The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon

Gith-Za-Rai's delicate, red lips moved beneath her sharp and elegant nose. "Can you feel it?"

I asked, "What am I supposed to feel?"

"I've bound your essence tightly with a pitch-black ring."

Gith-Za-Rai's expression resembled that of a child cherishing their favorite doll. I recalled passages I'd read in Lady Succubus's library. Casting magic required profound insight into the world's hidden domains. It demanded the ability to navigate the fractured seams of a distorted world.

A mage's level was determined by the scope of their perception. However, detecting magic—especially magic directed at oneself—was far simpler. The essence of the Onyx Ring resonated in the void. Though it was an unfamiliar power, I could still sense it. It didn't feel like chains or ropes binding me. Instead, it felt like something had been embedded in the hollow spaces between my bones.

Gith-Za-Rai asked, "So? Do you feel like a rough, gritty tongue is licking you?"

I didn't feel anything that intense. Perhaps my dulled senses were to blame.

I asked back, "Did you just bind me?"

"Of course. Did you think I'd just let you go?"

"..."

Her expression said it all—why would you even ask something so obvious?