a petite nose, lips slightly pale from blood loss, and light green eyes so clear they didn't seem to belong to someone who had just escaped death. They were like a layer of spring water illuminated by the sun, completely untainted by dust.
She wore the standard white robe of a cleric, with a silver holy emblem pinned to her collar. The hem of her robe was stained with dust and blood, but the embroidered patterns on her collar and cuffs remained neat and intact—the thorn wreath pattern of the Church of Light, symbolizing "healing and protection."
Her staff leaned against her shoulder, its shaft wrapped in polished leather. The crystal at the tip glowed with a soft, milky white light under the illumination of the light sphere, mirroring her own temperament: reserved, gentle on the outside but strong on the inside.
She looked at Lu Mao with a steady gaze, free of patronizing scrutiny or forced warmth, simply waiting quietly for him to take her hand.
He reached out and shook her hand. Her fingers were cool, with thin calluses on her knuckles from holding her staff for long periods, but her grip was stronger than he expected.
“Lu Mao. I don't have a class. I'm just... a temp, I guess.”
“A temp?”
Misha withdrew her hand and repeated the word to herself. She clearly didn't understand how someone without a class could survive all the way to the ninth floor of the dungeon. But she didn't press further, simply tilting her head and letting the matter drop.
【Key figure "Misha (Cleric)"'s trust level toward the host has reached the "Initial Trust" threshold】
【Key node unlocked】
【The "Save" function is now available. Would you like to save now?】
Lu Mao choked on his own spit in surprise.
Save? This crappy system actually had a save function? He had died thirteen times, and the system had never even shown him a manual save button. Now it was suddenly telling him he could save on his own?
“Hold on.”
He stood up, pretending to stretch his limbs, and walked to the other side of the boulder with his back to Misha. “When did you get a save function?” he whispered to the system. “I died so many times before, why didn't you let me save?”
【Experiencing major historical events or unlocking key nodes will trigger manual saves.】
“So I wasn't even qualified to save before?”
【You could understand it that way.】
Lu Mao took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a bit pathetic.
“Save.”
【Saving...】
【Save Anchor: Misha (Cleric) (Trust Level: Initial Trust)】
【Save Point: Ninth floor, Blood Nest Cloister, east side backup passage, resting】
【Current Return Count: 4】
【Save successful. The host will automatically reload from this save point upon death.】
Lines of notifications lit up and faded at the edge of his vision, finally leaving only a single line of small text:
【Save complete. Welcome back, Lu Mao.】
He walked back from behind the boulder and sat down across from Misha again. She had already pulled a piece of dry ration from her pouch, breaking it in half and handing one piece to him.
“Your employer...” Misha chewed on her ration, asking casually, “He seems to know a lot about the dungeon? The antidote you used for the rot poison, and that cloak you're wearing that lets you disguise yourself as a slime—did he give them to you?”
“Yes, he did.”
There was no point in hiding it.
Lu Mao took the ration and bit into it. It was so hard it nearly chipped his teeth, but the taste wasn't bad—slightly salty, like a compressed biscuit.
“That's good.”
“What's good about it?”
“If someone sent you here, it means you're not a madman.”
After saying this, Misha chuckled.
Her smile was very faint, her lips curving up just a tiny bit, but her entire aura transformed completely with that small movement—shifting from a cleric desperately clinging to life on the edge of death to a young girl who might not even be twenty yet.
Lu Mao looked at her, suddenly feeling a bit guilty.
“Actually, for a moment just now...” he said, “I wondered if you were a succubus in disguise.”
Misha's smile froze for half a second. She lightly tapped her staff against the ground, and the sphere of light flickered off and back on in response, as if expressing her displeasure.
“...Do you think mistaking a cleric for a succubus is a compliment?”
“Depends on the context. Succubus are generally pretty good-looking.”
Misha's ears turned slightly red, but her expression remained calm. She tapped her staff again; this time the sphere of light didn't go out, but merely dimmed by half.
“Do you always talk like this?”
“Depends. I don't speak like a human to enemies, and I don't lie to teammates. You're a teammate, so I'm telling the truth—you really do look a bit silly when you smile.”
“...Would you believe me if I said our newly established trust has just collapsed?”
“Too late—I've already saved,” Lu Mao mumbled, stuffing the last bite of the ration into his mouth.
Misha didn't understand what "save" meant, but she roughly took it as some kind of contract or promise.
She didn't pry further, simply handing him her waterskin before standing up to pat the dust off her robe.
Her movements suddenly froze mid-pat.
Remaining bent over, her eyes locked onto her left hand pressed against the stone wall. Her fingertips were glowing faintly, as if some blue fluorescent substance had gotten onto her skin and was being passively stimulated by her divine power.
“...What is this?”
She lifted her hand to inspect it closely. The fluorescent layer pulsed along with her breathing. It had no temperature, caused no pain, and gave off no feedback of magicules fluctuation.
She rubbed it with her thumb, but it wouldn't come off; instead, the glow grew a fraction brighter.
Lu Mao leaned in to take a look, and alarm bells instantly blared in his mind.
【Target: Misha (Cleric) (Left Hand)】
【Status: Marked】
【Source of Mark: Unknown】
【Type of Mark: Tracking Mark】
【Note: This mark has been attached for approximately 45 minutes and is currently active. Once activated, the mark will broadcast coordinate signals outwards, with an expected coverage range spanning the entire ninth floor.】
Debao, why didn't you tell me something this important sooner!
Lu Mao roared inwardly. They were already at the border between the ninth and tenth floors, and only now was he being told they were being tracked—even if they wanted to turn back now, it would be too late!
【The current system version is too low. The scanning function is only passively triggered upon encountering specific objects or during critical moments. At all other times, it must be actively triggered by the host.】
What kind of sane person goes around actively scanning other people's palms for no reason!
Rate on N.U.
