They took a break for Backlebutt to dress himself, clothes finally dried to his satisfaction.  Milo took the opportunity to wipe out some more of the skeleroos from afar, his mana nearly topped up.  He’d already killed the cassowaries early on, annoyed by their screeching.  Backlebutt had been impressed and appreciative.  

The monsters didn’t seem to have much of an instinct for self-preservation.  They would try to dodge if they saw his book of death coming their way, or sometimes attack it when they could, but even after watching him strike down one after another of their comrades, they simply waited around rather than retreat back into the tunnels.  

Perhaps that was what divided monsters from simple animals, even predatory animals.  At their core, monsters were programmed to kill you no matter what.  Animals just wanted to survive.  

After spending two mana and forty seconds on the project, Milo managed to wipe out the entire group.  All of the XP went to him, despite the fact that he was back together with Backlebutt.  It struck him as a little odd, given that they’d shared XP equally when they’d fought together.  

It seemed unlikely to him that they had both done exactly half the work in that first hectic fight.  The system must keep things fairly simple, dividing people into ‘contributors’ and ‘non-contributors’.  Right now, Milo was the only one doing any contributing, despite the fact that Backlebutt was the one responsible for drawing all the enemies here.  It felt unfair, but Milo wasn’t complaining.  

After checking to see how much total experience he’d earned, he found he was about three quarters of the way to level 6.  He’d make it easily without even moving from his current position if he could find a way to kill the crocodiles without getting his book wet.  It should be possible; he had a hunch the solution would involve rocks.  

He turned to address the now-clothed Backlebutt, excited to finally get the answers to his many questions.  As he opened his mouth, however, ready to blurt out a question about fusion points, he paused.  

Wait a second.  Am I about to reveal that I’m not from Altabar?  Am I okay with that?  

He changed what he was going to say.  

“Wait a minute,” he said, in perfect Altabarian...or whatever the language was called.  He hadn’t actually asked.  

Backlebutt shrugged in response, reclining back and closing his eyes.  The man was clearly tired.  He’d been yawning frequently during their language-learning session.  Assuming he’d been awake this entire time, it had been quite the long day for the man.  Rough, too.  Milo glanced at the man’s wound.  Backlebutt had rolled up the leg of his pants, leaving it exposed.  

I really hope that doesn’t get infected.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it if it did.  There were no more healing potions that he was aware of.  He had a little bit left of the whittling kit gauze, but definitely not enough to cover the man’s whole wound.  All he could really do was hope for the best.  

Milo pretended to sift through his backpack while debating with himself about whether or not he wanted to reveal his Earthly origins to Backlebutt.  

On the one hand, life would be a lot easier if he could just come clean right from the start and not have to bother with constantly concealing the truth.  Watching every word he said would get old quick.  

Plus, it probably wasn’t quite like on Earth.  Trying to convince people back home that he was from another dimension would get him ignored or laughed at in the best case, and locked up in some top secret government facility if he somehow managed to convince someone of the truth.  That was the commonly accepted wisdom anyway, if Hollywood was to be believed.  

But here, magic was a thing.  For all he knew, it was a daily occurrence for the system to pluck people off of other planets and bring them here.  Maybe Altabarians grumbled about transdimensional travelers undercutting locals and stealing business, but that was it.  What if the worst thing he had to worry about was, like, getting a visa sorted out?  It wasn’t like they could deport him.  

...okay, maybe they could.  He had no idea.  Would he object to that?  Did he want to go back home?  His thoughts were muddied on that point.  He had people, family back on Earth.  Not a wife though.  No kids.  Nobody who depended on him, needed him.  Going back now would be like spending his first two days at Hogwarts and then getting expelled and sent home.  Not that his family was anything like the Dursleys…

He was getting off track.  

What were the cons of telling Backlebutt the truth of where he came from?  

He didn’t know.  Milo didn’t know what he didn’t know.  He’d seen literally nothing of Altabar other than some random forest before being yanked into this dungeon.  He had no concept of the culture, societal norms, political climate, or...or anything—which meant that it would be really hard to come up with a convincing lie.  

Finally, he decided that the best thing was probably to be honest, with the distinction that he wasn’t going to just spill his entire story to a guy he’d only recently met.  

“Backlebutt,” he said, picking out two bottles of Soylent and offering the man one.  Backlebutt declined before closing his eyes again, which made Milo secretly happy.  He was burning through his supply much faster than he’d originally accounted for.  Offering it had mostly been to lend credence to his devious ruse of backpack-rifling.  

Probably unnecessary.  Whatever.  

“Okay,” he said, keeping one for himself and tucking the other away.  

“Backlebutt,” he said, getting the sleepy man’s attention.  No sleeping yet, buddy!  Just answer a few things and I’ll leave you be.  

Backlebutt opened his eyes...most of the way.  He waited expectantly for Milo to say what he had to say.  

“I have some questions for you.  But before, I should tell you some about myself.”  The words weren’t exactly what he wanted.  He was forced to substitute ‘before’ for ‘first’ and ‘some’ for ‘a little bit’, but it was nevertheless incredible to him how natural the language felt coming out of his mouth.  

Magic is freaking amazing.  Or skills are, I guess.  Does mana have to be involved for it to be magic?  

Shaking away the errant thought, he continued.  

“I am not from...here.  I am from very far.  The…hm.”  He hadn’t learned the word for what the System was called yet.  “I haven’t learned about skills before.  Not until I came to the Descent.  Can you teach me?”  

He could tell he’d gotten Backlebutt’s attention.  The man’s eyes sharpened considerably.  

“What is the place called, where you are from?  Would I know it?”

Milo shook his head.  “You would not.  It is very far.  I cannot say where.”

“Why not?”

Backlebutt was being more persistent on this point than Milo wanted, which made him nervous.  Judging by the keen look in his eyes, the answer was evidently of some particular interest to him.  

“I do not...it may be dangerous to say.  I must not.  Not now.  Maybe later.”

Backlebutt was silent.  Finally, he nodded.  

“I will (respect) your (privacy).  Everyone has (secrets).  I (remain) (curious), however.  How is it you don’t know about skills?  What does that mean?”

There were several words there that Milo hadn’t known, but he got the gist of it.  

“I…”  Damn.  He wanted to tell Backlebutt that he hadn’t chosen a class until very recently.  The man could draw whatever conclusions he wanted so long as he explained how it all worked.  However, Milo didn’t know the words for ‘system’, ‘class’, ‘scholar’, or any number of other useful words, which made getting his questions across problematic.  

Oh.  Fail.  Does Improved Cognition even do anything?

He should have just had Backlebutt talk about the system as a vocabulary lesson!  That way, he could have maybe avoided revealing so much about his lack of knowledge about literally everything.  The cat was already at least halfway out of the bag in that regard, but it was still a good idea anyway.  

“I don’t have enough words.  Can you talk about skills, where skills come from, the...you are an archer!” he exclaimed, suddenly remembering he already knew the Altabarian word for the man’s class.  “You are an archer, and I am a...word man.  What is the word for these two?  Can you talk about all of it?  I need more words.  Explain as if I know nothing.”

Backlebutt squinted at him before nodding reluctantly.  “Fine.  But then I need to (sleep).” 

He sat up more fully, wincing as the motion pained his injury.  

“To start off, the word you’re looking for is (class).  My class is archer, and yours is probably (scribe), though I’ve never heard of a scribe who uses a skill like yours and fights with it.  Classes (grow) in (level) when you get enough (experience).  Experience may be (earned) slowly for non-(combat) classes by simply using skills, or much faster by killing creatures.  Combat classes just kill creatures.  With me so far?”

Milo nodded.  “What are the best classes, in your...what you think?”

Backlebutt shrugged.  “In my (opinion), it (depends) on who you are and what you want to do.  (Obviously), it’s almost always better to have a more advanced class.  That will give you more (legacy) skills after you (fuse) for the first time.”

“Legacy?  Fuse?” Milo asked.  

“Fuse is when you (combine) two (compatible) classes together,” Backlebutt said, intertwining his fingers to demonstrate.  “When that happens, you may choose some of the skills from your (current) class to keep.  If your new class is (journeyman), you will keep two.  (Advanced) will keep three, (master) will keep four, and so on.  Some skills may stay anyway when you fuse, but legacy skills will (definitely) stay.”  

Oooohh…

Milo’s mind immediately began whirling with possibilities.  Right now he was a scholar, unlikely to get any skills that would enhance his body.  But, if he fused with a class that allowed him to increase his strength to an enormous degree, then Fetch Book might become truly ridiculous.  That was, assuming he was right that the skill’s strength was contingent on his own.  He still needed to verify that.  

Even if that didn't pan out, he also had a straight-up 50% boost to mana regen from his Improved Cognition modifier.  If he ever got that mage class option that he wanted, and if he was able to fuse with it, that skill alone would likely give him a huge leg up on other mages who lacked his scholarly origins.  

That was just two things off the top of his head.  The possibilities for unique synergies with the fusion mechanic were off the charts.  I wonder…

“Backlebutt, is there a way to learn about all of the classes and skills that are...that are?”  He’d wanted to say ‘available’, but that word was still unknown to him.  

Backlebutt snorted.  “All?  No.  I don’t think so.  But if you earned (favor) with enough different (houses) of the (nobility) then I suppose you could learn a great deal.  Their private (libraries) are sure to hold much (hoarded) knowledge.”

“Nobility?”

“People with lots of (influence) and (wealth).  People (born) into (privilege), who can mostly do what they want.  The people who control the dungeons, and are the only ones (allowed) inside.”  He paused, giving Milo an intense, unreadable look.  

“You and me,” he finished.