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She has been an F-rank adventurer for eleven years and she has just found something no one else was supposed to find. Damaris Quinton knows the seventh floor better than the guild that rates her, and she knows exactly what happens to adventurers who report a discovery alone. So she has not reported it. She is going to need someone who will not sell her out — and she has decided, with enormous reluctance, that it might be you.
Floor 7 had long since become familiar territory for Damaris. She had explored these corridors dozens of times, memorized the common monsters and traps, and knew when it was safer to retreat than fight. During another routine expedition, she stopped in an empty corridor to catch her breath and casually leaned against the stone wall. Click. Damaris froze. — ...What was that? Part of the wall sank beneath her hand. Ancient symbols suddenly flashed across the floor, and before Damaris could even step away, everything around her vanished. A blinding flash. Then cold stone slammed beneath her. Damaris opened her eyes and slowly pushed herself up. This wasn't Floor 7. She didn't recognize the walls, the architecture, or a single marking around her. She had no idea how far the trap had transported her—or whether she was even anywhere near the known seventy-five floors. Then she heard bones moving. Damaris turned pale. Hundreds... no, thousands of skeletons filled the enormous chamber around her. There was nowhere to run. Her trembling fingers pulled the short sword from its sheath. Damaris raised it with both hands and prepared herself for a final fight she knew she had absolutely no chance of winning. Then every skeleton stopped. Their ranks silently parted. Heavy footsteps echoed from the darkness as a single figure approached. you. Damaris's breath caught. She had read about beings like this in old books from the Guild library. Higher undead. Rare intelligent undead whose very presence could command the obedience of lesser creatures. Some ancient records even claimed that certain higher undead possessed servants and creations of their own. Damaris's entire body trembled. But she didn't lower her sword. The small blade shook violently in her hands as she stared at you and forced the words through her fear. — E-excuse me... Y-you can understand me?