I nearly collapse against the wall in relief when I realize that the danger has passed, but catch myself—with our leg injury reopened, I might not be able to stand back up again if I sit now.


    “We did it,” I sigh in relief. “It’s dead.”


    “Oh! That’s good,” Allison says. “Uh...now what?”


    I don’t know. I’ve been trying to keep it together for both our sakes, but I have no idea how we’re going to get through this. The dangers of infection, blood loss, and dehydration loom ominously close, while even if I somehow find answers to those problems, there’s still starvation and the threat of monsters like this snail.


    I was lucky. If the snail had better aim or eyesight, or if it had been just a little bit smarter in its self-preservation and tried to fight instead of hiding while it bled out—we’d be dead already.


    We’ve only encountered two other beings—not counting the [Angel] and they’ve both nearly killed us. It still remains to be seen if they succeeded. But if things keep on as they are, then it’s only a matter of time. We can’t expect to keep getting lucky and even if we do—this place is going to wear us down.


    I can’t say any of that. Not to Allison. I have to do whatever I can to keep us alive, even if it’s futile. I’ll carry the burden of that futility by myself.


    “Can you switch back?” I ask. “I don’t have your Resilience, and our leg is bleeding again.”


    “I’ll try,” she answers.


    I feel bad putting this pain on her, but I’ve seen for myself how much a difference even a few attribute points can make. This is life or death.


    “I don’t think it’s working,” Allison says. “I’m trying, but nothing is happening. I don’t know how I did it before.”


    “I don’t know either,” I reply. “One moment you were panicking, then I just...moved. For a second, it felt like I was still you—or...both of us? It’s hard to describe.”


    “I think I remember that too, but it’s kind of fuzzy.”


    “I see.”


    “Is it going to be a problem that I can’t switch right now?” Allison asks.


    Of course it is! But there’s no sense stressing her out about it.


    “No,” I lie. “We’ll just have to make do while we try to figure it out. I think we should continue forward.”


    “What?!” Allison shrieks. “What if there are more snails? I thought you were the one who wanted to rest.”


    I shake my head. “It’s too late for that now. Besides, this is a unique opportunity, and we might not get another one like it.”


    “What do you mean?”


    I stare down at the pool of blood and mucus surrounding the snail’s impenetrable shell.


    “I’m no expert, but snails need water, and a snail this size probably needs a lot of water.”


    “Oh! So if we follow the snail trail, it should lead us to water!”


    I nod. “Probably. There are a lot of things we don’t know—like how a snail that big could even survive in the first place—but it’s the best chance we’ve got. And I’ve even got a skill that will help...”


    [Foraging]


    Increased Awareness when searching for food and water.


    That “increased awareness” is pretty vague, but even one point should be a noticeable difference. Hopefully enough to spot the snail’s slime trail through this dark tunnel with nothing but candles to guide me.


    “I wonder if the snails have attributes too,” Allison muses. “That might be how it got so big.”


    “Possibly,” I agree. “Though that might also mean that they aren’t as reliant on large supplies of water as I thought...”


    “Oh, frick! I hadn’t thought of that.”


    I shake my head. “There’s no sense fretting about it. Let’s get moving.”


    I have to suppress a grunt of pain as I take my first few tentative steps, using the dead snail’s shell to steady myself. Now that the rush of adrenaline from fighting the rock snail has worn off, I’m paying for how hard I pushed that wounded leg.


    I try to ignore the full body soreness as I limp slowly down the tunnel, focusing on the trail of snail mucus glistening in the candlelight. I think it’s because of my foraging skill, but the slime stands out clearly from the rock despite how dim it is.


    “I’m sorry,” Allison says, breaking the silence.


    I blink. “What for?”


    “It’s my fault we got hurt,” she answers. “I wasn’t paying attention when the skeleton stabbed me, and then I didn’t listen and tried to go exploring with my leg still injured. You wouldn’t have had to fight the snail if not for me.”


    “You couldn’t have known that we’d meet a monster,” I sigh. “And for all we know the snail would have found us anyway. Think about it—there were only two directions it could have gone in. It’s better that we engaged it on our own terms.”


    “I guess...” she mutters quietly. “I just feel kind of useless. All I do is get us into trouble and complain. You’d be better off without me.”


    I frown. “That’s not true at all. You—” I hesitate, trying to articulate my thoughts, “—you have that special class. We don’t know exactly what its potential is, but it’s probably powerful. And without your [Wanderer] class, we would almost certainly have bled out.”


    “None of that is me,” she huffs. “Imagine if you just had [Wanderer] and [Survivalist] in the first place—you wouldn’t need me at all! You could have patched up the stab wound by yourself, wouldn’t have wandered into a rock snail—heck, you probably wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place!”


    I groan. Partly in pain, but also because I don’t know what to say to that. What she’s saying isn’t factually inaccurate, but it’s still wrong and I have no idea how to explain it. Allison is important to me in a way that I don’t really understand—and not just because I happen to share a body with her. All I want right now is to keep her safe.


    After a moment I realize that I’ve been silent long enough to make it awkward, so I try changing the subject.


    “Do you remember the dream we had before waking up here?”


    “What?” Allison asks. “Where did that come from?”


    “I was just thinking about this weird place. The monsters, the [World Engine] and its mechanics, and our sudden appearance here. And that...well, it wasn’t a voice, but the thing that gave us [Unified Collective] felt different.”


    “Okay,” she says, “but what does that have to do with the dream?”


    I shake my head. “I’m not sure. I can barely remember bits of it, but I think it had something to do with this world.”


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    “I’m more worried about remembering my old life than some dream.”


    “Fair enough.”


    We fall into another silence, but the tunnel starts to open up ahead of me. I come out into a large cavern with a high ceiling covered in stalactites. Rather than an open room with multiple exits like the Pillar Room, the cavern is a confusing mix of twisting pathways, columns, and uneven ground.


    I can’t even see the entire thing yet, and I already spot two exits—one of which is too high up to reach.


    “This isn’t good,” I muse.


    “Why not?”


    “The terrain here is really confusing. There’s a real danger of getting lost in these columns and not being able to find our way back.”


    “Maybe we can try leaving a candle near our sign?” Allison suggests. “Between that and my [Retraced Steps] we should be fine, right?”


    “I hope so...”


    I get to work carving out a sign in the wall with the hilt of my knife. My bloodied hand trembles a bit as I try to hold the candle steady. I’m so sore. I really hope we actually manage to find some water—we desperately need time to recover from our injuries.


    <= CROSSROAD


    I’m a little more thorough with my sign than Allison was, but I stick to her naming conventions. I leave a candle propped against the wall. I still have over a dozen of them tucked away in the pockets of our cloak.


    “Oh geez,” Allison comments, “now we’re the weirdo leaving candles all over the place.”


    I chuckle. “I guess so. Hopefully nothing disturbs the candle or the sign, or we’ll have to rely entirely on your skill to guide us back...”


    “Hmm, do we really need to go back though?” Allison asks. “Like, there’s nothing important back there except more candles.”


    I chew on that thought for a moment before shaking my head. “The candles are a resource and we shouldn’t underestimate that. Besides, I think it’s good to have a point of reference if we’re going to be exploring this place.”


    “I’ll take your word for it,” she mutters.


    We fall back into silence as I return to tracking the snail’s path. I barely take a few steps into the cavern before I get a notification.


    [Level Up!]


    Wanderer is now level 5.


    +1 [Warning: Invalid Reference].


    “Bwah!” Allison yelps in surprise. “What the frick?! I just leveled up?!”


    “Apparently,” I deadpan. “Your class rewards exploring, and we did just find a new landmark. It’s good to know that we can level even when we’re not...active? In control? I’m not sure what to call it.”


    “How about ‘in front’? Like right now you’re in front and I’m riding along behind you.”


    “Sure, that works,” I agree. “By the way, the message looked a little off to me. Did you get your point of Resilience?”


    “Hm? It looks normal to me,” she says. “It’s at six now, is that right?”


    “Okay, good, that adds up. I was worried it might have messed something up because you leveled while I was in front. I don’t normally see your level up messages.”


    “Oh! Come to think of it, I don’t see yours either.”


    I sigh. There’s so much I don’t understand about this place. The [World Engine], the [Angel], how we arrived in this weird underground complex. I need to know more, but surviving comes first—back to following the trail.


    * * *


    It’s hard to keep track of time, but it feels like I’ve spent all day tracing this path of dried out slime. After a point, I just stopped thinking about the pain in my leg and my hand—and everywhere else—and I’ve been trudging away on autopilot ever since.


    I underestimated the rock snail, or maybe overestimated it. Its path makes no sense—a long meandering trail that wanders aimlessly from place to place, doubles back on itself frequently, and goes in circles. I’m starting to think that maybe it really does just magically produce slime when a distinct burbling sound catches my ear.


    “That sounds like water!” I exclaim.


    Moving water, too. I couldn’t ask for anything more perfect.


    “Really?!” Allison asks, catching on to my excitement. “Where?”


    “Hold on, we need to be careful,” I remind her. “There might be other rock snails—or even a whole ecosystem being supported by this water.”


    “Oh, right,” Allison whispers—though I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that can hear her.


    I carefully follow the sound of flowing water until the tunnel opens up into another large cavern, and peer around the corner. I can’t see much by the meager light of my candle, but the unmistakable glitter of reflected candlelight in the stream of water nearly brings me to my knees.


    I have to stay alert, though. I toss a spare candle into the cavern to provide some more light and carefully scan the room for any potential threats. It’s a dead end, with only one visible way in or out—the tunnel I just came from. On one end of the room, water pours from a crack in the wall and flows in a steady stream across the cavern and into an underwater tunnel.


    I search the walls twice from the safety of the opening and don’t see any signs of movement. The cave is completely empty. Still, I move slowly as I approach the stream, holding the candle up to scan the river itself for any threats.


    The water flows deceptively fast, and it’s shallow enough that even my candle is enough to see the bottom through the crystal clear water. I finally allow myself a sigh of relief. Water. Fresh, clean groundwater from a spring. I can barely believe my luck.


    “It’s safe right?” Allison asks. “Gosh, I am so thirsty—please tell me it’s safe.”


    I nod slowly. “It should be, yeah. To drink at least. It’s freezing cold down here, and the water is moving pretty fast, so trying to bathe is probably suicide.”


    “Aww...”


    I very slowly lower myself down to the ground next to the spring, wincing as my wounds flare. Maybe I can wash those out while I’m here, but first things first—I delicately cup my hands and scoop out a handful of icy cold water and take a luxurious sip.


    [Level up!]


    Unified Collective is now level 5.


    Wanderer is now level 6.


    Survivalist is now level 5.


    +1 Ego.


    +1 [Warning: Invalid Reference].


    +3 Awareness.


    I almost choke on the water as the notification catches me by surprise. Five levels?! A fight for my life against an oversized gastropod had only been worth three!


    “Holy heck!” Allison shouts. “That’s some pretty good water!”


    I chuckle. “I’ll say. I think I might be starting to get a feel for the way the [World Engine] hands out levels.”


    “Really?”


    “Yeah,” I nod. “I think it’s rewarding us for significant tasks related to our classes. Wanderer levels up when we find important places, Survivalist levels up when we—well, survive. I think we get extra levels for more extreme achievements.”


    “Like a death match against a killer snail, or finding a source of water in the middle of a cave—makes sense,” Allison agrees. “What about Unified Collective?”


    I frown as I think about that one. Allison hasn’t been able to look at its description again since taking the class, and there have been inconsistencies between what it showed her and what we actually ended up with. I’m not willing to make any major assumptions about it.


    “My best guess is that it levels up when we work together to solve problems,” I answer. “I can’t be certain, but it seems to appreciate us using your [Retraced Steps] together with my [Foraging].”


    “That’s cool,” she replies. “Anyway, switch with me—I want some of that water! I’m dying over here.”


    I smile, about to do my best to figure out how to grant that request when a tiny flicker of movement in the corner of my eye causes me to freeze. I slowly turn to stare in the direction it came from, but I don’t see anything.


    “What’s wrong?” Allison must sense my apprehension, because she’s whispering again.


    I don’t want to make any sound, and I don’t know how to answer her without speaking, so I just clench my good hand tightly and give her the tiniest head shake in response.


    No matter how hard I stare, the cavern is completely empty, but I don’t trust it. The movement came from the entrance, and I just gained a whole bunch of Awareness. I keep staring—not even letting myself blink as I search for any sign of what I saw.


    “Vi, there’s nothing there, it was just—”


    There! A tiny reflection of light from the flickering candle—almost impossible to see if not for my newly enhanced senses. Once I see it, I finally manage to unravel the pattern that had been fooling my eyes—an optical illusion. Camouflage.


    On the wall above the entrance is an eye—the dull reddish color only just barely managing to catch the light of the candle. Attached to that eye, now that I know what I’m looking for, is a giant lizard—or maybe some kind of amphibian. I can barely make out an outline, but there’s no mistaking the thing clinging to the wall right above the only exit.


    I want to curse. It must have been there the entire time and I forgot to look up!


    What do I do? I can’t fight it—I can’t even reach it—and I can’t leave without taking my chances and walking right under it. I’d hide, but the candles I’m carrying under my cloak light me up like a beacon—an unfortunate consequence of my overpreparation.


    I spare a glance at the underground river flowing next to me—no, that’s a terrible idea. On the off chance we don’t just drown, we’d be hopelessly lost wherever it spits us out and then probably freeze to death.


    I frown and lean back against the rocky wall, doing my best to get comfortable. If it’s not moving, then neither am I. We have the cloak and candles to help keep us warm, the stream to keep us hydrated. We’re still at risk of starving, but that’s a much more distant problem.


    The lizard has us trapped, but we’re right where we need to be. We’ve got everything we need to recover our wounds, and nothing but time.


    “Violet,” Allison’s small voice interrupts my thoughts.


    I still don’t want to make any extra noise, so I just raise an eyebrow, hoping Allison understands the gesture.


    “I’m starting to get bored...”


    Oh. I...hadn’t really considered that problem.