Of course, I knew what a dungeon boss was. Cierri had explained them at some point, and I could vaguely guess.

  They were essentially the dungeon's natural ruler.

  While humans made artificial lines and borders, dungeon bosses were more like gods. The dungeon itself approved of their rule.

  This didn't mean they were omnipotent or even all that powerful. Each dungeon had its own criteria for selecting a boss, and often, it was simply being the strongest life form native to that dungeon.

  Importantly, defeating one usually meant clearing the dungeon, which sometimes meant that it disappeared, and rarely meant that it evolved to take upon a more stable and peaceful form.

  Sort of like domesticating a whole world, in the latter case.

  Most dungeons were very unlike the Lost, though.

  Most were invaders trying to conquer Terra, which is why adventuring guilds were formed to stop them and fend them off.

  Just, like how humanity seeks to domesticate every plant and animal it's able to, Terrans were gradually able to domesticate even these dungeons, turning them from threats into potential natural resources.

  Of course, a wild dungeon might still randomly appear and wreak havoc on a city.

  It made me really wonder why more people didn't live in the Lost.

  Of course, perhaps I was now staring at the reason...

  ***

  The man who sat atop the throne was massive figure with wispy white hair and an absurdly long beard.

  If I had to guess, he was about sixteen feet tall.

  'How does such a being live in a city like this?' I wondered, oddly fearless.

  After all, even if he got up to chase me through the city, there were enough narrow alleys and tunnelways I could lose him in, simply by virtue of him not fitting.

  But I still jumped when he suddenly spoke.

  Not that I understood him.

  Braziers all throughout the room suddenly lit up with a slow wave of his hand, and I realized that, although I could certainly outrun him, I shouldn't feel so certain that running from him was an option.

  Nevertheless, far from showing any kind of threat or danger, he beckoned me closer, his raspy voice likely asking me to do so as he spoke in a language I'd never heard before.

  Although I didn't like people, even I wasn't cold enough to refuse an old man, so I approached him, turning my light off as strange blue flames dimly lit the room, at least enough to see by.

  I wasn't sure what his intentions were, but he looked me over once I was close enough.

  Then he spoke again, and I felt a low vibration run through... well, everything. I could hear it hum, I could feel it in the rock beneath my feet, and in my bones.

  "Is this better, child?" He asked, and I realized that he had accomplished the same effect as those translation scrolls.

  I nodded.

  ***

  If I told Kazzim's story, it would take hundreds of chapters, and likely eclipse my own.

  Of course, he did not tell it to me all at once.

  As far as he could know, he was the very last of his people, and he'd outlived them by a very long time.

  Being fellow immortals, I felt a deep sympathy for him, and told him what little I knew of my own story.

  His own was a tragedy of his own making, although he did not know what would come of it at the time.

  Like countless kings, as old age approached, Kazzim sought to use his power and authority to extend his life. Although such a thing was hubris, it really wasn't any different from trying to buy food to live another day.

  Unlike those countless kings who'd done the same, Kazzim succeeded.

  He performed a ritual to best death and achieve immortality.

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  Unfortunately, it worked.

  ***

  Like a spark igniting into a flame that devours a whole forest, his ritual warped the whole known world, creating a deathless realm.

  The animals, no longer bound to nature, went mad even before the people did, viciously attacking everything that lived, cracking their civilization from outside, before it broke in on itself.

  Those who had managed to stay sane and loyal to him hid deep underground, forming a new kingdom. Those that didn't... couldn't kill him or his followers anyway.

  "But... why are they all gone? How did they die out, if they were immortal?" I'd asked.

  His people, unlike visitors, could not even starve. They were akin to the animals in the woods, which indeed could and did respawn whenever they were killed.

  The answer is that, as years turned to millennia, even his loyal followers went mad.

  And over those long centuries, he and his few remaining sages devised a way to counter their cursed immortality.

  Naturally, I was curious for personal reasons, but I sincerely doubted it'd counter mine. If such things were possible, it seemed like I'd have inevitably either tried them or would have become victim to them, so my continued existence implied they weren't.

  "Then why are you still alive?" I'd asked.

  The answer was that someone needed to be in order to perform the ritual.

  As the source of all the world's problems, he willingly excluded himself so that his people might finally rest.

  Naturally, I offered to help him conduct the ritual again, this time on himself.

  ***

  The trouble with friends is that they either live long enough to betray you, or that they do not live long.

  I didn't like either outcome.

  However, I became Kazzim's friend, because although his long life seemed a tiny drop in the vast abyss that was my own, he had clearly lived long enough.

  It was a sentiment I could feel about few mortals.

  He became my teacher, and I became his student.

  Though I'd lived longer than him in technicality, in reality, I was only born in this world half a year prior, and all that I knew was carved into my soul and then forgotten.

  I had little to share with him, but he had much to teach me.

  Perhaps he just didn't want his people to be forgotten. Perhaps time had stripped all but his barest essence from him, and at heart, he was a teacher before he was a king.

  Perhaps he was just lonely.

  Either way, he shared countless stories of his people, both before and after their apocalypse.

  I slowly helped gather materials from the city, following his half-forgotten directions.

  The blue flames he lit were powered solely by his undying will, but they worked well enough, and he told me where I could find more food in the city. It was just more mushrooms, but they were quite filling.

  I was a bit worried about long-term nutrition, but based on his stories, they would probably be sufficient for a very long time. It might be trouble if I were a growing child from Terra, but I was an unusually resilient alien who did not grow.

  And so, I lived in the Lost City for a while.

  Even I'm not sure for how long.

  Without the sun to tell day from night, it was difficult to define a day never mind track them.

  It was long enough that my days there became routine.

  It was long enough that my memory of the forest outside became hazy.

  Of course, even though I was an unusually resilient alien, I was still just a child.

  So, it was probably only a couple years, though I didn't know how many.

  Over that span of time, I learned the Lost Language.

  I also learned that Kazzim and his people had a knack for language, but there was little new there.

  Their magic came from Skills that they gained by pursing arts until those arts transcended the basic laws of reality.

  They used a different word for Skills, but it was the same concept, which was a bit funny to an unwilling planeswalker like myself, as the concept seemed to stretch across multiple worlds here, yet wasn't particularly familiar to me.

  'Would they see my immortality as a Skill,' I wondered, 'Or does it transcend their Skills?'

  Either way, he had no convenient way to unlock a Skill for me, but I helped him all the same.

  ***

  Eventually, just as I'd started to take his presence for granted, everything was prepared, and it was time to say goodbye to my first friend in this world.

  I knew it would end, of course. There was no mystery there. Our friendship was built upon its own inevitable cessation.

  Though it was a great kindness to me to know the how. While it was possible this was all some grand scheme, the weariness in his voice was quite honest and sincere. At least, as a fellow cursed immortal, I understood it immediately.

  Having a friend who would not betray me was quite nice.

  "Farewell, Kazzim, King of the Lost World," I bade him as tears tried to form in my eyes, trying their best to stall what needed to be done.

  "Farewell, Atlantean... Thank you."

  And so, without any Skill at all, I nevertheless was able to complete an altered version of the ritual.

  This variation was powered not by magic, but my own immortal soul. Well, his magic started the effect, carved channels into reality for my essence to flow, but because it needed to outlive him and his magic for it to succeed, I was ultimately its power source.

  I was a bit worried what chaos it might cause. I could have even been insufficient and died for real, though honestly, that wasn't exactly a bad outcome for me.

  At least one of us would know rest after this was all done.

  Alas, it was not me.

  Surreal flames burnt at the old giant's body, chewing into him until naught was left. It consumed even his ashes.

  I, myself, felt oddly weaker, but only in a very minute way.

  Like when you get blood drawn, assuming you're not the type to pass out. Not the needle itself, but the slight weariness that follows, such that you're not really certain if you're weaker or if you just believe yourself to be because it'd be logically consistent if you were.

  It was that kind of sensation.

  As the last fires flickered out, I realized in pitch blackness that without the old king's will, there were no blue flames left to light my way.

  Of course, I still had some old mana shards left, not to mention a light that I hadn't touched in years. I even had directions from the king that led outside, although it was a long way that might have shifted in the millennia it's been since he's been there.

  But I also realized something else.

  No, it wasn't quite my realization. It was the same alien thoughts that occasionally entered my mind.

  Yes, even here, I occasionally became aware of others gaining Skills, again about one or two a month, though now I was dearly estimating what a month was. It was how I knew it had been a few years, approximately.

  【Kid has cleared the dungeon.】

  【Kid has become the Boss of the Lost.】

  【Kid has gained the Skill: Beginner I.】