The corridor stretched on, dimly lit by the flickering blue flames of the mausoleum's ghostly sconces. The stale air carried the faint sound of bones rattling, and sure enough, before long, more skeletons emerged from the darkness—rusty weapons clutched in their bony hands.
Leona sighed, drawing her sword with practiced ease. "More of them. Stay sharp."
Pan gripped his weapon tightly, already bracing himself. He had been nothing but a walking disaster since they entered this place, tripping every trap imaginable, yet somehow surviving each by a hair's breadth. Even so, he couldn't just sit back while Leona handled everything.
When the skeletons lunged, Leona's blade cut through them like paper, but Pan surprised even himself by managing to hold off a pair on his own. His movements weren't elegant, but his instincts carried him—dodging, blocking, and countering with raw determination.
After the last skeleton fell and clattered into a heap of bones, the two pressed deeper into the dungeon. The oppressive silence that followed made their footsteps echo louder than before.
Not long after, they stumbled upon a heavy stone door, half-buried in dust. Strange glyphs decorated its surface. With effort, they pushed it open, revealing a wide chamber inside.
Unlike the other rooms, this one wasn't filled with skeletons or traps. Instead, the walls were carved with intricate murals—depicting warriors, robed figures, and a great tomb at the center. A faint golden light shimmered across the images, as if the chamber itself recognized their presence.
Leona stepped forward first, her gaze scanning the murals. "A safe room… finally." She lowered her weapon, her expression softening for the first time since they entered.
Pan exhaled in relief and collapsed onto a stone bench near the wall. "Thank the gods. My nerves can't take much more of this…"
Leona paced slowly around the chamber, her armored boots ringing softly against the stone. The walls were alive with carvings—rows of warriors kneeling, mages channeling spells, and a towering figure at the center of it all. Unlike the crude traps and rubble they'd passed before, these murals had been painstakingly preserved, etched with reverence.
Her hand brushed across the grooves of the stone. "These aren't just decorations," she murmured. "This whole room is a record."
I sat forward on the cold bench, curiosity tugging at me despite my exhaustion. "A record of what?"
Leona stopped at a panel where the central figure was depicted, holding a staff tipped with a blazing crystal. Unlike the others, this figure wore no crown, but a narrow diadem glowed above their brow. Their presence seemed to command both soldier and sorcerer alike.
"This isn't a king," Leona said quietly, almost to herself. "It's a Warden."
I blinked. "A what?"
She glanced back at me, her eyes sharp. "High Wardens. Guardians chosen centuries ago. They weren't rulers of kingdoms, but something greater—chosen to keep the balance between the living and the dead. When ancient disasters rose, it was the Wardens who sealed them away."
My gaze followed the mural's sequence as she spoke. In one carving, the Warden stood at the head of an army, fending off waves of shadowy beasts. In another, robed priests forged great chains of light. And at the farthest wall, the Warden's body was shown laid in a massive sarcophagus, glowing runes binding it shut.
I swallowed. The air felt heavier now, as though the room itself disapproved of our presence. "So… this whole dungeon is their tomb?"
Leona nodded grimly. "Their mausoleum. Built not just to honor them—but to keep what they sealed from ever breaking loose."
Her voice carried a weight I hadn't heard before, like she was no longer speaking to me, but to the carvings themselves.
For a long moment, silence filled the chamber, broken only by the faint crackle of the blue sconces outside the doorway.
I forced a nervous laugh, though it came out thin. "And here I thought this was just another deathtrap dungeon with skeletons. Turns out we're trampling over some legendary guardian's resting place."
Leona didn't smile. She kept her eyes on the last mural—the one where the chains of light wrapped around the sarcophagus. The lines of magic etched into the stone almost seemed to shimmer faintly, as though the seal still held even now.
"Pan," she said finally, her tone sharper than before. "If the records are right, then this place isn't meant for adventurers. It was never supposed to be found. Which means…" she trailed off, crossing her arms.
I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, staring at the mural's glowing seal. The thought of something sealed being underneath us made my skin crawl.
But another thought nagged at me harder.
"…Leona," I said, breaking the silence. "Why are you here? I mean, this dungeon isn't exactly the kind of place a beginner like me stumbles into, but you… you came looking for it, didn't you?"
Her shoulders stiffened. For a moment, she didn't answer. Instead, she ran a gloved hand over the final mural, tracing the etched chains as if confirming something.
Finally, she exhaled. "I wasn't planning to tell you. But since we're both in this mess…" She tapped the stone lightly. "This mausoleum is the objective of a quest. Not just any quest—an S-Class Quest"
Her lips curved faintly, though it wasn't quite a smile. "Quests like this don't reward you with gold, or weapons, or even titles. They give you something far rarer—access to classes outside your reach. Hidden ones. Exclusive ones."
I blinked, sitting up straighter. "Classes? You mean—like the system can just… let you switch?"
Leona nodded. "The system calls them '??? Class.' The name is hidden until you clear the conditions. Some players wait their entire lives and never find a single opportunity like this. The fact that I even triggered the quest is…" She shook her head, her eyes hardening. "It's why I came here. Why I had to come here."
Her words sank into me like stones. A hidden class. A system reward so powerful it was practically a myth. No wonder she smirked when the teleport trap pulled us in—this was exactly where she wanted to be.
But one part didn't add up. "If it's so valuable, why tell me?" I asked carefully.
Leona's gaze flicked toward me. "Because the quest conditions changed the moment you stepped into this place. The system acknowledged you as part of the raid."
My stomach dropped. "You mean…"
Her smirk returned, sharper this time. "That's right. Whether you like it or not, newbie—you're part of my S-Class quest now."
I stared at her, unsure whether to feel terrified, honored, or just horribly unlucky.
Leona's words hung in the air, heavy as stone.
Before I could even process it, the system pulsed in my vision. Golden text bloomed across my screen, more ornate than any notification I had ever seen:
[Quest Triggered!]
Quest Type: Class Change – Special Exchange Quest
Rank: S-Class
Quest Title:The Warden's Legacy
Description:You have entered the Mausoleum of the High Warden, the guardian who once sealed away the corruption between life and death. The seal remains intact… for now. Only those who prove themselves worthy within these halls may inherit the strength of the past and walk a new path.
Objective(s):
Survive the Mausoleum's trials.
Discover the truth of the Warden's legacy.
Uncover the inheritance bound within the sealed sarcophagus.
Reward:
Class Change: ??? Class (Hidden)
Additional rewards: ???
Failure Condition(s):
Party wipe.
Breaking the seal prematurely.
Note: This quest is non-transferable. All current party members are automatically registered as participants.
The glowing text lingered for a moment before fading, leaving only silence between us.
I swallowed hard. "Class change…? Hidden class…? And we're both… registered?"
Leona gave a single nod, her eyes never leaving me. "Exactly. This is bigger than levels or loot drops, Pan. A hidden class rewrites your whole system identity—new skills, new stat scaling, everything. People would kill for this chance."
She crossed her arms, steel plates shifting against one another. "But don't get carried away. The difficulty's S-Class for a reason. Even this game has been out for a year, there's only a few numbers of players had changed into a hidden class. "
Her words should've crushed me, but instead, a strange fire sparked in my chest. For once, my constant bad luck had dragged me into something more than just misery—it had put me on the same stage as Leona.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the stone bench. "Then I guess we don't have a choice. We see this through."
Leona smirked faintly, though her eyes held a weight that told me she wasn't taking this lightly at all. "Good answer, newbie. Let's hope you don't regret it."
The faint golden glow of the murals dimmed behind us as we pushed open the stone door and stepped back into the mausoleum's endless corridors. The air felt heavier now, as though the dungeon itself knew we had uncovered something we weren't supposed to.
Our footsteps echoed, carrying farther than before, until the hallway widened into a vast antechamber. The air grew colder with each step, our breath turning visible in the blue torchlight.
Then I saw it.
A towering figure stood at the far end, clad in ancient, rusted armor that still radiated menace. Its shoulders were broad, its chestplate engraved with faded runes, and in its gauntleted hand, it gripped a massive, chipped greatsword.
But its head… was missing.
At its side hung a blackened helm, dangling from a chain like a lantern. Wisps of dark energy leaked from within the hollow helm's visor, spilling upward like smoke. The helm rattled faintly, as if whispering words no mortal tongue could form.
The system flickered to life in front of me:
[Field Boss Encountered!]
Name: Dullahan, Guardian of the Gate
Rank: Elite – A-Class
Role: Mausoleum Gatekeeper
Description: A cursed knight bound to the Mausoleum. Headless, yet eternally vigilant, it ensures no unworthy challenger passes into the Warden's chamber. Its greatsword strikes with deathly precision, and its helm whispers of ancient curses.
Special Traits:
Headless Curse: Can track enemies without sight. Immune to blind or disorientation effects.
Gatekeeper's Oath: Cannot be bypassed. The path forward remains sealed until the Dullahan is defeated.
"...A Dullahan," Leona muttered, tightening her grip on her blade. "This is the guardian of the mausoleum."
Pan swallowed hard, his hands clammy on his weapon. That thing… it's not like the skeletons. This is different.
The Dullahan's hollow flame flared, and in an instant, it moved. The massive greatsword slammed into the ground where they had been standing, shattering stone and sending tremors through the chamber. Pan stumbled back, heart hammering, while Leona rolled to the side with a veteran's grace.
"Stay sharp, Pan! This one won't fall easily!"
Leona darted forward first, blade flashing with precise arcs. Sparks flew as her sword clashed against the Dullahan's armor, but it hardly flinched. The counter came fast—a sweeping slash with enough force to cleave through the air. Leona barely deflected it, skidding back across the stone floor.
Meanwhile, Pan tried to circle around, aiming for its back. He swung down with all his strength, only for the Dullahan to twist unnaturally fast, parrying with the flat of its blade. The shock sent vibrations up his arm, almost making him drop his weapon.
Too strong… I can't even scratch it!
The Dullahan retaliated, its sword a blur. Pan ducked clumsily, the strike missing his head by inches, carving a deep gouge into the pillar behind him. His breath came in gasps. He had never felt so out of his depth.
Leona charged again, her sword glowing faintly with skill activation.
"[Blazing Arc]!"
Her slash erupted in fire, searing across the Dullahan's chestplate. It staggered, but only slightly. The flames licked across its armor before vanishing like smoke.
It raised its helmet, the ghostly eyes flaring, and suddenly the ground beneath them glowed with runes.
"Move!" Leona shouted, tackling Pan just as black chains erupted from the floor, snapping at the space where he stood.
Pan coughed, scrambling to his feet. "T-Thanks—"
"Focus!" Leona snapped, already back on her feet, blade raised.
The Dullahan pressed forward, its greatsword dragging across the floor, screeching like nails on glass. It swung with inhuman force, and Leona met it head-on.
The clash rang like thunder. Her knees buckled under the pressure, but her expression never wavered. With a roar, she twisted her blade, knocking the greatsword aside, and followed up with a spinning strike.
"[Piercing Fang]!"
Her sword drove into the cracks of its armor, eliciting a hollow screech from the Dullahan. It stumbled a step back, smoke trailing from the wound.
Pan watched, half in awe and half in despair. Her movements were flawless—fluid, sharp, decisive. Every swing carried weight and intent. Compared to her, his desperate dodging and clumsy counters felt pathetic.
She's… incredible. I want that. I want to be like that.
But the Dullahan wasn't done. With a surge of power, it slammed its gauntleted fist into the ground. A shockwave rippled outward, sending both of them flying back. Pan hit the wall hard, the impact stealing his breath. His vision swam, and through the haze he saw the Dullahan march forward, relentless.
Leona rose again, wiping blood from her lip. Her eyes narrowed, determination blazing. "Fine… then I'll stop holding back."
Leona was a storm given flesh.
"[Blazing Arc]!" Her sword burst into fire, carving through the Dullahan's armor in a blaze of sparks.
"[Thunder Step]!" Lightning coiled around her legs and she blurred, vanishing from sight for a heartbeat before reappearing at its flank, her blade driving into the gap under its arm.
Before the monster could react, she thrust out her free hand. "[Frost Lance]!" A shard of ice screamed into its helm, cracking against black steel, forcing it to stagger. She didn't waste a second—another swing, another burst of power, her magic and swordplay chained together like they were one language only she knew.
I couldn't look away. She wasn't just strong—she was terrifying. Every strike landed with surgical precision, every spell flowed like it was a natural extension of her blade. Watching her was like watching art carved into battle itself.
And I… I envied it. Gods, how I envied it.
But the Dullahan wouldn't die. Its aura flared, armor glowing with a sickly darkness.
Leona's next attack—"[Inferno Break]!"—slammed into it in an explosion of fire, the blast shaking the whole corridor. But when the flames cleared, the knight still stood, unbroken, stepping forward like nothing had touched it.
[The Dullahan has activated: Indomitable Will. For the next 30 seconds, all damage is reduced to near-zero.]
Leona clicked her tongue, already moving to cast again—too slow. The Dullahan's great sword rose high, black fire crawling down its edge, and for a heartbeat I saw it—the strike that would end her.
My body moved on its own.
I threw myself forward, shield lifted. Metal screamed against metal, sparks bursting into the dark as its blade crashed down on mine. For an instant I thought my arm would snap—then something shifted. My stance angled, my weight braced, and the sword skidded harmlessly off the rim of my shield.
The impossible happened.
The Dullahan stumbled back a step.
My lungs burned. My heart hammered. And then—
[New Skill Acquired!]
Iron Reflex(Passive) – Your body instinctively redirects enemy strikes. Successful parries briefly stagger stronger foes. Shield stability and timing greatly improved.
I froze, staring at the glowing text in disbelief.