Everything Solus had witnessed throughout its long tenure as guardian of the tower did little to prepare it for its new master’s arrival. Not that the ancient door considered the small girl before it worthy of the title. Instead, Solus remained in a state of bewildered disbelief.

  How had she gotten through? Even after Sarah’s explanation of her… “Skill,” the ageless being still didn’t quite grasp the concept. Neither, for that matter, did Sarah, but that was of less concern to Solus than its own profound confusion.

  I still don’t understand what a respawn point is?

  Solus’s long existence had instilled in it a pride that prevented it from asking the girl to further simplify her explanation, even though it was desperately curious about the workings of her mystical power. What she asked after finishing the last book on the shelf finally pushed Solus past its breaking point, shattering its carefully maintained composure.

  “How in the seven hells did you get in the tower in the first place?!” The question burst out, an accidental eruption of frustration. It wasn’t angry because of her lack of power, nor even because she had become its master. It was the sheer, baffling stupidity of her question that drove it to distraction. Worse, Solus didn’t actually know. No one had ever explained how they came and went from the tower, and even if they had, the old soul’s memory was… unreliable these days.

  “Aren’t you, like… a magical door? Can’t you just, like, open up to another location or something?”

  If Solus had possessed arms, it would have slapped its… frame? What did she think it was, a teleportation gate? The very idea! She continued to pepper it with ridiculous questions, one after another, until Solus simply tuned her out.

  It would be easier to return to slumber than endure this… This. The thought drifted through its consciousness, a welcome escape from the girl’s bewildering presence.

  ???????????

  Sarah glared at the unyielding door, mirroring her own frustration. It wasn't just locked; it was practically radiating stubborn silence. "Fine," she muttered, sinking into a nearby armchair. "Be that way." She was beyond tired of this tower. A hot meal, a chilled drink, a long, luxurious bath – those were the things her soul craved.

  "What's the point of having magic if I'm stuck in here?" she grumbled, then paused. Magic! Her eyes widened. "Wait a second..." She sprang to her feet and hurried over to Solus, the object that had become both her prison and potentially her escape route. "Hey, Solus? Remember when I had to, you know... Die to go through you? Now that I'm the master, that shouldn't be necessary anymore, right?"

  "As you command, Master," Solus replied, his usual ethereal voice finally breaking its sullen silence.

  "Perfect! Open up, then." Sarah bounced on the balls of her feet, anticipation bubbling inside her. Why was it taking so long this time? She fidgeted, shoving her hands into the pockets of the dark green trousers she'd liberated from a nearby drawer. A matching shirt, also green, had replaced the uncomfortable bandages she'd initially worn.

  Even though everything in the tower was technically hers now, a small thrill of mischief ran through her as she thought of her "loot." It still felt like she was raiding someone else's wardrobe. I really need to stop thinking like a thief, she thought with a small smile.

  She rocked on her heels, a surge of anticipation bubbling inside her. Solus was taking its sweet time opening. Honestly, the Karinthian order had zero fashion sense. Hopefully, I can find some decent clothes before I get out of here. At least it's not a black robe.

  "Where are you going, Master?" Stepping into the familiar, dimly lit corridor, Sarah heard Solus's plaintive query. It sounded like a lost lamb, echoing the same question it had bleated for millennia.

  "I need to get out of here. Why? What's wrong?" Sarah already suspected what was bothering her new, surprisingly expressive servant. Even if it was a door, that didn't mean it wouldn't get lonely after who knew how long on its own.

  "Your company... Though brief and peculiar... Was... Warming to my wood." The answer gave Sarah pause. Was that… A joke? Or actual sentiment? A strange pang of guilt pricked her. It felt oddly cruel leaving the sentient door alone now, but lugging a heavy relic around wasn't exactly practical.

  "Since you're made of magic, can't you just, like, shapeshift into a ring or something? Then you could come with me." The image of a talking ring made Sarah grin. Solus's response, however, deflated her amusement.

  "I don't know where your idea of what magic can do comes from, but how would I change into something so small? It's physically impossible. Plus, who would guard the control room while you were away? Anyone could walk in and claim ownership if you weren't there and I didn't stop them."

  So that's how it works? Because there was no Master present, I took ownership of the tower. Sarah understood that even though she had died twice to get into the so-called control room, a considerable amount of luck had played a part. That, and an incredible amount of pain she desperately wanted to forget.

  "In that case, I'll leave alone. Sorry, Solus. After I get out of here, I'll scout the area to see if the reports in the books are still accurate. Then I'll come back and let you know what's happening. I need to plan my next steps carefully. I'm pretty sure a 'friendly neighbourhood Necromancer' isn't a thing around here. I mean, even the class description was pretty blunt about that. Anyway, please guard my room, and I'll be back as soon as I can. Thank you, Solus."

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  With that, Sarah headed down the corridor and around the corner. She had formulated two escape plans, having finally remembered that magic was real and that she had yet to experiment with it.

  Got to stop forgetting the good stuff!

  Plan A was to re-examine the fountain, the other rooms, and everything in between, now that she controlled the tower, hoping some magical switch might respond to her touch or presence. Sarah meticulously checked each room, scrutinizing every wall, door, and floor tile, but to no avail.

  She examined every brick and slab of the fountain, even shaking the basin so violently she almost ripped it from its moorings. She was still getting used to her newfound strength, and that, combined with her rising frustration, wasn't helping.

  Well, Plan A was a bust. Sarah took a much-needed drink from the fountain, the cool water refreshing her before she moved on to Plan B.

  You have consumed the Water of Sin. HP, MP and Stamina recovery are increased by 500% for the next 2 hours.

  Plan B was much simpler than plan A. It involved one of the three empty rooms, and it was something she was eager to test. Truth be told, she was strangely happy her first option had failed. She had only designated this as plan B because the tower was hers, and Sarah had never been a fan of destroying her own things. With little choice left, it was time to test the limits of her strength and brute force her way out of the tower.

  Sarah returned to the room she had arrived in. It felt fitting. The cold, empty room was the perfect location to start some renovations.

  "Please don't hurt too much," she muttered to herself. Taking a few deep breaths, Sarah mustered all her willpower to not pull her punch. Then, with a grunt, she drove her clenched fist straight into the floor with all her might.

  "Argh! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You fucking bastard. Ow." Sarah cradled her throbbing fist, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't do anything other than wallow in self-pity, nursing her self-inflicted injury for the next ten minutes.

  Slowly, the pain began to fade, eventually disappearing completely. Sarah wiped her eyes with her uninjured hand before inspecting her now, magically-healed right hand. It still looked a little red, but it was much better than the mangled mess of bones it had been a quarter of an hour ago. Her body still flinched when she tentatively touched it.

  Congratulations! Necrotic Soul has leveled up.

  That's the magic that heals my wounds, right? Checking her skills, Sarah confirmed her assumption after rereading the skill's description. A small smile played on her lips. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. She flexed her hand, the redness already fading. Time to try again.

  - Necrotic Soul: Your soul has been shrouded in the magic of death. All damage received is reduced by 50%, whether physical or mental. You are even capable of healing minor wounds without the services of a paid healer.

  Sarah wasn't deterred by the pain; she knew it was necessary. The fractured stone floor, spiderwebbed from her first attack, was a testament to its impact. A smile tugged at her lips as she considered the time it would take to break through.

  "If that first hit hadn't done so much damage, I might have given up and starved to death when my… Meat source ran out," she mused. "Not that death is permanent, but I definitely don't want to go out like that. Especially if I'm just going to come back and experience it all over again." A sigh escaped her lips. There was no point dwelling on what had happened. The military, professionals if not the best, were adaptable. And so would she be.

  "It's insane to think I managed to damage this floor with a single punch," she marveled. "I'm not sure how many more it will take, but at least I will eventually break through… Eventually." She grimaced at the last word, a flicker of doubt creeping in. With renewed determination, she slammed her fist into the ground again.

  The pain would have been unbearable, forcing her to stop, if not for the desperate need to escape.

  After the third punch, a bit of trial and error, and agonizing waits for flesh to regenerate and reform, Sarah began incorporating the Karinthian Form into her attacks. The power behind each blow intensified, the stone groaning under the assault.

  - Form of the Necromancer: You have harnessed knowledge of a secret style of hand-to-hand combat known only to those in the order of Karinth. Train your form in the Tower of Death, and you will gain access to even more techniques. All damage inflicted through physical or magical actions in this form is 75% stronger.

  The skill didn't boost her attack power against the floor, but what it did do was allow her to increase the precision of her strikes, each one subsequently dealing more damage.

  After the first hour, the stone floor had fractured, allowing Sarah to remove large segments. She was acutely aware of the weight of the rock chunks she was carrying—a testament to her Strength sitting in thirty and another feat impossible back on Earth. Each subsequent strike caused even more pieces to break away as she carved her way deeper.

  Another hour passed, and Sarah returned to the octagonal room to replenish her buffs. The Waters of Sin, which had initially seemed dubious, were now a welcome sight. She took a few minutes to rest before continuing.

  Her plan was working. Though she was in no rush to throw herself back into the pit of self-inflicted pain, she did want to escape the tower as quickly as possible. "You'd think the Master would be able to teleport in their own tower, right?" Sarah grumbled, flexing the fingers of her right hand. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of bones breaking under her own strength.

  "I hate this place," she complained gloomily, bringing up her stats.

  (Form of the Necromancer) had increased a level. (Necrotic Soul) and (Pain Resistance) had both reached level 3. It was rather depressing. Sarah's magic wasn't the dazzling type, it was more focused on augmentation. Apart from (Create Undead), which she couldn't see herself using at all.

  "There's got to be a faster way to do this," Sarah grunted, her arms aching. "My tiny arms weren't built for this kind of work."

  A spark ignited in her eyes. Simple, she thought. Why didn't I think of that before? A surge of excitement propelled her down the corridor to the workroom. The damage, while still significant, seemed less daunting now, fueled by her newfound energy.

  Sarah wasted no time. She began stomping, each strike sending shockwaves that rattled her teeth. Duh, she thought, a grin spreading across her face. My legs are way stronger than my arms.

  For the next two hours, Sarah stomped and hurled chunks of stone, pausing only briefly to replenish her buffs with the Water of Sin. The larger muscles in her legs made the work far more efficient. (Necrotic Soul), now used less frequently, quickly mended any tissue damage – a stark contrast to the agonizing wait for the bones in her hand to heal.

  Throughout the entire process, Sarah maintained (Form of the Necromancer). Even though she was using her feet, she focused on precision, ensuring every stomp delivered maximum destructive force.

  Just as a fresh wave of notifications appeared, her foot plunged through the floor.

  Congratulations! Necrotic Soul has leveled up.

  Congratulations! Your Class (Necromancer) has leveled up: +1 Vitality, Endurance. +2 Intelligence, Wisdom.

  +5 stat points have been awarded.

  The fleeting elation of leveling up vanished, replaced by shock and confusion. The floor had simply given way. Before she could scold herself for the obvious flaw in her plan, Sarah was falling, plunging into the darkness below.

  It wasn't what she'd expected, but as the wind whipped past her face, a strange sense of liberation washed over her. At least, she was finally free.