《Zealot》
00001: CHESHIRE GETS A JOB
CHESHIRE GETS A JOB
I set the small envelope down on the countertop, the ever-indignant miser living in my brain telling me to pick the envelope up and slurp up the delicious cash within. Like, I had things that I didn¡¯t need per se yet, still desperately wanted. Like a new phone, a new car, a new house or even six inches of height. (Listed in increasing order of how unlikely I am to ever see these things) I¡¯m 22, which basically means I¡¯m done with all my growing¡ well¡ what little growing I¡¯d gotten in before my body, made its best impression of that cunt bartender Meghan who saw me flirting semi-successfully with a hot guy and decided to say: ¡°Sweetie, it looks like you¡¯ve had enough.¡± Only, my body didn¡¯t kick me out of a bar¡ well to be fair, I¡¯d had way more than enough if I were displaying any degree of social aptitude, and that was only because of the general acceptance of people seeing someone who¡¯s drunk making an absolute fool of themselves.
Either way, it was time to leave before¡. Keys scratched at the lock to the door, just before my heart stopped beating. I immediately ducked down behind the kitchen counter as the door swung open hesitantly. Damn it, he¡¯d noticed I¡¯d left the door unlocked. ¡°Hello?¡± came his hesitant voice. Damn it number two, I should¡¯ve locked the door, curse you past me! Heavy footsteps entered the room as lighter footsteps creeped around the kitchen counter. To my right was a hallway, through which there was a window I could exit through. The footsteps traveled to my left towards the living room, as I moved to the hallway, creeping into a room. I looked around briefly¡. Oh¡ it¡¯s just as I¡ the door behind me swung open. ¡°Who the hell are y-¡¡± He cut himself off as he recognized me. He let out a long sigh, lowering the 12-gauge shotgun he¡¯d had leveled at my un-shotgunproof bits (Namely, all of them). ¡°Chesh, are we still doing this?¡± he said, his tone of voice driving a dagger into my chest, damn human emotions. ¡°I have no idea what you mean,¡± I lied blatantly, I didn¡¯t even know why I did. Forgive me Lumina¡ again. ¡°Oh, so I assume there isn¡¯t an envelope on the kitchen counter filled with cash?¡± he accused. I was a stone, a mountain of emotionless steel, my face akin to a mask that folds to my whim¡. Currently that mask was folded into the expression of five-year-old me after getting caught stealing food from the fridge¡ for purely tactical reasons¡. ¡ Forgive me Lumina¡ again.
¡°Uh huh,¡± he said, in the exact same way he did to five-year-old me all those years ago. I sighed and flopped backwards, falling onto the bed I¡¯d grown up on, it was laced with memories. Back when I wet the bed, this was the one I¡¯d wet, back when I was sick, what felt like every other week, this was the bed I¡¯d vomited in, back when I was dating that asshole Keith, that literally every one of the one people I knew told me was an asshole, this was the bed I¡¯d cried on when he took my virginity and ran off with it. Ah¡ old times¡ the pillows still smelled funny. Every time I thought about Keith, I remembered what happened when I finally put myself together and came out of my room. I saw him with another girl, like two weeks after we¡¯d broken up, and let¡¯s just say I played a mean game of hacky sack with him, a game so mean in fact I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll ever have children¡ like ever, ever. Anyways, I warned off the girl, and we¡¯d been on and off friends ever since. ¡°You¡¯re thinking about Keith again, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asked, a smirk on his face. ¡°No,¡± I said. Sorry Lumina¡ I should really get an app on my phone for this. ¡°You have that. Remembering Keith look on your face Chesh, you¡¯re not fooling anyone.¡± I blushed. My face is totally under my control I am like, super stoic¡ yeah¡. Sorry Lumina. ¡°Damn shame what happened to him.¡± I suddenly looked up at him. ¡°Hey! You¡¯re not on his side, are you?¡± I asked¡ said¡ threatened. He raised his hands placatingly, leaning the shotgun against the wall. ¡°No, no of course not. But, geez Chesh, you could¡¯ve stopped kicking him in the balls after he fell on the ground and stopped resisting.¡± ¡°What can I say? I play a mean game of hacky sack,¡± I said, shamelessly plagiarizing my internal monologue. He snickered at my joke. ¡°You gonna at least stay for dinner?¡± he asked, smiling. I knew I shouldn¡¯t¡ but, it had been too long. ¡°Sure, sure,¡± I said.
I was sitting at the dining room table¡ okay, I admit it. There was no dining room table, or at least it doubled as the coffee table in the middle of the living room. Like any normal person who was sitting waiting for something, I was scrolling through random stories on my phone, looking to see if there was anything interesting while failing spectacularly. I felt like there should¡¯ve been a residual awkward atmosphere, like an oil residue left on someone¡¯s fingers, but that just wasn¡¯t how he worked. He had this way of putting me at ease, probably a trained response in me from all the times he cuddled me while I was crying, most significant of which was with the Keith incident, before the game of hacky sack, that is. I felt like I had my soul torn out and beaten with a baseball bat, yet through all the crying, and screaming, and thrown objects, he stayed¡ mostly. He¡¯d hid behind the door when I picked up my desk chair. Looking through those old memories made me look around the house, noting all the small discrepancies, how everything had changed over the years. The couch I was sitting on was younger than the coffee table in front of it. We¡¯d had to toss out the old couch when we realized it was growing some weird purple mold. After that we¡¯d gone a full year and a half without a couch before we¡¯d finally scraped together enough pennies to afford a new one. Looking back into the deep recesses of my mind, I realized just how different this room was when I¡¯d visited as a kid, back when my parents were still alive. Sometimes I wished I could remember their faces, sure I¡¯d seen them in pictures, but it wasn¡¯t the same.
He walked back into the room, handing me a plastic take-out container filled with microwaved pasta. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. Setting my container down on the table, before murmuring a quick prayer just over my breath. ¡°Lumina, goddess of light and radiance, I thank you for your blessing upon this meal.¡± I felt a lightness settle over me, as I finished my prayer, Lumina in her infinite grace, descending unto this microwaved pasta from on high and sanctifying it against all evils. I grabbed my food and took a bite of the pasta. It was somehow bland, yet salty, dry, yet greasy, and still all so wonderful. The world was an odd place when you got past all the¡ well¡ normalcy, I guess. I continued eating in silence, my uncle across from me, already having started. When I was about halfway through my meal, my uncle finished and spoke up.
¡°So, about the money,¡± he began. I interrupted him. ¡°Non-negotiable,¡± I said, raising a hand. ¡°Damn it Chesh. Listen, I really don¡¯t need the money, you could do much more with it than I could. All I need money for nowadays is losing it playing cards with Robert and the others down the road,¡± he said. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t give me that, I know you need it, I¡¯ve been paying attention, there¡¯s no way you can pay for this place and the rent for the shop with the income you¡¯re getting,¡± I said. ¡°True, but those are my problems, not the problems of my stubborn niece,¡± he said. "No, it is my problem because I¡¯m making it my problem. Besides, what could I do with that money that¡¯s so important?¡± I asked. ¡°Maybe leave this god forsaken city?¡± He said, tone somber. That gave me pause, leaving the city¡ that was so far beyond me that I hadn¡¯t even thought to put it on my list of nonsense earlier. ¡°What good will that do? If I leave to one of the sky cities, I won¡¯t be able to afford a sandwich, much less a place to stay, much, much less the taxes everyone has to pay to live there. I¡¯d be back here in less than a month.¡± My voice held a little of the sadness I was feeling at that admittance. There was a reason why this city was called Hope¡¯s Grave. ¡°Look, no matter what, I¡¯m not going to stop helping you. I don¡¯t care if you gamble it all away, or just let the moths get to it in a drawer, but I¡¯m going to keep giving you money,¡± I said. It was a lie, I would care, but I didn¡¯t feel the need to apologize to my goddess, the teachings of the church of Lumina didn¡¯t strictly forbid lying after all. It was just considered to be in poor taste.
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I stood from the couch and smiled at him. He sighed and smiled back. ¡°You know, you¡¯re so short, sometimes I forget you¡¯re an adult,¡± he said. ¡°Hey! I¡¯m not that short,¡± I said, trying to keep a smile off my face. ¡°Sure, sure,¡± he said, standing to his full height, a full eleven inches taller than me, just to make me feel small¡ it definitely worked, but I was definitely not going to tell him. ¡°That means nothing, you¡¯re just freakishly tall,¡± I said standing on my toes to make myself seem less childish¡ wait a minute¡. He laughed at me, pulling me in for a hug, squeezing me tight to his chest. ¡°Never change Spring bean,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve changed plenty,¡± I said, voice muffled. He chuckled. ¡°Sure, you have,¡± he said, releasing me. It wasn¡¯t until later that night when I was doing my laundry like the responsible adult I am, that I found the envelope slipped into my pocket. I sighed, a smile on my face.
I looked at the person standing outside my door. ¡°Meghan,¡± I said. Meghan smiled at me, I just frowned. She sighed, ¡°Okay, why are you angry at me this time?¡± The traitor asked. ¡°You know why,¡± I said. ¡°Wait, are you still mad about that one guy who you were talking with at the bar?¡± My eyes narrowed. I moved to close the door, but Meghan put her foot in it first. Meghan had a minor speed blessing from the goddess Kinetta, not enough to get her a job for it, but enough to make it extremely difficult for a normal person like me to out speed her in practically anything. ¡°I¡¯m a little offended you have so little trust in me. Yeah, that guy was not what you were looking for. He comes into the bar with a different girl practically every week,¡± Meghan said. ¡°He¡¯s practically just another Keith.¡± I sighed, then let the door swing open. Meghan walked in. ¡°Every time I come here it seems like you lost twenty square feet of floor space,¡± Meghan said. ¡°It¡¯s the same size as it has always been,¡± I said, closing the door behind us. Meghan looked around, the room filled with random things I bought on impulse and never threw out, other than that, the floors were clear, but had clearly been in a long-distance relationship with the broom for a while, long enough that it started a little side something with whoever¡¯s socks walked across it at any given time. Suffice it to say, I never really had time for sweeping. Maybe I should invest in one of those cleaning robots? Meghan walked into my kitchen, opened my fridge, and stared at the back of it. ¡°You really need to get some food in here,¡± Meghan said. ¡°I have food,¡± I said, walking into the living room and sitting on the pile of railroad ties onto which I placed my second floofiest comforter, that I generously called couch. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t count the microwaved dinners you have in the freezer as food.¡± ¡°So, did you just come here to complain about how I don¡¯t have any food, or do you have a reason for being here?¡± I asked, perhaps a little harshly.
Meghan just smiled. ¡°Yes, actually. I wanted to ask you if you had anything planned for tonight?¡± I paused, considering. ¡°Not really.¡± ¡°Great! I have a job for you then.¡± ¡°Yeah¡ why?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, I figured you could use the money, what with you giving all your money to your uncle every month.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t give him all my money,¡± I said. She looked at me dubiously. ¡°Yeah, but what percentage do you give him exactly?¡± I sighed. ¡°Okay fine, maybe I could use some more money,¡± I relented, ¡°What does the job entail?¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s simple, you can be a bagger for the adventurer¡¯s guild,¡± she said smiling. I frowned. ¡°Uh huh¡ Meghan?¡± I said, voice chillingly calm. ¡°Yes?¡± Meghan said, smiling broadly. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I asked, just as calm as before. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a well-paying job.¡± ¡°Yeah, well so is weapons testing dummy, but no one wants that job, because you will fucking die!¡± I rebutted. (Sorry Lumina) ¡°Okay, let me finish. The job is perfectly safe, you¡¯ll be with a top-level team, and they¡¯ll guard you with their lives. Besides, you know more about monsters than anyone I know.¡± ¡°Yeah, and that¡¯s why I don¡¯t work for the damn Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Because I know enough about monsters to know they are NOT something I want to have to deal with,¡± I said. ¡°But the pay is really good,¡± Meghan stressed. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you do it? You have that speed blessing, you¡¯d do great.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a speed blessing, not a stamina blessing. Speed means nothing in a jungle where no one can move for shit anyways,¡± Meghan said. I frowned. ¡°Do you know how dangerous monsters are? Like, what if we run into a slime out there?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, slimes live in the deep woods where they can find large prey like wyverns and drakes.¡± ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re forgetting there are no walls in the forest, the only thing keeping a slime from shoving a tentacle through my skull out there is a couple miles of unwalled jungle,¡± I said. ¡°Okay, but slimes are slow anyways, your team will probably just run from one.¡± I stayed silent, and she continued. ¡°Besides, didn¡¯t you always want to be an adventurer?¡± Damn it, I couldn¡¯t argue that either. ¡°Besides, a good bagger should be able to tell if a monster is worth fighting or not, and again I¡¯m pretty sure you can identify every monster by sight alone. Tell them to fight the green bellied demi-drake instead of the orange bellied demi-drake.¡± ¡°Okay, first: A green bellied demi-drake is far more dangerous than an orange bellied demi drake, the orange emits a foul-smelling gas from its mouth that also acts as a smokescreen, any decent mage can clear it off with a wind spell, while the green can spit a jet of acid strong enough to melt the lining of your stomach form fifty feet away. And second: Neither are something they¡¯d send a team with me on it to kill,¡± I said. Meghan arched an eyebrow at me. Oh¡ I just proved her point, didn¡¯t I? Well, I¡¯d be lying if I said I was entirely against being convinced anyways. ¡°Fine, but If I get killed, I¡¯m going to come back to haunt you,¡± I said.
00002: SHE GETS A CONSCIENCE
SHE GETS A CONSCIENCE
I see a young human clutching desperately to a human corpse. She¡¯s screaming and sobbing at the figure in her arms. Hmm¡ I need to be more specific. I search for the memories that just appeared in my mind. Odd¡ okay. The living human can be described as a young female, perhaps about twenty-five years old. The male human, which is dead, is about the same age. The female is trying desperately to get him to swallow the healing potion she poured into his mouth as undead close in around her, skeletons and zombies, a few ghouls and even two revenants. I flick my wrist and they all stop in their tracks¡ literally, they do not merely stop, they freeze. Most of them, having been mid-step, fall to the floor. She takes little notice. There is something prickling at the edges of my mind insistently¡ guilt? Sorrow? I¡¯m not quite sure. I review my latest memories in an attempt to understand the emotion. He was dead, and I was about to raise him as a ghoul to kill her. (seems efficient) Hmm¡ I raise my hand and point it at his corpse ready to revive him and¡ I pause.
The feeling is back.
I am unsettled.
Perhaps I can request assistance from the female? I lower my hand and step forwards¡ hmm, I see a problem. I am currently in the form of a large skeleton dressed in intricate, yet rotten, armor. The human may see this as¡ mildly shocking. I change forms quickly. I copy from the memories I have in my mind. Memories of looking into a mirror while a middle-aged human female looks back at me. Seems like I looked into this mirror a lot. I don¡¯t know why. Either way, I try to make the closest approximation of that form as I can. There is a problem, what are these¡ lumps of fat on my chest for? I consider briefly, scanning the ever-helpful memories. Child rearing? I have no children, and they are getting in the way, so I shrink them. I can¡¯t quite get the skin color right. Previously my skin was the approximate color of a roasted walnut, I¡¯ve matched the brightness, but the color is¡ the mottled purple of an old corpse. I am undead, so I suppose it makes sense that I cannot perfectly mimic the living. Last note, when adjusting my eyes from the burning red flames they were previously, I have gotten them to normal eyes with glowing blue irises, removing the glow however seems to be removing my ability to see in the dark so I shall leave them how they are.
I suppose I am now human enough to not frighten the female. ¡°HELLO,¡± my voice reverberates around the room like the grinding of millstones. I need to fix that. The human female looks up at me, shocked. I make like I am clearing my throat¡ This is a valid cover up, right? ¡while I quickly drag all the magic from my larynx and shove it elsewhere in my body. Huh¡ the woman in the mirror was me? It¡¯s nice to see that the memory initialization process I created is already paying for its neural allegation. Anyways. ¡°Hello, human female,¡± I say, my voice unnaturally deep and still a little more resonant than would otherwise be considered normal. At least now it can no longer be physically felt shaking the room. She looks at me in bewilderment before she begins making random noises, several I recognize as the starts to words, before finally speaking. Is this a human ritual I¡¯m unaware of? ¡°You¡¯re¡ you, can talk?¡± She speaks. I tilt my head. I didn¡¯t expect a question so soon. I expected a response to my greeting, then I could continue with my queries. Although I suppose if I have questions, there is nothing saying she cannot as well¡ it¡¯s just inconvenient. Also, this is a stupid question. I just spoke; therefore, it is quite obvious I possess the ability. ¡°This is a stupid question. I just spoke to you.¡± ¡°Y-Yeah, but¡. Holy shit, I knew liches were smart, but no one told me they could fucking talk,¡± the female muttered that last part quickly and quietly for some reason. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± She sighed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, you¡¯ll kill me anyways,¡± she said. That was true, she might make a good skeleton, although she might make a better ghoul. I can¡¯t be sure unless she¡¯s dead¡. Why¡¯s that feeling coming back? ¡°And if I don¡¯t kill you?¡± I asked. That seemed like a solution. Her life was a fair trade for information. I have plenty of undead subordinates already.
She took on an expression of shock. ¡°Wait¡ you¡¯ll let me live¡ a-and leave¡ alive¡ not as an undead,¡± she said. I don¡¯t know why she was so specific. ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°I-I¡ umm¡.¡± More strange noises. ¡°Are you alright?¡± I asked. Being polite is apparently important, at least according to my memories. ¡°Y-yeah, I¡¯m fine. I just thought your kind didn¡¯t well¡ let humans live.¡± ¡°We generally don¡¯t, no. Although I see no reason not to. you may have valuable information which I would be happy to exchange for your life. Unless¡ you would like to become an undead?¡± I offered. ¡°N-no I¡¯m good,¡± she said, hurriedly. I nodded. My original question had been answered by the process I had searching my memories, I believe the feeling is resulting from a feeling of guilt at killing the human who was dear to this other human, now my current question is much simpler. ¡°What is this place?¡± I ask. Nowhere in my memories do I remember this location, I¡¯m not completely done analyzing them, but I only begin remembering this place once I became an undead. But before that, there are no memories of it. ¡°You don¡¯t know? Uh¡ well¡ I think this is the eighth floor of the Lomari labyrinth.¡± ¡°You are unsure? Why?¡± ¡°Well¡ this is the Lomari labyrinth, I just don¡¯t know what floor this is. We fell down a floor chute trap, on the second floor and came out here. Judging from the strength of the monsters I¡¯d say this is the eighth floor,¡± she said. I nodded. ¡°Alright. ¡°I thank you for the information human,¡± I say before turning to the nearest corridor. I have several tasks to complete. Mainly further investigation of this¡ labyrinth, I have memories of it, but they are more directed on sensing sources of life and sending my undead to snuff them out.
¡°W-wait!¡± The human female is calling for me. I don¡¯t stop but instruct the undead to part to let her know I¡¯m listening to her. She takes that as an invitation to follow me for some reason, she is slowed from carrying the human corpse. With a small mental flex, a ghoul approaches her, she flinches, readying her weapon. ¡°Give the corpse to the ghoul, it will carry it for you,¡± I say. She stops, and hesitantly hands the corpse to the ghoul. Which dutifully takes it from her. She watches it for a few seconds before approaching me. ¡°Can you tell me how to get out of here?¡± she asks. ¡°I cannot, I¡¯ve never left this floor,¡± I say. ¡°Well¡ can you at least tell me what floor this is?¡± No, I am unfamiliar with the layout of¡¡± I pause. Then do a scan for all the undead. They are arrayed above and below us on what appears to be flat platforms, likely to be the floors. ¡°This is the third floor,¡± I say. She frowns, ¡°That can¡¯t be right. I¡¯ve been to the third floor before, and it didn¡¯t have nearly this much undead,¡± she said, then thought. ¡°Wait how are you counting the floors?¡± ¡°How floors are usually numbered, the bottom being the first floor and so on,¡± I say. ¡°The floors of the dungeon are numbered from the top,¡± ¡°I see. In that case this is the twelfth floor,¡± I say. The human stops, I stop with her. Is she dead? Should I raise her? No¡ she¡¯s alive. Why isn¡¯t she moving then? ¡°Th-this is the twelfth floor,¡± she mutters. I look at her. Should I kill her? No, that feeling is truly irritating. Maybe I should have a ghoul carry her since she seems like she isn¡¯t going to keep moving.
She takes a deep breath. ¡°Okay¡ okay¡ this isn¡¯t so bad,¡± she looks up at me. ¡°Are there any¡ magical artifacts of some kind? Something that can help me fight my way to the surface?¡± she asks. ¡°Yes,¡± I answer simply. ¡°Okay, where can I find them?¡± ¡°You may not have them,¡± I say. She does something like a flinch¡ it¡¯s an odd-looking reaction, I passively instruct my program to find an instance of it so that I may identify it. ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°The necromancer instructed me to not let anyone take the treasures from this floor,¡± I say. ¡°What about other floors?¡± she asks. ¡°Other floors are out of my dominion,¡± I say. The human female nods. Then begins thinking to herself. She is still following me though¡ odd. I enter a room with a large coffin in the middle raised on a stone plinth. The human female enters into the room and looks at the coffin. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she asks. ¡°That is the necromancer,¡± I say. ¡°Oh¡¡± she says, tone somber. I walk around the coffin, only the ghoul carrying the body accompanying us into the necromancer¡¯s chamber. We pass through and enter a cold room with soaring ceilings, and a large throne on the far side. I approach it and sit down. I close my eyes, extending my senses to all the undead in the labyrinth. I sense approaching humans, I pull back the undead in front of them and send them to circle around from behind, I also send a skinner to them, the skinner should hit them from the front, radiating magical fear, it should grab their attention, while they are distracted the several undead from behind should be their unmaking. Satisfied, I scan for other signals of life¡ I ignore the signal in my chambers.
I look up at the lich, the urge to kill her¡ no, it, boiling within me. I look at my brother¡¯s corpse, and a spike of grief runs me through. I turn my gaze away. As an adventurer I was trained to never lose my calm in the middle of a hostile environment¡ to mixed results, but it was done nevertheless. I need to stay calm, even though every fiber of my being wants to shove my sword into the stoic figure sitting on her throne made of bones... human bones. The main problem is she¡¯s a litch. Liches are silver rank monsters; meaning, she could swallow a live grenade and let it blow inside of her, without even suffering so much as indigestion. I doubted a quick stab to the gut would do anything even if my sword wouldn¡¯t bounce off her skin like a rubber ball off concrete. She was undead, and killing the undead is especially tricky. They are unending by default. Entirely self-sufficient, able to survive their flesh rotting off their bones with more ease than me recovering from a sneeze. Hell, even if I were to somehow manage to kill her, I would be swarmed by all the undead on this floor for, since she is the only thing preventing them from tearing me apart. I look at her, her unsettling bruise colored skin, her weird garments that look like they were designed for a figure twice her size that droop oddly, her muscular frame, wide hips, disproportionately flat chest. It looks¡ off, her body doesn¡¯t conform to the typical way a human body grows in ways I can¡¯t even describe while looking at her. Like looking at an image that¡¯s too realistic to be cartoony, but not enough to avoid being¡ uncanny.
She opens one eye, the glowing blue iris fixing me in its gaze, and¡ ¡ ¡. ¡°You¡¯ve been looking at me for a while now, what is it?¡± She asks, it¡¯s as if I¡¯m at the bottom of a swimming pool, the sound distorted beyond recognition, yet somehow, I answer. ¡°I-it¡¯s nothing,¡± my lips say. While my brain is fried like an egg. I remember holding my brother in my arms. Liches can make undead right? Maybe she could make him into an undead, and then I could act enraged, maybe she¡¯ll make him attack, maybe she¡¯ll let him eat me. Tearing my flesh apart with his teeth, I smile lightly chuckling at the idea. Imagining my brother ripping me apart with nothing but his teeth, we¡¯d be together forev- She closes her eyes and suddenly the spell is broken. I fall to my knees, breathing raggedly. Every¡ fucking¡ time¡. Every time we lock eyes, my mind shatters, as if her gaze alone radiates insanity, and every time she looks away, it feels like a piece of my mind is torn away with it. I can¡¯t stay here for too long, because consciously or not, she¡¯s slowly devouring my mind, piece by piece.
I semi mindlessly organize the undead on my floor, impeding the progress of all adventurers who arrive. It isn¡¯t too common for adventurers to reach this floor, so it¡¯s mostly just preparing traps ahead of time and wishing for more bodies to be made into undead. Thankfully, undead cannot become bored so, I am content to wait. The human female on the other hand has been fidgeting for some time now, glancing around. ¡°What is it you need human?¡± I ask, looking down at her. She deliberately avoids my gaze. Interesting, that can be taken either as rude or respectful. How could the same action mean two opposing things? I don¡¯t mention it to the human female. ¡°What do you mean?¡± she replies. ¡°You are unusually fidgety, it is distracting.¡± ¡°Distracting from what?¡± The human asks, looking up at me, curiosity on her face. She locks eyes with me and suddenly the emotion starts draining from her face. I frown, I would explain to her my purpose and what it entails, but in my mind¡ there are instructions, from the necromancer who created me. My lips move without my control, my mode of speech and several other things being ripped from me to add believability. ¡°My janitorial duties,¡± I reply¡ no, not I; the necromancer replies for me. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Again, the necromancer replies. ¡°Cleansing this floor from the scourge of the living.¡± She just nods, looking bored. She glances down looking like she wants to pick at her nails, then a shudder runs through her. She falls to the ground, breathing heavily. That reminds me, I used to breathe, didn¡¯t I? Why did I spend so much time doing that? So many hours spent lying alone in darkness, breathing as if in a trance. Maybe I should try it. I take a breath¡ I scowl. The air is foul, it stinks of rot and death. Not to mention it¡¯s intensely¡ how would my human-self have described it? Stale? It¡¯s of no consequence.
I look back at the human female who is finishing up with her panicked breathing. ¡°I need to stop doing that,¡± she mutters under her breath. I wonder as to what she is referring to before my attention is grabbed by something higher on the floor. The adventuring party I had sent the monsters after survived. They even killed the skinner. Shame, I could not make skinners, only the necromancer could make them, and she was¡. I glanced at the coffin in the other room. Although it might be the same room, there was no door in between this room and that one, just a small jutting out of the walls to imply a doorway. Interesting, I had never found myself considering the architecture of this room before. Well since they¡¯d posed a problem, I would send something stronger. Much stronger. I scroll through a mental list of all the creatures under my power. Perhaps subtlety was warranted? I could send a poltergeist. No, they were unreliable. Perhaps something more direct? No, that was skinners. I needed advice. Maybe the human could help. She was human, she might know how to kill the other humans.
¡°Human, what is your weakness?¡± I ask. The human does not answer. I open one eye and look at her. Maybe she was unaware I was referring to her since I was not looking at her? No¡ that could not be it, she was the only human in the room, so that should suffice¡ well there was the dead human, but logic stated that I was not referring to the dead human. For the dead human was, in fact, dead. Although a further stretch of logic would take the fact that I was a lich and undead, to mean that I may be able to communicate with the dead, and therefore might be talking to the dead human. Ah, that must be it. I opened my mouth to specify, either by status of living, or gender when she spoke first. ¡°What?¡± the human female asked. I paused, perhaps she simply hadn¡¯t heard me, or was unclear on what I wanted. Also why was she facing away from me? Never mind that, humans were strange. I could go into more detail. ¡°I want to kill some humans, and as per-usual I sent undead after them. A hoard of about seven-hundred fifty zombies and skeletons, along with a single skinner. (The human female¡¯s expression paled for some reason) Conventionally this has been enough to kill all the humans who arrive on this floor, but these humans did not die, and I am unsure of what to send after them next. I could send more skinners, though they are valuable since I cannot create them on my own.¡±
¡°A¡ skinner,¡± the human female said, face still pale. Was she bleeding somewhere I was unaware of? Humans were so fragile, just one poke and all their juices would spill out. How did they manage to make it this far without something poking them, and popping them open? Well, I had seen humans drinking those healing potions. Those did stop the leaking. Perhaps that was how they did it, they did seem to carry those around all the time. I imagined a human place filled with humans all bumbling about as they often do, running into things, spilling their juices, and drinking their potions¡. Since when had my mind become so unfocused? Usually, I could sit and focus on a task for years on end, without ever wavering. Focus, there was a conversation, the human female had just said something stupid, and I needed to address it. ¡°Are you unfamiliar with skinners? I could summon one here if¡.¡± ¡°N-n-no need!¡± she half-shouted out, words rushed. ¡°Ah, really? It would be no trouble at all,¡± I say, summoning one from the catacombs beneath.¡± ¡°P-please don¡¯t. I-I am already familiar with them,¡± she said. ¡°I see,¡± I dismissed the skinner. ¡°Still, I would like to know how to more effectively cleanse your kind from this domain¡ excluding you that is,¡± I tacked on, almost forgetting. Politeness was important, if I am not polite, I may make her uncomfortable.
I feel like I am disarming a fucking bomb! I was looking at the litch, feeling my bladder trying to stab its way out of my hips, trying to debate whether or not it would be a good idea to ask where I could find a bathroom if they even had one here. When she had begun talking to me, first I had accidentally locked eyes with her, and that was some bullshit, then somehow, she got it in her head that the best course of action was to show me a skinner. A FUCKING SKINNER! Like anyone who had explored these dungeons, I knew of skinners, if only as a horror tale some of the veterans had told to us newbies as a deterrent of even coming into the labyrinth. They, like most undead, radiated some sort of emotion. Zombies and skeletons, for example, radiated a small amount of fear; this fear was cumulative and a whole hoard would instill such a potent feeling of fear that it would make even the most stalwart of adventurers have bladder problems. These emotions came in tiers, and fear was the bottom rung of its ladder. The next rung was terror, it was rarer but far more potent. It came from whites, and phantoms most commonly, and it was brutal. I had experienced it before, It was an overwhelming fear that crawled into my mind and drove me to run. I could barely control myself, but that was apparently nothing in comparison to the third and final tier. Horror. It radiated from very few undead, but as it were, it was the trademark of skinners. It was a terror so potent; it would lock up your muscles, letting the slow-moving monstrosities¡ get closer and closer. Only to make the horror press down on you harder and harder, until¡ well. They were called skinners for a reason. I had never come across a skinner, very few had and lived to speak of it, they were technically bronze rank monsters, but they were more difficult to take down than quite a few silver rank monsters. They were like liches in that manner I suppose.
Liches were silver rank, but they could easily surpass a gold rank monster, simply because they never fought alone, or fairly. Most people who were killed by a lich never know one was around, falling to an unending sea of undead. And here I was, looking one dead in the eyes. Well¡ no, I was looking pointedly at the coffin in the other room. Was it even another room? It really wasn¡¯t, the entryway was far too wide, it was more a partition. Either way, I had learned my lesson about looking a lich in the eyes. I could not identify the magical emotion that overwhelmed me. All I knew was it made me feel distant, my mind filled with insane thoughts, so much so I didn¡¯t even bat an eye when she¡¯d explained her job to me. The words she¡¯d used were filled with disdain and contempt, and yet I couldn¡¯t care less, worse; I almost agreed with her. Either way, I needed to answer that question, she¡¯d asked me how to kill the adventurers, I considered. If a skinner hadn¡¯t killed them, they were likely quite strong, a phantom? No, phantoms were pretty hit and miss. Maybe she could kill them though? She was silver rank. And maybe I could come with her. If they kill her, they should escort me back to the surface with them, if she killed them, I¡¯d have earned her favor. Actually, if she added perhaps a few skinners to the mix, that might help her odds, just to lock them down with magical horror. I nodded to myself, then opened my mouth to reply. As I spoke, I wondered when I had grown so callous towards these people. I had probably met them in the guild, yet the idea of them, dying¡ it didn¡¯t make me feel much. Just a slight tightness in my chest. Maybe I was still in shock from my brother¡¯s death. But¡ was I supposed to feel this¡ empty?
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Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I paused in drinking the mana potion, as my blessing rang out in my mind. ¡°Hold up,¡± I called out to my group. Madness: it was a nasty affliction, but not one I was too familiar with. ¡°I just got a resistance ping on madness,¡± I said. ¡°God damn, will this never end,¡± Leroy said, he was our main damage dealer, he had a massive sword sheathed on his back. ¡°Honestly I think it should end soon, we¡¯re running out of potions,¡± That voice came from Killian, he was our bagger, he was also the one who chucked healing potions at us when we did something stupid. I quickly swallowed the rest of my mana potion.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I frowned. ¡°I got another ping, where is Emiline?¡± I called out. ¡°I¡¯ll send her a call,¡± Hubert said, grabbing a phone out of his pocket. It wasn¡¯t the typical smartphone, there wasn¡¯t any cell service this far down, so everything was handled through radio, but it could only go so far through the walls. The phone let out a static pulse, before. ¡°Hey Em, Saria¡¯s got a ping on something, do you see anything up ahead?¡± He asked. A moment later, I heard Emiline¡¯s voice come from the speaker, a little staticky, but still perfectly understood. ¡°Copy that. There isn¡¯t much up here, just some zombies, and a few skeletons. What affliction is it?¡± ¡°Madness,¡± Hubert replied. ¡°Heh, oh. That doesn¡¯t sound like something I want.¡±
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I interjected. ¡°It¡¯s being cast out at range, we should call her back so I can check her,¡± I say. Hubert nods. ¡°Em, Saria says you should come back, she wants to make sure you aren¡¯t getting afflicted out there. ¡°Roger, on my way,¡± Emiline said, before cutting the feed. We waited, Once Emiline entered my aura, she would be cleansed, but I even so, madness was a bad one.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
That wasn¡¯t good. That was faster than before, wasn¡¯t it? I frowned. ¡°The pings are accelerating,¡± I said. ¡°Shit,¡± Leroy said. Emiline came running down the corridor, dressed in black, she held two naked daggers, covered in rotten guts. ¡°Hey,¡± she called out. I felt as if she entered my aura. I checked the team feed.
Affliction: Madness >> Cleansed: From party member: Leroy Newland
Affliction: Madness >> Cleansed: From party member: Killian Drew
Affliction: Madness >> Cleansed: From party member: Hubert Nole
::Alert:: Party member: Emiline Florance >> has re-entered aura
Affliction: Madness >> Cleansed: From party member: Emiline Florance] x5
¡°I was right to call you back Em, you had five stacks on you,¡± I said. ¡°Really, I didn¡¯t feel much different than usual,¡± she said pensively then shrugged looking up at us with her typical smile, ¡°That¡¯s concerning in more ways than one I guess,¡± she said.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
¡°Either way, I think we should ready ourselves for something nasty,¡± Hubert said, readying his great shield. My fingers tightened around my staff.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
¡°The pings are getting faster,¡± I said, ¡°I think whatever is causing them is getting closer. Killian what undead radiates madness?¡± I asked.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
¡°None that I know of, there are monsters that do, but¡ well the only one I can think of is demi-elds, but they also radiate insanity at close range.¡±
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
¡°What¡¯s the deal with demi-elds?¡± ¡°Well, they are gold rank,¡± he said. He didn¡¯t need to say anything else.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I groaned. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Killian asked, concerned.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
¡°Y-yes, it¡¯s getting faster¡¡±
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
¡°I think it¡¯s getting closer,¡± My voice is strained as my mind begins to fill with pings.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I groan louder and lean hard on my staff, my team going tense.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I fall to the ground clutching my head. As the pings overwhelm me.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I¡
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Can¡¯t¡
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Think¡
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
::Alert:: Settings have been automatically altered >> Effected settings:{
notification stacking: Changes >> Set from False to True] Reason:{
Damage to the cognitive functions of blessed detected
Activation of blessing: Danger sense
}
I can hear my screams now¡ feel the tears running down my face. Emiline is crouching over me. ¡°Saria, are you alright? Can you hear me?¡± ¡°Y-yeah, it¡¯s stopped,¡± I say. ¡°I think¡ it¡¯s here.¡± I say, now feeling another skill activate. Danger sense. I stand shakily. Clutching my staff. ¡°You feel that?¡± I ask Leroy. ¡°Yeah, my danger sense just kicked in,¡± he says.
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted x231
Affliction: Madness >> Resisted
I stopped checking my resistance log. The pings are going extremely fast now. ¡°I¡¯ve got over two hundred pings in just a few seconds. What the hell is out there?¡± I ask. No one answers, they all just clutch at their weapons. Then¡ I got another ping.
Affliction: Insanity >> Resisted
I quickly check my resistance log and realize that the madness has stopped rolling in. now¡. ¡°Shit,¡± I say. They all recoil. I never swear, and they know it. I was raised worshiping lumina, Pharmos, and Invaros. The goddess of light, god of healing, and god of endurance, respectively. I was raised to never swear, but now¡. ¡°We should retreat, I just got an insanity ping,¡± I said. They all nod, and we turn. Speeding back the way we came. We make it a few halls before¡
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x12
¡°Hold, I just got horror pings,¡± I call out. ¡°A skinner,¡± Emiline says, voice grim. ¡°You said pings plural. How many?¡± ¡°Twelve,¡± I said. They all pale. That means there are anywhere between six and twelve skinners somewhere around here, probably higher on that scale since I just picked them up. ¡°Down this way,¡± Emiline says, dashing down a hall. My danger sense is thrumming in my head like a bad headache. We follow her.
Affliction: Insanity >> Resisted
¡°I¡¯m getting insanity pings again,¡± I warn. ¡°Shit,¡± Emiline says. We all turn and run back, turning down a corridor on our left. We reach another corridor and turn right. I run keeping a close fix on my resistance pings, so far, I¡¯m only getting the background madness pings, which makes me think we¡¯re getting away from¡.
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x11
¡°Horror pings!¡± I call out. Emiline reverses and we run back the way we came, taking the next right. We run further and farther, deeper into the labyrinth. Mine and Leroy¡¯s danger senses escalating. ¡°I think we¡¯re being funneled,¡± I say. ¡°Got it,¡± Emiline says turning right. Almost immediately I get pings.
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x15
¡°Horror pings,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll try to get past them,¡± Emiline says. ¡°No,¡± Leroy overrules. ¡°If we¡¯re being funneled that means there is a lich controlling them, if we back up, they will surround us,¡± he said. ¡°So, what do we do?¡± Emiline asks. ¡°Skinners are slow, we outrun them.¡± We turn and run away from them. Our danger sense finally begins to fade a little¡ then it returns.
Affliction: Insanity >> Resisted
¡°Insanity ping,¡± I say. Emiline turns right, and we run our danger senses ramping up higher and higher.
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x3
¡°I¡¯m getting horror pings again,¡± I say. Emiline growls and runs back the way we came my danger sense spikes. ¡°Danger sense,¡± I call out, just before I get the ping.
Affliction: Insanity >> Resisted
¡°Danger and insanity,¡± I say. ¡°Sounds like fun,¡± Emiline says, before turning us around and immediately right.
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x2
¡°I¡¯m still getting horror pings, but not as many, I think they¡¯ve spread out,¡± I say. ¡°Shit,¡± Leroy swears. Emiline tries to turn us right, but I get an insanity ping, we try to go left but I get more horror pings we try to double back and¡
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x39
¡°Fuck, turn around!¡± I shout, Emiline doesn¡¯t even question it, and turns immediately. ¡°What was that?¡± Hubert asks, breathing heavily. ¡°I got thirty-nine horror pings all at once,¡± I say. Everyone goes pale, we are being funneled somewhere, and we cannot go back. We run down the hall, as fast as we can. Trying to escape the tightening of the noose, but our danger sense only rises.
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x2
Affliction: Horror >> Resisted x3
I¡¯ve stopped notifying them of horror pings, only increases in them. The skinners are all around us. If we stray from the hall even a little, I get either a shit load of horror pings or, an insanity ping. There seems to be about fifteen skinners on our left, and forty at our backs, to our right is the mysterious insanity source. The only path is ahead, and the worst of all¡ we haven¡¯t seen so much as a single undead, not even a skeleton. The corridor is clear. The darkness prevails, strangling the light from our lanterns. Then¡ we see it. At an intersection ahead there is a room with a coffin, to the right is a hall and same to the left, we run into the intersection and look down the halls. We shine a light down the left hall. About one hundred yards down the hall is packed¡ with skinners. I can see them. Skinners look just as horrific as the emotion they blast out. They look vaguely humanoid, but they are a sick rendition of humanity. Their bodies look wrinkled and fat, they are made of layers and layers of skin, all fused together haphazardly, all different shades and colors their heads are the same width as their necks and their eyes are just sunken malformed pits of darkness, through which there is a small glint of reflection. Their mouths are deep holes lined with skin, and from them juts, haphazard teeth, long and sharp in no real order. We shine the light to the right and see that the hall is filled with frost. It must be packed with ethereal beings we can¡¯t see. There¡¯s nowhere to go. We enter the room with the coffin, run through it and enter a large room.
The room is illuminated, with faint blue light that comes from the ceiling. There is a throne made from human bone on the far wall, and in it sits¡ a woman. She looks down at us as we look throughout the room. There are no exits. ¡°Huh, I didn¡¯t know she¡¯d lead you here,¡± the woman says. She¡¯s¡ human. ¡°Who?¡± Leroy is the first to recover first. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, she¡¯s going to kill you all,¡± the girl says, a little sadness in her voice. We notice the body in the corner. ¡°Who was that?¡± Killian asks, voice soft. ¡°He was my brother. She killed him too,¡± the woman says. Something in her tone unsettles me. Then¡
Affliction: Insanity >> Resisted
¡°Shit, I got an insanity ping,¡± I say. ¡°Who is she? What is she? Do you know anything that can help us?¡± Leroy asks. The girl just shakes her head. ¡°Nope, there¡¯s not much I can do for you,¡± the girl says. ¡°Well, you¡¯re an adventurer, aren¡¯t you? You could fight with us,¡± Leroy says. The girl just laughs. It¡¯s not a good laugh¡ it twists something within me. ¡°No way in hell, I¡¯m down here because I fell down a floor trap on the second floor. I couldn¡¯t so much as scratch her. Besides, if I help you, and she kills you, she¡¯ll kill me to. So, no, I¡¯m not going to do anything,¡± she says. ¡°There is an adventurer code¡.¡± Leroy begins, but she cuts him off. ¡°Fuck you and your code,¡± the girl says as she throws something down at us from the throne. I look at it, it¡¯s a metal adventurer¡¯s pin. ¡°Code means nothing if no one¡¯s hear to see me but the undead,¡± she says, ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll tell.¡± ¡°You fucking, traitorous, bitch!¡± Leroy shouts. The girl just shrugs. ¡°I can accept that,¡± she says flatly. Leroy draws his sword and begins to advance but¡
Affliction: Insanity >> Resisted x91,227
¡°Leroy, we¡¯ve got company,¡± I say. Pointing to the entrance. As a woman walks through. She looks¡ wrong. Leroy blurs to her, sword swinging down and¡ the woman lashes out with a kick, his armor shrieks, and caves in, I hear something snap as he¡¯s sent back to us¡ broken. I instantly crouched over him. ¡°Oh, Pharmos above I beg you, mend what is broken,¡± I say. The healing spell sinks into him, I hear his ribs mending with cracks, and snaps. He quickly strips off his caved-in chest plate, revealing the crushed chainmail underneath. The massive dent in the plate must have prevented him from breathing. The woman fixes her gaze on Hubert, and he goes still.
Warning >> Affliction: REDACTED Has affected party member: Hubert Nole
Warning >> Affliction: REDACTED cannot be cleansed
¡°Hubert¡¯s been hit wish something I can¡¯t tell¡.¡± I¡¯m cut off as Hubert turns and slams his shield into Killian. Killian screams, as he is battered to the ground, Emiline runs to him. ¡°Hubert, what¡¯s¡.¡± She begins but is cut off as the lich fires a beam of darkness at her. Leroy gets up and calls to Emiline. ¡°Em, on me,¡± he says. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. As they speed towards the woman. I level my staff at the woman and cast a fireball. It speeds to her, over Leroy and Emiline, and the woman bats it out of her way with an errant hand. I quickly turn to Hubert. And chant a cleansing spell.
Target: Hubert Nole >> is afflicted with REDACTED
REDACTED cannot be cleansed while source is intact
I watch in horror as Killian screams as Hubert brings his massive shield down on him. I hear breaking bones. I run to Hubert, screaming at him begging him to stop. Then I hear another sound, metal tearing, and a scream of agony as the woman tears Leroy¡¯s leg clean off, then immediately uses it to batter Emiline. And it¡¯s at that moment that I knew¡ Leroy would die, I couldn¡¯t restore his leg, and even if I could¡ I was too far to do anything. He would be dead before I got there. I was petrified, as I hear Hubert bring the shield down on Killian again, he¡¯s screaming in agony. His body twisted and broken. Only alive because, in crushing Killian, Hubert also bust several healing potions, the healing working only to prolong Killian¡¯s suffering. Even so, his bones are shattered, and Hubert brings the shield down again and again and again. And he¡¯s laughing, a manic grin on his face. I¡ I¡ I know what I have to do. I aim my staff at Hubert¡ and fire an ice bolt, the frozen spike piercing the back of his head and spraying blood everywhere. I run to Killian, and cast healing on him, I hear his bones cracking back into place, he¡¯s unconscious, but alive. Those two massive healing spells have drained my mana almost to the last drop. I look at Hubert, and swiftly look away. I turn back to the woman and see¡. Leroy¡¯s other leg is missing, and both arms are twisted beyond what I can repair, I don¡¯t have any more mana potions. Emiline is sitting on the ground laughing insanely as she stabs a dagger into her own stomach. I watch as she dies. Then¡ it¡¯s only me. The woman walks over to me, and I stand leveling my staff at her, as if I have any mana to use it. She isn¡¯t even looking at me. Suddenly she¡¯s gone, my eyes say teleportation, but the wind says she just moves that fast. I hear a sick crunching from behind me, I turn and see her caving in Killian¡¯s skull with her foot.
That¡¯s it¡ it¡¯s over. I watched as she butchered the most important people in my life. One of Emiline¡¯s daggers is jutting from her side, but that¡¯s it. The wound isn¡¯t even bleeding. I fall to my knees. Tears in my eyes. I¡ I was the healer¡ I was supposed to save them, I was¡ I was¡ I. I watched them all die around me¡ helpless to do anything. I let the staff slip from my fingers, but it doesn¡¯t fall. The woman¡ no, the monster catches it. Flips it over in one hand and¡.
Party Leader: Saria Lionheart >> has been removed from the party
Party >> has been disbanded
I watch as the lich splatters the contents of the healer¡¯s skull all across the walls with her own staff. The staff snapped with the sheer force of the swing. Well, so much for that escape attempt, I sigh. If only they were stronger, they would¡¯ve been able to get me out of here. I leap down from the throne. I still need to pee, I think glumly.
00003: CHESHIRE GETS TORTURED
CHESHIRE GETS TORTURED
Rule one of monsters: You didn¡¯t kill it; you didn¡¯t even hurt it. I don¡¯t care what sort of spell or grenade you chucked right down its throat; it is perfectly fine. Or worse, it isn¡¯t perfectly fine, and now it¡¯s mad. If you are ever in a situation where you need to chuck out your strongest trump card, assume it does nothing, and run. Don¡¯t even wait to see if it hits, just use it as a distraction while you get the hell out of there.
Those were the words written across the top of the test I was meant to take to become a bagger. Basically, a pack mule. I was in a room with a bunch of other perspective adventurers and baggers taking a test, although it was mostly adventurers. I was taking the bagger test, which was a lot harder than the adventurer test, although the adventurer test also took into account a tough practical combat exam, and applicant¡¯s blessings were taken into account. With a bagger, there weren¡¯t many blessings that influenced performance, aside from a stamina blessing, or maybe a recovery or endurance blessing, but those were all also useful for adventurers. Most people became adventurers rather than becoming baggers. It made sense, it was called the Adventurer¡¯s Guild and not the Bagger¡¯s Guild. I looked at the first question. What are the four monster ranks, and what should you do upon encountering each one, assuming you are assigned to a C-ranked team? This¡ isn¡¯t a hard question. The rule of thumb is two adventurer ranks for every monster rank. The monster ranks are iron bronze silver, gold, and theoretically diamond. The adventurer rankings are D, C, B, A, and S. this means, a D-rank team may be able to handle an iron rank monster but will be killed utterly by a bronze, A C-rank team can handle an iron rank monster, and might be able to beat a bronze, but likely with heavy casualties. A B-rank team can candle a bronze rank monster, but not a silver. An A-rank team might be able to handle a silver but it¡¯s unlikely. While an S rank team can handle a silver rank monster. Gold rank monsters¡ they are a problem, Only the greatest of great S rank teams can even have a chance at beating one. Gold rank monsters include things like slimes, dragons, and demi-elds. Slimes being nearly indestructible mindless killing machines. Dragons being¡ well¡ dragons. And Demi-elds, being odd creatures with human level intelligence, and strange universe warping powers, not to mention they radiate insanity¡ like literally. Either way, I wrote down my answer, and moved onto the next question.
If you and your team (C-rank) come across these two paths, (see fig.1 and fig.2) which should you choose? I glance at the path, immediately notice the dread maw, and write down my answer. ¡°I would take note of the dread maw, mark the location of it on the GPS, and return to the city immediately to report it.¡± Dread maws are a species of drake, large wingless dragons, they are silver rank and if one is in the forest, it is definitely a large problem. Interestingly enough this was actually a trick question. While dread maws are massive, they disguise themselves well, if someone taking this test isn¡¯t paying attention, they would probably notice the spin nettle on the other path. And take the path with the dread maw. A spin nettle being a plant that will, upon approach, begin launching paralyzing venomous needles, rapidly. Was this really all they had for these tests?
I frowned down at the test. At this moment there was not a single person in this world I hated more than the young woman who had signed her test with the name Cheshire Limington in neat handwriting. Normally the bagger test had few applicants. This was to be expected, no one wanted to be a pack mule if they could help it. People were drawn in by the fantasy and glory of being an adventurer, the Adventurer¡¯s Guild has so carefully harnessed. The real difference was the phonebook of a waiver we made those young fools sign. The main problem was this application. It was a perfect score; hell, it wasn¡¯t just a perfect score it was beyond perfect. The answers were detailed, specific, and above all, correct. Alluding to someone who may have specifically studied to be a bagger rather than to be an adventurer. The problem was just that, we couldn¡¯t afford to send such a trove of knowledge out there as a bagger. Sure, she had no blessings, but it didn¡¯t take a blessing to pull a fucking trigger. But she¡¯d specifically applied for the bagger exam. I scowled at the test. I¡¯d scored it myself. Out of one hundred possible points, where passing was eighty, she¡¯d gotten a score of one-hundred twenty-eight. The fact that her ability broke the scoring mechanism was a testament to how much she must know. I reached over to the phone built into my desk out of sight of anyone on the other side, had to keep up that fantasy image, and dialed my secretary. He answered almost before it could start ringing. ¡°Yes Sir?¡± he said, voice calm, confident, and a little nasal. ¡°Call her in,¡± I said. ¡°Yes Sir,¡± he said, before ending the call with a click. The girl would be here within five minutes. My secretary, Moore, had a way of being excellent at everything.
As predicted, after about three minutes there was a quick knock on the door. ¡°Enter,¡± I said. Moore pushed it open, ushered the girl in, nodded his head to me, and left. The girl looked at me, face a little red. She was nervous, that was understandable, but acceptable. ¡°Take a seat,¡± I said. She crossed the room and sat in one of the chairs at the other side of my desk. ¡°You¡¯re Cheshire Limington I presume?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°Now, why did you apply to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild?¡± She looked around the room, before answering. ¡°A friend said I should,¡± She answered, simply. ¡°And is that it?¡± She nodded. I let the room fall silent for several long seconds. ¡°This test,¡± I said, tapping it with a finger, ¡°Do you know how they are scored?¡± She nodded. ¡°Score out of one hundred, where eighty is passing.¡± I nodded. ¡°And do you know what you scored?¡± She shook her head. ¡°One hundred twenty-eight. With a score like that, you could become an adventurer, not just a bagger,¡± I said, but she shook her head firmly. ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡± I frowned. Everyone wanted to be an adventurer, well everyone but her apparently. ¡°May I ask why?¡± She reached over and tapped a finger on the test. ¡°I know enough about monsters to know I don¡¯t want to fight them. They are fundamentally stronger than us, to the point where the strongest adventurer to ever live, Ilphons Aaron, could only barely take out a silver rank monster on his own and ignoring branch ranks, there are two ranks above silver, both an order of magnitude stronger than the previous. So, what¡¯s so good about trying to fight that? Monster ranks get stronger exponentially, adventurer ranks get stronger linearly, and not to mention, monster ranks aren¡¯t the best tell on a monster¡¯s strength, a blade worm and a lock jaw are both bronze rank monsters. But while a lock jaw can kill just about anything given enough time, it¡¯s no match for the speed and efficient killing power of a blade worm. The fact is, no one person is strong enough to fight monsters, that¡¯s why we fight them in teams, because monsters are so much more powerful than humans.¡± I looked at the young woman across from my desk. I sighed, I grabbed a sheet of paper and quickly signed it. ¡°You¡¯re assigned to Toad Eaters, if you need to stay here take this paper to the dorms, report to the yard for training at the time on the paper,¡± I said. She smiled, taking the paper from me, and leaving the room. I sighed¡ such a waste.
I wandered haphazardly around the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, trying to figure out the building. I also wanted to find my new team if I could. To be fair they may not be here, but¡. Actually, what kind of team name is Toad Eaters? Can¡¯t you have something decent like, Work Saw, Horns of Hammerad, hell Team Biscuit is better than goddamn Toad Eaters. I turned to the entry hall with the receptionists with the slightly low-cut uniforms. Like¡ it was reasonable, but it wasn¡¯t something I would wear¡ maybe I was being unreasonable, but¡ I sighed. I entered the entry hall and stood in line behind a group of people dressed like they were ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel. That was to be expected here, it was how all the adventurers dressed. There was a man with a broadsword, a man with a great sword, another man dressed in black with a rapier, a woman who was dressed in witch cosplay, wand included, and of course a bagger. Which was just someone with a large backpack along with a belt filled with useful items. Soon enough it was my turn and I walked up to the woman at the counter with the single fakest-looking smile I¡¯d ever seen. ¡°Hello, what can I help you with?¡± she said, leaning onto the counter. I re-evaluated my conclusion on the cut of the uniforms. ¡°Hi, I was assigned to a team, and I want to know where I can find them,¡± I said, in that pathetic uncertain way you asked service workers for things. Somehow her smile widened and looked even more fake. Did she have some kind of blessing? Which God hands out fake smile blessings? ¡°Ah, I see well the mess hall is a good bet. Usually, teams eat there when they are here. Coincidentally lunch is in forty-five minutes, if you don¡¯t mind the wait,¡± she said¡ okay how is the smile still getting less authentic? This is actually impressive. I definitely mind the wait; I don¡¯t want to stand around for¡. ¡°I don¡¯t mind, where¡¯s the mess hall?¡± Damn it, me. ¡°Oh wonderful,¡± she says. And against all known laws of aviation, and quantum physics¡ but possibly within the laws of quantum biology: The smile, gets less authentic.
And so, I find myself waiting in the empty mess hall while the somewhat concerned staff come by every now and again to ask if I need anything, but mostly to tell me lunch isn¡¯t for another half-hour. I begin playing games on my phone while I wait. It feels a little sacrilegious with the whole fantasy setting of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, but¡ eh, I¡¯m bored. Finally, people begin to arrive, so I begin the unpleasant task of assaulting every single group that walks in and asking them what team they are. All of them have normal team names, things that are overdramatic, and come right out of some teenage power fantasy¡. All 300x better than Toad Eaters. I should ask why they are named that when I see them. I looked at the paper I¡¯d been awkwardly dribbling along with me since the meeting, that ended about an hour and a half ago. I forfeited and just decided to get myself something to eat, while I was in line several more groups came in. I passively noted them, and once I finished collecting my food, I wandered around to each table they had sat at while the designated food courier of their party, usually the bagger, went to the line to get the food. While I was doing that, even more groups showed up. I wandered around asking for the names of groups for so long they were all starting to fuse together. ¡°We¡¯re Dragon Hunters, Hunters of Defiance, Defiance of Demons, Demon Eaters, Dragon Eaters, Titan Eaters, Toad Eaters, Gryphon¡ wait a minute. I left Gryphon Hunters and returned to the last table.
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¡°Wait¡ you¡¯re Toad Eaters?¡± I asked, double checking that my liquified brain wasn¡¯t just bubbling nonsense. ¡°Yeah¡ we just told you that,¡± said a man with a humorous smirk on his face. ¡°Oh, thank Lumina,¡± I said, feeling a release of stress so powerful I could hardly believe it. The man arched an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you guys for the past¡ (I checked my phone) ¡two hours,¡± I said. He snickered. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you found us, I guess. You our new bagger?¡± He asked. I nodded. ¡°Cheshire Limington,¡± I said extending my hand. He extended his and shook it firmly. I looked around the table. He was dressed like a normal person, in a t-shirt and jeans, A surprising rarity in this place where everyone dressed like this was a cosplay convention, the only unusual thing was that he was heavily muscled. He had short brown hair and a friendly demeanor. I looked at the next person, it was another man, he was dressed like a weirdo¡ well for this place he was dressed normally, which made me suppose I was dressed weirdly. Huh¡ anyways, he was still fit, but not as much as the other guy. He had black hair and seemed nice enough. Next there was a girl dressed in an intricate white and yellow dress, she had blonde hair and was overdoing her makeup with a portable makeup case, the salad in front of her completely untouched. She still waved at me, in a way that could be perceived as friendly or indifferent. Lastly there was a girl dressed in all black, she was curled up in what looked like a fetal position. She was the only one at the table with a weapon. Well, she had two, two long curved swords that looked like scimitars, they were sheathed so I couldn¡¯t tell. She was glaring daggers at her lunch. Which was¡ upon a tray, there was a plate, upon the plate there was a fork and knife, and in betwixt the two, there was a single, red,
apple. ¡°So, let me guess,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re the defender, (I pointed at the muscular man,) You¡¯re the damage dealer, (I pointed at the other man) You¡¯re the mage (This time the woman in bright colors) and you¡¯re the scout,¡± I finished with the girl who was glaring at the fruit like it killed her father, and for this, she was going to skewer it with a rapier.
The muscular man laughed, so did everyone else except for the dark girl. ¡°Let¡¯s actually introduce ourselves. I¡¯m James, I¡¯m the mage,¡± Said¡ the muscular man, ¡°I¡¯m Nathanial, I¡¯m the defender,¡± said the other man. ¡°I¡¯m the scout, you may call me Erianna,¡± said the girl dressed in bright colors, her tone slightly made me want to strangle her, but it was¡ fine. The dark girl said nothing. But James spoke up for her. ¡°That¡¯s Goose, she¡¯s the monster equivalent to a paper shredder.¡± ¡°What kind of name is Goose? Actually, never mind that, what kind of name is Toad Eaters?¡± I asked. The men chuckled. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty sure this is the team they assign all the weirdos to,¡± Nathanial said. I snickered and sat down next to Erianna, who scooted closer to Goose to make room for me. ¡°Yeah, I completely screwed that up,¡± I said. ¡°Utterly,¡± Erianna said from beside me. ¡°So, what¡¯s the deal with Goose? is she mute?¡± I asked. Suddenly, everyone at the table, sighed in unison¡ well everyone but Goose, she just continued glaring at the apple. ¡°Yeah¡ she can talk, just don¡¯t expect her to,¡± Nathanial said. ¡°We thought she couldn¡¯t talk for about two months when she first joined, until she finally said something,¡± James said. ¡°Of course, it was an insult,¡± Erianna said. ¡°Erianna was trying to spar with her for an entire day, and after consistently kicking her ass the (¡°Hey, she didn¡¯t kick my ass! Some of those were close.¡±) Okay so after beating her the whole day do you know what she said?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You¡¯re too weak,¡± Erianna exclaimed, sounding a little exasperated. ¡°Really?¡± I asked, now looking at the girl a little warily. ¡°She¡¯s not that bad, she¡¯s probably the one reason we¡¯re a C-rank team in the first place,¡± James said. Everyone nodded. ¡°She¡¯s actually A-rank, but she got kicked from her team for¡ well¡ being her,¡± Nathan said. I nodded, looking back at Goose. She seemed like she couldn¡¯t hear the conversation; she was still glaring at the apple¡ core. When did she eat it? How had she eaten it so quietly? ¡°Honestly, we wouldn¡¯t even know her real name if she hadn¡¯t had to sign it on her application. Her real name¡¯s Jackie just so you know,¡± ¡°Then why do you call her¡.¡± I was interrupted when Goose suddenly stood from her seat, standing on the bench. She stepped onto the table, walked across it, leapt neatly over Nathan, and walked off. ¡°Okay¡ what the fuck was that?¡±
I walked back home, legs feeling like jelly, apparently bagger training was just some asshole, making you wear a backpack full of bricks and then forcing you to run laps for an hour. I never wanted to die so much in my whole life. The next torture session was the day after tomorrow, and I was already feeling it was too soon. I wandered into my apartment opened the door, closed it, locked it behind me, stumbled over to my bed, fell onto it¡.
I awoke to the sound of people merrily going about their day, and golden rays of sunlight on my face. I opened my eyes to the beams streaming in through my window; as the sun did, in its own gentle way, slowly tickled me from my blissful respite. I looked out the window, catching a view of the source of blinding golden light through the glass¡ and groaned. ¡°Why hasn¡¯t anyone shot that fucker down yet?¡± I semi-incoherently grumbled to the nonexistent ghosts in my room. Or maybe to the obnoxious couple in the apartment above mine who always complained that I was too noisy even though it was their stupid chihuahua that was constantly yipping at all hours of the¡ all the time. I¡¯m too tired for internal monologues. I rolled back into my blankets, letting the soothing warmth of my blankets claim my soul. I smiled as I felt myself drifting back off. Mission successful¡. Or at least it would¡¯ve been if my phone hadn¡¯t reminded me of a phrase about counting chickens. It let out it¡¯s cheery death-call into the cool morning air (Scientifically proven to be the worst kind of air) forcing my attention to it like a reluctant paperclip to an obnoxiously per- and in- sistant magnet. I reached for it¡ missed, fumbled around for a couple seconds before grabbing onto it. A few more moments of fumbling with the slider that would connect the call, while also kinda hoping that it would just go to voicemail, and I was suddenly assaulted with human interaction before I¡¯d even woke up. Okay, that wasn¡¯t exactly true¡ sorry Lumina.
¡°Why?¡± I asked, like someone who had been dramatically betrayed by the Totally Not Suspicious Sidekick Charactertm, not like someone who had been woken up by their phone. ¡°Hey, is this Cheshire?¡± The man on the other end asked, ignoring my nonsense. I never in my life so much wanted to be able to lie outright as I did at that moment. Ah, but alas¡. I gave a tired noise, half yeah, half mhmm, that sounded like¡ well not really like anything save for vaguely affirmative. ¡°Great, this is Nathanial, from the Toad Eaters. ¡°Mhmm,¡± I said, energy now unfortunately at the point for a proper, mhmm. ¡°Well, we need you to come in, we have a mission.¡± That snapped me out of my post-sleep delirium. ¡°Wait what?¡± I asked, now using full and cohesive words. ¡°Yeah, we need you to show up no later than one, can you be here. ¡°Uh¡¡± I stalled as I looked at my clock. Eleven forty-eight. ¡°Yeah, I can make it,¡± I said. ¡°Great, I¡¯ll tell the others,¡± he said. ¡°Alright,¡± I said before I hang up. Well¡ shit. I quickly took a shower, ate some cereal, the breakfast of anyone who couldn¡¯t be bothered, and rushed outside. I wandered through the somewhat crowded morning streets, even though it was twelve thirty it was still morning, weaving through the foot traffic. The Adventurer¡¯s guild was on the other side of town, near the wall that was designed to keep the monsters out. Convenient for adventurers who were coming and going, bad for¡ well¡ me. I finally made it to the guild at twelve forty-seven. Walking through the door into the main hall. I looked around as I always did, and probably always would, or at least until I¡¯ve been working here so long, I can¡¯t be bothered anymore¡ or until I get killed by some horrendous monster.
I walked through the hall into the back thorough the building and into the yard beyond. There I found my team¡ well most of them. Thank god I wasn¡¯t the last one. Nathanial was there, of course, and so was James and Erianna. The only missing member being Goose. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m not late, am I?¡± I asked. ¡°No,¡± Erianna said, begrudgingly reaching into a pocket, pulling out her wallet selecting a few bills and handing them to James. James beamed. ¡°Told you she¡¯d get here first,¡± James said. ¡°Don¡¯t gloat,¡± Erianna shot back, grouchily. They were betting on me. I didn¡¯t know how I felt about that. I put that aside and asked the obvious question. ¡°Where is Goose?¡± Nathanial was the one who answered. ¡°No clue, I texted her though, and that usually does the trick, though she usually arrives last-minute.¡± I nodded and prepared for an intense session of waiting. ¡°So¡ how¡¯s life?¡± I asked. James chuckled. ¡°Great. How is bagger training? I hear it¡¯s pretty rough.¡± I felt my leg muscles lock up in P.T.S.D. from the words. ¡°Horrible. They make us run laps for hours with what is essentially a bag of steel bricks on our backs,¡± I said. ¡°Sounds wonderful, did you at least get a stamina blessing out of it?¡± James asked. I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯ve never been able to get blessings,¡± I said before immediately switching the topic, ¡°What was adventurer training like?¡± I asked. ¡°It was fine, it was mostly sparring with other students interlaced with direct training from the instructor,¡± James said. ¡°Fine you say. It was miserable, every single day it was a new bruise,¡± Erianna complained. I snickered and so did James.
Nathanial interrupted our conversation with a quick, ¡°She¡¯s here,¡± which drew our attention to the building. At first, I didn¡¯t see her, until I noticed the dark figure climbing out of a window on the third floor. ¡°Wait, what is she doing?¡± I asked. As I watched Goose closed the window behind her, effortlessly balancing on the window frame before she turned and dropped. I let out a surprised shout as I watched Goose plummet from the third floor, I wanted to try and catch her, but she was too far, what could I¡. Goose hit the ground with a roll, that propelled her back to her feet in one smooth motion, she continued walking, the whole display was incredibly¡ fluid, done with the expert ease of an action repeated thousands of times over. She approached with her standard impassive expression. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked concern in my voice, although with how smooth the motion was, I highly doubted she was injured in any way. She analyzed me, coldly. Before finally nodding. I felt a small spark of relief fill me with the confirmation. I turned to the rest of my team. ¡°Is this normal for her?¡± I asked as Goose passed me, joining the others. They all nodded. I then turned to Goose. ¡°Why?¡± I asked. She looked at me, expression unchanged. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s not going to be that easy,¡± Erianna said, haughtily. I frowned, deciding on the spot that no matter what, come hell or high water, I would get Goose to say something to me.
00004: SHE GETS A CHILD
SHE GETS A CHILD
I search through the dead human bodies strewn about the room, looking for what they would be best suited to once I revived them. I was collecting them up into loose piles; I¡¯d already used magic to scrape the remains of the girl¡¯s head off the walls. I was actually almost done, I¡¯d collected up all the blood and put it into buckets, that I paced next to the piles. I stood over the man I dismembered, considering. Maybe he would take to being made into a skinner. I am not able to make skinners, only the necromancer has that power. Although, if I waited for her to crawl out of that coffin to revive the dead, his body would¡¯ve likely rotted beyond the point where it could be used for anything other than a skeleton. I flicked a finger, and a ghoul was summoned. It would take the body to cold corpse storage, maybe I would learn to make skinners myself someday. Moving on, I looked at the big man. Hmm¡ zombie. I snapped my fingers, looking into him, I grabbed onto the two fundamental parts from which life is made. They hadn¡¯t yet fully separated from the body. One was wispy, ever-changing, and infinitely complex, the other, sturdy and impenetrable. I pulled out the impenetrable core, and the wispy mist, tossing them away. They would fade from this place soon.
Once I was done, I grabbed some of the connection points, where the parts anchored to the body, with my magic and pulled them together. Tying them like I was jumpstarting a car. Hmm¡ where did that analogy come from? I should note that down for when I have more time. I return my focus to my task; I place a shard of mana into the intricate web of connections. Finally, I remove my focus from inside the man, then snap my fingers, he jerks up sharply to his feet with a blank gaze. I wave a finger and he wanders off to the zombie storage room two levels below. I move on to the girl who I splattered. Poltergeist. I reach into her, pull out the core, and separate several of the connectors to the mist but don¡¯t fully detach it, I place a shard of mana in the connectors. I leave her there for the time being, I need a phantom body before I can finish her. I reach over for the other mist, the one from the last man I killed. I grind it up, battering it with my magic until it¡¯s nothing but a fine ethereal powder, then I pour it over the girl¡¯s body, where it¡¯s absorbed. I will need at least two more before I can complete her. I finally turned my attention to the woman who died by stabbing herself. Ghoul? I smile, Ghouls are useful. These were spectacular humans, only one of them becoming a zombie, the rest becoming something¡ useful. Why is that feeling back? I have decided I don¡¯t like that feeling. I reach into the girl I rip out the core and toss it aside, I pull out a specific part of the mist, grind it up and pour it back in. I use my magic to mold it, so it has a connection to the mana crystal that I insert promptly. I am about to snap my fingers, which is wholly unnecessary, but for some reason it just feels¡ right, when I consider something. I look back at the core.
When the necromancer taught me to perform necromancy, she¡¯d told me to leave the core out, since it was essentially useless, but it didn¡¯t seem useless. Perhaps it was just that we lacked the ability to properly utilize it. Like undead with healing potions, I¡¯d tried feeding one to a zombie as an experiment but, it didn¡¯t do anything. Why does my mind wander so much? I forgot I needed to analyze that. I took the mana crystal from the wispy slot and pressed it to the core. It sunk in smoothly. Interestingly, I tried to pull it out, but the crystal wouldn¡¯t respond. Interesting. Suddenly the core lit up with energy, the same energy as the mana crystal, just much, much stronger. I tilted my head, then shoved the core into the mist in place of the mana crystal, I had to adjust the slot along with the connectors. It took a while but eventually, the core clicked into place smoothly, in a way that felt right. It was like connecting two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I could feel it was correct. I withdrew my magic from the human. What would she become? It¡¯s a similar format as a ghoul, but¡ different. I stepped back, raised my hand and sn¡. The human is poking at me. I lower my hand and look to her; she looks to my thighs. ¡°Human,¡± I say. ¡°I¡ I need to pee,¡± she said. What is pee? I scan my memories. Oh, oh... that¡¯s¡ inconvenient. Technically she could do it anywhere, but I don¡¯t really want her to do it¡ hmm¡. ¡°Follow me,¡± I say. I walk to the wall and press my hand into a particular brick with a chip in it at a specific place. It slides back smoothly into the wall, in and in¡ and in¡ I stop pushing back, then begin pushing to the right, the brick in the hole slides back, creating a right turn in the hole, I push back, a brick sliding out from the wall towards me, leaning into the wall, I push to the left, then, twisting my arm unnaturally, I then push another left, hook my fingers on a corner, pull and¡. I feel my arm break with a loud crack. I continue pushing, deeper. I make a right, then go up and push a button.
I drag my broken, twisted, limb from the stone hole, letting it fall closed behind me. My arm making more sickening cracks as my radius and ulna crack back into proper place and form. I take a step to the right, and push a section of the wall in. It slides to the side automatically with a loud stone on stone grinding. I step into the dark hole in the wall, the human following behind me quietly. I reach to the right and flip a small plastic switch. The human flinches as suddenly the two of us are gilded in¡ warm LED light. ¡°W-what the fuck?¡± she says. I don¡¯t understand the reason behind the expression of confusion. ¡°Remove your shoes,¡± I say. She does so, almost automatically. The room we are in is much different from any other room in the dungeon, the floor is made of wood planks, the walls are made of¡ actually I have no idea, but it isn¡¯t stone bricks like most of the other walls. There are fluffy chairs, one of them is as long as three of the smallest, and it is facing a sleek black rectangle on the wall. There is a room with a large box that hums a lot. There is a sink, something I¡¯m somewhat familiar with, but there are other things that I am not. The small box on the table under the black rectangle with the blinking lights and antenna being one of them. ¡°What is this place?¡± the human asked. ¡°This is the necromancer¡¯s residence, though she hasn¡¯t used it in a while,¡± I say. She just nods, she runs a finger over the counter with the sink, bringing it away covered in dust. I lead her to another room, ¡°I believe you may pee in this room,¡± I say. The human gets a strange look on her face, before she walks into the peeing room.
I leave her, returning to my experiment. As I approach the bloody corpse. Maybe I should fix it? There are some undead where their corpses need to be repaired as much as possible before they can be revived, skinners for example. I pull out a needle made of bone, and some silver thread from the folds of my gown. It was made with thin strands of silver twisted in with spider silk. The wire was white and gleamed in the dim light with a feint glow. I quickly threaded the needle, then guided it with osteomancy, quicky sewing up her damaged organs followed by the hole in her stomach. I tied the line before I quickly snipped the wire, I coiled it and tucked it away in my gown before sinking the bone needle back into my flesh. I found that flesh was quite useful for storage of small sharp objects. I wondered what sort of small objects the human had stored in her flesh. I make a mental note to ask her later. I raise my hand and snap my fingers. With a pulse of mana my new¡ thing¡¯s eyes fly open.
It takes a deep breath, before coughing. It lets out several heavy hacking coughs, before finally it hacks up a wad of clotted blood. It rolls over onto its stomach and pushes itself to its knees. I don¡¯t exert my control over it, merely watching as it moves on its own, it suddenly looks down at itself, clutching at its bare stomach in, what appears to be, surprise. It pokes at the thread, gingerly. Then it begins rubbing at it. The expression on its face changes to a confused one. That¡¯s odd, undead don¡¯t have confusion. I merely continue observing as it reaches over to its other hand, and pinches it, confused it pinches harder until its sharp nails draw blood. When did its nails become so claw like? Seeing the dark congealed liquid slowly being squeezed out, it looks at it. Fascinating. It seems to have some measure of intelligence. I feel its undead consciousness reaching out into the void through which we communicate. I close my eyes. I see it¡¯s a small spark of consciousness, reaching out little feelers into the void. I reach a tendril to one of its small feelers and gently¡ poke. I hear it let out a squeak of surprise, and the feeler immediately recoils. I freeze my tendrils, leaving them in place. I watch as the creature reaches out its small feeler, shakily, nervously. It pokes my tendril, hesitantly as if testing it for extreme temperature. It does a few cautionary quick pokes before it rests a feeler against me. I feel it shiver in excitement as it rests several more, thin, jellyfish tentacle, wires against my tendril. It rubs it gently, it tickles, in a way likely no human would be able to comprehend or, if they could, describe as tickling. I retract my tendril and it reaches for it, desperately trying to find me in the void. I approach its actual body. The expression on its face is¡ sorrowful, then fearful as it sees me towering over it. I lower myself and extend my arm, at the same time I extend a tendril in the void. Its physical body recoils, even as its little feelers extend towards me on the other side. I retract my arm and tendril in sync. It suddenly looks at me. It extends its tendrils to me, approaching cautiously with its physical form, before it reaches out an arm and a tendril then I extend myself, and¡ we touch. It smiles, looking up at me, with a gleam in its eyes. I finally knew what it was. It was a lich, like me. I didn¡¯t know I could make a lich. The necromancer never told me I could do that. I laced my fingers into it, it looked down at itself then it shifted shape.
It now looked like a combination of me and the woman from who¡¯s body it was made, except for its hair. My hair was black, and so was the woman¡¯s. but my creation¡¯s hair was the gleaming white-silver of the thread I had used to repair its old body. It was so¡ small. I leaned over and wrapped it in my arms, as I wrapped its core in my tendrils. lifting it up, as I pulled it close. It was smaller than any human I had ever seen, I scanned my memories for any humans of this size. Huh¡ apparently, they were rather common, they called them children. It reached its arms out to me, I pulled it closer, and it wrapped me in a small hug. This is a different feeling than the usual unpleasant one. It''s making my face¡ twist oddly. Why? It¡¯s not an unpleasant feeling. I wrap my arms around the small lich. I carry it back to the throne and sit down. It looks up at me, eyes glowing a bright green. The human walks back into the room. ¡°Hey, what is that gross goo in the fridge¡.¡± The human trails. Off. ¡°Where did you get that kid?¡± she asks. The small one looks at the human, and immediately recoils, leaping from the throne, falling to the ground, breaking three bones, healing them instinctively, and scampering off on all fours, I noticed it slightly altered its body, to make its locomotion more efficient with that method. ¡°I greet you, human female. I made this children¡ this child,¡± I say. Correcting myself as my memories scream at me.
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I walk out of the fully stocked bathroom in a daze. There is a bathroom¡ an actual bathroom, and it isn¡¯t some crappy 7-eleven bathroom either, it¡¯s a nice bathroom. It has a shower, and a roomy one at that. When I turned the shower on, it had better water pressure than the shower I had at home. Not to mention that when I turned it on, the water came out warm, not room temperature from sitting in a pipe all day, but warm. Nothing said luxury shower more than on demand temperature. As I switched around the temperature, the water updated almost as fast as I changed the lever, and it wasn¡¯t just the shower, the toilet. I was not familiar with luxury toilets, but I could tell¡ this was a luxury toilet. It was just something about it, about how comfortable it was, I had sat on couches that weren¡¯t as comfortable as that toilet. I left the bathroom looking around at the expensive and spacy apartment that had been tucked away on the 12th floor of the god damn Lomari labyrinth, a place filled with undead, treasure, magic, dying adventurers, god damn skinners¡ and apparently a trendy, expensive apartment. It made me wonder who the necromancer was. Necromancers weren¡¯t monsters, they were humans. They had a blessing from a god that gave them the ability to raise the dead. Specifically, Vora the undeath goddess. They were a reclusive sort, mostly because the church of Lumina would hunt them down and kill them, even though they were actually quite well respected among adventurers. I briefly wondered what would have happened to me if the Lich had brought me here and the necromancer were alive. As I considered everything around me, I felt like I got an inkling of what sort of person the necromancer was. She was courageous, surely, and clearly had something going on which she didn¡¯t want disturbed. Why else would she make her home in the Lomari labyrinth? I wondered what she was doing here.
I looked at the refrigerator in the kitchen. Where did she get all this? I wondered to myself. As was the theme, it was expensive, I could tell by looking at it. I looked at the brand, kitchen aid. I looked around the room, the massive tv on the wall drew me in like a moth to a flame. How did she get all this stuff down here? We were a good mile beneath the surface, not to mention the eleven floors of monsters of escalating difficulty above us. Getting a god damn seventy-two-inch television down here without it breaking suddenly seemed completely infeasible, and the couch? Forget about it. I pulled the refrigerator open, cold blue-white light spilling out into the room. There was¡ was that¡ milk? How the hell did she get milk down here? Well¡ it was long expired, but presumably it wasn¡¯t when she lived here. I switched my focus to the food containers filled with what looked like brown slime. What the hell was that? I watched it as¡ without any input from me, it slowly wiggled. Ugh¡ I closed the refrigerator and walked out of the apartment and into the dungeon¡ the sharp contrast making me do a double take. Trendy apartment, Bare stone brick walls, trendy apartment, monsters around any corner, trendy apartment, Lomari labyrinth. I walked into the labyrinth, I refused to acknowledge the apartment as part of the labyrinth and spoke. ¡°Hey, what is that gross goo in the fridge¡.¡± I trailed off. I saw the Lich sitting on the throne looking down at a little girl with a warm smile. At the sound of my voice the little girl¡¯s head snapped to me, glowing green eyes locking onto mine for a fraction of a second before she leapt from the throne, landing hard on the stone floor, before scampering off to the farthest corner of the room. ¡°Where did you get that kid?¡± I ask. ¡°I greet you, human female. I made this children¡ this child,¡± she says. What does she mean, she made her? Can liches reproduce? That¡¯s¡ actually not that worrying, liches are dangerous sure, but most of that comes from their undead hoard, not really the lich itself, another one wasn¡¯t exactly good, but not bad either. I look at her, crouched in the corner eyeing me warily, I look back to her¡. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. It was fine when it was just me and her, damn it, the big lich, but now that there is another living creature in here, that of course is female, pronouns are suddenly inadequate.
We need the great ancient solution to this problem. A problem that surely confounded ancient civilizations long before us yet was vanquished in its entirety with one simple thing¡ names. ¡°What is your name?¡± I ask, looking up at the lich¡ god damn it. I feel the moment her eyes lock on mine as my mind is compressed into a pebble. I keep making this mistake, the same stupid mistake. Maybe I should just carve my eyes from their sockets, I wonder if that would help? I lower my hand to the dagger at my belt, as the lich speaks. ¡°The necromancer always called me Shinome, so I suppose that would be my name,¡± the lich said¡ well¡ Shinome said. I nodded, there that should help, my fingers wrapping around the handle of the blade. ¡°My name is¡¡± Shinome cut me off. ¡°Actually, I should give her a name,¡± she said, looking to the little lich, breaking eye contact, letting me breathe, I swiftly took my hands form the knife on my belt¡ was I really about to¡ I switched my attention abruptly to the little lich. They had the same blueish skin tone, the same sense of¡ style, I.E., clothes that seemed a good ten or fifteen sizes too big, the same glowing eyes. The biggest difference, aside from the obvious, was the hair color. The little lich had bright silver-white hair that shimmered even in the low light. Shinome looked to the small lich, and after a few moments, she crossed from the corner, to Shinome, watching me warily for any signs of aggression. I held still while she approached¡ her mother? Was that how it worked? It¡¯s odd to think like that, but they sure do look like a mother and her daughter. Everything I know about monsters paints them as creatures overcome with violence, an unending desire to kill and eat anything in sight, only reproducing on instinct, then abandoning their children to rip and tear their own life out of any living creature they can find. But¡ the smile on Shinome¡¯s face as she looks down to her child¡ it¡¯s something different, something that cannot be explained simply through the intelligence liches have, if only to make them more difficult to take down. Were liches¡ truly sentient? Why didn¡¯t anyone else know about this?
¡°Human, what would you name this one?¡± Shinome asks, looking over to me. I arched an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re asking me?¡± She just looked at me until I felt stupid for asking. What would I name a lich child. I look to the small creature, gently nibbling on one of the liches fingers. Damn that was cute. Well, Shinome had a Japanese sounding name, so it made sense her daughter should to. But what would be good? I don¡¯t actually know any Japanese; it should be something cute shouldn¡¯t it. ¡°How about Kami?¡± I ask. Shinome considers. ¡°No, I think I¡¯ll name her Dumpling the Despondylator,¡± Shinome said. ¡°What does despondylate mean?¡± I asked, not wanting to address anything else about that statement. ¡°To remove a spine,¡± she said wiggling her fingers at the small lich who was now batting at them like a kitten. I have no idea if that name is cute, or horrific¡ or¡ I feel like my brain just blew a fuse. ¡°So¡ Dumpling?¡± ¡°Incorrect human female. She is Dumpling the Despondylator.¡± ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s eight syllables and three words, so can we just call her Dumpling?¡± The lich glared at me, and I glared at the floor. ¡°No,¡± she said simply. ¡°Okay why did you even ask me then?¡± I asked. ¡°I felt it was polite.¡± I frowned. Glancing back up to make sure she wasn¡¯t looking at me before I fixed my gaze back on Dumpling. She was now lying on Shinome¡¯s lap with a look of pure contentment and joy as Shinome scratched her on the head. I need a nap. I walk back into the apartment, sit on the couch, and immediately realize this is the most¡ comfortable¡.
I awoke slowly. I slept on a couch, yet I feel like I¡¯ve never been more well rested. I look down as I notice the weight on my lap. There is a lich sleeping there. I didn¡¯t even know that they needed sleep or even could sleep for that matter. Dumpling was quietly snoring into my knees. It¡¯s weird, this morning I woke up in the small bed in my apartment, knowing that I would be going into the labyrinth. Now, I¡¯m waking up on an expensive couch in an apartment on the twelfth floor of the aforementioned labyrinth with a baby lich sleeping in my lap. This has to be some sort of weird fever dream, right? Reality isn¡¯t this weird. I reach down hesitantly and lightly stroke the little lich¡¯s hair¡. No¡ this is real. Dreams aren¡¯t this realistic, her hair is cold, and feels almost a little metallic, but at the same time it¡¯s silky and smooth. As I run my hand through it, I can feel each individual strand against my fingers. Apparently, this is reality, and if it is¡. My family¡¯s going to be devastated, my Mom and Dad will think that me and my brother died down here. They¡¯ll be only half right but still. Also, I promised to water my neighbor¡¯s plant while he was away, damn. That plant¡¯s going to die, I¡¯m probably not getting out of here any time soon. I look back to Dumpling, she¡¯s awake now, and gently cooing as I rub her. Okay, this is cute. No one would believe me if I told them I got to pet a baby lich. She¡¯s so small. She looks up at me, interrupting my petting. Glowing green eyes fixing on mine. Aww¡ I just want to protect her from all the horrible things I¡¯ve seen. She crawls from my lap and onto the floor before she walks over to the armchair. The lich¡ Shinome, is sitting there, she has her eyes closed, but I can tell she can still see us. Dumpling the Despondylator crawls up into her lap, and immediately begins nibbling at one of her fingers. I¡¯m glad she didn¡¯t do that to me. I can see the razor-sharp teeth in her mouth. Wait¡ why didn¡¯t she? I look down to the hand I hadn¡¯t stroked her with. All the fingers, gone. God damn it. I activate my blessing, watching as the fingers rapidly regrow. I flex my hand, new fingers cracking. I look back to the small lich nibbling the big lich¡¯s fingers. Why can¡¯t I have nibble-proof fingers?
00005: BUT WHAT ABOUT CHARLIE?
BUT WHAT ABOUT CHARLIE?
I emerge from the pool, dripping with blood and look around. The room is empty. I gently float through the air, tumbling listlessly as I approach the door on the left wall, a trail of blood dripping from me in my wake. It¡¯s not my blood, or at least most of it isn¡¯t. I subconsciously bring a hand to the line in my wrist where it had been repeatedly cut open. ¡°She didn¡¯t need that much blood,¡± I thought to myself. I placed a palm against the door. I closed my eyes and focused. It was always weird doing it for the first time, even so, I knew how it worked. They whispered it to me. The instructions: I merely needed to follow. My hand twitched and flickered and sank into the wood. I smiled as I felt the door become spongy beneath my palm, my hand beginning to flow through it. As it became softer and softer, my mind homed in on the correct action, like tuning an antenna. And with a click, and a small twist of my brain. I could feel it, it was an odd one, it was a thing I did with my body as a whole, other than something more intuitive like moving a muscle. The only comparable one was flight, although flight had felt so natural, I had started doing it nearly immediately. I passed through the door, feeling the wood run over my body with an almost static tingle. I looked into the dark room. I could see in the dark. Unlike something like high photosensitive vision, or night vision goggles. I could truly see in the dark. The room looked as black to me as it would to anyone else. the difference was comparable to that of someone running their fingers over brail text who doesn¡¯t understand it, versus someone who does. It was the exact same information, just with different meaning more or less imperceptible to one person. I floated through the dark room and entered the shower, still dripping blood on the tiles. The smell was strong enough that it would probably cling to me until the next infusion. It always did. I turned on the hot water anyways, spraying the red liquid off of me, it was a lot harder to deal with once it had dried after all, and I began to hum. I don¡¯t know the name of the song, or where I learned it, but I remembered it, nonetheless.
I don¡¯t know how long I had stayed there, floating in the shower. I was there long after the water ran clear into the drain. But I eventually shut off the water, deciding to face the universe. I grabbed a bathrobe from the hook on the wall, and slipped it over my body, I tied the belt around myself and floated over to the door. I paused. Could I bring the bathrobe through the door with me? I could just open the door, but I should probably learn what I can and cannot do with this new ability. I immediately begin trying to phase through the door, just my arm though. Immediately, the sleeve of the robe fell through my insubstantial flesh. I frown. I note that now that my flesh had been interposed by the sleeve, I could no longer solidify it. That¡¯s good, if I could do that, she¡¯d make me deliberately solidify inside a solid object to see what happens. I pull my arm from the sleeve entirely before re-solidifying my arm. I ran it back through the sleeve. This time I tried focusing on including the sleeve along with my arm. I pushed it into the door. I watched as my fingers passed into the wood, followed by the rest of my hand, then the sleeve itself. I fully incorporated the robe, then flowed through the door. I wondered what the limit was. Surely, I couldn¡¯t put a hand on the ground and make everything fall to the center of the earth. I floated through the room, the cold floor still covered in blood. Well, I assumed it was cold, I hadn¡¯t touched the floor of this room since I could fly. But I remember it being cold. The air was cold, and the floor was stone, so it made sense that it would be cold. I left the room. Floating through the wall on my left and entering the hallway. I wondered how far into a solid object I could go. Could I burrow miles into the earth? I suppose that isn¡¯t something for me to find out on my own. My head poked through the wall as I took in the hall. A maid on the other side letting out a yelp of surprise as she saw my disembodied head coming through the wall. I looked at her. She was dressed in a sleek black uniform, showing almost no skin, save for her ears. Her face was covered by a porcelain mask with a pained on smiling face, the mask contoured to fit the expression. This marked the eighth time in my entire life I had heard one of the maids make a noise, not counting miss Laurel, my personal maid or the maids who brought dinner from the kitchens to the dining room every evening. They always said bon app¨¦tit before leaving. It should be noted that one of the other seven times I heard a maid was when I was about five or six. I¡¯d fallen from a tree and broke my leg, what I¡¯d heard through my screams of agony was her calling for an ambulance.
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I floated towards the dining hall. I was always hungry after each infusion, this time being no exception. Well, there was an exception, that being I was considerably more loopy than usual. It was probably the blood loss. I floated higher, looking at the ceiling. The dining room was two floors up, did I need to go to the stairs? I hovered higher and poked my head into the floor above. I looked around the carpeted hall, finding it empty. I grinned and pushed the rest of the way through the floor. Followed by the one above. I smiled, arriving on the second floor proper. I immediately began searching for the dining room. I knew where it was in principle but had to take a second to get my bearings. I turned and made a bee line for the food.
I floated into the dining room, thoughts of dinner bouncing around my mind. ¡°Charlie! No flying in the dining room!¡± my younger cousin shouted at me from behind her phone. I lowered myself to the ground. ¡°S-sorry,¡± I managed. She just huffed and returned her attention to her phone. My bare feet slapped on the heated tile floor, as I walked across the room. Sat down at the table, crossing one leg over the other. My gaze fixed on the lacquered wood surface before me. I glanced up at my cousin across from me. I realized I didn¡¯t actually know what time it was. Or when Dinner would be served. I¡¯d left my phone in my room before the infusion. I sighed. My room was on the first floor, but I didn¡¯t feel like going all the way there¡ or¡ did I? With a twist of intent, I fell through my chair and the floor, now ceiling, thereafter. I floated into a dusty guest room. I Floated through the door, and into the hall. Again, looking around to get my bearings. I swirled through the air to my room. I pushed my head through the door¡ and saw her. My aunt. She was sitting on my bed, looking at me expectantly. I wanted to go back through the door into the hallway¡ but that wouldn¡¯t help me. I pushed through the door fully. Entering the room. ¡°Come,¡± she said. Her voice made me flinch like the crack of a whip. I grimaced internally, before sliding fourth. She extended her hand, glaring at me until I placed my palm against hers. ¡°Push through,¡± she said. I obliged, my hand passing through hers smoothly, the tingly numbness that followed lingering for just a bit longer than usual. Not long enough for me to be sure it wasn¡¯t just my imagination. ¡°Hmm,¡± she said. ¡°Have you tried solidifying inside another object?¡± she asked. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am,¡± I said. my eyes anchored to her feet. ¡°And?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t. If I¡¯m overlapped with something else, the ability won¡¯t deactivate.¡± She nodded. ¡°Good enough for now. You look hypovolemic so, we¡¯ll begin testing in a few days. You know what to do,¡± She said standing. She strode past me, leaving the room. The door closed behind her, and I collapsed, breathing heavily. Chills running up and down my spine. I lay there on the floor of my bedroom, for what could be an hour or a minute. Letting my breathing return to normal. They screamed at me the whole time, not telling me to do anything, just¡ screaming. It was always like that when I was near her. The closer I got, the louder they would scream and the worst part¡ was that they didn¡¯t want me to get away from her. They wanted me to be near her at all times, follow her every whim, and they wouldn¡¯t stop screaming. I pushed off the ground, floating into the air, I drifted over the nightstand, head down, and grabbed my phone. It wasn¡¯t worth it.
00006: CHESHIRE GETS A CRUSH
CHESHIRE GETS A CRUSH
I spend a good portion of our walk to the walls staring at Goose¡¯s face. She has dull grey-green eyes, jet black hair pulled into a very tight ponytail secured by what looked like an iron shackle, her skin was pale, save for rather red cheeks, her lips thin, her nose small and a little hawk-like, her jaw sharp and she had a contrastingly cute smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose as well as on her forehead and cheeks. I held perfect eye contact, while planning my method of attack. ¡°So¡ come here often?¡± I asked before immediately seeing my life flash before my eyes. This is all over. I¡¯d better crawl into a little hole with my fellow worms. Although, she didn¡¯t seem to care about the awkwardness that seemingly emanated from me like slime emanated from a hagfish. She just answered me with a casual shake of her head. ¡°First time going to the wall?¡± I asked. She shook her head again. ¡°So, you¡¯ve been, just not a lot?¡± She looked to consider, before giving me a so-so gesture. Erianna interrupted my thought-provoking conversation with her slightly biting voice. ¡°Goose has been to the wall more times than all the rest of us combined. I think she means she hasn¡¯t been here often with the rest of us.¡± Goose nodded in the affirmative to what Erianna said. ¡°I see, why do you go to the wall so much?¡± I asked. Goose just stared at me. Before she shrugged. Damn¡ I thought I finally backed her into a corner. ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Erianna said, ¡°If I can¡¯t get her to talk, you definitely can¡¯t. I¡¯ve been trying for so long and all I¡¯ve gotten was, You¡¯re too weak.¡± That last bit she¡¯d said in a deep, softer tone. Was she mimicking Goose¡¯s voice? Was that what she sounded like? Why did I feel like I had just gotten a glimpse at bigfoot?
My nonsense was interrupted as we approached the wall. I¡¯d seen it before, of course. I¡¯d lived in Hope¡¯s Grave my entire life, but it never ceased to amaze me. ¡°Praise Lumina,¡± I muttered absentmindedly as the wall loomed overhead. It was absolutely massive. Nearly 200 feet tall and made of seamless smooth stone. Not just tall, it was thick. Looking through the tall archway we were approaching, proved it to be nearly 50 ft thick. As amazing as it was, it caused a chill to run down my spine. I, of all people, knew why the wall was this imposing. It was a simple reason: it had to be. And I was about to leave the protection of the wall that was so tall and thick by necessity. I took a deep breath. Okay¡ okay¡ calm down. Let¡¯s go back to bothering Goose¡ or¡ or¡ thinking about how I might be able to get her to speak to me¡ or even. I raised my hands and slapped them to my cheeks. Okay¡ you got this¡ there¡¯s nothing out there that you don¡¯t know about¡ probably. Well, it¡¯s the things that I¡¯m not ready for that¡¯ll get me. Nope! Don¡¯t think about it. You have a team, they¡¯re probably good, what was it James said? Monster equivalent of a paper shredder? I looked at Goose¡ she didn¡¯t look that strong. She was clearly athletic, but not like¡ I don¡¯t know¡ super athletic. Hell, she was only a little taller than I was, and I was practically a bacterium. Sorry, Lumina. We reached the gates, showed at least a dozen permits, and signed several waivers. Well, James had to sign them, he was the team leader, and therefore authorized to sign of the behalf of team members if only for expediency. And all to soon. I stepped past the far side of the long tunnel and beheld the carnage. I didn¡¯t know what to expect. But the bare, scorched ground was certainly not it. It looked like a battlefield out here. And sure, I¡¯d seen pictures, but pictures didn¡¯t have the smell. It smelled like war. Like countless things had dies here en masse. The air smelled of mana smoke. Smoke a the tingling acrid scent similar to ozone.
The bare ground was long, but not too long. We trod across the ground as my panic addled brain finally realized James was speaking. ¡°-we get in there, Emeline, I want you out ahead, checking for anything dangerous, Nathanial, I want you in front of me, Cheshire I want you in the back. Got it?¡± We all replied in the affirmative, save for Goose, who said nothing, so I spoke up for her. ¡°What¡¯s Goose gonna do?¡± ¡°Kill anything that moves,¡± Emeline said before her colorful clothes twisted and shifter into a camo suit, before she dashed off, entering the tree line. It was at that point I realized I didn¡¯t actually know why we were here¡ I didn¡¯t ask because I didn¡¯t want to seem like an idiot. So, I just followed along. The heavy bag on my back barely impeded my movement as I stepped into the thick forest.
I half expected monsters to jump out at us the moment we set foot in here, I half expected there to be dangerous flora growing in between every third root, but the closest thing to a monster I saw was some songbirds chirping away high above, and the closest thing to carnivorous flora I saw was a bush of nettles. It¡ was just a forest. And apparently, it just being a normal forest¡ was worse. I was as tense as a bar of steel. I almost jumped at almost everything even remotely resembling a noise, I couldn¡¯t stop glancing around, and every time the radio beeped from Erianna reporting in, I literally jumped; ready to be descended upon by any sort of silver rank hell beast. I almost suspected we were under the influence of a dream drinker, a monster that looked sort of like a toad, that would place their victims under a sort of delirium and lure them into the claws of something that would shred them to pieces so they both could partake of our hubristic flesh. The only problem was, I was extensively familiar with the signs of a dream drinker¡¯s influence, and I hadn¡¯t even caught a whiff of one. Although to be fair, they lived further in where the forest became a swamp. And that area was strictly forbidden seeing as there were slimes there and slimes were practically unkillable. Although for us, they were literally unkillable.
Slimes were a perfect amalgamation of the worst traits something you wanted to kill could have all balled up into one gooey mass. They were mostly goo-like which ruled out any form of physical attack, they conducted electricity well, which meant they would immediately ground themselves on¡ well¡ the ground, they had a very high heat capacity, meaning that they could absorb massive amounts of heat before changing temperature, either to heat them up and boil them or to freeze them. They didn¡¯t even conduct heat well, meaning that while their surface temperature would increase even so much as an inch into their gooey depths, their temperature would remain unaffected, They would instinctually cool, or heat themselves to maintain a desirable temperature by bubbling the surrounding air though themselves, and worst of all, they had no ¡°Core¡± so to speak. To kill a slime, you had to destroy it on a material level, every single drop of goo is apparently individually sentient. Meaning, that if you let a single droplet get away, then it would just regrow itself, add in their propensity for forming 50-foot tall giga slimes, and devouring everything in their path and you could see why they are gold rank. The only good way to kill them is through dilution, specifically in salt water, as they will merely absorb fresh water into themselves gaining more mass. Effectively, the best way to kill a slime, is to drop it in the ocean. Since you need oodles of salt water to so much as scratch a slime. The only other methods involved basically saturating the entirety of the slime in highly potent magic, which was basically unfeasible. Sort of like trying to vaporize a glass of water, it would take a truly staggering amount of energy to accomplish the task, seeing as you need to far exceed the boiling point of water to get it all to burst into a cloud of steam, and you needed to use this method, since if you didn¡¯t the water would begin to cool itself.
There, I went on a nonsensical mind tangent, am I out of this now? No? I sighed. Which also didn¡¯t help my nerves, and now all I could think about was getting killed by a slime¡ oh joy. Hey, I made a joke! Does that work? To both my chagrin and gratitude, we continued through the forest without a hitch, Erianna checking in every few minutes, mostly so that we knew she was there, and didn¡¯t get killed by something dangerous. This continued until something different came through the radio. ¡°We¡¯ve reached the target location,¡± Erianna said. ¡°Good,¡± James responded, halting our progress. ¡°Take a count and report back,¡± he said. ¡°On it.¡± And that was that. I stood there clutching the straps of my backpack, while James examined his wand, Nathaniel removed a large shield from his back and Goose absently tossed one of her blades into the air, spinning it end over end before catching it. Seeing it now, I could tell that it wasn¡¯t really a scimitar. It was a little short, curved and had a wide blade like a scimitar, but it only had a single point, and upon closer examination, it was double edged. After a few minutes, we heard the radio once again. ¡°My count is 16. No shamans, one hob, unknown number in a small burrow, though I doubt there are more than five in there.¡± She said. Finally telling me what we were doing out here. We were hunting goblins.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Goblins were iron rank, and therefore, within our strike zone. As far as monsters go, goblins are about as good an introduction as you can get. They are small, a little fast, approximately clever, and had the biggest trait monsters had that made them difficult to deal with. What has been coined, the health bar effect. This is something to do with monster biology, but the short version, is that to kill a monster, you usually have to deal more damage to it than would be needed to kill just about anything else. Stabbing a monster through the chest, will almost never kill it, neither will putting an arrow in its skull. This has been termed the health bar effect because you have to deal a certain amount of damage to the monster as a whole before it goes unresponsive. Similarly, monsters have no internal weak spots, I.E., if you stab a human or an animal through the chest, you¡¯ll probably kill them by puncturing a lung, or a heart, or a major artery. With a monster it¡¯s not that that doesn¡¯t work, it¡¯s just much less effective. You can shoot a monster with a gun, and it won¡¯t do anything no matter where you put that bullet, since relatively it doesn¡¯t deal that much damage compared to a sword in the digestive tract. This is one of the major reasons behind guns, not being viable weapons for monster hunting.
My distraction only vanished when I realized we were moving in. I hastily, but quietly, sped up, returning to my position in the formation. We were here to cull the goblin population, mostly because if we didn¡¯t their numbers would quickly rise into the thousands. The fight started before I even realized. Goose, having wandered off into the goblin encampment, without my notice, began to make them release horrendous screams. I shuddered. Then James spoke. ¡°Now!¡± he said. We ran forwards into the clearing. Apparently, Goose was our distraction. We ran into the clearing to see¡ utter carnage. I remembered when I first met the Toad Eaters, James had described her as the monster equivalent to a paper shredder. I never truly knew what that meant until I saw her. She was a dark blur of speed and blades, every movement, as efficient as it was deadly. From the general area in which she stood, I saw limbs, heads, and even entire torsos removed from their bodies with brutal speed and sent flying. The shrieking drew even more goblins from the small burrow roughly in the middle of the clearing. But a ball of fire slammed into them right as they emerged. James¡¯s wand slightly glowing from the spell. The fresh horde of goblins all charged towards us causing a pang of fear to run through me. But Nathaniel readied his shield and slammed it hard into the first goblin to arrive. I winced at the wet popping of cracking bones, as Nathaniel slammed the massive piece of metal into the creature the size of a child.
Nathaniel fired another spell, expertly aiming it past Nathaniel, igniting another goblin in the crowd causing it to scream and flail. I heard a bloody impact ring out behind me and spun to see a goblin. I barely held back a scream as it stumbled back, a blade lodged in its eye. Another one joined it. Right as with a pang of fear I slammed a boot into its stomach, sending it sprawling. I felt more than heard its ribs breaking beneath my foot. I shuddered at the feeling. Had I just¡ I could still feel it. The impact, followed by something inside of it just¡ giving way. James, having heard the commotion, sent a ball of flame to finish off the goblin. The fire igniting it and burning it up. I looked back to see where the daggers had came from and saw Erianna sitting in the branch of a tree keeping an eye on us from above. Coincidentally, it was because of that, I saw the small green figure up in a higher branch. It held a bow, arrow knocked and drawn. I screamed out a warning, but I was too late. The projectile, already in flight. Erianna screamed as the arrow plunged into her back. I went pale and froze watching numbly as Erianna fell, hit a branch, and slammed into the ground on her back, the arrow slammed right through her and emerged from the other side. Her scream made something in my bones tingle, the sheer agony in her throat ringing out into the forest. I almost didn¡¯t notice as the goblin dropped down behind her, A wicked dagger in one hand, bow discarded. I watched as it charged her. Arm raised¡ then¡ the blade fell¡ so did the arm, both hitting the ground, causing the goblin to look at its severed stump in confusion. Not having noticed the dark blur that took its arm off. Goose had thrown one of her swords. It screamed, clutching at the severed stump, as the other bloody sword was thrown, this time plunging deep into the goblin¡¯s stomach, spilling red all over the forest floor. But that wouldn¡¯t save Erianna, she was bleeding out, quite rapidly, had it hit a kidney? Suddenly, Goose appeared in front of me, eyes locked on mine with a disapproving glare for just a moment, practically half a heartbeat, before she reached for my waist and grabbed something. Potions. Oh¡ I was supposed to heal her¡ that was my job. I¡ I had frozen. Goose whipped one of the two potions she¡¯d grabbed sidearm at Erianna. The glass shattering on a rock, spraying the red liquid of the healing potion over Erianna. At the same time Goose dashed across the clearing, covering a distance it would take me a good ten seconds to cover in little more than two. When she arrived, she immediately slammed a hand down on the arrowhead, the sharp point going through her palm, spraying blood. Nonplused, Goose twisted her hand, taking advantage of the hooked arrowhead and pulled it through the hole in Erianna¡¯s abdomen. She let out another shriek. But Goose wasn¡¯t done, Using the same arrow and in one motion, she slammed the arrowhead in the second potion, breaking the top off the bottle and pouring the potion into the wound. Then she pulled something out from under her cloak. It was¡ a gun. Not a handgun, something big and heavy. It was long, black, and had the wide muzzle of a shotgun. She leveled it at the goblin that was staggering to its feet. Its body cut open and showing its insides to the forest air. It held Goose¡¯s sword in its hands. Goose leveled the weapon to its body and with a fwump, followed by a vicious bang, it exploded. Actually exploded. I could feel the shockwave from here. It sent bloody chunks of meat flying everywhere. Goose, calm as ever snatched her sword out of the air. With the arrow hand. The hilt of the blade, pushing the arrow out of the way, before snapping it off at the shaft.
There she stood, dressed in the dark of the reaper¡¯s cloak, broken only by spatters of blood, wounded damsel at her feet, bloody sword in one hand, smoking grenade launcher in the other. Chunks of bloody meat coming down like rain. The clearing around her filled with at least a dozen small green bodies split into at least three dozen pieces. She leaned her head to one side, and in the silence, I heard her neck pop. ¡°Goddess, be damned,¡± I muttered, she wasn¡¯t even breathing heavily. ¡°I think I¡¯m in love,¡± I said. Nathaniel let out a cackle. ¡°Damn right you are,¡± he said. I¡¯m sorry Lumina, but I had to say it. But damn, if she isn¡¯t the coolest person I had ever met in my entire life, bar none. And now she¡¯s mad at me, because my dumbass froze up and almost got a teammate killed. Way to go Chesh, way to go.
00007: DUMPLING LEARNS TO WALK
DUMPLING LEARNS TO WALK
I walked out of the room, paying it no attention; there was nothing I could do about it anyways. Small feet pattered on the hardwood floors behind me. I opened the bathroom door and locked it behind me before making a beeline to the toilet. Once my bladder was nice and empty, I left the bathroom, seeing a flash of silver-white hair as I passed by. The door closing behind me. I continued ignoring it. I walked down the hall and entered the kitchen; I heard the toilet in the bathroom flush before the door opened. I could ignore it no longer. Not dumpling, she¡¯d been following me, and copying what I¡¯ve been doing for a while now, but what I couldn¡¯t ignore was something far more important. I¡ was hungry. I¡¯d been in the dungeon for two days now and had been putting off this question for as long as the few sandwiches I¡¯d packed would last. But now, I could deny it no more. I needed food, and for that I would need to ask Shinome. I took a deep breath, and left the apartment, Dumpling pattering after me. Shinome, as usual, was sitting on her throne, eyes closed. Managing the undead or whatever it was she did. I made sure to affix my gaze to her stomach before speaking. ¡°Shinome,¡± I said, trying to get her attention. ¡°Human,¡± she replied. ¡°Do you know where I could find food?¡± I asked. I saw her eyes open in my peripheral vision. She looked at me, she remained silent, considering as Dumpling, getting bored, began climbing up my back. I adjusted my posture to support the sudden increase in weight behind me, although she wasn¡¯t very heavy, so I didn¡¯t have to adjust much. ¡°What do humans eat?¡± Shinome finally asked.
I considered this; I would say meat, but she¡¯d probably just butcher a zombie, and try to feed it to me. I would say vegetables, but there weren¡¯t any plants in the Lomari Labyrinth, or at least not on this floor. If I remember correctly from my reading up on the floors of the labyrinth, the 13th floor was icy and barren, and the 11th¡ I can¡¯t quite remember, but I think there were a lot of mushrooms. Mushrooms¡ they were edible in theory, but I had no idea how to figure out which ones are poison without eating them and seeing if I puke up my intestines later. The book I had read all this information from had a section about finding safe food and water in the Lomari Labyrinth, but I hadn¡¯t read that section extensively. ¡°Actually, never mind, I will bring you food,¡± Shinome said. I looked up... meeting her gaze. And immediately my eyes were covered from behind. It was Dumpling. The adorable baby litch had covered my eyes. I reached up, and back, finding her head, and giving it several scratches and pats. I think she was just trying to mess with me but, even so, she¡¯d saved my mind from another eye contact incident. Dumpling let out sever adorable noises as I scratched her. I felt a tingle of fear as a skeleton walked into the room, carrying a large plastic cooler. I arched an eyebrow at it. It walked past me and into the apartment. I set Dumpling the Despondylator down, before I turned around and picker her back up. She was big enough that it was awkward to carry her around, but she was still almost unnaturally light. I carried her into the apartment with me, as I followed the skeleton.
It walked into the kitchen, set the cooler down, placed a skillet on the stove¡ it¡ was cooking. I watched in absolute bewilderment as the skeleton pulled a red T-bone steak out of a package in the cooler. A fresh steak. Then I watched in more amazement as before my eyes, it prepared me, and Dumpling an extravagant meal. It even wore a fluffy white chef¡¯s hat. Once it was done plating the food it carried the dishes over, setting them down on the table in front of me and Dumpling who had moved there to watch. Dumpling was sitting next to me. We had the same thing, a pan-fried steak, with potatoes and asparagus. After placing the dishes down, the skeleton gave a flamboyant bow, before turning on its literal heels¡ and leaving, taking the cooler with it. I grabbed the fork and knife the skeleton had left next to me, and gingerly cut into the steak, it immediately began leaking a little red. I gave it a hesitant sniff. My eyes widened and I immediately bit into it.
I sat on the couch; in a state I could only describe as a post-orgasmic delirium. I absently stroked Dumpling¡¯s silky hair, and just stared into space. That was¡ by far¡ the absolute best meal of my life. I¡ I couldn¡¯t even describe how good it was. I wasn¡¯t a fan of asparagus, but I would take that asparagus over even the meal I had gotten from the one time I went to a fancy restaurant and treated myself. And that¡¯s not even mentioning the steak¡ that steak. It didn¡¯t taste like a steak, it tasted like the idea of a fancy steak dinner after surviving off of plain dry oats for a week before running a marathon. It tasted like someone had butchered a deity of culinary perfection and served them up as a meal. All of this left me one, very specific, question. What¡ was this place? I knew it was the Lomari Labyrinth, but¡ the Lomari Labyrinth was supposed to be this deadly dungeon in the middle of what used to be Michigan. A place where people go to either become rich and famous, or to more likely, die horribly where no one could hear their screams. A massive Labyrinth dug deep into the bedrock. Every floor its own sort of twisted maze filled with horrors. People didn¡¯t even know how deep it went, the deepest anyone had ever gone and made it back was floor fourteen. And even then, they confirmed that they were able to find a staircase that lead even lower. Although at floor fourteen, almost every monster was silver rank, and the party barely even made it back. If diamond rank monsters even exist, they are probably only a few floors below me. Yet here I am. The 12th floor of the Lomari labyrinth. Over a mile beneath the surface¡ sitting in an expensive apartment, after eating the best meal of my life, that was prepared by a skeleton in a chef¡¯s hat. What¡ what even is my life right now?
¡°Hoomin?¡± came a small voice from my lap. I jumped. Looking down to see¡ Dumpling. Had she just spoken? I looked into those glowing green eyes. ¡°Dumpling¡ did you hear that?¡± I asked. She tilted her head to the side. ¡°Hoomin?¡± she said. She¡¯d spoken. It¡ was¡ so¡ cute! Her voice was small, soft, and somehow squishy. Like what you might think a kitten would sound like if it could speak. ¡°I am Dumpling the Despondylator, not Dumpling, Mama says iz impotant to say the whole thing,¡± she said. a frown on her little face. I scratched her hair. She smiled, closing her eyes. ¡°Hooman, Mama wants to know if yuu liked the food,¡± she said. before snuggling her head into my lap. ¡°Okay, tell your mama, I liked the food very much,¡± I said, dumpling looked up at me. Beaming, as if she¡¯d cooked it herself. As Dumpling settled in for what was probably going to be a nap that would keep me imprisoned on this couch for the next hour or two. I leaned back. The only reason I could guess this apartment existed would be to house someone, the problem with that is¡ who? The easiest answer was this necromancer who created Shinome, but whoever did that was probably the same person to create the labyrinth in the first place¡ I think. Or maybe they were just around when it was made. How old would that even make them? The labyrinth had been around for hundreds of years. And if they weren¡¯t originally part of the labyrinth, they seemingly moved in and became part of the ecosystem. All this begged the question. Why? Why would someone seemingly so powerful, as to be able to create a silver rank monster, decide to sequester themselves away on the 12th floor of some death maze? Necromancers were human after all. Not only that, but they were generally well respected. They had the ability to be able to raise armies if left alone for long enough, so the Adventurer¡¯s Guild was always seeking them out. They were more than willing to sponsor them and have the sit up in a well-furnished room and make them an army of skeletal wolves. It just didn¡¯t add up. Something else was bothering me, all the undead on this floor that I¡¯d seen were human. There were no zombie bears, wolves, or rats. Just humans. It¡¯s almost as¡ if¡.
I observe as a zombie, tears into the throat of a human. The rest of his group, alerted by the screams. Not as if it will help them. The zombies are too close, their lives are as good as forfeit. My attention wanders back to the small creature, curled in my tendrils. I can feel her sleeping. She does that more than I would expect, considering I have no need of sleep. I wonder why. When I was human, I used to sleep. I used to get this strange feeling where I would slow, and everything would suddenly become more difficult in a way that is hard to describe. Then I would lie down and enter a strange, trance-like state for hours on end and, when it finally abated, I would get up and groggily stumble to the nearest source of coffee, before moving on for around sixteen hours or so, before doing it all again. Although now I was far more efficient, I never had to lie unendingly for hours on end getting nothing done, with nothing to say of the occasional ridiculous, and quite concerning, hallucination. I refocus my attention on the freshly-minted corpses. I¡¯ve been getting noticeably more as of late; Usually I see very few humans, maybe one or two groups a week, but just these past few days I¡¯ve had four. One group was strong enough that I had to deal with them personally. I feel Dumpling the Despondylator begin to stir in my grasp, wiggling her little tendrils in search of mine. She¡¯s so precious. Hmm¡ I¡¯m getting another feeling, this one isn¡¯t unpleasant like the one I usually get, I actually quite like this one. I slip my tendrils in with those of my child, and the feeling intensifies, I feel my face contort involuntarily. I immediately glance at the coffin in the other room. Still closed. If the necromancer isn¡¯t moving my face, than who is? Is it the child? I don¡¯t particularly mind, but why would she do that?
Stolen story; please report.
I see the small creature come skittering from the other room. I feel as if she¡¯s been deliberately testing methods of locomotion recently, almost every time I see her move, she¡¯s using a new method. This time she¡¯s shifted her nails to hooked, hardened and sharp claws so that she can cling to the stone surface of the environment easier. She comes crawling up the wall and across the ceiling, like the spider from which she got her glittering silver hair. The illusion breaks when, instead of repelling from an anchored line on the ceiling like a spider would, she drops the seven or so meters directly into my lap. I hear her small bones crack from the landing. She lets out a squeak of protest, as her bones snap and pop back together. That nice feeling is back now. I wonder what precisely it is. I should ask the human. But first, Dumpling the Despondylator needs attention. ¡°Greetings little one,¡± I say. ¡°Hewlo Mama.¡± I frown. ¡°It¡¯s Hello, not hewlo, now try again.¡± ¡°Hewlo.¡± ¡°No, Hello.¡± ¡°Henlo?¡± ¡°Hello.¡± ¡°Hell¡mo?¡± ¡°Not quite, You have the first part correct, the last part is, lo.¡± ¡°Holo?¡± ¡°Almost, Hello.¡± Dumpling the Despondylator scrunches her small face up in concentration. ¡°Hel¡lo? Hello!¡± She says triumphantly. I smile down at her and give her a big hug both on the physical side, and the other side. ¡°Well done little one,¡± I say, as my arms and tendrils squeeze her tightly. It is at this moment that the human female enters the room. ¡°Hewlo!¡± Dumpling the Despondylator says. I frown at her. Although something about the mispronunciation is¡ endearing. I decide to let it slide.
I watch closely as the small, warm, squeak nubbles at the toes of a zombie. I reach out in the other place, ensuring the zombie doesn¡¯t move. I crouch lower, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce, I wait¡ my pupils narrow, I wiggle my but, readying my muscles and balancing myself before¡ I leap. The squeak notices me as I descend upon it, it scampers as fast as its small legs can carry it. It runs, and I follow. It rounds a corner. I attempt to do the same but can¡¯t arrest my momentum and I skitter into a wall. I grumble as it scrambles into its hidey-hole. Even so, I don¡¯t think this method works well either. I look at my arm, and then my leg. I fall back on my butt and examine the limb. Is there a way for me to accelerate faster? How did the squeak do it? I push my questions to Mama. It takes a fraction of a second before I feel her attention on me. Her tendrils stir as they envelop me, and she pushes something into my mind. Digitigrade? Leverage? Mechanical advantage? I whimper, the concepts lost on me. Okay, okay. So, it has special legs that make it move fast? What was wrong with my legs? They looked like the human¡¯s legs, and Mama¡¯s legs. Why didn¡¯t they have the best legs? Why does the squeak get better legs than Mama? I frown, I extend my legs and morph them to be more like those of another creature in Mama¡¯s memory. My stride shifted to the bounding stride of a deer as I return to the room where Mama¡¯s physical self is. I need to know how these legs work. I cross Mama¡¯s room and enter the human lady¡¯s room where the skeleton with the poofy hat made me the tasty food. I begin looking for something specific.
I wander into the kitchen after brushing my teeth looking for something to snack on while I watch something on the television. There I find Dumpling¡ sitting in a pool of clotted purplish blood, as she carefully dissects her own left leg with a chef¡¯s knife. ¡°Oh shit, Dumpling!¡± I shout, rushing to the small creature. She looks up at me, her glowing green eyes filled with confusion, as her cheeks are spattered with her own blood. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. That is¡ a lot of blood. I had absolutely no idea what to do, I could heal myself, but I couldn¡¯t help her. I¡. Shinome. ¡°Dumpling, we¡.¡± She interrupted me, ¡°It¡¯s Dumpling the Despondylator,¡± she said, cheeks puffed out. ¡°Yeah, yeah. We need to go see your mom, okay? I¡¯m going to¡.¡± I was about to lift the small lich and take her to her mother when her leg suddenly warped, and shifted, the muscle and tendons fusing back together rapidly before finally closing under a layer of skin. She stood evenly, as if nothing had happened and she wasn¡¯t covered in a concerning amount of her own blood. ¡°We¡¯re going to see Mama?¡± she said excitedly, bouncing slightly in place. That was one of the most disturbing things I had ever seen¡ how was she still so cute? It made legitimately no sense.
The hooman carried me out into the room with Mama as I wiggled my left leg. It felt all tingly and fuzzy for some reason. It had been feeling like that since a while after I cut it open to see how it worked. I couldn¡¯t figure out how it worked. It was mostly full of meat, tubes full of goo, sturdy tubes not full of goo, and long white sticks made of the same stuff Mama¡¯s chair was made of. The bendy part of my leg was especially weird. ¡°Umm¡ Shinome,¡± The hooman said. I looked up at Mama, her pretty glowing blue eyes meeting mine. Her eyes were so pretty. I liked them. ¡°Human,¡± she said. ¡°I found your¡ um¡ I found Dumpling cutting open her leg in the kitchen.¡± Mama frowned. Then thought for a moment then sighed. ¡°Little one, don¡¯t cut open your leg,¡± Mama said. I was indignant. ¡°How am I supposed to find out how it works if I can¡¯t look at the inside?¡± I complained. ¡°Listen, I know you don¡¯t feel pain, but you aren¡¯t indestructible.¡± ¡°Indestrububble?¡± Mama patted her lap, and I leapt from the Hooman and scampered over, sitting myself down on her lap. Mama pulled her shirt open, revealing more of her purplish skin, then she jammed her hands into the center of her chest. They sunk in deep, purplish goo spilling out as she pulled the hole open. Inside were more white sticks, several lumpy meat things, a layer of yellow-white stuff just under the skin, and in the very center of it all a glowing white orb, swirling with grey mist¡ or was its grey swirling with white mist? Either way, it was kind of big, about the size of¡ Actually, I don¡¯t know. It was about as big as my hand when I had it fully opened if that size was a ball.
¡°Do you see this?¡± she asked, pointing to the orb. I nodded. ¡°This is my core; every monster has one.¡± ¡°Does the hooman have one?¡± I asked. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Because she¡¯s a human, not a monster.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± I asked, ¡°like how am I a Dumpling the Despondylator, and the squeak is a squeak, but if my thinking was in the squeak, I would be a squeak, and not a Dumpling the Despondylator?¡± I specified. Mama frowned. ¡°We¡¯re getting off topic,¡± she said. ¡°This core is the source of who we are, it is what prevents us from succumbing to injuries. If a human had their head cut off, they would be dead. If I had my head cut off, I would just grow a new one.¡± I nodded. ¡°But there is a limit. Every time I lose my head, a little energy is taken from this orb, and once it runs out, I would die.¡± I suddenly felt sad, I didn¡¯t want Mama to die. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to die,¡± I said. She smiled gently at me. ¡°And I don¡¯t want you to die either, that¡¯s why I don¡¯t want you to cut open your leg anymore. If you space out the damage. Like how every so often you break a bone or two, that¡¯s fine, it gives you time to recover. But all at once like that is a different story.¡± I nodded. ¡°But how am I supposed to find out how to make my legs better?¡± I asked. ¡°What do your mean?¡± ¡°Well, the squeak has better lags than me, it gets to go faster sooner, while I have to go faster slower, but I want to go fast, fastly like the squeak does,¡± I said. ¡°Then make your legs more like the rat¡¯s legs,¡± Mama said. ¡°But why are the squeak¡¯s legs better? How can I make my legs the best legs?¡± Mama smiled. ¡°You already have the best legs, little one. The rat¡¯s legs are good for a sudden run, but say the rat suddenly has to swim. It can only swim so fast, whereas you would be able to change your legs to be better in the moment. You have versatility.¡± ¡°Versily?¡± ¡°Your legs are the bast because they can always be the best legs for the situation.¡±
Later on, when the hooman did that thing where she took a long nap. I was still awake. I was wondering something. I¡¯m pretty sure I also had a core like Mama did. And I kinda wanted to see mine. Mama¡¯s was so pretty and I couldn¡¯t forget it. So, I shifted my hands to be more like the knife and cut into the same spot mama did. Then I pulled it open, and light began spilling out into the kitchen. I couldn¡¯t see. So, I ran to the room with the toilet and the mirror to look at my core. It wasn¡¯t the same as Mama¡¯s. Mama¡¯s was all silvery and glowy. Mine was glowy too but¡ it wasn¡¯t silvery. It was gold.
00008: CHESHIRE GETS KILLED
CHESHIRE GETS KILLED
I took a long, deep, wonderful drink of my personal drug of choice¡ coffee. I was currently sitting in a coffee shop, feeling like my life finally had meaning. For you see, I had just got my first paycheck from the guild. I could scarcely believe just how much it was. Apparently if you risk your life for money, and don¡¯t die a horrible and painful death, that risk pays off, with an emphasis on pays. Although this is with one small caveat: Erianna. She isn¡¯t in the hospital or anything, benefits of healing magic I guess, but at the same time, I still feel bad. I mean, it was my ineptitude that ended up getting her hurt. I haven¡¯t been in Toad Eaters for long and even so, I¡¯ve already gained a reputation as the ghost-member who¡¯s usually never around unless it¡¯s for work. Although to be fair, I barely know any of them and with my overall introversion, it makes me not particularly inclined to talk to people I don¡¯t know. Stranger danger and all that, If only there was a way to fix that. Downing the rest of my coffee (Which had unfortunately gotten cold) I decided to step up. I was going to call Nathaniel, get Erianna¡¯s number, and tell her that I was sorry for how me not doing my job got her hurt. I grabbed my phone and called. Before I could inevitably reconsider my actions, Nathaniel answered on the first ring. ¡°Hey, Cheshire. Wasn¡¯t expecting to get a call from you, how¡¯s it been?¡± His friendly demeanor was evident even through my phone speaker. ¡°It¡¯s been good, I got my first paycheck from the guild and I¡¯m planning to enjoy it,¡± I said. ¡°Nice, nice.¡± There was a small lull in the conversation, in which I took my chance to ask after Erianna. ¡°Hey, is there any way I can get in contact with Erianna? I wanted to apologize for our last mission,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, I can send you her number, but what happened that you wanted to apologize for?¡± I frowned. He didn¡¯t know. ¡°Uh¡ I kinda froze up when she got hurt, and Goose had to heal her.¡± ¡°Oh right, that did happen, didn¡¯t it? Y¡¯know, I didn¡¯t even think it was strange. Before you came along, Goose was the one who kept us alive out there, and not just by filleting anything in a 15-meter radius.¡± I chuckled lightly. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right, I still want to say something to her though.¡± ¡°Sure, sure. I¡¯ll send you her number, one sec.¡± I heard a ping a second later as Nathaniel texted me. The conversation petered out quickly after that and I called Erianna.
Unlike Nathaniel, Erianna didn¡¯t answer immediately, in fact she answered just before the end of the fourth ring. ¡°Hello, I don¡¯t recognize this number, who is this?¡± Erianna said, her voice set in her particular manner that made it impossible to tell if she was being nice or rude. My nerves suddenly prickled as I heard her voice, but I kept my wits about me. ¡°H-hi, this is Cheshire, your teammate. I got your number from Nathaniel.¡± ¡°Oh, I see. You know all our numbers are in the team information form, right?¡± ¡°Team information form?¡± ¡°You got it when you signed up. It had the name of the team and all the members and our contact information and all that,¡± She said. Now that I think about it, I did have a small stack of papers from when I was assigned to the team with the name on it¡ apparently, I should have read it. That also explains where Nathanial got my number. Ignorant to my musings, Erianna continued. ¡°If you lost yours just go the reception and ask for a new one, just show them your badge and they¡¯ll print one up for you. I think there¡¯s also an online version, but the guild¡¯s website is garbage. You¡¯d probably need a PhD in getting needles out of haystacks to even find the fucking hours of operation on there.¡± ¡°Okay, thanks¡ I guess. But anyways, I need to talk to you about something, is there anywhere we can meet up?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know is it important? I¡¯m kinda busy.¡± She said, again with her patented mix of maybe polite, maybe rude. Was this important? Maybe not, she didn¡¯t seem to be holding any sort of grudge, although I had a suspicion that if she didn¡¯t like me, I wouldn¡¯t know about it for certain until I woke up to a blade caught in my windpipe, her standing over me in time to graciously help me with removing it. ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡ maybe? Depends on if you¡¯re the type to murder someone in their sleep over a hidden vendetta.¡± ¡°What? Uh¡ not really, but now I¡¯m curious. Where can we meet?¡± I hadn¡¯t really though too much into this part of my plan. Although I guessed the coffee shop, I was in, was a good a place as any. I gave her the address and she said she¡¯d be here in half an hour.
Twenty-three minutes, A cup and a half of coffee, and an absolutely divine blueberry muffin later; I saw Erianna walk through the door and look around. She was dressed in her usual Intricate pastels though this time she was dressed in blue and pink. Spotting me, she walked to the counter and made an order before coming over. ¡°Do me a favor and make this a little quick, Formantus Rattingtal the rat emperor won¡¯t terminate himself,¡± Erianna said. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a boss¡ in a video game. A boss you made me postpone with your weird question,¡± Erianna said. Flipping the little I knew about her on its head. ¡°You play videogames?¡± ¡°Religiously; you don¡¯t?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Erianna sat back in her chair. ¡°Huh¡ you just seem like the type. Never mind that, what was the whole thing about me murdering someone in their sleep about?¡± ¡°Well¡¡± I paused, not really sure how to phrase this. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about what happened last mission, I was the one who was supposed to keep the potions and make sure everyone made it out alive, but when you got hurt, I sort of froze and Goose¡.¡± Erianna cut me off, frowning. ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s it. Yeah, I don¡¯t care,¡± She said, stunning me. ¡°What?¡± Erianna just shrugged. ¡°Everyone does it at least once. At least no one got killed. James¡¯ story is a lot worse, but that isn¡¯t really for me to tell,¡± she said. ¡°Wait really? I¡¯ve been beating myself up over this for the past week and¡ that¡¯s it?¡± ¡°What were you expecting? Shit happens, not everyone¡¯s used to seeing someone bleeding out with an arrow through their back and to suddenly be hit with that is pretty overwhelming so¡ you freeze. Trust me, I¡¯ve been working in the guild for four years now, and I¡¯ve seen some shit,¡± Suddenly I was a lot more certain on Erianna¡¯s overall disposition. She kinda came off as a bitch, but she seemed to actually be pretty nice. ¡°Although I¡¯m pretty sure Goose has never frozen. Although she¡¯s been in the guild the longest of anyone in the party, I think this is her¡ ninth year? I don¡¯t know, but somewhere around then. She¡¯s been killing monsters even longer than that though. Almost as if joining the guild was an afterthought.¡±
A woman walks alone through the jungle outside of Hope¡¯s Grave. The twin blades in her hands rest with the familiarity of a smith with their hammer, a writer with their pen or a veteran soldier with their service rifle. A deep ingrained familiarity, born through uncountable hours of direct contact. Her ability to deliver precision strikes born through a deeply ingrained familiarity with how each twitch of a finger adjusts the blade, and how to pull the absolute most amount of damage out of each swing. Her name was Jackie Chan, she was moderately annoyed at how proud of that name her parents were. If only they could see her now. It was actually a major reason she didn¡¯t mind her teammates calling her Goose. Well, it wasn¡¯t like the analogy wasn¡¯t accurate. Her ears pricked as she heard a certain pattern in the sounds around her. The way the birds stopped singing in an area up ahead told her there was something big there. She crouched lower, the first sparks of a smile beginning to dance across her face. She began moving quickly and silently through the brush, not so much as a dry twig snapping under her boots. Suddenly a scream rang out into the forest. Goose frowned; someone was in danger. She resigned herself to the perpetuation of the rumors and moved. Her heel digging into the nearest tree root, leaving it bark-less in her wake. She accelerated to the top speed of a typical motorcycle in the time it would take an observer to realize humans don¡¯t normally run at 110 kph. She ran in a crouch, cutting down on wind resistance as she approached. The sounds of a loosing battle in her ears as she suddenly she burst into a clearing.
Goose took in the battlefield in an instant. An adventuring party, probably C rank, attempting to fend off a scaled monstrosity the approximate size of a gas station. It was a brown bellied drake. A bronze-rank monster mostly known for being a pain in the ass. They were big, mean, extremely durable, and had a mouth large enough to swallow a sedan. Goose came out behind the drake; she saw it striking forward at someone she couldn¡¯t see through the monster. Goose leapt into the air, blades winding up as she came down on the back of the creature¡¯s neck. It let out a roar of fury and pain as her blades carved a bloody trail deep into the flesh of the monster. But she didn¡¯t stop. She pushed through the torn meat, cutting it away as she shoved deeper into it. She emerged into the drake¡¯s esophagus, before she bolted, sprinting up the tonsils, over the tongue and leaping through the teeth the length of a sword. Goose plowed into the man the monster was attempting to devour, sending them both clear just as the jaws slammed shut behind them. Goose¡¯s heel dug into the ground as she swung back towards the monster. ¡°Run!¡± Goose shouted to the people behind her, before removing them from her consideration. She Darted back towards the titanic creature. It swung a massive, clawed paw towards her. She whipped her blades in front of her while sliding under the blow, sending steel deep into the webbing between its toes. It shrieked, jerking back. Goose Twisted her blades, lodging them in its bones. She clenched her hands around the hilts of her blades and was whipped into the air with the movement of the paw. Goose twirled as she balanced her ascent to the canopy and above. She slowed, as the tremendous energy from the monster abated to gravity, and for a moment she floated; fixed high above the ground looking out over the treetops, she could see the titanic stone wall surrounding the city, as well as the taller old-growth of the deeper woods. It was beautiful. The sunlight streaming through her black hair. She let a soft smile grace fer lips and exhaled. Then¡ she fell.
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She began accelerating towards the ground, the monster looking around for the small human who had hurt it. She was in a full dive. Picking up tremendous speed as she fell like a meteor towards the unsuspecting monster. The smile on her face morphed. This was what she lived for, this moment, this feeling. It was why she had left the city time and time again, all alone, before she was old enough to join the guild, the reason she killed more monsters a month than some of the highest ranked parties did in a year. Goose hurled her swords downwards, and angled her arms, manipulating the wind resistance to make herself spin faster and faster until the world was reduced to a kaleidoscope blur. Until suddenly, with seemingly no prompting, she flipped. Pulling out of her dive, making her body parallel with the ground, still spinning, she grabbed her free-falling blades, and with the momentum, she swung.
Lisa Couldn¡¯t believe her eyes when the figure dressed in black came out of the drake¡¯s mouth in a spray of blood, tackling Joel out of danger right before the monster snapped down on him. But that was nothing in comparison to what she was seeing now, The figure had been flung high up into the air by the drake, Lisa had thought she was a goner, as she fell spinning wildly through the air. But for some reason, she couldn¡¯t turn away. It was a good thing too, since she was about to witness something, she would be telling her grandchildren about years later. As the figure came down on the drake like the hammer of God. The sound was titanic, the figure carved into the creature, directly into its back, the two, now separated halves of the massive monster fell apart as the creature was cut perpendicular to the spine. A massive bloody cross-section of the creature now visible as the two halves fell in opposing sides. Lisa watched as the dark figure stepped out casually from the titanic corpse, coated in blood and viscera. They idly whipped their blades through the air with such force, that she could hear the air whistle as the blood on them was sent into the bushes. They¡ no, she. Lisa could now see the woman¡¯s long black hair, her hood having been displaced by the fall, glanced towards her and her party, before speeding off into the forest. Lisa would spend a large portion of the rest of the day looking for signs of the dark woman in the guild. She would soon hear of the guild¡¯s Dark Angel, a figure who would come from the bushes at a tremendous speed, effortlessly kill some massive monster singlehandedly, then vanish from whence she came. People knew who she was of course, but she was almost never seen in the guild.
Jackie pushed the glass doors of the caf¨¦ open; She¡¯d showered since the fight with the drake, but she still smelled of blood. She wouldn¡¯t be able to remove the smell for a while now. Or at least not until she got home. She was somewhat of an expert on removing scents. Jackie walked up to the counter, the barista on duty recognizing her spoke up, ¡°Hey Jackie, the usual?¡± she asked. Jackie just nodded before beginning her wait. After a minute she grabbed her order, an iced chai latte, and moved to leave before someone called her name. ¡°Goose!¡± It was Erianna. Jackie turned to her; she was sitting at a table with the new girl. It took Jackie a second to recall her name. Cheshire. Jackie wasn¡¯t particularly good with names. She waved at Erianna, who began waving her over. Jackie considered; she wasn¡¯t really doing anything and while she didn¡¯t want to talk to her teammates, she had no reason to refuse. Jackie approached the table, pulled out a chair, swung it around, and stood on the seat in a crouch to be eye level with the others at the table. ¡°Cheshire wanted to ask if you were angry at her.¡± Erianna asked. Why would she be angry at Cheshire? Jackie just shook her head. ¡°Feel better now?¡± Erianna asked, turning to face the other woman. ¡°Yeah, I guess.¡± Jackie drank her drink before sitting and staring at her teammates to discern if there was anything else they wanted from her.
I was actually quite relieved with how everything had turned out, knowing that the people I would be depending on to keep me alive weren¡¯t on bad terms with me was something that brought about a certain lightness for incomprehensible reasons. I was on my way back to my apartment, my plans included doing exercise, throwing out the chocolate milk and eating healthier, and definitely not watching an unhealthy amount of YouTube and ordering a pizza. No, I would be making changes to my¡ routine. Thankfully there was no one to hear me promising myself the impossible but the crickets hopping around my brain. But hey, I was in a good mood. Maybe I deserved that pizza, perhaps I would even mix it up and not get the same type of pizza I get every single time. But to be fair it was really, really good. Ah¡ I can already hear the crickets chirping in disappointment. I hung a left into the alley that would bring me to my street. Contrary to media depictions, alleys weren¡¯t trash-congested forgotten arteries of modern society, but just the sidewalk proceeding between two buildings, the buildings weren¡¯t even tall so the noonday sun illuminated me, the alley, and the old lady exiting a small storefront. Maybe I would get some cheesy breadsticks with¡.
Pain burst through me, as something plunged into my back, something large, heavy, and cold. I tried to scream, but blood caught in my throat. I felt the heavy thing remove itself from me, with a jerk. The few people in the alley began screaming. I looked down at my stomach to see rapidly spreading red as well as a titanic hole. I tried to run, but my legs felt rubbery, and I tripped, falling to the paving. Panic seized me as I clutched at the wound in my gut as a hard boot kicked me over. I looked up at the person, as pain ran laps in my neurons. The woman wasn¡¯t just tall, she was titanic, her hair was red, her legs digitigrade, she had hooves. She held a massive sword, dripping with blood¡ my blood. Oh¡ that was a lot of blood. ¡°You¡¯ll do,¡± the woman said. I started choking, and coughing, blood spattering the pavement. That probably wasn¡¯t good, I was finding it hard to think, even my panic starting to seem distant as the blood flowed between my fingers. She stepped closer. Her sword held over my neck, I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain. And suddenly I felt something. Warm light suffusing me, not just light, but power, the power of a deific might. ¡°Lumina,¡± I mumbled into the blood in my mouth, I opened my eyes¡ and froze. The woman before me, was glowing. The light of the Goddess I had worshipped my entire life suffused her as she prepared to strike me down. I¡ I¡ a dark rage ignited within me. Sure, I wasn¡¯t the perfect devout worshipper, but why the fuck was a servant of Lumina murdering me in the streets? I tried to stand, rage burning in my eyes, as my goddess¡ betrayed me. but before I could, cold steel entered my neck, and with a swipe, the contents of my skull painted the walls of the alley. But somehow, in the last sparks of my doomed neurons, a thought passed through my mind. I was going to kill this bitch. I don¡¯t care what it takes. I will kill her. It was the sort of futile thing you throw at the wall in fury, the idle thought of a dying brain, low on oxygen, blood, and logic. But even so, something noticed. Something heard the futile promise uttered by my dying brain.
And accepted.
¡°You know¡ when you¡¯ve lost everything, been taken from ¡®till there¡¯s nothing left to take. When you¡¯ve been ground up, until there¡¯s nothing left but dust. when you¡¯ve been crushed until there¡¯s no more give. When you¡¯ve been broken until there¡¯s nothing left to break. In that darkest moment, the only thing left¡
Is invincible¡¡± - Rachel
00009: DUMPLING LEARNS TO RUN
DUMPLING LEARNS TO RUN
I sat up and immediately smacked my head against a heavy stone lid. I groaned in pain, every fucking time, and it¡¯d been such a good nap as well. I sighed, and with a mental flex, assured the unsealing of my tomb. I waited alone in the silent darkness for a few seconds before the stone was lifted, dim light pouring in. I strode across the room, stomach grumbling. Did I finish off the milk before taking my nap?
I stood from the toilet, as it flushed behind me. I walked over to the sink and began washing my hands. I¡¯d woken up in the middle of the night, or whatever passed for night down here, needing to pee. The first thing I had to do was extract myself from the baby lich that had, at some point in the night, come into the bedroom and latched onto me. I left the bathroom, bleary-eyed, and decided to get myself a glass of water.
I walked into my apartment, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from my eyes, and entered my kitchen. I pulled open the fridge and grabbed a Tupperware container filled with the delicious slime I¡¯d cultivated. I licked my lips as the creature wiggled in fear. I shut the refrigerator and pulled a spoon from the silverware drawer.
I walked down the hallway, hearing someone in the kitchen. Probably Shinome, Dumpling was sleeping. I walked into the room, and flicked on the light, ¡°Hey, Shino¡¡± I began before I locked eyes with¡ someone. She wasn¡¯t Shinome, Dumpling, or Undead. She was dressed in an oversized Akame Ga Kill T-shirt that hung down to her knees, she had messy dark hair that looked like the only reason it was pulled into twin ponytails was because otherwise it¡¯d get in her face, her eyes were brown and her cheeks were puffed out, as she was eating that horrifying goo from the refrigerator with a spoon. Our standoff was broken when the woman just shrugged and¡ continued her meal. ¡°Wait, wait, wait¡ who the fuck are you?¡± I asked the woman in front of me. She chewed and swallowed. ¡°That¡¯s what I should be asking, you¡¯re in my house,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re¡ the necromancer?¡± The woman just took another bite of her goo. ¡°Myah,¡± she said mouth full. She swallowed. ¡°Name¡¯s Julie, now I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re an adventurer. I mean, who the hell else would be in the Lomari? So, there¡¯s no treasure or whatever the fuck you nipple twisters want in here, so could you kindly make off with the fucking?¡± she said, before walking past me, flopping down on the couch, and turning on the TV. Did she just tell me to fuck off? I am having a great deal of trouble understanding this woman. I heard heavy footsteps behind me and turned to look. My eyes locked with a pair of glowing blue ones. Panic seized me for a fraction of a second, and I activated my blessing. ¡°Finally, Shino. You took your sweet-ass time, didn¡¯t you? Could you kill this bitch and chuck her in the cold storage? Also, bring me some formaldehyde, and maybe some fried tilapia.¡± I ignored the brat behind me, looking in the eyes of the lich. ¡°Yes mistress,¡± Shinome said, voice flat and emotionless before she executed a vicious snap kick to my jaw. I felt something break, as my body left the ground, and my consciousness did to my body, as my body had done to the ground.
I felt a knot of tension leave me as I saw the cockroach¡¯s head hit the wall. Its body slumping limply to the ground. It was almost certainly dead; those things generally couldn¡¯t take the head trauma of being kicked in the jaw so hard their bodies lifted off the ground and flew several feet before crashing into a wall. And on the off chance it could, it¡¯d die of frostbite in the cold room soon enough. I watched as Shino hurled the thing¡¯s body over her shoulder like a sack of manure. I allowed my attention to return to the television. When did Shino change her appearance? I supposed it doesn¡¯t matter. Although now she looks more like she did when she was alive. I finished off the remnants of my slime. My empty stomach¡¯s complaints quieted slightly. A skeleton walked into the room with a wine glass filled with a colorless liquid. I took the glass from the skeleton and inhaled the scent. Nothing quite smelled like it. The scent reminded me of my days in a biology lab. My lungs began burning from the chemical in the air.
I lifted the glass to my lips and took a long drink, I felt the burning of the lining in my throat being torn away, followed by the iron rich taste of blood in the back of my mouth. I let out a long, satisfied exhale, as my stomach attempted to regurgitate the carcinogenic liquid that was so harmful to life that not even bacteria can grow in it. With a twist of necromancy, I locked the dead skin in my esophagus shut, trapping the liquid death inside me. I felt the vertigo kick in, my body desperately trying to fight off the poison currently eating the lining of my stomach. I took another long swallow, finishing off the glass. The burning in my lungs intensified as by body began to shut down. I felt the world spin around me. As my consciousness began to flee. It was this moment¡ my abused body giving up on supporting my mind, the knowledge that if I lost consciousness, I would never wake. The feeling of my life in my own hands. It¡¯s what I craved. I seized it, my necromantic will clamping down on my fleeing soul, locking it in place as my body began to spasm in it¡¯s death throws, mana coursing through it, sealing my mind in place allowing me to experience every horrendous detail as my body crossed over¡ and I died.
I was in a boat, glowing with necromantic power, a small rowboat, coursing along on its own power. The oars; slave to the current, in the oarlocks. I looked around. I looked at the dark, bleak water, somehow bright, multicolored and beautiful. Many, many beautiful fish swam beneath me. Shimmering in the dark, as they blotted out the light. I would not touch them, it is imperative that I don¡¯t, lest she take notice. I look up at the moon and the sun, hanging in the same spot, replaced with a massive eye. Glowing orange as it gazed down directly at me. She¡¯s watching me, I wonder why. The goddess of this realm, the goddess of death, and life, and souls. In a moment Our gazes lock, and¡
It¡¯s over and I¡¯m back on my couch, my body now no longer breathing, my heart no longer beating. Yet still, I shudder. Mortella usually doesn¡¯t bother with my kind; necromancers, we have a sort of working relationship, the goddess and us. So long as we don¡¯t touch the fish, we don¡¯t join them. I look down at my hand. My nails immediately extend, becoming long sharp claws. It doesn''t matter. I¡¯m not going to cross over again for at least a few months. But in the meantime, time to resettle the score. I sink my claws into the soft, spongey, flesh of my dead right eye. Pain blossoms in my eye just as I use more necromancy to cut off reception from the ocular nerve. I then begin the slow, arduous, agonizing task of carving out my own eyes. A deal¡¯s a deal after all.
I shot up in the bed, I could no longer feel Mama in the other place. I reached out, trying to find her but I couldn''t feel her anywhere. I began looking around the room. Where was the hooman? Suddenly the dark room seemed too empty. So, empty, that it might not be empty enough. I pulled the blankets closer. Where was Mama? Mama never lets me go; she never leaves me alone. Is she okay? Did something happen to her? Did¡. I heard a crack come from outside followed by a thump. I flinched at the sound, but immediately scuttled to the door. Pulling it open, I peered through. I saw Mama at the end of the hallway. I was about to run for her, ask her where she went, but before I could, I felt her grab me in the other space. ¡°DON¡¯T COME OUT HERE! STAY HIDDEN!¡± she shouted at me urgently, before disconnecting. Why would Mama say that? Mama didn¡¯t sound angry¡ she sounded¡ scared? What did Mama have to be afraid of? Mama was super strong. I watched as Mama lifted the sleeping hooman up over her shoulder and walked off, just as a boney man walked into the room, carrying a glass of something¡ It looked like water, but it didn¡¯t smell like water. The boney man gave the drink to someone out of sight and left the room. I heard someone take a drink. I heard strange sounds. Like the sounds I made that one time when I tried to eat one of the square rocks that the walls were made of. The weird noises of my throat trying to remove something that didn¡¯t belong. Curiosity overcame me, as I crept down the hallway. I saw someone, a small person, she was a little taller than me, but shorter than the hooman, and way shorter than Mama. She was sitting on the poofy nap spot, and wiggling strangely, before suddenly going limp. A glass shattered on the floor after she dropped it in her limpness. Was she okay? I approached her, extending my hand to poke at her face. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you,¡± said a voice. I jumped, my fingers going pointy, so I could cling to the ceiling. Most things couldn¡¯t walk on the ceiling like I could. I looked down, seeing someone. I¡¯d never seen her before either. Today was strange, first Mama abandoned me, then she yelled at me, then I met two new people. I¡¯d never met new people before. What should I do?
The new, new lady was taller than the hooman, but shorter than Mama. She had long black hair, black things over her eyes for some reason, thin lips, pale skin, a jacket made of what looked like animal skin, but it was black and had a bunch of metal bits on it over a neat suit. She smirked at me. ¡°You can come down, you¡¯re safe,¡± she said. Something in her voice¡ it made me feel like she was trustworthy, like Mama. I dropped from the ceiling. ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked. She seemed to consider that question. ¡°I suppose, in a way, you¡¯re my daughter. Which would make me your mother,¡± the weird lady snickered. ¡°It¡¯s odd, I¡¯ve never really considered having children, yet here we are. You can call me Ella.¡± ¡°Ella? I like your name, it¡¯s easier than Mama¡¯s name. Or¡ other Mama¡¯s name? Should I call you Mama also or maybe Mama 2?¡± ¡°No, you should not,¡± Ella, not Mama 2, said. ¡°Okee,¡± I said. ¡°Now, for why I¡¯m here. Fortunately for you, I have a vested interest in your survival.¡± ¡°Vested interest?¡± I asked. ¡°Not important. What is important, is that I would advise you to get far, far away from here, before this nasty piece of work, comes back from the ether,¡± she said, gesturing to the couch lady. I looked down at the sleeping woman. ¡°Is she scary?¡± I asked. ¡°Very.¡± ¡°Then, that¡¯s fine, Mama¡¯s super scary, she¡¯ll beat her up if she¡¯s mean.¡± Mama 2¡¯s smile changed. ¡°Your mother can¡¯t help you with this woman, frankly she¡¯s in a tougher spot than you are. Now, enough talking. I¡¯ll stall her for a while, but you need to leave. Now,¡± Mama 2 said. Again, something in her voice compelled me. So, I turned and bounded from the room.
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When I woke up, I could feel my blessing running on its last fumes. I was so cold. I opened my eyes and saw absolutely nothing. Everything was pitch black, and oppressively cold. So cold, my fingers and toes were numb. My body was racked with shivers, the sheer cold of the room eating away at what little warmth my body held. I took the last remaining vestiges of my blessing and focused them on my numb hands. They quickly heated, my fingertips suddenly feeling like they were on fire as their temperature rose sharply. Feeling returned shortly after. I flexed my cold fingers and began pawing at the hard surface beneath me. It was cold and lumpy, but something about it was¡ off. It was ice cold, but as I let my hand rest on it, it became a little softer and wet. I continued pawing about my surroundings, until I felt something. A hand. I reeled back, letting out a shriek into the cold air. I breathed heavily, the cold air chilling my lungs. Although¡ something about the hand I had felt¡ bothered me. I reached back towards where I felt the hand and touched it; hesitantly at first but then I realized what was wrong. It was frozen solid. A horrendous idea entering my mind, I began pawing about the noticeably lumpy ground again, feeling for familiar patterns. And the more I pawed, the more I recognized, an arm, a leg, a torso, an¡ intimate area, a foot, another hand, a¡ a face. I was on top of a pile of frozen corpses. Panic rising, I decided I very much did not want to be there so, I began to look for an exit. There had to be a way out of here. I half stumbled, half rolled down the pile of bodies, until I felt ice cold brick beneath my bare feet; dear god it was cold in here, that was probably why my blessing was so drained. It was constantly healing me, protecting me from the biting cold. I extended my arms out, reaching for a wall I was unsure I would find. I stumbled in the dark for what felt like an eternity but was really no more than forty-five seconds. My palms finally, finally hitting cold stone bricks. I began running my hands along the walls, searching for a doorway.
Eventually, after walking for an eternity, my hand found a recession in the wall housing a metal door. I pawed over it for several seconds before finally finding the handle. The handle turned slowly and stutteringly before the door finally gave. I stumbled through into the room beyond. It wasn¡¯t nearly as freezing and thankfully it possessed the same, source-less illumination as the throne room. It was a small room, containing several dials, that appeared to control the temperature of the room behind me. Across from me, was the only exit. An open stone doorway leading into the dark labyrinth. I crept through, looking around. Surprisingly, I didn¡¯t see pure darkness. I could see another illuminated doorway down the hall. Seeing no better alternative, I crept towards it through the darkness. Each footstep, muffled by my lack of shoes. Eventually, I reached the doorway, and I carefully peered around it, trying not to be seen. All I saw was Shinome, she was sitting on her throne as per usual. I almost felt relieved to the point I would run in there. But I held myself back. Shinome was obviously under the control of the necromancer. So, if I ran in there haphazardly, she might have no choice but to kill me. Memories of the party that got butchered on my first day here flashed through my mind as I backed away from the doorway. Probably for the best that I don¡¯t carelessly wander in there. But where do I go? I don¡¯t like the idea of wandering aimlessly through the 12th floor of the Lomari Labyrinth. I¡¯ve gotten an extremely favorable taste of it up ¡®till now. The real 12th floor is just as, if not more dangerous than, any other floor. Filled with death traps, and horrific abominations at every third corner. I¡¯m just the lucky shmuck who found the one abomination that didn¡¯t seem inclined to kill me on sight. At least, not until the queen of the abominations woke up.
Although at this point something else was bothering me. Where was Dumpling? I hadn¡¯t seen her in there with Shinome. Was she still in the bedroom? I needed to save her, didn¡¯t I? I couldn¡¯t do this carelessly; I need a plan. If I just run in there, trying to grab the baby lich and run out, I will absolutely get myself killed. Instead, I need some sort of distraction. If I can distract Shinome and the necromancer, I can sneak in there and grab her before sneaking out. But what would work as a distraction? I could try leading a monster here, but there were a few problems with that. First, all the monsters on this floor were undead, and almost certainly under the necromancer¡¯s, or Shinome¡¯s control meaning I would have to go to the 11th or 13th floor. Which would mean that I¡¯d have to deal with traversing the 12th floor without getting myself killed. Second, anything I managed to lure would have to be strong enough to provide a sufficient distraction, and anything that strong would likely kill me long before I made it back here. And lastly, I don¡¯t actually know the way back here, the 12th floor is massive and mazelike, It¡¯s not called a Labyrinth for no reason after all. There is absolutely no guarantee that I¡¯ll be able to find my way back here while being chased by a nightmare from another floor. Not to mention I don¡¯t even know where the staircases that lead between floors were.
I suddenly felt a cold hand, wrap over my mouth, trapping my scream in my throat. I heard someone shushing me from behind, as another arm, looped beneath me. Lifting me, from the ground. I tried to look back to see what was carrying me but couldn¡¯t get a good look. I tried struggling, but the grip around me was unyielding. ¡°Stop struggling,¡± Said the familiar, albeit hushed, voice of Shinome. I listened. Is she not under the necromancer¡¯s control? When did she see me and leave the throne? We walked through the darkness for what felt like several minutes before we reached a small room with light spilling out. Inside were two things. Dumpling, and the object she was sitting on. An ornate golden treasure chest. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, as Dumpling came into view. She was safe. ¡°Come,¡± Shinome said. Dumpling hopped off the chest, holding something in her arms. The three of us then traveled through the dark for several more minutes before stopping. Shinome set me down. Then we were illuminated by a cold blue light. I looked up to see the object in Shinome¡¯s hands glowing with pale light. It was a guilded axe with a crystalline blade. ¡°Now, I need you two to listen to me, very carefully.¡± I immediately focused on Shinome¡¯s words, without meeting her gaze. ¡°Human, I need you to take Dumpling the Despondylator, and I need you to get out of here. If Julie finds the little one, she¡¯ll cut her open and experiment on her to find out how she works.¡± ¡°But what about Mama?¡± Dumpling asked from beside me. ¡°I need to stay here. If I leave the floor, Julie will notice and call me back. Then, she¡¯ll come investigate.¡± ¡°Can we beat her?¡± I asked. ¡°No, not without an army, and the only one we have is under her control. In fact, so am I. Doing this much is straining the limits of my permitted autonomy. A permission that can be taken as easily as it was given.¡± ¡°But Mama,¡± Dumpling said, her voice faint. Shinome shushed her. ¡°It¡¯s okay, little one, you¡¯ll be safe with the human, and when you grow big and strong. Then you can come back for me, but until then¡¡± Shinome paused, and took a deep, shuddering breath. ¡°Farewell.¡± Shinome Shoved me and Dumpling harshly backwards. We stumbled as our heels impacted an upwards leading staircase behind us, causing us to fall backwards onto it. Shinome dashed away, slamming dark energy into the ceiling, causing the world to rock. The ceiling almost immediately started to collapse, cutting off the 12th floor from the staircase. ¡°MAMA!¡± Dumpling shouted, attempting to bolt out into the collapsing room. I grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back into the stairwell as the labyrinth quaked. Boulders slamming the ground, in front of us. ¡°Let me go! Mama needs help!¡± Dumpling shouted. ¡°We can¡¯t help her! We need to go!¡± ¡°No, you don¡¯t get it! I can tell, Mama is super sad, I can¡¯t leave her alone!¡± ¡°We have to Dumpling.¡± I said softly, I no longer had to shout, as the collapse was practically over, all that was left was the settling of the rubble. ¡°No, you don¡¯t get it!¡± Dumpling shouted. ¡°You don¡¯t get it.¡± She said softer, starting to sob. ¡°You¡ you don¡¯t.¡± I watched as the little lich began sobbing into her arms. I re-wrapped my arms around her, changing from a restraining grip to a comforting hug. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay. We¡¯ll come back for her, alright? You and me. We¡¯ll come back when we get super strong then we¡¯ll beat-up Julie and save your mom. Okay? Just think of how proud of you she¡¯ll be,¡± I said softly. Dumpling didn¡¯t stop crying, but she leaned into my chest and nodded. ¡°But for now, we need to run.¡±
00010: OKAY BUT BACK TO CHARLIE
OKAY BUT BACK TO CHARLIE
I¡¯m screaming at the top of my lungs. My voice has long gone hoarse, my vocal cords feel like they¡¯ve been ran through a woodchipper yet still, I keep screaming; screaming into the bathwater, only to be interrupted by me breaching to refill my emptied lungs. Bubbles filled with my agonized voice race past my gaze. My eyes seeing nothing save for my own blurry form and the white of the porcelain. They won¡¯t shut up. The voices have been getting louder recently, so loud I can hardly sleep. They¡¯ve been shouting atrocities at me for almost a week. Telling me to kill; kill everyone around me. I can¡¯t even fathom why. They are usually benign. Am I losing my mind? I know it¡¯s not normal to hear voices at all hours of the day, but I was doing so well. I hadn¡¯t cracked, hadn¡¯t started jabbering nonsense like all crazies in the moves did. From the outside, I probably seemed relatively normal. But now¡ it was like 10,000 tiny hands, pleading with me, pulling me into something I didn¡¯t want to do. But my will to resist was waning. Suddenly a hand wrapped around me before pulling me sharply from the water. ¡°Silence,¡± My aunt said. I shut my mouth, and the voices suddenly quieted. She looked down at me, before dropping me back into the water and spinning on her heel to walk away. ¡°Come to the lab, I have something new for you,¡± she tossed back at me on her way out. I took a deep, shuddering breath, then rose from the water. As I began drying and clothing myself, I thought. Something new meant that she was going to perform another ritual. I looked at my elbow, where the I.V. would be inserted. I could practically feel it. I pulled my shirt over myself and dropped through the floor. Ignoring the silence of the voices for fear that my acknowledgement, even mentally, might set them off again; I considered what new ability I might be granted. I was a little excited despite myself. Who wouldn¡¯t be? A new ability. I could already fly, see in the dark, pass through walls, and go invisible. I honestly couldn¡¯t tell what might be next. Super strength? Speed? The ability to shoot lasers from my palms?
I was a little giddy by the time I reached the lab, but the sight of the room, my aunt standing next to a hospital bed, squinched my enthusiasm. She was in her lab coat, typing on a laptop. ¡°Lay down,¡± she said. Already familiar with the process, I got on the bed, reached over to the I.V. line and performed the insertion on my left arm. I was dead quiet, my vision locked on the far wall. My aunt walked over and placed a respirator over my face. And after a few seconds, I lost consciousness.
By the time I woke up again. As usual, I was at the bottom of a pool of blood. I groggily reached out and bumped into something. I woke up to a feeling, something was touching my leg. Mind foggy, I pulled away, blood flowing around me. I almost immediately forgot about being touched, still groggy from the anesthetic, and climbed out of the pool. I began floating up and into the air, feeling the thick, half-coagulated liquid flow off of me, flopping back into the pool. I awoke to the blood pool around me swirling with motion¡ that¡¯s odd didn¡¯t I leave the pool already? I stumbled out of the pool, wiping blood from my eyes, something was going on here. I fell back into the pool, my flight cutting off suddenly no, not suddenly. I just lost focus. The blood flowed around me like a tsunami as something violently impacted it, running out of air I used my flight to shoot up to the surface. I finished wiping my eyes and opened them, my vision filling with the darkened basement. Something was definitely off. I whirled to face the blood pool trying to get a good look at what was happening. I kicked off the bottom of the pool I had just fallen in and wildly wiped my eyes trying to see what was happening. I used my ability to phase through matter to cause the blood over my eyelids to fall off and looked out at the room.
And I locked eyes, with myself. The three points of view all staring at the same naked, blood covered girl with messy chin-length brown hair, fused together into thick sticky, reddened strands. The same girl¡ but different. My point of view was damn near incomprehensible, like three different images all overlayed on top of each other, yet somehow. I could make perfect sense of it. Not only that, but it was almost like I had a three-dimensional view of the room around me. Sort of like how the human brain stitches together the two views from each eye to make a complete 3d image. My brain stitched together the images from my six eyes in combination with the sense for where my bodies were in relation to each other to make a three-dimensional recreation of the room around me. Picking the body that was standing outside the pool, I raised my arm¡ and waved. And at the same time, I watched as I raised my arm and waived it. It was almost like looking in a mirror. But somehow different in a way that was hard to describe. In a mirror, there¡¯s always a part of your brain that understands that the face you¡¯re seeing isn¡¯t really you. It¡¯s merely a reflection. The real you is the person standing before the mirror. But this it¡¯s like looking into the mirror and knowing that the person staring back at you is just as much you as the person standing in front of it. The knowledge that if I turned one body away, the other would not be a slave to the whims of the first but, I would remain staring at myself from behind¡ except it wasn¡¯t really behind, because I would also be standing in front of myself facing the other direction. Neither point of view taking precedence over the other as My pint of view, by which all else is defined. I didn¡¯t have a left and a right. I had three lefts, and three rights, two of which were unobjectionably different directions from the others.
If I were to describe this situation before I became like this, I would think it nearly incomprehensible, like some sort of drug trip. But it just felt so¡ unnaturally, natural. I walked into the bathroom with all three bodies. Showering was¡ interesting. It wasn¡¯t as warm as before; the singular spray head only capable of dousing one body at a time, but it was far more efficient. There were no more hard-to-reach places, I could easily wash my backs by simply using my bodies to wash each other. Although there was now three times the surface area left to clean. I should look into getting some gym style showers installed. My allowance probably isn¡¯t enough for that, but I could commission the construction just as well as anyone else. That way, I could have the three showerheads I needed. Actually, the more I thought about it, the more excited I became. There were so many things I could do now. Every time I needed to scratch my back, I no longer needed to use a back scratcher, I could just scratch it myself. I could watch three movies at once. I could read books three times as fast. I could leave one body to practice with a sword while the others got to play games. I could have one body interact with my aunt while the others maintained my mental state by watching kitten videos.
I stood before my aunt; all six eyes fixed on the floor. We had just finished a round of testing, which had raised more questions than it answered. For example, I was apparently capable of transferring information faster than light. There was no measurable delay between one body hearing something, and that same information being available to another body in a different location. The connection between my three bodies seemed to have altered the way my brain worked, a normal human can only focus on one object or task at a time. But apparently, I could now focus on multiple. This would be expected, except I could do it all through one body. Or all three bodies at once. Apparently, I could now focus on a maximum of nine different tasks at once without decreasing the quality of any. It was at the point where a tenth was added, that things began to fall through the cracks. The interesting thing about that was that I was now really good at solving Rubik¡¯s cubes. There was also my ability to map out a three-dimensional space, which sort of worked in the same way 3d mapping technology worked. Although the really weird one was my ability to tell where exactly my bodies were. No matter the distance. For example, all my bodies were administered a sedative, and once I had fallen asleep, one was carefully moved out into the forest around the manor without waking. Afterwards I was woken, since if one body was awake all would be awake, and that body had to find her way back all on her own. It was actually quite easy; I just moved my body in the direction of my other two. This posed several more questions we didn¡¯t have answers to. Even so, I¡¯d been at this a while and would like to be free although I finally only had one more test before I could go back to my room.
My aunt led off one of my bodies to another room, and it in a chair. I waited, as she prepared something from a table behind me. I was curious to find out what this test was about. She never told me what the tests were, unless I absolutely needed to know. My other two bodies were playing table tennis against each other. It was a weird sort of game. Sort of like playing table tennis against a wall, but you were the wall and could bounce the ball wherever you wanted. It seemed¡ odd. Like playing chess against oneself. I knew what I was planning since I was the one planning it. So, I couldn¡¯t trip myself up. Furthermore, I couldn¡¯t really win, for one body to win, I sort of had to root for that one. If I wanted a body to win, I simply needed to make it win. It made the game seem sort of hollow. Sort of like the time when I made two of my bodies¡.
The ping-pong ball clacked to the floor forgotten¡ as I screamed. A blood curdling scream born from a feeling of wrongness so profound, it shook me to my very core, it felt as if my soul had been ripped apart. A piece of it harshly taken and forced to break off. A part of myself firmly separated from me. My screams started off like a footrace¡ with a loud bang, echoing through the manor. My thr¡ no not three¡ two bodies fell to the floor as they wail in chorus with my mind and soul. I writhed, the voices reaching a hitherto unseen tumult, as my mind was ripped apart. It was like having an eye taken out. My vision was¡ smaller, my mind was smaller, my soul was smaller, I was less myself, than I was just a few moments ago, because a piece of me had been taken. I screamed as the voices. But despite it all, even though I was lesser, I could still focus, even as my mind burned, I still had the presence to understand what had happened, I could still multitask sufficiently, compartmentalize my thought processes, and gain understanding of the situation. I had been shot. One bullet, in the back of my skull. And one of my bodes, had been killed. It was obvious that she would do it, now that I thought about it. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that. But it was an obvious question to ask. If someone occupies three bodies, what happens if one is killed? There were really only two answers. Either one would die, and the others would live, or all three would die. The fact that she had done that, knowing what might happen, just to sate her curiosity¡. And at that moment, I stopped screaming, stopped moving, stopped breathing. As everything reached an accord, the full weight of my mind devoted to a core idea, all the voices in my head singing the same chorus in unison, as I sang along with them. I needed¡ retribution. I needed penance. I needed my pound of flesh. I needed revenge. I needed vengeance. I needed remuneration, compensation, payback. Every word in the thesaurus, all representative of the one simple thing that I needed; that I would take. I would have blood.
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You never really know what it¡¯s like to dig a hole six feet deep until you have to, not to mention, to make it wide and long enough to comfortably fit a human body, even that of a teenager, even a short one like me. The task made worse by navigating the web of roots spread under the orange tree without damaging them too much. The only saving grace was that I had two bodies to dig with, instead of just one. I had one dig, while the other was sprawled out on the grass, recovering for its turn digging. My third body lay dead in a cheap coffin made of plywood. My aunt had wanted to have the maids bury me, but I felt it was my responsibility. It was my body after all; I would be the one to lay it to rest. It¡¯s a little odd when you think about it. Usually when someone dies, they are never the one to bury their body. Usually, it¡¯s their family or friends. But me? I had no friends, and the only family I had left was myself. On and on I went, under the evening light, my two remaining bodies taking turns upturning the earth. The voices in my head singing a quiet melody in glossolalia. Sending off my third body to whatever afterlife Mortella saw fit. Taking whatever part of me was in her, off into the unknown, never for me to see again. Tears flowed down my eyes. On paper it might sound comparable to losing a limb, just a part of you that you use to interact with the world severed, but¡ this was something else. I knew, deep in my soul, that there was a part of me, inside that body. A part of me, that I would not be getting back. A part of me, that had been taken, all for the edification of some self-centered woman, with no regard for the consequences of her actions. Maybe now, I would be able to show her the error in that line of thought, maybe now, I would be able to make consequences that she could not simply ignore.
I sat in the grass, both bodies side by side as my third lay in the soil beneath the tree. I looked at my own unmarked grave. The world was so¡ surreal, wrong, and empty. Even so I sat there, in the dead of night, cold wind blowing through my hair as I watched the soil. Even the voices were silent as warm tears flowed from my eyes. I didn¡¯t know what to feel, what to think, it was just¡ quiet. I took a deep breath one pair of lungs expanding before I blew the air through my lips. I stood as the voices in my head suddenly started singing again, a gorgeous vengeful choir echoing into every corner of my mind. And as I walked back towards the manor, my voice joined them. as everything went numb.
My body flowed smoothly through the wall to join up with its twin. The absence of my third, weighing heavily over me even now. My mind felt¡ slower. My thoughts flowing together with more viscosity than before. The hallway was dark, the power long having been cut, the voices singing in unison with my voice as I glided through the halls. The only signs of my passage, the blood dripping from me. Twin butcher knives clutched in two of my si¡ four hands. The manor was deathly quiet, not a soul stirred as I made my way through the halls and to the kitchen. Everyone was dead, my cousin, the maids, the cooks, everyone. Their blood mixing on the blades in my hands. A small part of me whispered that it was wrong, that only my aunt was to blame for what had happened to me, but that part was drowned out by the singing. The vicious choir echoing death through my synapses, drowning out all else but the satisfaction. There was only one person left, I¡¯d saved my aunt for the very last. I wanted her to understand what precisely she had done, what sort of nightmare she had released. The choir¡¯s voice swelled with the thought of it. Her body hacked apart, just as dead as mine. She deserved it, that witch.
I entered the kitchen, passing directly through the wall. My aunt was there. I expected her to be cowering in a corner, proving once and for all what a pathetic creature she was, unwilling to face the consequences of her actions. But no, she was sitting on the edge of the counter. I realized suddenly that this was the first time I had met her gaze in years. In fact, it had been so long that I didn¡¯t even recognize the face in front of me. My aunt looked a lot like me, same short brown hair, same general facial structure, just older and with striking emerald eyes. She didn¡¯t look upset, or afraid, or even angry, just bored. She took a bite from a sandwich in her hands. ¡°Are you done?¡± she asked me, I scowled at her. ¡°No, not quite yet¡± I said. One body glided forward cautiously, while the other kept watch. She had to be planning something. There was no other way she could be this calm. She looked uninterestedly at the approaching body. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you,¡± she said. This gave me, slight pause. ¡°Not unless you have a plan.¡± ¡°Plan?¡± I asked. She took another bite from her sandwich, chewing slowly, I stopped before her just before she swallowed. ¡°Yeah, a plan. You just killed about 40 people, you have no money, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. So, what¡¯s your plan? Or do you think that getting away with mass murder is easy? Little-miss fingerprints-on-the-murder-weapons,¡± she asked. The song¡ stopped. The voices went silent and all of a sudden, my actions began beating down on me like a typhoon. I slammed it into a box in my mind, locking it away. I needed to focus. I scowled at her. I was about to speak when she cut me off. ¡°So, what is it? How are you going to get out of here?¡± I¡ I didn¡¯t have an answer. I could try to evade the law, but I wasn¡¯t dumb enough to think that I could escape them forever and as much as I hated her. She was right, I had nowhere to go. ¡°Now, here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen, you¡¯re going to wash your hands, take a bath, and we¡¯re going to go on a bit of an impromptu vacation. While you¡¯re getting all that evidence off you, I¡¯ll collect up all the bodies, coat them in a healthy amount of thermite, and lace the building with gasoline.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to burn the manor down?¡± I asked. My aunt snickered. ¡°Of course, and as far as the world will know we are going to burn in here alongside everyone else. I already have an alternate identity for you and me,¡± she said. Dropping off the counter and tossing the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. She began to walk past me to the door but, before she left, she placed a hand on one of my shoulders. ¡°Oh, and next time you decide to throw another little¡ tantrum. Ask about how you might be able to regain that third body, from the person who gave it to you in the first place.¡± With that she left the room. The door closing behind me with the sound of a bomb going off.
I let my bodies go limp, and float through the air listlessly. It almost felt like gravity had tripled. I didn¡¯t know how to feel. On one hand, I hadn¡¯t been able to do it. My aunt had managed to talk herself out of her grave. The worst part being, she was completely right. I didn¡¯t have a plan, I didn¡¯t have anywhere to go, and I didn¡¯t even know what I was going to do once the killing was done. It was just so¡ frustrating, I felt like a puppet that had danced on her string with a twitch of her finger. But on the other hand. I may be able to get my other body back. That alone made me feel almost giddy. Like someone who had been struck blind learning they might be able to see again. Even so, I needed to learn more. I needed to get away from my aunt. The voices hummed discordantly at that. Not agreeing with me or disagreeing. I took several deep breaths, letting my bodies sync up. I could feel my two hearts begin beating as one. I needed to learn how she was able to give me these powers, I needed to get my own friends so that I had someone else I could turn to if I needed help, I needed to have my own life, so I could finally get out of hers. With that conviction, I floated through the doors, looking for the showers, I carried the cleavers with me, figuring it would be easier to just wash them with my bodies.
After I got cleaned up and dressed. Two separate outfits, although I was interested in the idea of dressing my bodies exactly the same. It might be interesting, or maybe I could always dress them differently. Anytime I saw twins in movies and games and whatnot, they always dressed the exact same, but maybe I should be different. Anyways, after I was dressed, I floated into the entry hall, my aunt was sitting in an armchair, the room stinking of gasoline, and a pile of dead bodies half-buried in a reddish powder. That feeling began pushing on the edges of the box I¡¯d shoved it in. I turned my attention away from the pile, looking at my aunt. ¡°Toss the cleavers on the pile,¡± she said. I obeyed as I floated down the stars, the thrown knives impacting the still-warm body of my cousin. Did she really deserve this? Sure, she was kind of obnoxious and rude, but she hadn¡¯t really done anything to deserve getting killed. Maybe if I¡¯d tried harder, maybe If we had talked more, or maybe if we had found a common interest, we could have been close, but now¡. I slammed another box around the box in my mind. It had been breaking apart at the seams. I had the presence of mind to understand that this wasn¡¯t healthy, that this would only bite me in the butt down the line, but even so¡.
Me and my aunt left the house, by the time we made it down the driveway, there was already a large column of smoke rising into the sky, and by the time we made it down to the city proper, we could already hear the sirens. We boarded an arc the same night, paid in cash, and by the following morning we were gone. According to my aunt, we were going to live with her little sister, my other aunt. I had never met her; I just knew she lived in a sky city called Hope¡¯s Cradle. Even so, we were traveling under false identities. My first name was still Charlie, but my last name had changed. My aunt now went by the name Ashley, with the same last name I now had. It was at that moment, when I heard that name, that I realized I didn¡¯t actually know my aunt¡¯s real name. In fact, she had had all this ready surprisingly quickly, it had only been yesterday evening when my third body had been shot. But she was ready to drop everything, with enough cash to move to a different city, with fake identities in hand, along with enough gasoline to torch the massive manor, and enough thermite to reduce all the bodies to an unrecognizable pile of ash. I looked at my aunt in the seat across from me. She looked bored.
00011: UMBRA
UMBRA
With every action comes a series of uncountable reactions. Micro-consequences that echo outwards into the universe, permeating ad infinitum rippling back and forth across reality. These titanic waves of intent, formed from even an action so mere as deciding what one might have for lunch, arch out into the wider cosmos as a whole, and begin to merge, like to like. Every action holds a basis in circumstances and themes, all of which begin to twist together; two instances of the same tone merging to create one larger, richer sound. The fact is there are a lot of sentient beings in the infinite universes. And each one takes an action every single moment of every single day, they steal, the cheat they lie, they kill, they give, they kiss, they love, they sacrifice, they live¡ they die. Each ripple of intent, of emotion, of choice, of will fold together into a network of pulsing veins of power. And when that power reaches a tipping point, when so many decisions are made in the same vein, when that vein of power is so great it becomes an embodiment of itself, the purest form of its represented concept¡ a god is born.
It is a strange thing to become sentient. To go from being nothing, that feels nothing, and sees nothing, another stone in a pond, to suddenly being an individual to whom the world has just popped in around. No, it isn¡¯t quite like that. The world was always there. It was more like a eureka moment, an instance of profound realization, where everything suddenly just¡ made sense. Suddenly the whole world had¡ context. Everything had meaning, there were directions, there were objects, there were properties to those objects, like temperature and density. There¡ there was a sky. It was all so¡ beautiful, complex in ways I could scarcely understand. I could watch it unfold on itself, from sub-microscopic electrons zipping around their nuclei, to universes, sliding past each other amidst the ether. It was truly breathtaking. And there was me¡ I existed, I was a part of this majestic tapestry of reality, another piece of this pure complexity¡. Except I wasn¡¯t complex. I wasn¡¯t like the cricket in the grass, its tiny biology, infinitely complex, built upon infinitely complex cells, built on infinitely complex molecules, built on infinitely complex atoms. I was just¡ one thing. I was simple, unchanging. I was darkness. And that¡¯s all I would ever be. And with that, mere moments after I was born, I cried. I cried and cried and cried. The shadows pooling around my form, swallowing the grass, turning it into as much of a void as I was, I would never be like them, I would never be beautiful, all I could ever be, was nothingness, the swallowing void, the darkness, the hunger. I was so alone. I needed someone, anyone. If I couldn¡¯t be interesting, maybe I could meet someone who was, maybe I could learn to be like them, maybe I could become someone, something. I pushed my mind out into the wider multiverse, searching for someone, anyone who might understand, who might share some of their infinite beauty with me, who might make me something worth existing alongside them. And I found someone, someone scared, and alone, and angry, someone who made a promise they knew they would never keep, someone who with no other hope, cast their hatred futilely into the void, futilely into me, someone¡ who I could help, and maybe If I helped them¡ they would help me. So, I accepted their promise, and I doubled it. Carving their venom into my heart, their fear would be mine, their anger would be mine, their hatred would be mine, their joy and pain would be mine, and I would be theirs, we would become beautiful together, me and her. Then¡ she died.
I felt the moment her soul fled her body. I sat there in the field; such a simple word for something so broad, vast and beautiful; in the middle of my pool of nothingness. I needed to bring her back. But I couldn¡¯t why couldn¡¯t I? I was a goddess for crying out loud! I should be able to bring someone back from the dead if I wished. Well, the answer immediately dropped into my head as soon as I wanted it. Death, life and souls were all under the purview of the goddess Mortella. As soon as I wondered where I might find Mortella, the answer popped into my head again. Why was information popping into my head? And of course, that question too answered itself. Omniscience, all gods and goddesses had it, it was an ability that gave you any information you wanted. Like Google without any effort. I dropped into my void, using it to traverse the heavens, as I immediately began pulling as much information from my omniscience as possible. Simple thigs, complex things, strange things, unintuitive things, the intuition behind them, and even the two words in the English language that did, in fact, rhyme with orange.
I emerged from the darkness into a massive sunlit gazebo, the arches revealing the gorgeous vistas surrounding it. I glanced at them, and immediately ignored them. They weren¡¯t beautiful. They were imitations of real beauty, but there was in fact, nothing there, just nature and beauty, some water, some earth, that was just about it. There were no animals, living their lives, fighting for survival, watching their children grow, the trees were unchanging, they had no scars in their bark from an overzealous woodpecker, no strange bends as they desperately reached for the sun, their source of light and life, struggling to reach for it, and not to be shadowed in a life where shadows meant death. A light that if they could someday reach, would kill them instantly. No, this forest was just an imitation, a farce, a fabrication. I found its mere existence offensive. Like if someone murdered your pet and bought you a stuffed animal from Walmart as a replacement. The strangest thing I noticed was the food. On a long table in the middle of the gazebo, there was food, a lot of food. Why was there food? Only gods lived here, and none of us needed to eat. I approached the food curiously; my eye caught a slice of cake. It was beautiful, the cake was black, with frosting that looked like the night sky, twinkling stars caught in a facsimile of the true majesty of the sky. I frowned and grabbed the slice, already plated with a fork, and looked around. There were many gods here, all of which were as simple and uninteresting as I. I looked at one, and all I saw was wood. He was the god of wood, and every aspect of him was wood. I sighed. Then I saw¡ her. I immediately recognized Mortella, a person I had never met before, and she was¡ interesting. She wasn¡¯t quite as beautiful as the mortals, but she was¡ different. She wasn¡¯t like all the other gods. I reflexively tried to get an answer from omniscience, and¡ failed. Omniscience hadn¡¯t given me an answer. That felt oddly¡ wrong. No matter, I could ask the person directly.
I sat at the table across from the goddess of death. I was about to ask a question, but I paused¡. I got a feeling deep in my core of pure darkness; It recoiled slightly from the being in front of me, pulling away as if in fear. Like and abused, cages animal huddling to the far corner as its tormentor approached. It was at that moment I realized. Mortella could kill me, I didn¡¯t know how, but apparently, she was capable of killing another god. That shouldn¡¯t be possible, gods can¡¯t be killed, we¡¯re immortal¡ right? I looked around the gazebo and only now noticed that we were in the middle of a wide circle, every table adjacent to us was completely unoccupied. They were all afraid. Fascinating. I leaned forwards looking at the death goddess. She looked like a weird hybrid between a librarian and a biker. Her clothes were neat and well-tailored, but she also wore a studded leather jacket, she had a pair of prim glasses on her face, glasses that had shaded lenses. She was tapping away at a tablet in her hands while occasionally reaching over to a plate of fried wantons, grabbing one with a pair of chopsticks, and eating it. Anyways I needed answers. ¡°How do you kill other gods?¡± I asked. The goddess didn¡¯t look up from her tablet, just spoke¡ with her mouth still full.
¡°Same way you do whatever it is you do,¡± she said. then she glanced at me. ¡°Darkness? Oh, Lumina will have a field day with that. So, however you make a sunny beach shadier,¡± that middle part she muttered as if to herself. ¡°Yeah, but like how does it work? How do you make an immortal god¡ not immortal?¡± ¡°Gods aren¡¯t true immortals. Anything that can die, will die. It¡¯s just a matter of time. If something is immortal, except for if it stubs its toe against a solid gold brick in a graveyard under the light of a full moon, eventually, no matter how unlikely the scenario, that being will stub its toe against a gold brick in a graveyard under the light of a full moon.¡± I nodded. Then realized the implications of that statement. Someday¡ Mortella, would kill me. Hmm¡ I suppose that didn¡¯t really matter. There¡¯s nothing I can do about it, so I might as well ignore it. Although there was the possibility, she¡¯d revealed that particular bit of information as a veiled threat intending to drive me off. Ignoring that as well I re-asked my question. ¡°That¡¯s nice and all but explain the process that you use to make a god dead,¡± I said. Mortella, for once, lowered her tablet, and looked me dead in the eyes. Well, I assumed she did, I couldn¡¯t see her eyes through her glasses, but with all the other movements it made sense.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
¡°You¡¯re new,¡± she said. It wasn¡¯t really a question, but I answered it anyways. ¡°Yes, I became sentient (I checked omniscience) approximately two hours, eight minutes, and fifty-three seconds ago.¡± Mortella ate another wanton. ¡°Look, I¡¯m very busy right now, so if you don¡¯t need anything, septillions of mortals die every nanosecond and each one needs my direct attention,¡± she said. ¡°Wait. I¡ I actually do need something.¡± Mortella, having returned to whatever it was she was doing on her tablet of all important death stuff, arched an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I took a deep breath¡ this was going to be hard. ¡°I need someone brought back from the dead. And I know you¡¯re the goddess of death, and that¡¯s (¡°Sure¡±) Probably¡¡± I trailed off. ¡°Wait what? It¡¯s that easy?¡± ¡°Yep, just two conditions.¡± I gulped, here it was, this is where she tells me to track down some magic artifact, long shattered into a quarter to half a dozen McGuffin pieces and hidden away in dungeons filled to the brim with compounding puzzle design all to save my princess¡ wait what¡¯s her name? Cheshire! Wait really? Like the cat from Alice in Wonderland? Or, that one type of cheese? Or, that place in England where the cheese is from? Didn¡¯t matter. Why is Mortella looking at me like an idiot? Oh right, she had two conditions. When is she going to say them. She already said them, didn¡¯t she. ¡°Hey¡ uh¡ Mortella, could you repeat that, I got distracted thinking about cheese.¡± Mortella looked at me blankly for several seconds. ¡°You¡¯re an omniscient being, you should have sufficient mental bandwidth to never get distracted thinking about¡ cheese, you also should never get so distracted you lose track of a conversation for long enough that you forget something, and lastly you should be able to check your eidetic memory for any information you may have missed.¡± Oh¡ Actually, it was here. I rewound my mind and replayed what she¡¯d said. ¡°I need another plate of wantons, and for you to leave me alone.¡± I frowned. The wantons were easy, but Mortella was the most interesting deity I¡¯d met so far, there was no way I could just leave. A portal appeared under a plate of freshly made wantons on the long table. They fell through the void and landed with a ping against the table in front of the goddess. ¡°I can do this much, but there¡¯s no way I¡¯m leaving, I still have so many questions!¡± I said. Mortella sighed. ¡°For one, why are you so willing to bring someone back from the dead? It¡¯s not like it was hard to go to the table and get you another plate.¡± Mortella just shrugged. ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I bring someone back? Cheshire didn¡¯t die that long ago, so I can just scoop her soul up out of the ether and drop her in a new body. So long as she dies again, it makes no difference to me.¡± ¡°Okay, I guess that makes sense, but wait, how do you know who I want?¡± Mortella didn¡¯t answer, just stared at me. ¡°Right¡ omniscience.¡± ¡°Yes, omniscience,¡± Mortella said. She reached into the ether and plucked something out. ¡°Here you go,¡± she said, handing me a glowing blue-purple crystal. ¡°That is Cheshire¡¯s soul, you may want to bring her back in a safe environment and explain what¡¯s going on before putting her back in the mortal plane.¡± And with that Mortella returned to whatever it was she was doing.
I did have a few more questions, but for the time being I thought it best to leave the grumpy death goddess alone, so I stood¡. Actually¡ one more question. ¡°Hey, Ella? (¡°Please don¡¯t call me Ella, like we¡¯re friends.¡±) There¡¯s something different about you from everyone else, what is that?¡± Mortella¡¯s gaze slid to mine, and she sighed. ¡°You know, if you don¡¯t hold up your end of the bargain, I can just take that soul back.¡± I sat back down. ¡°I said I wasn¡¯t willing to go through with that part, and since you¡¯ve given me the soul, we¡¯ve agreed the wantons alone are fine,¡± I said, smirking triumphantly. Mortella gave me a deadpan look then sighed once again, the tablet in her hands evaporating. As she leaned back in her seat. ¡°Listen, I¡¯m not a big fan of gods. Your kind are self-obsessed, narcissistic, spoiled children with far more power than any being should have. Yet, you are far too simple to understand the true depth of the worlds you trapse around in. Playing games, with the lives of countless mortals, while you yourselves are just conglomerations of power so vast, and pure it started to think for itself. We don¡¯t get along, we can¡¯t get along, I don¡¯t mind helping out every now and then, if it¡¯s something minor like bringing someone back, but that is just so that you all won¡¯t be desperately trying to rob the ether of the souls of the dead. We¡¯ve been through that before, and this is the result of those times,¡± Mortella said, gesturing to the pavilion, or more precisely, to the large vacancy around her. ¡°So, with that in mind, do you understand why I¡¯m not interested in your friendship? Why I¡¯m not inclined¡ to¡.¡±
I trailed off in the middle of the little speech that I¡¯d given, time and time again, to every new god and goddess since so long ago, I barely cared to fathom. There had been many reactions to this speech, usually chagrin, sometimes anger, but this¡ this was new. This new goddess of darkness¡ was crying. This struck me as odd, seeing as gods didn¡¯t cry. Don¡¯t get me wrong, they could absolutely cry, as they could do just about anything else, the thing was they were generally too proud, to focused on their own image to let themselves be infamized through their own feelings. Sure, they occasionally hammed it up to make themselves more sympathetic, but¡ this was different, these weren¡¯t crocodile tears, this was genuine. I could tell, when a god truly wept, you could feel it; feel it in the base of their power, in this case, I could see the void itself, a dark place of eternal nothingness, shuddering as it too, wept. I let out a sigh for the umpteenth time in this conversation, although this time was not out of frustration. I released all my annoyance in a puff of air and stepped to the other side of the table, moving briefly through the fourth dimension to cross the space without actually bumping into the table itself. I sat down next to the fledgling goddess and placed a hand on her back. And I pulled.
We sat in a room, a room I had been in for countless eons and technically never. It was a small room, including a comfy couch, my desk and a large glass window providing the glowing illumination from the flow of the time stream itself. There were no other gods that could access this room, save for my parents. And here, the little goddess of darkness could cry in peace. I sat with her and waited as she fought for control of her tears. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°No, no, I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s fine, it¡¯s just¡. You¡¯re right.¡± My eyes widened slightly at that; gods generally never acknowledged their faults. ¡°I¡¯m not interesting, I¡¯m just a clump of darkness that for some reason can talk. And that¡¯s all I¡¯ll ever be. If I ever lose too much power, if there isn¡¯t enough darkness, I¡¯ll be gone forever. I¡¯m not like them, not like the mortals. They¡¯re so beautiful, so interesting. From the intricacies of their societies to the composition of their cells, they are so fascinating. If you cut a piece of hair from one, you could look at it and see thousands of individual flakes of keratin, not a single one the same as another, strands of DNA, a molecule so complex it is completely unique for each and every living thing on the planet. If you cut a piece of hair from me, it would just¡ dissipate, return to the darkness from which it was made, revel me for the simplistic nothingness I am,¡± Umbra said, looking down at her hands, letting them fade, melt back into the void. ¡°I¡¯ll never be like them. All I can do is pretend, pretend and hope that they won¡¯t notice¡ but you already know¡ and you already don¡¯t want anything to do with me, and why would you? Even a bacterium is more complex than¡.¡± I wrapped my arms around her. I personally didn¡¯t like hugs, or even giving hugs, they made me uncomfortable, I just didn¡¯t like people getting close to me, but even so, I understood that they make people more comfortable, and that this little goddess could probably use one right about now. I did owe it to her after all.
00012: GUESS WHO’S BACK
GUESS WHO¡¯S BACK
I opened my eyes. This was quite surprising, seeing as my most recent memory involved the unpleasant and unforeseen event of someone shoving a big-ass sword through my skull. Not only was it surprising that I had the nondead-ness generally required to open one¡¯s eyes, but it was also a bit of a shock that I even had eyes in sufficient condition to be opened in the first place. In fact, I felt confoundingly great, I didn¡¯t so much as even have a crick in my neck. Hell, I was probably doing far better than anyone else who¡¯d had a sword, gently, brutally assault their grey-matter. All of this is begging one simple question¡ why, in the name of all that is holy, am I not dead? One does not merely survive a head stabbing the likes of which I received. Actually, I¡¯m getting another simple question begged, where the hell am I? I seem to be floating amid nothing but pure darkness, although floating is a strong word. Floating implies weightlessness, and while I wouldn¡¯t describe what I¡¯m feeling as weighted, I also wouldn¡¯t call it weightless either. I am just sort of¡ here. It was like not only was there no gravity, but even the metaphysical concept of gravity was absent, I.E. there was no gravity, and there was no lack of gravity, because gravity didn¡¯t exist. It honestly felt super weird, and more than a little trippy, but was oddly comfortable. I begin wiggling about, movement here is also very, very weird. Weirder than gravity, on account of there being no space. Hell, it feels distinctly¡ two dimensional. I have absolutely no idea how to describe it, it¡¯s not like everything is flat, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m on some ultra-thin plane fixed in 3d space, it¡¯s like the concept of the Z axis is just¡ gone. Like all there is and ever was, is up, down, forwards, and backwards; the very concept of left and right being completely invalid. With that I decide to try to stop thinking about the dimensionality, it was making me a little dizzy.
Instead, I focused on the strange certainty that I wasn¡¯t actually dead. It was a strange thing to be certain about. One might assume that this feeling shouldn¡¯t be unusual, seeing as I went my whole life without being dead, but¡ this was different, a certainty that only came with having done the action itself. It¡¯s one thing to know your house isn¡¯t a forest full of monsters, but once you go there, once you¡¯ve actually experienced it, you have a greater understanding of the exact differences and what they mean. All that¡¯s to say, I knew I wasn¡¯t dead, because I knew what it was like to be dead¡ except I didn¡¯t. There was no memory, in between my death and my waking in this void, yet¡ something inside me knew something had happened, that an amount of time had passed. Actually¡ come to think of it. The last thing I remember was being brutally murdered. Shouldn¡¯t I be¡ in distress, at least a little panicked? Maybe even mildly perturbed? The more I think about it, the more it bugs me how¡ not bugged I am, which if you think about it, sort of solves the issue. Hooray! Cheshire¡¯s bugged now! Problem solved; she now has no reason to be confused about her lack of metaphorical insectoid-ness. Lumina be damned, I¡¯m bored. There is so much nothing happening here, I¡¯m honestly not sure how long I¡¯ve been here. It¡¯s hard to tell on account of the rampant nothingness. Hello! I called¡ or at least I thought I did. It was kinda hard to tell if I was actually speaking. Anyone there? Yep, still nothing.
Hi. Oh Jesus Christ! I shouted into¡ maybe my own head¡ it was still hard to tell. But I just heard a voice. It sounded like a young girl¡ probably about¡ high school age¡ maybe? I don¡¯t know children. Should I respond? Uh¡ hello? Who are you? How did you get into my head? I heard her giggle. I¡¯m not in your head. It¡¯s more like you¡¯re in mine. ¡°Oh¡ I see¡ what?¡± hey, I can tell if I¡¯m speaking again! Nice. ¡°Sorry, this place isn¡¯t really set up for mortals, I¡¯m still working out the kinks,¡± she said, sounding a little distracted. Huh¡ that¡¯s something. I moved the where am I question to the top of my mystical magical list of queries. Just above, what¡¯s going on, how am I alive, and the classic, what the fuck. The girl snickered. ¡°You¡¯re funny,¡± she said. ¡°I haven¡¯t said anything,¡± I said. ¡°No, but I can hear your thoughts.¡± Oh¡ no¡ not my thoughts. If she can hear my thoughts, she¡¯ll know everything I don¡¯t want her to know. Like that time in high school when I was so lonely I tried making out with my reflection in a mirror. FUCK. Or maybe that time, when I was like seven, when I knocked over what I thought was a vase in my neighbor¡¯s house and it broke, spilling dust everywhere, but I didn¡¯t tell anyone, and only later realized that it wasn¡¯t actually a vase, but a ceramic urn. WHY IS MY BRAIN DOING THIS? The girl¡¯s giggles grew more intense, even as she was clearly trying to suppress them. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s your name?¡± I asked, desperately trying to distract my brain from giving away all the classified documents to the first mind-reader it could find. She carefully restrained her laughter. ¡°I¡¯m Umbra,¡± she said. ¡°Nice to meet you Umbra I¡¯m Cheshire,¡± I said, voice stilted and robotic, as I was mentally solving quadratic equations in a desperate attempt to keep my brain from running though the most embarrassing section of memory lane. ¡°There. I shouldn¡¯t be able to passively read your thoughts now,¡± ¡°Oh, thank god. Why couldn¡¯t you have done that one first?¡± ¡°Actually, I could¡¯ve done it a while ago, but it was too funny.¡± I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms, grumpily¡. Wait¡ since when was there a chair in here? And a gravity? And a third dimension? I shook my head and looked around.
There was a young lady in front of me, she was dressed in an intricate black dress, it was completely black, but somehow had a sort of depth to it. I could also see each fold and lace; it was very strange to look at. Usually if something is a deep enough black, it just looks like¡ well¡ black, no light, no shadows, just darkness. This on the other hand, was as black as black could get, but I could still determine things like, texture, and depth. It was almost like one of those optical illusion rooms, where the room was designed in a way to mask its actual shape. I.E., my brain decided, of its own volition, that the dress I was seeing had depth and texture in a way that my eyes weren¡¯t perceiving. Okay, maybe that metaphor wasn¡¯t the best. But still, the dress was weird. Looking away from it, I looked at her face, she was obscenely pale, literally paper white. Her eyes were oddly dark, irises looking like pools of infinite darkness. Her hair looked off¡ it was black, sure but there was something to it, like it wasn¡¯t a natural black, it was too¡ pure. Like with natural hair, there¡¯s always a little brown in it, whereas this looked¡ dyed.
¡°So¡ Umbra, hi¡ are you like¡ Mortella¡¯s assistant or¡.¡± I let myself trail off. ¡°No, Mortella doesn¡¯t have¡ huh¡ actually she does have an assistant, two in fact. But no, I¡¯m Umbra, the goddess of darkness.¡± ¡°Oh okay, I see. So¡ you¡ exist? Actually, I always thought that was odd, there was a goddess of light, but there wasn¡¯t one of darkness, maybe you just don¡¯t have much to do with Earth, or something like that. Or, you have a secret cult that exists in the shadows. No, that¡¯s it right?¡± Umbra¡¯s face suddenly became highly suspicious, and she stopped making eye contact. ¡°Y-yes, I have a massive secret organization, filled with people. Mhmm, yep.¡± I nodded. ¡°You¡¯re a terrible liar.¡± Umbra glared at me. ¡°No, I¡¯m not! You know saying such things about a goddess is blasphemy, you can get burned at the stake for that!¡± ¡°Sure, sure. You¡¯re majesty? Wait, how do you properly refer to a deity? Your majesty just seems wrong.¡± Umbra just shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t care, just call me Umbra,¡± ¡°Yeah, but how am I to be unconvictably rude to you without referring to you politely?¡± I asked. Umbra puffed out her cheeks frustrated and childish-ly. Then she burst into giggles. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯m kinda curious, how am I alive?¡± Umbra¡¯s giggling petered out, before she replied. ¡°Well, you technically aren¡¯t. You¡¯d need an actual body to be alive. Mortella is working on finding you a new body. But in the meantime, I¡¯ve made it so that we can talk to each other before you¡¯re officially brought back to life.¡± ¡°Wait, Mortella knows I¡¯m being brought back?¡± ¡°Yeah, we made a deal, I gave her some wantons, she gave me your soul, it wasn¡¯t a big deal.¡± She said with an expression that said Praise me, praise me, which I blatantly ignored.
¡°So, why haven¡¯t I heard of you,¡± I said, with a shit eating grin plastered to my face. Umbra stuck her tongue out at me before replying. ¡°Honestly? Because I am like seven hours old.¡± Oh, I guess that makes sense, if someone is seven hours old, no wonder no one knows¡ about¡. ¡°Wait, seven hours?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t gods like, immortal, and infinitely old and stuff?¡± ¡°Uh, no? Don¡¯t get me wrong, most gods are way older than me. But first of all, gods aren¡¯t really immortal. Mortella was super specific about that, and also, we do start existing at a point in time. Mine just happened to be several hours ago.¡± ¡°Uh huh, so you¡¯re a child.¡± Umbra¡¯s face turned red. ¡°No, I¡¯m not a child, I¡¯m an omniscient being of infinite darkness. The mistress of the inconceivable void. The origin of all shadows. A paragon of¡.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s only seven hours old.¡± She glared at me. ¡°Yeah, well you don¡¯t even have an age!¡± ¡°Yes, I do I¡¯m twenty-two.¡± ¡°Pfft, you need to have a body to have an age dummy.¡± ¡°Fist of all, did you just unironically use the word dummy. And second, that doesn¡¯t make any sense, I¡¯ve been alive for twenty-two years, so I¡¯m twenty-two.¡± ¡°No, you were alive for twenty-two years, then you were stabbed. Just because your soul was left intact and preserved, instead of whatever Mortella does with them once they die, doesn¡¯t mean that you get to keep those years. You are zero, so therefore I¡¯m your senor!¡± She said triumphantly. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit, I¡¯m deciding to keep those years, I earned them.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah? Then when¡¯s your birthday? You¡¯ll need to know it if you¡¯re going to keep incrementing that year counter of yours.¡± ¡°My birthday is¡.¡± I blanked.
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I felt like it was on the tip of my tongue, I remembered the year I was born, year 404 of the new calendar. But¡ the month and day¡ I couldn¡¯t remember. Why couldn¡¯t I remember. ¡°I¡ I can¡¯t remember,¡± I said, the lighthearted tone I was using to banter with the goddess gone. She looked like she was going to say something inane for a second before she heard the gravity in my voice. I couldn¡¯t remember. I could remember celebrating it, but not what day it was, what time of year it was, whether it was snowing, raining, or sunny outside. I remembered writing it down on documents, but I can¡¯t remember what I wrote, the lines completely unfamiliar to me, as if they were written in an alien language. Why can¡¯t I remember it? Umbra sighed. ¡°Okay, maybe I went too far. No one remembers their birthday once they¡¯re brought back, I don¡¯t know why Mortella made that rule, but it¡¯s always been like that. But don¡¯t worry about it too much, it really isn¡¯t that big a deal.¡± ¡°I mean¡ I guess it isn¡¯t going to kill me or anything, but¡ I still feel kinda violated.¡± Umbra just nodded. ¡°If it makes you feel any better, I don¡¯t have a birthday.¡± ¡°You were born seven hours ago, today is your birthday.¡± ¡°Yeah, technically that would be the truth but, we don¡¯t really measure days here. The gods rule over so many planets, all of which have different lengths of day and year, that it¡¯s pointless to pick out a specific day.¡± ¡°I mean¡ I guess that makes me feel a little better.¡± Umbra beamed at me. I sighed. On to my next question, I guess.
¡°So, why am I not dead?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Umbra said, as if she were remembering something. ¡°So, Lumina. We¡¯re gonna kill her,¡± she said. at the mention of Lumina¡¯s name, a felt that coal of anger flare up within me. Sure, I know it was one of her followers that did it, but it was with her blessing. So, I hold both her and that follower responsible. ¡°Okay¡ how?¡± Umbra shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. There are a few weapons capable of killing a god, Mortella¡¯s scythe, Rachel¡¯s machete, Maggot¡¯s knuckle dusters, (¡°Maggot?¡±) the list goes on. The problem is, there all owned by someone we can¡¯t easily steal from. For example, the easiest person to steal from on that list would be Rachel. The problem is, she¡¯s killed more than a few gods before, and I¡¯m talking some big shots here, she killed the god of combat. Like, how do you even beat the god of fighting in a fight? Anyways, point is, we¡¯re going to have to make our own god killing weapon.¡± ¡°Okay, so you could¡¯ve just said we should make our own weapon, I didn¡¯t need the whole spiel. Also, how exactly do we do that?¡± Umbra shrugged. ¡°I have no clue.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you like, omniscient or something?¡± ¡°Well yeah, but omniscience doesn¡¯t come from nowhere, it comes from Niiha, the goddess of fate, some things are deliberately omitted to prevent problems. For example, granting any random god who wants to know the know how to make a weapon capable of killing just about any living thing in existence. The good part is, we know it can be done, the presence of such weapons means it must be possible to make them.¡± ¡°Okay, so where do I come in with this?¡± ¡°Well, nowhere for now. I¡¯ll be the one figuring out how to make the weapon, you can do that to, but your main goal will be forming a network of trusted people who you can work with to acquire the objects. As well as forming an information network in case you hear about an unattended god killing weapon.¡± ¡°Do they really just leave those things lying around?¡± ¡°No, probably not, but you can always hope.¡± ¡°Also, why can¡¯t you get the items?¡± ¡°If I go to earth the other gods will know, and I¡¯d prefer Lumina doesn¡¯t hear about what we¡¯re doing until it¡¯s too late.¡±
I stare down at them, small balls of malt coated in chocolate, they are arrayed in a bowl, all about a centimeter in diameter. A box, presumably where they came from, stands next to them almost mockingly. It stares at me, daring me to try one, I stare right back. I¡¯m not going to be intimidated by some god damn candy¡ right? I push the bowl across the table. ¡°No, I¡¯m good,¡± I say, noncommittally. The girl, who is not a girl, on the other side of the table smiles at me. ¡°Really they¡¯re fine¡ probably,¡± she says. ¡°The hell do you mean probably?¡± I say, leaning slightly away from the candies. ¡°Well, as far as I can tell they are normal whoppers¡ but¡.¡± ¡°But?¡± ¡°Well¡ it¡¯s less the candies themselves, and more who I got them from.¡± ¡°Who the hell did you get them from?¡± She mutters a name under her breath. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Mortella,¡± she says. ¡°Mortella¡. You got these from the fucking death goddess and now you want to feed them to me!?¡± I shout. ¡°Yes, but only so that I don¡¯t have to eat them,¡± she said, pushing the bowl back across the table. ¡°So, you admit I¡¯m your guinea pig.¡± ¡°Absolutely,¡± she said, smiling sweetly.
¡°Yeah, no.¡± ¡°Come on, you know how much I had to offer to get Mortella to bring you back to life, the least you could do is test as to whether or not she gave me death candies.¡± ¡°You got them from death, literal death, fourth horsewoman of the apocalypse death¡ Of course, their death candies!¡± I shriek, then realizing something I continue. ¡°Wait, didn¡¯t you say that to bring me back all you gave her were some wantons?¡± The girl, who is not a girl¡¯s expression suddenly shifts to that of my six-year-old self, trying desperately to convince my mom that I did, not in fact, eat an entire pack of chocolate bars¡ while my face is covered in chocolate. ¡°No¡¡± She says, unconvincingly. ¡°No, I¡¯m pretty sure that happened, you were all proud of it too.¡± ¡°Well¡ okay¡ maybe that happened, but you don¡¯t know what extents I went to, what trials I endured, all to get those wantons. I mean, they are for the death goddess after all, she wouldn¡¯t accept any old wantons.¡± ¡°We¡¯re in heaven, right? I¡¯m pretty sure they have some damn good wantons here,¡± I said, absently plucking a whopper from the bowl and popping it into my mouth. I bit down on the sphere, feeling my teeth grind through it, as my mouth filled with sweetness. ¡°Hey you ate one! Are you dead again? Do I need to go get more wantons from the cafeteria?¡± I tensed as my brain caught up with my actions, oh no¡ I¡¯d eaten¡ wait¡ this is just a normal whopper¡ wait again¡ cafeteria? ¡°They have a cafeteria in heaven?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s where I met Mortella,¡± the girl, who was not a girl but also not a boy, said. ¡°So, let me get this straight. You have been holding this I brought you back to life thing over my head for the past two days¡ and all it took was for you to get up and get her another plate of wantons!¡± the not-girl blushed, as if flattered. ¡°Maybe,¡± she said, squirming bashfully. I just sighed. ¡°This is why I hate gods,¡± I muttered, eating another whopper. ¡°Are you sure those aren¡¯t poison or something?¡± the not woman asked me. ¡°Yeah, they are basically just whoppers.¡± ¡°So, the radiation treatment wasn¡¯t necessary?¡± I spat the half-eaten whopper out on the table. ¡°RADIATION TREATMENT!¡± ¡°Eww¡ gross,¡± she said, waving a finger to vaporize the whopper mush in a poof of black smoke. ¡°What did you do to the whoppers?¡± I pressed. ¡°Just some mild¡ scientific¡ examinations.¡± ¡°Mild scientific examinations of what nature?¡± I pressed yet even harder. ¡°Well¡ you know¡ the usual,¡± she said, again getting that guilty six-year-old look on her face. ¡°What sort of usual?¡± I pressed hard enough to form diamonds from coal. ¡°Okay, fine I may have done some mild radiation detection on them, but they might still be fine. Worst comes to worst you may grow another head or something.¡± ¡°EXCUSE ME?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡ fiiiiine,¡± she said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± ¡°You just said, I might grow another head!¡± ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯ll be completely inert, just basically a really complicated zit¡ maybe.¡± ¡°What do you mean maybe.¡± ¡°Well¡ there is a small chance it might gain sentience and begin fighting for control over your body, but don¡¯t worry my little guinea pig. My plans for you will work whether or not your body is being controlled by a radiation clone or not,¡± she said, beaming. I gave her a flat look.
¡°I¡¯m going to die¡ again,¡± I said grumpily. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that, I wouldn¡¯t let you die. I¡¯d have to bribe Mortella with more wantons if that happened, and hell if I wanna do that again.¡± ¡°I¡¯m so glad to hear my survival is contingent on the laziness of my patron goddess, truly I have chosen wisely.¡± ¡°That you did! Just imagine how much work I won¡¯t have to do now that you¡¯re around. Soon enough I won¡¯t even have to get up off the couch to get the remote control.¡± ¡°Oh, dear, my goddess has aspirations of being the ultimate couch potato. Hey, Umbra, is it too late to switch back to Lumina, sure she killed me, but is that really worse than¡ this,¡± I said wiggling a finger at her before swiping up another whopper. ¡°Yep, completely and utterly too late. Choosing a patron deity is under a strict no take backsies sort of policy.¡± ¡°No take backsies? Who¡¯s making these policies, and how old are they?¡± ¡°Me, and about two and a half days.¡± ¡°I get the sinking feeling that this policy was made five seconds ago just to keep me trapped.¡± Umbra gave me a beaming, innocently un-innocent smile. ¡°I can feel the walls closing in on me now. First, I¡¯m killing a goddess, next I¡¯ll be killing spiders, then I¡¯ll be fetching popcorn. I can see my fall from grace approaching me like a freight train with no brakes,¡± I lamented. ¡°Well, the sooner you accept I tied you to the rails and cut the brake and feed pipes with an angle grinder, the sooner I get my bowl of Cheetos.¡± ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s Cheetos now? You know, ever since I killed that spider, you¡¯ve been really letting yourself go.¡± ¡°Yeah well, it¡¯s hard being a goddess, I need to¡¡± at that moment someone appeared in the room. He had a long black cloak and a skeletal frame; I could practically see his bones through his skin. ¡°Excuse me madams, but the lady Mortella wishes you to know that she has found an acceptable body.¡± He said. Umbra stopped mid-sentence. I took a deep breath. ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s time.¡± Umbra suddenly looked a little sad. ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I think we can still talk, prayers and all that,¡± I said. She perked up. ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± ¡°Come along Milady,¡± the man said extending a bony hand, I grabbed a few more whoppers, and stood, crossing the table and lacing his fingers with mine.
00013: DUMPLING LEARNS TO SURVIVE
DUMPLING LEARNS TO SURVIVE
This is the worst thing I¡¯ve ever had to do in my life bar none. This epiphany comes to me as I run frantically though the deceptively easy to get lost in, 11th floor. It¡¯s filled to the brim with massive mushrooms the size of trees, and the air is heavy with a dense purple fog, that I swear is messing with my head. This floor is very different from the 12th, for starters, the monsters are giant mushrooms instead of undead, giant mushrooms the size of a person that wave hair-thin wires through the air with enough speed to take off a finger. I would know, I¡¯ve lost six since coming to this floor. The ultra-thin threads are also damn hard to see in the fog and the mushrooms from which they originate look just like any other mushroom around us. So, every time Dumpling, who can somehow tell when one of those fuckers is around, tells me to stop before I run into a nigh invisible wall of whirling death, the next step is to either turn back, try to go around, or play everyone¡¯s favorite game: which of the fifty mushrooms in the given vicinity is trying to kill us? This alone wouldn¡¯t be so bad, a mushroom forest filled with trap mushrooms is manageable, all we¡¯d need to do is take it slow. That is, unfortunately, not an option. The reason why is the massive fungal abomination loudly charging after me and the baby lich I¡¯m pulling along behind me. I haven¡¯t gotten a good look at it, but I know for a fact that it is at least seven or eight meters tall and has a mouth large enough to swallow me whole. Beyond that, I have no clue what it looks like, I didn¡¯t stick around long enough to find out. I can hear it smashing down mushroom-trees behind us as we scamper as quickly as we can without running into the aforementioned whirling mycelium. This place is a special brand of cruelty. Move too slow, and you get eaten. Move to fast and you get diced, and that¡¯s without mentioning out third conundrum. The small mushrooms, well small relative to the tree shrooms; they are still halfway to my knee, are quick little buggers that run up to you on legs of whisper thin mycelium and leap at you, when they land, I¡¯m not sure what exactly they do, but my leg is still both numb and hurting something fierce from the last time one got its mycelium on me. I am probably not going to be comfortable looking at mushrooms again for a month after this.
Dumpling breaks me from my internal complaining, with a tug on my sleeve. ¡°Stairs!¡± she says, pointing. I look in the direction her finger indicates and see nothing but fog and fungi. ¡°I don¡¯t see anything!¡± I call over the sound of giant mushrooms being torn apart behind us growing ever closer. She doesn¡¯t say anything else, just gives me an imploring look. I groan and pull her in the direction she indicated, It¡¯s not like I was running in the previous direction for any particular reason anyways. Another small mushroom leaps at me, cap facing away, presumably aiming its mycelium at me. I whip the axe at it. Having had absolutely no training with such a weapon, and swinging one-handed while running, the blow connects about at poorly as one might expect. The only reason why it hits is probably that I¡¯ve had enough training with a sword to have familiarity with swinging an object with the intent to hit something. That said, the bit slams into the mushroom at a bad angle, carving a chunk off the edge of the mushroom, while the cheek makes enough of an impact to send it skittering off course. Even so, I feel its nearly invisible tendrils brush my arm, leaving a trail of ice cold burning in their wake. ¡°Hoomin!¡± Dumpling calls. ¡°Spit it out!¡± I call over the destruction behind us. ¡°Stairs!¡± she points¡ off to the left. ¡°What about the stairs we¡¯re heading towards?¡± I call, not slowing. ¡°You turned; stairs aren¡¯t this way!¡± she says. ¡°I didn¡¯t turn!¡± I shout. ¡°Stop!¡± she shouts, and I immediately dig my heels in. I hear the chasing monstrosity, and immediately turn right. ¡°No! not that way!¡± she shouts, pulling left. ¡°Damn it Dumpling! We don¡¯t have time for this!¡± ¡°You¡¯re the one who keeps going away from the stairs! And my name is Dumpling the Despondylator not Dumpling!¡± Dumpling shouts back. Hearing the massive horror getting far too close for comfort, I growl and relent following the direction she indicated. ¡°NO! This way!¡± she says, pulling in a different direction from where she previously pointed. ¡°What? You said it was this way!¡± I said. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t!¡± I kick a small mushroom into the whirling mass of mycelium and¡ nothing. I narrow my eyes, and reach out a hand, the big monster, that I¡¯m certain is fungal in nature, is getting uncomfortably close, but this is important. I wave my hand around me in a circle, and eventually, my fingers encounter the whirling mass and are diced in the air. It hurts like hell but confirms something. This mist is absolutely fucking with my sense of direction, and it¡¯s doing it very well.
¡°Okay, lead the way!¡± I say, as my blessing repairs my fingers. And dumpling pulls me in yet another new direction. We go as fast as we possibly can. I¡¯m constantly batting away mini mushrooms as dumping pulls us in a seemingly random path, zig zagging through the fungal forest. I hear the charging monster suddenly begin approaching faster and faster. In a second it plows through the mushroom trees behind us, and I can see a mouth filled with rotting teeth. I pull dumpling perpendicularly to the charge and dive out of the way, barely clearing its maw. We crash into the side of its head and are sent sprawling. A mini shroom latches onto me, and I feel pain blossom in my side. I scream, as I drop the axe and sink my fingers into its spongey cap, I rip and tear until it¡¯s dead, sending gooey chunks of it to the ground. Another one leaps at me, and Dumpling swings the axe at it, her hit is horrible, the bit doesn¡¯t make contact at all, but the wooden shaft acts like a baseball bat and that¡¯s good enough. I scramble to my feet. Hearing the giant monster skidding to a halt, crashing through the forest of mushrooms behind me. How did it catch up so fast? I wonder this as Dumpling pulls me in yet another direction. This time almost towards the monster. We resume our winding path, my mind whirling as we move in directions that make no sense, seemingly at random. I just battered off yet another mini mushroom, when it hit me. How fast is the giant monster anyways? Clearly, it¡¯s much faster than we are if it was able to catch up so quickly. So, why didn¡¯t it? Is it trying to prevent us from reaching the stairs? I almost miss it when Dumpling Pulls me off to one side, somehow more unexpectedly than all her other twists and turns. I run with her, as the monster comes hurtling past us like a runaway locomotive. Its skin is thick and white, covered in wrinkles and protrusions. I can hear it skidding to a stop, desperately trying to arrest the massive amount of inertia behind is titanic form. That¡¯s when it really hits me. It¡¯s not that the monster is trying to prevent us from reaching the stairs, or even that it¡¯s slow. What was keeping it at bay was my nonsensical wandering, constant changes in direction throwing off its charge. Now that Dumpling is leading us in a straight line, it can properly accelerate. ¡°Which way are we supposed to go?¡± I shout. Dumpling points. And I run in that direction. ¡°No, you¡¯re going the wrong way!¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s fine! Just keep pointing. Now that I¡¯m looking at dumpling¡¯s hand, I can feel it more clearly. Her arm remains extended in a single direction, even as she adjusts her arm to maintain it. But the whole world around me seems to slide off her, like she was added in, in post, and doesn¡¯t quite match up with the movement around her yet she also does. It is horribly disorientating to look at¡ so I don¡¯t I only check back in on Dumpling every second or two, adjusting my direction accordingly. With this method I can¡¯t hear the monster catching up quite as fast, and soon enough I can see them. A set of stairs carved into the side of a massive mushroom, spiraling high beyond the point the mist becomes impenetrable to my vision. Now seeing the stairs, I gun it. Sprinting full tilt towards them. I can feel the spores in the air trying to bend the world around me now. And it¡¯s so dizzying it makes me want to vomit, even so, I lock myself into the familiar motions of running. Vision locked in on one single thing. The bottom step. I crash into it, even as I hear the monstrosity hot on our heels and begin running up them, Dumpling stumbles to I yank her into my arms, I her a pop and I think her arm has dislocated but it doesn¡¯t matter. Baby lich in my arms, I sprint up the stairs, two at a time, as the monster comes charging in, I leap up as many steps as I can as I feel the giant mushroom we¡¯re on rock with the force of a heavy impact. I titanic boom rings out behind us, as the monster impacts the stairs, instantly pulverizing them. Unpleasantly close to us. I Immediately begin ascending, in a rush until I am absolutely certain we¡¯re out of it¡¯s reach. Finally, I collapse onto the slightly squishy stairs, gasping for air. ¡°Gods above,¡± I say, looking down at the thing that had been chasing us all this time. It is truly monstrous. It¡¯s deformed and lumpy, its skin is a pale off white, its back covered in fuzzy patches of mold, pitted where it appears the mold has been eating away at its flesh. It has six legs and a large flat tail. Its mouth is wide and filled with decay. There are patches of mushrooms growing from its back and the sentient mini mushrooms crawl from the deeper holes in its body. I vomit over the edge. Dumpling, the absolute sweetheart, grabs my hair, and holds it back. Okay¡ I guess we¡¯re on to floor ten. The only thing preventing me from feeling utterly cheated, is that the tenth floor should, in theory, be easier than the eleventh.
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The ninth floor of the Lomari labyrinth presented a new and unique sort of challenge. This one being the smell. The entirety of the floor reeked of sulfur. The illumination came from luminescent deposits in walls of the solutional style cave. The rock looking like a flowing liquid frozen in time. This, in addition to the geo-thermal pools filled with what looked like water but burned my nostrils when I got close, confirmed the general hostility of the environment. The monsters, unlike the eleventh and tenth floors, were sparce. The eleventh constantly hounded us with mushrooms while the tenth was just darkness and spiders. The few monsters here were bulky, waist-high, golems made of the same liquid looking rock, except the rock actually flowed on their bodies as they moved making them look like clay. Even so, it was still stone and while the axe could chip it, actually killing the golems was beyond our capabilities. So, we simply avoided them. They weren¡¯t too fast, but if they got close, they would charge and attempt to ram into us, causing us to slip on the slick rock and possibly into one of the pools which I dearly did not want to enter. Even so, the ground was littered with them, we would often need to single file walk across a narrow, slippery line between two steaming hot, foul smelling pools. The last point of irritation was the temperature. It was horribly hot here, but not just that, it was humid as well. it was like an overheated sauna. Rivulets of sweat ran down my face and soaked into my, mostly drenched, shirt. I could feel parts of myself rubbing past each other unpleasantly on a sheet of sweat. This was absolutely miserable. I almost missed the mushrooms¡ but not the spiders. The spiders were worse. Sure, the mushrooms posed more of a threat, but you don¡¯t know true terror until you¡¯ve felt half-a-dozen little spiders crawling around in your underwear looking for something to bite.
¡°Hooman,¡± Dumpling says. ¡°Yes, Dumpling?¡± She puffs her little cheeks annoyedly but doesn¡¯t complain. ¡°Are we there yet?¡± I stop, look around the smelly, sweaty cavern as if contemplating. ¡°You know what, I think we are,¡± I say sarcastically. She¡¯s been asking this question again and again for the past hour, and I am absolutely tired of it. ¡°How much longer until we make it?¡± she asks. I sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t know. This is the ninth floor, so¡ nine more floors.¡± ¡°How long until we make it to the staircase? This place is smelly,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know, you¡¯re the one who knows where it is. Actually, how do you know where the staircase is anyways?¡± Dumpling shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m not sure, I kind of remember. Like I¡¯ve been here before. But not really, everything just seems familiar.¡± ¡°Like D¨¦j¨¤ vu?¡± I ask. ¡°What¡¯s D¨¦j¨¤ vu?¡± ¡°Never mind.¡± I lightly slip on the slick rock, before catching my balance again. ¡°Dumpling,¡± I say. ¡°You know it¡¯s Dumpling the Despondylator, but you keep saying Dumpling.¡± ¡°Yeah, well Dumpling the Despondylator is way too long, so my lazy mouth just shortens it to Dumpling.¡± ¡°But it''s rude, it would be like if I called you¡.¡± Dumpling trails off. ¡°Hooman.¡± She says. ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°What is your name?¡± I reel though my mind for a few seconds, Huh¡ I¡¯ve never actually told Dumpling my name. I haven¡¯t told Shinome either now that I think about it. ¡°Mary. My name is Mary Baker.¡± ¡°Okay, then how do you feel about me calling you Mary, instead of Mary Baker?¡± ¡°Fine, actually. Most people just use first names anyways.¡± Dumpling grumbles. I sigh. ¡°Look it¡¯s kind of true that it¡¯s rude for someone to call you by your first name, but only if you don¡¯t know them, otherwise referring to someone by their first name is just something that people do if they are familiar with the person they are talking to. With that said, I¡¯ve known you your entire life, so I¡¯m calling you Dumpling.¡± Dumpling cocked her head, considering. Then looked sad. ¡°I miss Mama,¡± she said. I remained silent. ¡°If she were here, I could just ask her if you were telling the truth, but I can¡¯t.¡± she said, looking down at her feet. I stopped walking and crouched down, getting eye level with the small girl. Only now realizing how little she really is. ¡°Look, Dumpling. I know you miss your mom, but we are going to go and rescue her, alright? And no matter what, if you have any questions that you want to ask, I promise to answer as honestly as I can, so you don¡¯t have to worry alright?¡± ¡°But what if I have to leave you too?¡± she said, voice small. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere, not anytime soon.¡± ¡°Promise?¡± ¡°I promise.¡± Dumpling looked up at me, a small smile returning to her face. Followed quickly by concern. ¡°There are monsters!¡± she said, pointing.
The room we were in was large, with a huge pool to our left and a wall to our right. Just after Dumpling pointed them out, A golem came around from the front and two from behind. I swear. ¡°Come on, we need to get by,¡± I said, pulling Dumpling forward into a half-run as fast as we could somewhat safely manage on the slippery terrain. The golem in front of us readied for a charge, and at the last second, we skittered out of the way, the rock monster, crashing into its companions behind us with the sound of a rockslide. ¡°Quick, let¡¯s go!¡± I said. ¡°Wait!¡± Dumpling called out, pulling on my arm. ¡°There¡¯s a monster in that¡.¡± The next moments seemed to happen in slow motion. There was a small cave in the wall, one that I couldn¡¯t see before running out in front of it. I looked in and saw a golem, already charging. I realized that without intervention, the golem would hit Dumpling and send her into the lake. So, I dug my heels into the ground, my boots splashing into a pool of liquid. The sheer heat of it began burning into my boot, but I ignored it. I arrested my momentum, and pushed back, plowing into Dumpling, sending her backwards, as I slipped in the pool. Then, I felt the rock monster hit. It slammed into my ribs, and I felt them crack under the sheer force. I heard Dumpling screaming, as me and the golem were sent careening into the large lake. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I plunged into the water. It wasn¡¯t water. It was far, far too hot. I could feel my skin fusing together and burning. The liquid was eating away at my flesh, I reflexively screamed, but that just let it into my mouth. It wasn¡¯t like scalding hot water, it was like touching a tray from an oven. But sustained, and burning in a different way, was this some sort of acid? I could feel it pitting my skin, soaking my clothes, and getting into my eyes. Then blessedly, I lost consciousness and never woke again.
I returned to the throne. It had been several hours since I had left Dumpling the Des¡ my daughter¡. To move along on her own. Occasionally I could still feel her reaching out to our network, with little queries as she often did. It warmed my heart even as it tore it apart. I sat down on the throne, resuming my vigil over an empty room that now seemed all the emptier now that I knew that my time sitting on this chair and feeling Dumpling the Despondylator crawling up into my lap would be postponed indefinitely. I had never had any qualms with the passage of time. It was merely another of the myriad of goings on that happened alongside the focus on my task. Now, it crawled by like an old slug, dragging its foot on its way to the gallows. Every few seconds my mind wandered back to the absence of my daughter. I knew all it would take for us to communicate would be my reaching out, but that was a bad idea. If I did, the necromancer would notice¡ and it might make it harder for her to let go. Again, I heard her wail from beyond the collapsed passage. Calling out in distress at my abandonment¡. It was for the best. But it still hurt. ¡°Shino,¡± came the voice of the necromancer. I looked at her, meeting her gaze. Her face had dark pits where her eyes used to be, long tracks of stained red running down her face like tears. ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°Where were you? You¡¯ve been gone for a while.¡± ¡°I was merely removing all life from the floor,¡± I said. ¡°I see. Just your job huh?¡± I let out a hum, acknowledging her statement. ¡°I see,¡± she said. ¡°Would you like to hear about someone I used to know?¡± This is strange, the necromancer usually never talks about her past. ¡°I suppose.¡± ¡°There was once this woman, clever as a fox, and tricky as one as well. (The necromancer began pacing in front of me.) When we met, the first thing she did was scam me out of fifty dollars. I was furious when I found out, but it was a week later so I supposed I would never see her again, but I never forgot. Fast forward several years and I met her once again. She didn¡¯t remember me, but I remembered her. I wasn¡¯t even angry, because the way she got that money from me was so¡ diabolically clever I could barely even fault her. We stuck around each other for a while, and I learned a few things. Namely, that whenever she¡¯s trying to be deceitful, she does something very specific with her lips. It¡¯s quite hard to notice, but when you know someone, you know someone.¡± With that she stops, standing directly in front of me. I feel a cold chill run up my back. ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re hiding, Shinome,¡± she said, voice cold and commanding. I feel her power take hold of me, and¡ I speak.
00014: LUNA IS CHESHIRE
LUNA IS CHESHIRE
I opened my eyes¡ I feel like I¡¯d been doing that a lot recently. Who knew death was just a series of me opening my eyes to some new situation. This time, unlike all the others, I wasn¡¯t in some sort of nigh-incomprehensible liminal space but a cluttered old office. Although just like every other time I opened my eyes, there was someone in front of me, someone who I could immediately tell was a god. Unlike the last time, I actually had an idea of which god¡ well goddess this was. When I learned I would be meeting Mortella, the mysterious goddess of life and death, I had expected¡ actually I had no idea what to expect beyond robe and scythe. What I saw in front of me was decidedly not that. She was a tall hawkish woman who, if she were in a pencil skirt, I would immediately assume to be the stereotypical strict schoolteacher, or dominatrix librarian. Though she was dressed more like¡ I wasn¡¯t quite sure. She was wearing a studded leather jacket, in the style of a cardigan. She was wearing tight jeans, and dainty shoes. She wore a pair of sunglasses over her eyes, in the style of some prim reading glasses. Right before I placed exactly what she looked like, she moved. She pulled something out of her pocket, raised it to her lips and¡ blew. It was one of those obnoxious roll-out party blowers, that at this moment occurred to me that I didn¡¯t actually know the name of. The high-pitched, slightly grating, noise cutting through the silence like a knife through¡ something. I was too distracted to come up with an analogy.
¡°Happy birthday!¡± Mortella said, after spitting the thing that I neither could remember the name of nor was I sure that it even had one, out onto the floor. ¡°What?¡± I said, confusion finally reaching critical mass and triggering the emergency release system to spray it from my mouth. Mortella reached out holding¡ a present. It was about a foot long, wrapped in colorful wrapping paper and had a bow on top. I took it, not knowing what else to do. I looked down at the box in my hands, it felt like wood under the wrapping paper. Then I looked back up at the smiling death goddess. I gingerly begun unwrapping it, peeling away the paper to find it was a long wooden box. I opened it to reveal¡ a celery stick. I looked back up at Mortella and made a plaintive noise as the confusion flooded the part of my brain responsible for making coherent words, clearly the pressure wasn¡¯t being released fast enough. Mortella got a thoughtful look on her face, then snapped her fingers, the celery stick, wrapping paper and box vanishing. ¡°Sorry, wrong universe,¡± she said. Then reached into the pocket of her jacket and began rummaging around. She pulled out a smart phone, a ¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö, a brick of gold, some lint, a limited edition My Little Pony Pinkie Pie figurine (mint in box), and finally, a crystal in the shape of a cube with a yellow glowing core. She sat it down on the desk. ¡°There, that¡¯s probably something a mortal would like,¡± she said, possibly half to herself. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. She looked at it then at me.
I took it in my hands. It was warm, and seemed to shudder slightly as I touched it, though it was so faint I couldn''t tell if it was my imagination, or if it had actually happened. I got the distinct impression that this was¡ alive. Even though it was an inanimate object, I could somehow tell that there was a spark of consciousness inside of it. ¡°What¡ what is this?¡± I asked again, holding it very carefully, a small amount of reverence in my voice. ¡°It¡¯s a soul,¡± Mortella said. A soul¡ a soul¡. It was a soul. I gently rubbed at its surface. Looking into the glowing core. ¡°Who¡¯s soul, is it?¡± I asked. ¡°Technically, it¡¯s yours. Until you put it into something, then it will be its own being,¡± Mortella said. ¡°What do you mean, put it into something?¡± ¡°Exactly what it sounds like. Put it into an inanimate object and it¡¯ll become¡ animate. This soul is bound to yours so don¡¯t worry about creating some random creature that¡¯ll fly off the second you leave it alone.¡± I looked back down at the soul in my hands, I smiled. ¡°Hello,¡± I said softly to it. I felt a warm, curious feeling pushed into me from the soul in my hands. I could feel its exact meaning. It wasn¡¯t a language, not really, but I could understand it perfectly. It spoke with feelings, to a part of me that wasn¡¯t conscious, or analytical. Not like my brain. It was¡ my soul. It was talking to my soul. I tried to talk back, I sent it, not a friendly greeting, but the concept, the idea, of a friendly greeting. We began talking¡ and immediately I understood this being on a level I had never understood any other being in the world, and I felt myself understood to the same degree in turn. It was soul to soul communication. It was communication without some¡ weight imposed by reality, by saying things aloud in a world that would judge you. I felt I could comfortably share anything, and the person I was speaking to would understand my perspective perfectly.
I couldn¡¯t tell how much time had passed where we were in our own world. Mortella smiled at me. ¡°You were talking for about two and a half seconds,¡± she said. ¡°Really? It felt¡ so much longer than that.¡± She smiled. ¡°Soul communication is very fast,¡± she said. I nodded. ¡°Where did she come from?¡± I asked. Mortella arched an eyebrow. ¡°She?¡± I shrugged. ¡°She doesn¡¯t really have a gender, but when we were talking about them, she said she wanted the same one as me,¡± I explained. Mortella nodded. ¡°Well, to put it the short way, when you died, your soul was taken by the ether. When that happened, it was automatically catalogued and processed. When Umbra asked me to bring you back, I recreated your soul using mostly original components, but in killing a soul some parts break off. Normally this is fine, but since I was bringing you back to life, I had to replace those parts. The remnants however needed to be put somewhere, so¡¡± Mortella gestured towards the soul in my hands. ¡°Soul bound,¡± she finished. ¡°How did my soul get damaged?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, someone shoved a massive glowing sword into your head, before splattering the contents across a city block. If that didn¡¯t give you some deep-rooted soul trauma, then I don¡¯t know what would.¡± ¡°So¡ we¡¯re soulmates?¡± I said. ¡°No, you¡¯re way more than that. Soulmates require at least .01% soul similarity and 3% soul compatibility. You have 22.3% soul similarity and 99.987% soul compatibility.¡± ¡°99.987 huh? That sounds¡ high¡ actually what does all that even mean?¡± Mortella just shrugged her shoulder and said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±
¡°On to why I am here in the first place. There are a few things that you need to know about being reincarnated.¡± ¡°Reincarnated? Like an Isekai?¡± ¡°No, this is the same world, you¡¯d need a different one for it to be a true Isekai. And also, don¡¯t interrupt, this is important. You¡¯ve been brought back into the body of a young dark elf by the name of Luna Sang; (At that I glanced down at myself, noting that I was, in fact, a dark elf.) once I leave, I will place her memories into your head, so that you have her knowledge. Though It¡¯s unimportant to impersonate her, as she wasn¡¯t particularly close to anyone, not even her assistant outside this room, whom I¡¯ve placed into a trance so that we are not bothered. Any other details relating to Luna¡¯s situation, which is now your situation, can be attained through the viewing of the memories. Next, you have died and been brought back upon the direct request of the goddess Umbra. (Hearing this was a little odd coming from Mortella, Umbra¡¯s status as a being of supreme power to be worshipped suddenly felt more¡ valid.) When you die again, I expect her to make that request a second time but know this.¡± Mortella paused in her speech to lean in, she also lowered her glasses to fix me with her direct gaze. I felt every hair on my body stand on end, I felt my heartrate increase, every muscle tensed ready for action, it was as if any wrong move, any twitch of the eye, or flick of the finger would get me killed, I felt like I was standing tip toed on on the edge of a cliff, one foot extended out over the drop, I felt like I was driving down a highway at 400 miles per hour on a motorcycle, weaving back and forth between lanes and cars with milliseconds to spare, I felt like I was delivering news to the Queen of Hearts, having to expediently choose each word with extreme care. I felt like¡ I felt like I was staring death in the eyes, as it, no, as she stared right back. A rivulet of sweat rolled down my face, as I swallowed into my suddenly dry throat. I felt like my vision was going dark at the edges, pulling my focus into those eyes, they glowed with an otherworldly power, radiating orange lights piercing into my very core. When Mortella spoke again, she spoke slowly and deliberately, like a mason carving words into stone. ¡°You may only be brought back, thrice. It¡¯s already happened once. Meaning when you die, twice more. That¡¯s it. Do not look for a way out of this. If you are brought back again after your third death, I will personally find you, and personally end you. Do you understand?¡± ¡°Y-yes,¡± I said voice so feint I wasn¡¯t sure I even spoke aloud. ¡°Good,¡± she said, holding me in her gaze for what felt like eons and may well have been. All I knew was by the time she fixed those, thankfully shaded, lenses back in place, I had given up hope of ever seeing the world again. I collapsed back into the chair I was sitting in, gasping for air. Mortella stood there, oh so close to me, making me feel like I was precariously within scything range, and patiently waited for me to collect myself.
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¡°I¡¯m sorry I had to put you though that,¡± she said, voice different from what I¡¯d heard before up until now. Not the overly friendly, slightly quirky Mortella who offered me the celery stick, not the grim reaper who had held my very soul betwixt her eyes, but something else. She sounded¡ remorseful¡ maybe? It was hard to tell, but her voice had this¡ weight to it. ¡°I find that it¡¯s best to give this little demonstration to anyone who I bring back. It prevents exploitation. Humans aren¡¯t meant to be brought back from the dead, and in so doing, a part of their soul is irrevocably destroyed. Every time this happens, they become a little more¡ other. If you die too many times and are brought back too many times, at a certain point, you won¡¯t be able to die anymore. And believe me when I tell you, that afflicting someone with immortality is the worst thing you could possibly do to them,¡± she said, said with the gravity of someone with an incurable disease, saying they wouldn¡¯t wish it on their worst enemy. ¡°I will leave you now, as I understand you are no longer comfortable in my presence. Text me if you have any concerns, my number is in your phone,¡± she said, before vanishing into rotten golden light. And she was right, I wasn¡¯t comfortable, I couldn¡¯t get the feeling of looking her in the eyes out of my head. But I now think I understood what her voice sounded like.
I sat in silence for several minutes, my gaze fixed on the soul on the desk¡ well I guess it was my desk now, just as this was now my office. I looked around the room, it wasn¡¯t particularly big, but not small either. On the right-hand side there was a mini fridge, gently humming away into the room a printer sat atop it, and next to it were a few boxed reams of paper. On the left was a messy white bord, and a filing cabinet. Lastly on the far wall was a large mirror, reflecting the desk, and the woman behind it back to me. As well as the window behind me. I stood and was about to cross to the mirror, when I suddenly realized something. I was short. I wasn¡¯t particularly tall before, but now¡ I was very short. I quickly scampered over to the mirror and looked at my new reflection. Oh¡ great¡ I look like a child. Scanning through Luna¡¯s memories I find the answer. Luna died at age 26, elves age and develop much slower than humans, meaning I am in the body of what looks like an eleven-year-old. My skin is a dark grey, my hair is short and black, my chest is a literal washboard, and my eyes are a piercing blood red. Actually, I quite like my eyes. When I tilt my head, just so, they catch the sunlight from the window and are set ablaze making them seem like glowing infernos of pure malice. I strike several poses of varying embarrassment. Cool. I stride over to my desk and snatch up the soul¡. ¡°You really need a name,¡± I comment idly. ¡°Spvhanha,¡± she replies almost instantly. ¡°That was fast.¡± ¡°Well, I had to do something while you were over there making muscles at yourself.¡± ¡°I was not making muscles at myself!¡± ¡°Fine then, while you were over there looking at little girls,¡± Spvhanha said. I blew a reflexive raspberry. ¡°What the fuck! You¡¯re absolutely demented!¡± ¡°Hey, I calls ¡®em like I sees ¡®em,¡± she said smugly. ¡°Just for that I¡¯m sticking you in a tampon.¡± ¡°Oh no, what are you planning on doing with me after! Pervert!¡± ¡°Gods above, I can¡¯t win this, can I?¡± ¡°Heh, nope, not even close.¡± I just grumbled, looking around for something to stick her in. ¡°Well, now that we¡¯ve established who wears the pants in our relationship. (¡°You motherfu¡.¡±) Let¡¯s figure out what exactly we can put me in. First, text Mortella and ask if I can be taken out of something after you put me in, or if it¡¯s more permanent.¡±
I hummed my ascent and grabbed my phone. I punched in my password, and it was wrong. Right¡ this was Luna¡¯s phone. I quickly scanned her memories, grabbed her passcode and punched it in, mentally noting how her muscle memory helped me put it in quicker than I would otherwise be able. Her phone opened to the default wallpaper. I opened up her contacts and scrolled through. There weren¡¯t very many. There were several names that Luna barely remembered, and her assistant, a woman by the name of Chanelle. I mentally pictured her. She was tall, just shy of six feet, had dirty platinum blonde hair, a permanent vicious scowl, and enough piercings to, if melted down, form an iron bar big enough to bash in a skull. Not important, what I was looking for was the only name that didn¡¯t appear in Luna¡¯s memories. Mortella. The picture added with the profile was¡ a cicada. I stared into the bug-eyed bug with no small amount of confusion. Why a cicada? You know what, never mind. I looked at the inputted number, what was the mystical magical phone number that anyone could call and be connected directly to the goddess of death? It was¡ 9. That was it, no area code, no¡ any other numbers, just 9. Shouldn¡¯t it be four? Didn¡¯t for represent death? Whatever, Iquickly punched in a text and paused¡ the apprehension still lingering, the image of her eyes seemingly burned into my memory. I shook myself and the second I hit send, I got a reply. ¡°Spvhanha can be removed from any object if the object is destroyed, or when you die.¡± ¡°Okay, so, we can take you out of something, but it¡¯ll have to be destroyed.¡± ¡°Destroyed huh? Did she say if it would hurt?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s just choose wisely then. What constitutes an object? Like if you put me into a set of matryoshka dolls, would I be just one of the dolls, one of the halves that split, or the full set?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a good question. I¡¯ll ask.¡± I texted Mortella and again got an instant reply. ¡°Okay, looks like it¡¯ll be the whole set. You¡¯ll always be the full set of anything, like if I put you into a set of throwing knives, you would be the full set of knives. But this doesn¡¯t work with things that are societally linked, like if I put you into a fork and knife, you¡¯d be either the fork or the knife, but not both.¡± ¡°I see, I see. So, what are our candidates?¡± I scrounged through the desk briefly and found several moderately interesting items. ¡°We have scissors,¡± I say. ¡°Overused.¡± ¡°A fountain pen.¡± ¡°Has potential.¡± ¡°A handgun.¡± ¡°Pfft, no.¡± ¡°A stack of hundred-dollar bills.¡± I quickly scroll through them. ¡°$6,800 in total.¡± ¡°As much as I like the idea of being a swarm of papercuts, we¡¯d need to scrounge up another hundred for optimum performance.¡± I paused for a second, letting her joke shrivel up and die in the awkwardness. ¡°A stapler.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°And¡ this¡ thing.¡± ¡°Eww. Why are you even suggesting this chick¡¯s hysteria-curing wand?¡± ¡°Mostly as revenge.¡± ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re making a play for the pants, are ya? Well, I¡¯ll have you know that, that is now your hysteria-curing wand, and therefore I can reuse my tampon dig, but oh, so much better.¡± I burst out laughing, as I dig through the drawers. I find an ornate wooden box I grab it and open it. ¡°Oh¡¡± ¡°Huh? What are they?¡± ¡°They look like¡ claws?¡± Inside the box were a set of ten metal claws, each appearing to be designed to attach to one finger. Half of them were black while the others were white. As I ran a finger over one of the blades, I could feel the enchantment in them. ¡°Okay, I want those,¡± Spvhanha said. ¡°Say no more.¡±
I jolted awake at my desk and immediately felt a headache pulse at my cranium. I looked at the clock. 7:40 p.m. I sighed, stood, and stretched; I felt my back crack. It was unusual for me to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon. I grabbed the file on my desk. It needed Luna¡¯s signature, and I was feeling too lazy to forge it like I usually do, might as well have her sign shit herself at least once or twice. I walked to the door to her office, rapped twice, then entered. I found Luna standing over her desk with that box full of overpriced ornamental claws she bought off of eBay last week. She was holding a weird crystal in one hand and spoke in a tone of voice I¡¯d never heard from her before. ¡°Say no more,¡± she said enthusiastically, before shoving the crystal at the claws. There was a flash of silver light, and a loud sound I could only compare to a thunderclap. It left my ears ringing. The folder fell to the ground as I clapped my hands over my ears in vein, ¡°What the hell are you doing in here?¡± I shouted at her before fixing her with a practiced glare. She looked up at me, I saw several emotions cross her face in quick succession. shock, fear, recognition, relief, fear and finally a deliberate attempt to mask her expression. Odd. Usually Luna¡¯s face remains placid, and irritated, while also sizing me up for a fight. She never wears her heart on her sleeve like this. Is she drunk? ¡°Chanelle, hi how¡¯s it going?¡± she said. Her voice wasn¡¯t slurred so that ruled out drunk, she was also being¡ overly friendly. Was she high on something? But why? Luna was always big on not sampling the product as it were. ¡°I¡¯m fine, how are you?¡± I asked, pushing the conversation back on her. The bast way to get information from someone is to just let them talk. ¡°Hey, so¡ Chanelle, right?¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°You know my name.¡± ¡°Yeah, but like here¡¯s the thing¡ full disclosure¡ I have no idea who the fuck you are, and I¡¯m not Luna.¡±
00015: SO LIKE… CHARLIE
SO LIKE¡ CHARLIE
Our arrival in Hope¡¯s Cradle was rather uneventful. We simply landed at the port, and then took a taxi to my other aunt¡¯s manor. When we arrived, Aunt Ashley spoke to the guards and got us passage through the gate, afterwards, I was sent to a room that would be my new bedroom while my Aunt went off to meet with her sister and that was it, I was now alone in a room I had never been in with furnishing I¡¯d never seen before. Aunt Ashley had sent one of the staff out to buy me some essentials but aside from that, everything in the room was now mine. The room was spacious and had its own bathroom and walk-in closet, but despite that it felt¡ wrong. It looked nothing like my room. It had none of my things, like that teddy bear I got when I was a kid. I don¡¯t even know why I held onto it for this long, but knowing how it was likely destroyed in the fire¡ it made me feel a little sad. I heard two quick knocks on my door followed by a voice. ¡°Young miss, I have returned with the essential belongings your Aunt has requested me to retrieve, may I enter?¡± ¡°Y-yes,¡± I said with one body. The other was currently floating in a high corner of the room, allowing me to see the space in its entirety all at once. The man entered; arms filled with bags from several stores. Behind him came several other members of the staff, all carrying bags. It was a little odd for me to hear them speaking so freely in comparison to the staff at my previous home. I watched as they put stuff away, they asked me how I wanted it organized, but I didn¡¯t really have much of a preference. I figured if I wanted to move anything I could do it myself. When they were finished, they excused themselves and left. I looked around. The closet had gotten several outfits, and they said I now had an appointment with a tailor so that I could get some that fit better. I had a desk with a laptop, several notebooks, pens, pencils. They even set up the laptop. I lay down in the bed with both bodies.
I ate dinner in the dining hall, although there was no one else there. I hadn¡¯t seen either of my aunts since I arrived. Just the staff, they were friendly enough, but there was always this line. They weren¡¯t really friendly because they wanted to be, they were friendly because it was their job to be. Even so, I couldn¡¯t feel upset about it. It¡¯s not like it was in their job description to befriend me. I woke up the next morning feeling sick in one body. I flew over to the bathroom and immediately vomited in the toilet. While I was doing that, I found it odd. Apparently one body could get sick while the other was fine. Although I guessed it made sense, It¡¯s not like germs respected the fact that I only had one mind. It was weird having my bodies feel different, one was fine, while the other felt miserable. The disconnect was really messing with me. I decided that this was the best way to be sick. One body was sick and miserable, but I could have the other one take care of it by changing the towel or bringing soup. It was super convenient. Although most of my time was spent watching movies on the computer while trying to ignore how I was half-sick. I¡¯d been here for five days and still hadn¡¯t seen anyone but the staff. I was starting to wonder if something was wrong.
I¡¯d just finished eating lunch and now my sick body was taking a shower. I had left to return the used bowl to the kitchen and was just returning to my room. The staff said I didn¡¯t have to return the dishes, but it wasn¡¯t like I had anything else to do around here. I entered the shower and immediately turned the water as high as I could handle. My other body arrived, and I immediately began taking off my clothes. When I was finished, I entered the shower. While I was showering, I noticed a weird bump in my stomach. It was subtle but noticeable. I poked at it. It was a little squishy but didn¡¯t feel like fat. Was it a tumor? When I got out of the shower, I immediately called my Aunt. She answered just before the phone went to voicemail. ¡°Charlie,¡± she said, it wasn¡¯t really a greeting. The sound of her voice gave me pause, but I was too concerned to let it stop me. I took a slow breath and spoke. ¡°Uh, I just got out of the shower, but when I was in there, I noticed there was a bump on one of my stomachs, and I thought it might be a tumor or something, that body has been feeling sick for the past couple of days.¡± ¡°I see, so you¡¯ve already noticed. It¡¯s happening faster than I thought it would,¡± she said, sounding mostly disinterested. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°You¡¯re pregnant,¡± she said simply. My mind was immediately sent reeling. I guess the signs were there, but also how? I-I¡¯d never had sex before. How could I be pregnant? Did she inseminate me in my sleep? But why? ¡°Why?¡± I said voice faint. ¡°Where did you think your third body would come from? A package in the mail? Now if that¡¯s all, you should give birth in about twenty or so days. Look up what to do and what not to do as a pregnant woman online.¡± The line went dead. I¡ she¡. How? I set my phone down and flopped backwards into the air, spinning freely towards the ceiling. I gently bumped against it, and I pressed myself to it, looking down at myself, my pregnant body was lying in the bed. I opened my eyes and looked up at myself. Even now I could almost feel a feint connection to another body. I smiled. I was going to get my third body back. I would be whole again. My smile broadened as I felt giddy little giggles run though me¡. Just before I had to quickly fly to the bathroom to throw up again.
I entered the dining room, once again seeking food. My other body had seemingly gotten over the morning sickness. Usually it lasts for months, but seeing as this wasn¡¯t a normal pregnancy, and was roughly a tenth the length, some strangeness was to be expected. After making my request with the cooking staff, I returned to the table to wait. As I walked over, however, I noticed there was a person seated there. She was tall, had golden blonde hair and sparking emerald eyes. She glanced up at me as I entered. ¡°Hello there. Charlie, I presume?¡± ¡°Y-yes miss,¡± I said, reflexively showing deference to her regal aura. I suppose this is my other Aunt though it¡¯s at this point I realize I don¡¯t know her name. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you since you were a baby. My, how you¡¯ve grown,¡± she said, looking me over. She gestured for me to spin, and I obliged. ¡°Thank you for letting me stay in your home miss,¡± I said. ¡°You can call me Aelora, and there is no need to thank me, she said.¡± Her voice suddenly going a little¡ flat. She looked into her wine glass, gently swirling it. I quickly checked my phone, it was barely past noon, a little early for alcohol. She sighed. ¡°Oh, has my Aunt Ashley thanked you already?¡± I asked. She looked back up at me. ¡°No, but she¡¯s doing me a favor.¡± ¡°I see.¡± She sighed. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s why I¡¯m drinking so early in the day.¡± I quirked an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡± She let out a little huff from her nose. ¡°What do you think of Ma¡ of Ashley,¡± she said. Pointedly using the name Ashley. Was that her real name? It started with Ma. What names started with Ma? Mallory, Maddison¡. I can¡¯t think of a third. Maybe it¡¯s something odd like Manta or Manatee. Even so I had a question to answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know, she¡¯s nice,¡± I said. The woman in front of me burst out laughing. ¡°Girl, my sister is many things but nice, certainly isn¡¯t one of them. Now, tell me. What do you really think of her?¡± Was this some kind of test? I swallowed¡ and spoke. ¡°I think¡ I think she¡¯s selfish, and cruel, and calculating and manipulative and¡.¡± I paused trying to come up with another word. Aelora smiled. ¡°Dangerous?¡± she said. ¡°No, not that¡ she¡¯s¡¡± Aelora cut me off. ¡°Then you just haven¡¯t seen that side of her yet.¡±
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A group of men stood in front of the locked and barred doors of a large manor. One of them was holding a heavy sledgehammer. He raised it over his head and brought it down against the door. It shook and cracked at the blessing-enhanced force behind the implement.
¡°W-what do you mean?¡± I asked, a hint of foreboding in my voice. Aelora sighed, then waved a hand at the serving staff in the room. At the gesture they all made themselves scarce. ¡°When¡ Ashley was in school, she was the quiet type, she didn¡¯t get particularly good or bad grades, didn¡¯t have any friends, mostly kept to herself. Maybe that was what made her a target for bullying.¡±
The door fell off its hinges with a final splintering crunch as the group of men stormed the building. Immediately met with gunfire from the guards inside the building. One of the men was ready however, and had a spell already cast. It conjured up a barrier that defected even the bullets enchanted to pierce such defenses.
¡°Mind you, this isn¡¯t the sort of bullying you see in movies. The sort of sadistic, often illegal, sort of action no, this was real bullying. Some jokes at her expense, teasing, that sort of thing, the sort of thing you could probably just ignore. The thing is, I think the girl responsible for it all actually wanted to be friends with Ashley, and just didn¡¯t know how to express it. This was middle school after all.¡±
As the guards lay bleeding, dying and dead in the foyer, the men progressed further into the home, weapons drawn. They grabbed up any members of the family they could find.
¡°My sister was very consistent. After school she would go to the job she had at the time and then mind her own business and be back home by dinner. But everything changed when she came home right after work. I didn¡¯t think much of it at the time but when I went to school the next day, I noticed the girl who was bullying her wasn¡¯t there.¡±
The men dragged a woman, kicking and screaming into her own living room, where they grabbed and held her still, forcing her to watch as a boy, her son, was thrown to the carpet before her. He was screaming for her help; she was screaming at the men.
¡°I asked my sister about it a few years later, and she explained to me¡ exactly what she had done to that girl. There was apparently a local gang in our city, they weren¡¯t really anything dangerous, just some kids thinking they were cool because they sold drugs to sophomores. My sister had spent months, indirectly whispering into their ears. Planting seeds of ideas in their heads, all without showing them her face. All culminating in them breaking into a house, thinking they could rob a family blind. They didn¡¯t know anyone was home, because the family¡¯s car had suddenly experienced some problems and was in the shop that day. When they were in there, they panicked and shot the wife, husband and son eight times. They were dead before the paramedics could arrive.¡±
A man pinned the boy to the ground as his and his mother¡¯s screams became desperate. The man holding her back gripping her head tightly, forcing her to watch as a man raised the same sledgehammer used to break down the doors over his head. The woman¡¯s screams and struggles became all the more frantic with desperation. As the man swung the sledgehammer down at the boy¡¯s head.
¡°My sister didn¡¯t kill her like a common psychopath, she orphaned her. Orphaned her so that she had to leave to go live with relatives. It would have been easier to just kill the girl, but instead, that woman manipulated the very world around her to make it a place where that girl¡¯s family would be shot and killed in their own home.¡±
The woman sobbed, spatters of blood and bits bone on her face. She hung limply in the man¡¯s arms. As the men all cackled around her.
¡°And do you want to know what she told me when I asked her why she did it? She told me that it was because she wanted to see if she could. A few weeks after the incident she stopped attending classes altogether. Yet she still managed to bring home the same mediocre report cards as always. That girl¡¯s life is in ruins because of my sister¡¯s trial run. And¡ and I have just set that monster loose on some of my¡ political rivals,¡± Aelora said, taking a long drink of her wine. ¡°My sister is the most horrific type of spider. She doesn¡¯t see fit to make a web and wait for a fly to come to it. She worms her threads into the very world around you and makes your very home her web. She plays with people like pieces on a chess board. Training them into the sort of person she wants, and then placing them in a position where the most logical course of action is exactly what she wants to happen. My sister is the most dangerous monster you will ever face,¡± Aelora said with a grim conviction in her voice.
A woman with shoulder length brown hair and green eyes sat idly on a park bench, sipping her coffee. Watching from the corner of her eye as a man approached. As he was passing, steps hurried as he was late to work, she tossed her lukewarm coffee at the trashcan. The cup impacted him. Staining his well-tailored suit. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going,¡± she said imperiously. Before striding off, leaving the spluttering man. He didn¡¯t have time to deal with her. He would just have to deal with his frustration somehow. The woman smirked, knowing exactly what, or rather, who he would take it out on.
¡°Why. Why would you invite someone like that into your home?¡± I asked. She just smiled sadly. ¡°As much as I would like to say it¡¯s because you never leave family out on the streets, I can¡¯t. The answer is because a person like that doesn¡¯t really ask for anything. They threaten, no matter what situation, no matter how polite they seem. Any favor they ask of you is to be taken as an implicit threat. I wish I¡¯d learned that lesson sooner,¡± she said. Wistfully, as she lowered the hem of her shirt. On the skin of her right breast were six scars, long thin lines evenly spaced and perfectly save for one diagonal scar crossing off a group of four. Tally marks. ¡°Every time I disobey her, I get a mark. She takes a branding iron and burns the consequences of my disobedience into my flesh,¡± She said, raising her shirt. ¡°Why are you telling me all this?¡± Aelora leaned back in her chair. ¡°A warning. It¡¯s probably best that you know what sort of thing you¡¯re dealing with. I had to learn it the hard way, that doesn¡¯t mean you have to as well. All that said it¡¯s best to just blindly follow along with whatever she tells you, and under no circumstances try to escape. Your mother only wishes she didn¡¯t¡¡± she cut herself off. ¡°Look at me, rambling on like a drunk,¡± she said. ¡°Wait, what about my mother?¡± I asked. Aelora raised her hand. ¡°It¡¯s probably best that you don¡¯t mention her, especially around Ashley.¡± Aelora stood from the table, and walked off, leaving me with a foreboding feeling, and a dozen questions.
00016: DUMPLING LEARNS TO REMEMBER
DUMPLING LEARNS TO REMEMBER
When Mary was sent flying into the pool I screamed and tried to run after her, but I kept slipping on the annoying rock the cave was made from. I saw her splash into the liquid along with the golem. Still, I ran for the lake, I tried to swim out to help her, but the second my skin came in contact with the water I felt a burning pain, both from the temperature, and from something else. I recoiled away and looked at my legs. They were red and¡ melted? Why were my legs all melty? I shook myself; I didn¡¯t have time; the melty water was probably hurting Mary. I Screamed out her name as I looked back to the lake. Near where she had went in, the liquid was boiling, and a red stain was spreading out. I froze. She was okay right? Maybe the liquid was turning red for some weird chemical reason. I tried to ask Mama about whatever this liquid was only to be reminded that I couldn¡¯t. ¡°Hoomin!¡± I screamed into the room. The closest thing I got to a reply was the echoing of my own voice. I was about to call again when I felt something solid impact my shoulder. I could feel bits of the bone doing things that felt wrong. I think I broke it again. I screamed in frustration at the golem. Then I screamed in pain as we came to a stop in one of the burning pools. My head, neck and shoulders all submerged in the liquid. I desperately tried to escape, but the golem on top of me was so heavy. I bunched up my muscles, and pushed, shifting the thing off me and tried to scramble out of the pool, but the bottom was too slick. I needed to grip it better. Remembering how the squeak used it¡¯s claws to help grip the stone, I gave myself my own claws, and slammed them into the slick bottom of the shallow pool, they chipped into the stone, and I quickly clawed my way out. I saw the golem, ready for another pounce, and I dove. I heard it crash into the wall behind me. I looked up and out, there was still another golem, also ready for a pounce. I quickly shifted my legs to be more like the squeak and leapt from my lying position right as the second golem sprang at me. I needed to run; I couldn¡¯t fight these golems, but I didn¡¯t want to leave Mary. Quickly deliberating, my mind was made up when, yet another golem came from around a corner. I let out a choked sob and ran.
And ran¡
And ran¡
And ran¡
I ran to the point where I didn¡¯t even know where I was anymore. I¡¯d left the 9th floor and now I had lost count of which floor I was on. This floor was some sort of dense jungle. I was hunkered down in some sort of tree trunk that I¡¯d hollowed out with my claws. I was currently carving a piece of wood trying to make something to cover the entrance to keep out the monsters. I pressed the wooden panel into place and used a thick stick I¡¯d cut to hold it there. With that, I curled into a small ball in the dark. And finally, I started to cry. Mama was gone, Mary was¡ dead, and now I was all alone. I was lost. I could still see their faces; Mama¡¯s smile that always made me feel better, Mary¡¯s fingers that I could nibble on¡ Mary¡¯s promise. I let out a whimper. I hated this; I missed the running. When I was running, I didn¡¯t think about¡ about everything that had happened. I needed to do something, something that wasn¡¯t just sitting here trying to sleep. I looked around the dark room, seeing nothing but clawed wood and the exit¡. No, I couldn¡¯t it wasn¡¯t safe out there¡ but¡ did I really need safety? I sat up in my bed of wood shavings and stared at the door. One last thought of Mama¡¯s face was all I needed to convince myself. I left the tree, stumbled down the large pile of wood shavings at the exit, and ventured into the jungle. I didn¡¯t know what I was after. I saw a bird in the trees and bounded after it, but it flew away with a loud squawk. I saw some fish in a small lake and I dove for them, trying to catch some. I tried swimming after them, but they immediately scattered, little silver bodes streaking off into the dark water like shooting stars. I frowned and shifted my legs to be more like their fins. Then I sped after them trying to pin them against the shoreline. But they kept dashing out of the way at the last second and I was too slow to stop them. I let out a frustrated groan as I breached for air. I modified my legs, and even my hands, further, making the fins wider and thinner. I also shifted my body, making it more streamlined so I could travel through the water with more ease. I dove beneath the surface, and I tried again. this time I had more success. I was able to pin a fish against the shoreline and was quick enough to catch it as it fled. When I finally had one, I leapt out of the water. The struggling fish still in my arms. I looked down at it elated¡ and looked into its eyes. I felt it struggle, watched it gasp for¡ water, trying desperately to breathe, mouth opening and closing. Was this how Mary felt when she¡. I threw the fish back into the water.
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No, I don¡¯t want to think about that. I ran deeper into the jungle. Looking for something, anything to distract me from the images in my mind, the memory of her body flying limply out over the burning not water. I caught sight of something, it was large and hunched like a gorilla, but it had thick armor plating and long scythe-like claws. I leapt at it and swiped my own claws at it. They scratched harmlessly off it¡¯s armored body and it roared. The bellow deep enough to shake my very bones. I ignored the felling I should run, and swiped at it again, it backhanded me sending me spiraling through the air. I landed on the ground digging my fingers and toes into the rooted dirt. I knew I should run. But¡ I remembered that I needed to rescue Mama, and before I could rescue Mama, I needed to be strong and If I was strong, I wouldn¡¯t have to run from this thing. So, I grit my teeth and ran at it again. When it swiped at me, this time with it¡¯s claws, I dove under it. Coming up to it¡¯s body I suddenly realized I didn¡¯t know what to do. Should I hit it? Try to claw at it again? Go for it¡¯s face? I didn¡¯t hesitate for long, but it was still long enough. The creature grabbed me with it¡¯s other arm and threw me. I slammed hard into a tree. I could feel several bones break, but I ignored them and sprang from the tree¡ or at least I tried to. I realized I couldn¡¯t move my legs. In fact, everything below my stomach was feeling all tingly. I tried to push off the tree with my hands but before I could I saw the monster charging at me. I screamed in fear as it raised its claws. I flinched covering my face, as the claws sank into my gut. Pinning me to the tree. I looked down at them, moving my arms. They were in there deep. I tried to struggle, just like the fish did, but I was trapped, I could feel my blood running down my legs. Noticing I could feel my legs again, I kicked at the monster, but it¡¯s arm was too long. It just grunted at me. I beat my hands against it¡¯s plated arm, but it felt futile, like when I punched the brick walls back home¡. Home¡. Mama. I started to cry. I felt as the creature began curling it¡¯s claws, cutting deeper into me, sending thick showers of my dark blood to the ground. My vision went blurry. Was I going to die? The last thing I felt was¡.
Pain¡ the claws twitched¡ blood¡ my fingers curled¡ blood¡ I miss Mama¡ pain¡ I miss the Hoomin¡ blood¡ I want to go home¡ sorrow¡ I¡¯m so tired¡ sorrow¡ I don¡¯t like this creature¡ pain¡ Will I ever see Mama again¡ grief¡ I raised my hands¡ anger¡ I want to see Mama again¡ anger¡ I want to see Mary again¡ pain¡ I grab the creature¡¯s hand with both of mine¡ sorrow¡ Why did Mama have to make me go? Does she not like me anymore¡ anger¡ I sink my fingers into the creature¡¯s palm. Armor cracking beneath my strength¡ despondence¡ I¡¯m all alone now¡ fury¡ the flesh of the creature¡¯s arm comes apart like taffy as I pull¡ confusion¡ why did Mary go? Didn¡¯t she promise that she wouldn¡¯t¡ hatred¡ did she lie to me¡ shame¡ was I not good enough¡ pain¡ my flesh boils and ejects the creatures claws and shredded fingers from my body¡ rage¡ I know I¡¯m not strong, is that why Mama got rid of me? Does she not love me anymore¡ sadness¡ I slam a fist into the creature. The blow lands with the sound of the thunderclap, the arm I hit exploding into pulped flesh¡ rage¡ Mama please let me come home. I know I¡¯m not good enough, but I¡¯m all alone I¡¯m¡ fear¡ waves of something emanate from me and the monster gets back up, it¡¯s flesh and bones piling together¡ rage¡ I tower over the monster, and I scream at it, every fiber of my being, of my fury, raining down on it¡ longing¡ I remember curling up on Mama¡¯s lap to go to sleep¡ longing¡ I remember eating that tasty food with Mary¡ longing¡ I remember tearing the creature apart with my claws, only for it to come back together¡ longing¡ I remember when Mama taught me not to cut open my leg¡ longing¡ I remember screaming at the creature a wave of something emanating from my mouth¡ longing¡ I remember Mama collapsing the roof of the cave, the Hoomin holding my back as she abandoned me¡ longing¡ I remember Mary flying out over that pool, flailing limply as she collided with the surface¡ pain¡ I remember Mama¡¯s words before she left. How she said it was okay, and how she said I¡¯ll be safe¡ pain¡ I remember how Mary turned and shoved me out of the way, just before the golem hit her¡ pain¡ I remember screaming into the dead world around me¡ wrath¡ I remember¡ nothing at all.
00017: LUNA IS IN CHARGE
LUNA IS IN CHARGE
I stare blankly at Luna for several seconds. The first thing that crossed my mind when she said she wasn¡¯t well¡ herself, was confusion. Luna was never what I would call a normal person, but despite that she wasn¡¯t one to make inane jokes like this. After the initial confusion, evidence started piling up. She had been acting odd ever since I entered the room. Following that thought, I wondered; if she isn¡¯t Luna, then who is she? And finally, I arrived at, how couldn¡¯t she be Luna? She looks exactly like her. I fixed luna with a practiced scowl and asked. ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°Whadaya mean?¡± Luna asked, head tilted, blood red eyes fixed on me. ¡°Why are you trying to mess with me in such an inane way?¡± ¡°Oh¡ I suppose this would be hard to believe wouldn¡¯t it,¡± she said, half to herself. That statement in and of itself is rather telling. ¡°Let¡¯s suppose for a minute you are, in fact, not Luna Sang. Then, who the hell are you, and why do you look, and sound, exactly like her?¡± I asked, crossing my arms. ¡°Well, for the first question, my name is Cheshire.¡± ¡°Like the cat from Alice in wonderland?¡± Luna shrugged. ¡°More or less. And for the second question; it¡¯s a little complicated but long story short, my soul was placed into Luna¡¯s body presumably after she died.¡± ¡°Luna wasn¡¯t dead last I checked, and if she¡¯d managed to change that in the few hours since the last time, I saw her, there should be some sign of a cause of death. Like a stab wound or bullet hole.¡± ¡°Actually, that¡¯s a good point, one sec.¡± Luna took out her phone and began tapping away at it. ¡°Who are you texting?¡± I asked. ¡°Hmm¡ I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m allowed to tell you that.¡± Luna flipped her phone around and showed me a contact. ¡°What does the name of this contact say?¡± she asked. I quirked an eyebrow, I glanced away from the image of a large, red-eyed fly that I could swear I¡¯d seen before and looked into the eyes of the small, red-eyed elf in front of me. ¡°Unknown Number,¡± I said flatly. ¡°Well, I guess she doesn¡¯t want me telling people I know her then,¡± she said. I grit my teeth, but let it go. It wasn¡¯t important anyways. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s see¡. Oh¡ Luna was poisoned.¡± Luna¡¯s face morphed into one of exasperation. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to deal with that aren¡¯t I?¡± She said. ¡°Okay look, Chanelle, was it? What the hell did Luna do to get¡ herself¡.¡± Luna, or I guess Cheshire, we were far past the point where this could be construed as a joke, trailed off. ¡°What now?¡± I asked.
¡°Chanelle, you would never lie to me, right?¡± ¡°Wrong, I would absolutely lie to you,¡± I say, voice flat. ¡°What exactly is it that we do here?¡± ¡°Quite a lot, what specifically do you want to know?¡± ¡°Like, what¡¯s going on in general?¡± I frown. Or rather, I don¡¯t really frown since I¡¯m already frowning but if I weren¡¯t frowning, I would absolutely start. ¡°Well, this is the Grey Nightshade guild,¡± I begin, humoring her. ¡°We make and traffic drugs, run protection rackets, Usery, various larcenies, pimping, the list goes on¡± I said. The small dark elf flopped back into the large office char behind her and let out a long loud groan. ¡°What the fuck!¡± she shouted into the office. I narrowed my eyes. I hadn¡¯t considered this, but if she really wasn¡¯t Luna, she might try to take sensitive info to the authorities. I flexed my fingers, feeling my saw in the other room. I was standing between her and the door, if she tried to run for the poodles, I could have her organs on the floor before she makes it to the door, unless she¡¯s smart enough to go for the window. We¡¯re on the second floor, but she could probably survive the fall, especially if she leaps for the building across the alley. If she were to do that then I could¡. ¡°Okay,¡± she says, slapping her cheeks, ¡°As much as I want to run for the authorities, there are two things that make me think that¡¯s a bad idea.¡± ¡°Go on,¡± I say. ¡°One: I have no idea what the situation actually is, everyone¡¯s gotta put food on the table somehow and all that. And two: There¡¯s a tall gangster lady in the room with me with a scary face, and inconveniently long legs. And bonus three: Luna¡¯s probably a known criminal, so I probably don¡¯t have much of a choice either way,¡± she said, before letting out another groan. It was weird seeing Luna act like this. People don¡¯t usually show vulnerability around here, least of all Luna. It¡¯s not easy keeping a criminal organization from tearing you apart while looking like a prepubescent. ¡°True enough,¡± I say.
I relax slightly, she¡¯s clever enough to realize the gravity of her situation. Now, how might I take advantage of this? I already basically run the organization, and if anything, bad happened, Luna was always the one who would take the fall for it. It doesn¡¯t really matter if Luna¡¯s been replaced by some weirdo. Actually, if anything, it¡¯s better. This Cheshire chick probably doesn¡¯t care enough to involve herself with the organization to any extent, meaning she¡¯s just a figurehead. Unlike Luna, who always had a possibility of realizing what I was doing, Cheshire won¡¯t care even if she did know. I just need to establish dominance, and I will have nothing left to worry about. Should be easy enough. I was about to summon my saw to my hands and hold it against her throat when she clapped her hands together sharply. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, standing, ¡°Now that I¡¯m in charge, we¡¯re gonna need to make some changes,¡± she said. I fixed her with a vicious scowl. ¡°Who the hell said you were in charge?¡± I said, letting my voice redden with blood. In response Cheshire let out a piercing whistle with her teeth. In an instant, the decorative claws flew from the box on the desk and a split second later, I felt the cold metal on my throat. Nine tiny pinpricks of dangerous sharpness. I held perfectly still, hands at my sides. It¡¯s best not to cower when someone has a weapon to you, but it¡¯s also best not to make any hasty movements. So, this is what she did to the claws, I should have known she¡¯d done something to them, I was just too stupid to assume the worst. ¡°Look, Chanelle. I know some weirdo coming out of nowhere and essentially taking over may seem like the end of the world or whatever. And I know you¡¯ve probably been taking power from Luna for who knows how long. But here''s the deal. I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ve been thrust into this position and as much as I hate it, I feel like if anyone¡¯s gonna be in charge it should be me. I have a fresh and pristine moral compass by which I can slowly and surely reform this place into a nice upstanding portion of society. But the thing about that is, I¡¯ll need your help.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked. Suddenly the blades around my neck vanished. The tension flooding out of me so fast, I fell to my knees. ¡°So, Chanelle, we¡¯re going to reform the Grey Nightshade guild. Because by hell am I going to get thrown in jail with the rest of you if this all goes to shit,¡± Cheshire said. I looked up at the woman wearing Luna¡¯s skin. She smiled down at me, red eyes seeming to glow in the dark office. ¡°Pleasure working with you,¡± she said, with sickening sweetness. I swallowed. I have absolutely no idea who Chesire actually is, but one thing is for certain, she is dangerous. The sort of dangerous it¡¯s best to just play along with. If she wants to run Grey Nightshade, that¡¯s fine. If she¡¯s successful in driving this place onto the straight and narrow, I have no qualms, if not then she¡¯ll still take the fall and I¡¯ll be in the perfect position to take charge. It¡¯s not like I want to spend the rest of my life in this god forsaken city anyways.
When Chanelle finally left the room, I flopped backwards into my chair and let out a long sigh. ¡°Are you sure we had to threaten her?¡± I asked. Spvhanha let out a high-pitched trilling noise I identified as assent. During the conversation with Chanelle, I had been having a second conversation with Spvhanha with soul communication. She was the one who had pointed out that it was a bad idea to run, as well as the one who had said we needed to threaten Chanelle. Lastly, we discovered that while Spvhanha could now fly in this new form of hers, she could no longer speak. Instead, she could make various high pitched metallic flutes and trills, which she quickly formulated into a language and taught me. While soul communication was fast it still wasn¡¯t fast enough to get across the entirety of Spvhanha¡¯s language, especially not while we were also talking to Chanelle. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I feel about having to threaten her. I mean, I know why we did it, but something about it just rubs me the wrong way,¡± I said. Spvhanha let out a reply of several warbles and chirps. ¡°Wait, wait¡ too fast. I¡¯m still new to this,¡± I said. Spvhanha let out a condescending trill. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re one to talk. You know how hard it is to learn a language where every word is based on pitch, rhythm, vibrato, and whatever the hell resonance is, without being able to actually hear anything?¡± I sighed remembering my situation. How in gods name am I going to get out of this? Maybe I could get some money together and disappear. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s impossible. Well, I should at least go though Luna¡¯s memories and figure out what exactly is going on.
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Luna Sang grew up in a rather rich family. This was the norm in Hope¡¯s Cradle where the price of lunch at even the mid-grade restaurants were worth half my rent. She was a studious young woman with a drive imbued into her by her parents so that she may better survive in the rather cutthroat society of the city. This all changed when one day, a rival took over her parent¡¯s businesses and soon after that, her parents vanished. Presumably they were killed by that same rival, but Luna didn¡¯t know for certain, nor did she know who that person was. Luna had desperately tried to scape together what little she had left, but she failed miserably. Now with no money and few assets besides the home she was born in, Luna turned to the streets. Luna joined Grey Nightshade as a sort of hail Mary. Liquidating all her assets and using them to essentially buy her way into the gang. Once she was in, she found that the drive she had, meant for elevating herself in high society, would work wonders in low society as well. Very few people knew her, but she swiftly elevated herself in the eyes of her fellows. Made all the easier by the organizational program the previous leader had. Although there was no promotional program, Luna managed to promote herself anyways. She did it so well in fact, that when the previous leader had been mysteriously killed, everyone voted for her to be in charge despite not really knowing what she looked like. Once on the throne, Luna had been¡ rather lax. For all the effort she¡¯d put into becoming the leader of Grey Nightshade, she didn¡¯t really care to run it. Leaving most of the running to her assistant, Chanelle. Their relationship was strained at best. Chanelle had joined Grey Nightshade many years ago and was well known despite not doing much. She was known for being a serious, reliable, clever and a little aloof. Not to mention she was actually rather dangerous, wielding a large tenon-style saw with vicious precision. All of that was probably what lead her to be the treasurer, and later she became the assistant to the previous leader whom I am deliberately attempting not to remember the name or face of because of what Luna did to him. Either way, Luna was able to convince Chanelle to back her as the new leader, and afterwards those two were more or less left alone. Chanelle spent more time actually running the organization, while Luna mostly just signed whatever Chanelle put in front of her and blew away loads of money on random purchases. Although aside from Chanelle, Luna was never actually close with anyone, and I¡¯m only including Chanelle by default. Luna was rather reclusive and never talked with anyone. I actually kind of felt bad for her. She¡¯d lost her family and was put out on the street at a rather young age, and since then she¡¯s basically been all alone. Either way, none of this matters too much. What does, is how Grey Nightshade actually works.
The Grey Nightshade Guild was essentially founded nearly eighty years ago by a woman referred to as Lady Nightshade as well as her brother. It was headquartered in a pocket dimension sprawling out along the layout of Hope¡¯s Cradle. The pocket dimension was created by Lady Nightshade¡¯s brother who no one has seen in over fifty years. Lady Nightshade, however, does pop up on occasion and is the one who is keeping the pocket dimension intact. Whenever she does show up, she is treated with respect and reverence by the members of the criminal organization squatting in her dimensional bubble. No one really knows for certain how she feels about us using her pocket dimension. I mean, she has to know what we¡¯re doing right? Although the fact that she hasn¡¯t done anything to expel us is telling. Moving on, while the pocket dimension is the size of the city, the actual inhabited space is rather small, as the Grey Nightshade Guild isn¡¯t large enough to use the entire city. Grey Nightshade is one of the four major criminal organizations in the city and is the one on the east side of town. East side is where the somewhat poor people live but isn¡¯t the slums. We¡¯re mostly known for being the median. We aren¡¯t as violent as some of the others, we don¡¯t have any particular focus. We mostly just wander around sticking our fingers in whatever pie seems lucrative. Aside from us, there¡¯s the Misfit Toys in the west, Echelon in the north and C4 in the south. The most important of those ones is C4, since they and us are in a sort of gang war. I say gang war, but it¡¯s more a cold war than anything else. Neither of us like each other so an actual gang war could break out at any moment.
With all that backstory out of the way, I could finally have a look around¡ sort of. It¡¯s not the best idea to walk around the pocket dimension alone. This is a den of criminals after all, Although I wasn¡¯t likely to get stopped. Luna had carefully crafted a persona that would prevent her from being stopped, well she actually crafted two, but one was far more desirable than the other. So, I spent the next fifteen minutes getting into character, while Spvhanha spat barbs at me. Finally ready for the outside world I took a step towards the doorway. And ran face first into someone¡¯s crotch. I let out a yelp and stumbled back looking up at who I just ran into. I came face first with¡ Lady Nightshade. ¡°H-hello,¡± I said a little nervously. She nodded at me, before walking past me, looking around the office with extreme focus. ¡°Can I help you?¡± She looked back at me and said¡. nothing. She simply continued investigating the office in total si¡. ¡°There was a god in this room,¡± I let out another yelp, surprised she¡¯d actually spoke. Her voice was somehow deep and rich, while also being light and childish. She was very tall, dressed in a long grey-white dress with lavender highlights. She was a light elf, which meant that while she was at least eighty, she looked to be in her late twenties to early thirties. She waved a hand through the air, and I could feel the very fabric of the reality we inhabited ripple. ¡°You know who it was, don¡¯t you?¡± she said, not looking over her shoulder at me. I frowned. I felt it was probably best to be honest here. ¡°Yes, I do.¡± ¡°And I suppose you can¡¯t tell me.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe so.¡± Lady Nightshade let out a hum. She stood there for several seconds before finally turning to face me. She leaned down, fixing me in her eyes. Hey irises were an extremely pale blue, so pale they looked like a chilly white. She focused on me. Feeling embarrassed, I broke eye contact. She grabbed my chin and brought my face back up to hers. ¡°Look into my eyes,¡± she said. I just swallowed, and acquiesced. ¡°You¡¯re not Luna.¡± ¡°N-no,¡± I said, suddenly a lot more nervous. Unlike Chanelle I somehow doubted she¡¯d balk to over half a dozen blades to her throat. ¡°You¡¯re in her body. Soul transference?¡± Lady Nightshade released my face. ¡°What happened to Luna Sang?¡± She asked. ¡°I think she was poisoned.¡± ¡°By you?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Very well. If Mortella wants to reincarnate someone I suppose it¡¯s none of my business,¡± She said off handedly, turning towards the door. ¡°Wait, how did you know it was Mortella.¡± ¡°I¡¯m familiar with her. Shame she didn¡¯t stop by it would¡¯ve given me an excuse to get out the good tea. Oh well, I should just call her, it¡¯s been a while,¡± she said, half to herself before walking directly through the closed door. So¡ that was something. You know, suddenly I don¡¯t really want to go outside anymore.
00018: AFTER THE DUST HAS SUBLIMATED
AFTER THE DUST HAS SUBLIMATED
I always thought the sixth floor of the Lomari Labyrinth was weird. It was almost as if whoever designed the floors was running out of ideas and just spitballed something random. So, in between the mostly water filled fifth floor and the dense jungle of the seventh, the sixth floor was essentially a hostile bouncy castle. Every single surface was bouncy in some way, making you feel like you were in some sort of weird trampoline park. It was an absolute nightmare. All the monsters were large and heavy, and bounced around the room, ramming into you with enough force to break bones. The general rule of thumb with the Lomari was that floors got harder the further you went. The exception to this rule were the floors divisible by six. I.E. the 6th and 12th, both of which were unusually hard. The general consensus was that the 6th floor was about as difficult as the 9th, while the 12th was absolute hell. The furthest anyone had gone was the 14th and the only reason they came back then was because they were running out of supplies. All that said, I¡¯m mostly just complaining because I¡¯m bored. Me and the other members of my team are finally leaving the frustrating sixth floor. And onto the rather nice seventh. The seventh floor is widely considered as sort of rest area. While the monsters are bad, they are rather sparce and in return the jungle is packed with edible plants and wildlife. ¡°I am so glad to be leaving this hell behind,¡± I said to my two other party members behind me as we walked down the stairs. ¡°You just don¡¯t like the sixth because you got trapped in a bouncy castle for nine hours when you were a kid and have hated anything bouncy ever since,¡± said Nina, our mage and dedicated boss killer. ¡°Please don¡¯t give me another emotionally scarring backstory,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re no fun,¡± she shot back. Our other party member was Steve. He had a wild speed blessing that made him nearly omnipresent. He used it to dice up hordes of small monsters. My job was to keep the big stuff off of Nina long enough that she could disintegrate them.
¡°Why do you always profess your hatred towards the sixth floor as we¡¯re leaving? I would expect you to complain about it as we¡¯re entering,¡± Steve asked. ¡°Honestly? I feel like it¡¯s tradition at this point. Like how Nina always tries to give me some weird backstory whenever I complain about anything.¡± ¡°To be fair, you do complain a lot,¡± Nina said. ¡°Also, I¡¯m sorry for ribbing you all the time. I know you had a long-lost little brother who always used to give you weird backstories before he died of some terminal illness,¡± Nina said. I chuckled at that one. ¡°Okay, that one was funny,¡± I admitted as we were approaching the bottom of the stairs. ¡°Wait, do you goys hear that?¡± Steve asked. ¡°What?¡± I said, as I fell quiet. Listening for any concerning noises. I heard nothing. ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything,¡± Nina said, all mirth removed from her tone. ¡°That¡¯s just it, Shouldn¡¯t we hear something from the jungle by now?¡± Now that he mentioned it, the staircase was deafeningly quiet. I took the large, enchanted shield off my back, looping my forearms though the grips. ¡°Steve,¡± I said, echoed by Nina. In an instant he blurred down the rest of the stairs and out into the jungle. Me and Nina waited in silence for him to return. Instead, we heard him call from the bottom of the stairs. ¡°Guys, come see this,¡± he said. He sounded concerned, but not urgently. We went down the stairs quickly, still ready for a fight¡ and nearly dropped our weapons at what we saw. The entirety of the sixth floor was now a massive crater.
We descended into the aforementioned massive crater that the sixth floor had become not knowing what to expect, we kept out heads on a swivel and the banter to the absolute minimum. The crater was very off. The ground wasn¡¯t scorched like one might expect, instead it seemed like something had caused it to form into some sort of crystals. Thin flat things, layered over one another like scales. They were long and slightly raised from the ground, large enough to hold my footprint but only just so. They crunched when we stepped on them, shattering and grinding into tiny pieces. It was one of the most unnatural things I¡¯d ever seen. Even so, if we were going to find anything, it would likely be in the crater, well not strictly speaking, but it was a notable landmark, and seemed like the place we should start our search. We didn¡¯t send Steve ahead to scout this time as we had decided to go by horror movie rules, which was rather fitting, seeing as just like any good horror movie, the tension was so high if you were to climb it, you¡¯d be able to taste the clouds. Descending further, the first noise we heard that wasn¡¯t made by the three of us was not one that we expected, but also not one that was particularly welcome. It was the distinct sound of a little girl crying. ¡°Gods that¡¯s creepy,¡± Nina muttered behind me. ¡°Indeed,¡± Steve said. I said nothing, just gripped my shield tighter. Finally reaching the bottom, the first thing we noticed was that the crystals, for some reason, had taken on a slight purple hue, this was strange on it¡¯s own, but the other odd thing was that we found the source of the crying. There was a little girl, probably no older then my nephew who was¡ 13 this year. She had long, shimmering, silver-white hair, and dull grey-blue skin. She was curled in a ball, facing away from us, and clearly crying. She wasn¡¯t wearing anything but was covered in a fine crystalline layer, partially shattered from her movements. We stood there for a good several seconds before all turning to each other.
¡°What do we do?¡± Nina asked in a hushed tone. ¡°She clearly isn¡¯t human, probably some type of monster. Should probably kill her,¡± Steve replied. ¡°But she¡¯s crying, I¡¯d feel horrible if we killed her,¡± Nina said. ¡°I said we should kill her, not that I wanted to.¡± ¡°What are the odds of her being some sort of mimic?¡± I asked. ¡°Pretty good, you don¡¯t often find authentic little girls on the seventh floor of the Lomari and, any monster that goes to the lengths of looking like a child is usually something that¡¯ll snap you up the second you get too close,¡± Steve said. ¡°Yeah, but she doesn¡¯t look that human. If a monster went to all the trouble of looking like a human, why would it have that skin tone?¡± Nina asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I just think that we should be cautious no matter what we do.¡± Steve said. ¡°I still want to at least try to talk to her,¡± Nina said. ¡°Okay, how about this,¡± I began, ¡°I¡¯ll call out to her, and try to talk. You two stay behind me. If she¡¯s nice she¡¯s nice, if she attacks, I¡¯ll be the closest and probably the who she goes for, which is my job anyways,¡± I said. Nina and Steve both gave their ascent, and I turned to face the crying girl. I walked out ahead of the others ready for anything. I was honestly on Nina¡¯s side. I wanted to know if she was aggressive before just blindly attacking. Even so, I recognized the danger she could pose. When I was within about twenty meters of her, she suddenly perked up, apparently having heard me. She whirled, the layer of crystal over her shattering to dust. ¡°Mary!¡± She said, hope and joy in her voice and on her tear-streaked face even before she locked eyes with me. But once she did lock eyes with me her face immediately fell. Now that she was facing me, I was struck by her glowing green eyes. Who was Mary? ¡°H-hello?¡± I called out. The girl flopped back on her butt and raised her knees to her chest in a fetal position. She didn¡¯t reply, only whimpered into her knees. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m John, that¡¯s Steve, and the lady over there is Nina. Are you okay?¡± I asked. The little lady looked up at me, wide eyes glowing, face wet with tears. She sniffled. It was kind of cute. ¡°I-I don¡¯t¡¡± she began, before a hard look crossed her face. I tensed, ready for her to come running at me but she didn¡¯t. She took a deep breath and spoke. ¡°How do I get stronger?¡± She asked. The sudden question threw me for a loop. I didn¡¯t know what to say, so I just said what made sense. ¡°Uh¡ I don¡¯t know. Practice? Figure out what strengths you already have and try to improve them,¡± I said. The advice was middling at best, but her eyes gleamed with a determination uncharacteristic for her apparent age. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, half to herself half to me. She balled her fists, stood, and ran. And she was fast, I watched her streak off up the crater wall, as she apparently sought to gain strength.
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How fascinating, a sentient undead. Not only sentient, but unbound. Usually, the undead need to either be bound to a necromancer or a simulacrum but apparently this one has a soul. Maybe that is what is taking the place of the simulacrum? I would try to repeat the experiment, but usually if one of my kind tries to use souls in necromancy, Mortella, well¡ kills us. I pace the throne room back and forth, Shinome sitting on the throne with some look on her face I didn¡¯t bother to identify. Unfortunately, Shino let the creature escape, along with a random human so now I¡¯ll have to retrieve it and kill the human. I leap up onto the throne and sit on Shino¡¯s lap, I feel her tense beneath me. I place my chin in my hand and think. They left the floor about two hours ago. They shouldn¡¯t have gotten too far, the eleventh floor usually leaves the unprepared wandering around for days unless they attract a spogrimm, then they¡¯ll be running around for¡ well however long it takes for them to drop from exhaustion and get eaten by the thing. I highly doubt they could kill a spogrimm, the specimen is a child, and the human was apparently quite weak. Neither should be able to take down a silver rank monster. So, I need some undead that could survive the eleventh floor and potentially either kill or escape a spogrimm. I should probably make it able to handle some of the other floors as well. They probably aren¡¯t making it any further then the ninth. The tenth is a nightmare but isn¡¯t actually that dangerous so long as you don¡¯t walk too close to the eggs or nests or get caught in a web. The ninth, however, is a massive mazelike cavern designed to take a very long time to get through although it is completely neutered by the ability to fly. So¡ I need an undead that is strong, good at tracking, somewhat independent, can fly, is fast, and can capture a small target. Maybe a stitchwraith? Their combat abilities are lacking, and they aren¡¯t intelligent, but they can fly, move quite quickly in short bursts, can track, and capture adult sized targets. I¡¯ll use that as the base. I sent a pulse through the network, having some zombies grab the supplies from the cellar. A large black sheet and a human with the right quality for higher undead. This would be interesting.
I hummed happily as I was putting the final finishing touches onto the nightmare I¡¯d created. I had gone a little overboard. But not enough to make something silver rank. Only Shino was silver, and I didn¡¯t want to go through the process of making another silver. ¡°Julie,¡± Shino said from behind me. ¡°Hmm?¡± I said, cutting off my bubbly tune. There was something so enjoyable about finishing up a complex project you¡¯d worked hard on. It always put me in a good mood. ¡°Please¡ don¡¯t hurt her,¡± She said, a tone in her voice I hadn¡¯t heard before. ¡°Hurt it? I don¡¯t want to hurt it. I¡¯d like to get it back in as good of a condition as possible,¡± I said. ¡°No, I mean¡ if you catch her¡ please, don¡¯t hurt her¡ I-I¡¯ll do anything, just¡.¡± I cut her off. ¡°Shino, you¡¯ll already do anything I tell you; you don¡¯t really have anything to offer me,¡± I said. ¡°Please Julie!¡± she said, raising her voice with a desperate strain. I¡¯d never heard her like that. ¡°How did you get so attached to this thing anyways? You shouldn¡¯t be able to do that,¡± I said, considering. I turned to face Shino. Liches were complex and intelligent, but they didn¡¯t have souls. I knew for a fact Shino didn¡¯t have one, I made her, hell I¡¯d held the damn thing in my hands own hands before I tossed it for the ether to claim. I could just command Shino to act like she usually did, but that would be dumb. Like anyone else, if my cat started talking, I wouldn¡¯t just tell it to continue acting like a normal cat. I¡¯d dissect it to see what made it tick¡ or better, tock. I giggled at my pun before finally filling my creation with necromantic magic. The dark fabric fluttered then whirled into the air taking on the rough form of a robe being worn by a human. I smiled wickedly as my creation arose before me. My giggles became more manic as the euphoria of creation hit me. ¡°Blades,¡± I commanded. And immediately¡ there were blades.
I watched helplessly as Julie sent the monstrosity she had created after my daughter. I wanted to scream, to attack it. But I knew that if I did, Julie would just order me to stop, and then send another. No, instead I reached out carefully through the network and probed at the complex set of instructions it had been programmed with. I couldn¡¯t override Julie¡¯s orders, I didn¡¯t have the authority, but I could add some of my own. And so long as they don¡¯t interfere with what Julie said, they should remain undetected. The problem was the programming. Julie had given it very specific instructions on how to subdue and capture Dumpling the Despondylator. Going over them, I couldn¡¯t help but picture it in my mind. Those horrific blades tearing into¡. I cut off my thoughts, this was not the time. I reached into the core of the programming and added one tiny command. It wouldn¡¯t stop the thing from attacking her, It had explicit instructions to do so, but the change made me relax slightly. She would be okay¡ she would be okay¡ I repeated it in my mind like a mantra. Trying to force myself to believe it.
00019: LUNA IS BORED
LUNA IS BORED
I look like a creepy-ass doll. This observation was, oh so kindly, fluted at me from the collection of blades on my fingertips not only that, but it was also, unfortunately, completely accurate. Dressed in an extravagant Victorian styled outfit that, thank God, wasn¡¯t one of those ball gowns that looked like they could host a small family of two-to-three depending on the exact make, no, my particular brand of creepy doll-ness, thankfully, came with pants. My outfit consisted of a black waistcoat, a dark grey undershirt, and a white shirt under the undershirt, coupled with my glorious pants. This description omitting the customary Victorian frills and embellishments, as well as the subtle red highlights in everything. I also had one of those absurd tiny top-hats, you know one of the ones that stick out at a nigh-impossible forty-five-degree angle, whilst sitting in a bed of flowers. The flowers in this case were jet black but had little red thorns on the vines they were entangled in. All of this served to highlight my eyes. Big and red as they were. Even so, I still looked creepy, and weirdly extravagant. I kind of liked it. It¡¯s not something I would wear in public given the choice, but unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t given the choice. Luna had chosen what she would wear this morning when she left her home, and I was going to have to deal with the embarrassing consequences.
I sighed and left the room. Chanelle was at her desk, collecting her things, looking as if she was about to head home. Unfortunately for me, she finished right as I was passing by and, seeing as we were both leaving the building, it was a little awkward seeing as not twenty minutes ago I did the magical equivalent of holding her at knifepoint. I was about to say something, but a quick impulse from Spvhanha shut me up. I had to be a tough heartless bitch if I didn¡¯t want to get chewed up. I replied with a counterargument, basically stating that I wanted her to, if not like me, than at least not want me dead to a sufficient degree that she¡¯d take the large saw I could see strapped to her hips and use it to end the lifelong matrimony between my head and neck. Although now that I think about it, dying again wouldn¡¯t be too big a deal. I¡¯d be back in a different body, likely in a different place. It was a little reassuring knowing that if I died it wouldn¡¯t be the end. It made me feel a bit like a videogame protagonist. If I died, my life counter would just tick down by one, and I¡¯d respawn from the last checkpoint. Shame I only have one life left, I wonder if there¡¯s a way to get mo¡ before finishing the thought a flash of orange eyes shredded through my mind and I stopped in the hallway. A chill running down my vertebrae like a team of firemen rapidly evacuating a building down a staircase. Their heavy boots stomping their way from the base of my skull to the tip of my tailbone. Chanelle paused briefly to look at me before continuing on her way to the exit. I took slow deep breaths. Right¡ right¡ I had been warned about this. I shouldn¡¯t look for a way to escape, death was inevitable no matter what, even if I escaped, Death would come for me.
I picked up my pace, catching up to Chanelle. ¡°Know any good places to eat around here?¡± I asked. My voice sounded a little fake, even to myself. She glanced down at me. ¡°There¡¯s the cafeteria on seventh but if you want good food, you¡¯ll have to leave the bubble and go out into the real city,¡± Chanelle replied succinctly, possibly as a signal to me that she didn¡¯t want to continue conversing with me. I, however, blatantly ignored that and trundled on like a bulldozer with cut brakes and a cinder block on the accelerator. ¡°Well, where do you plan on eating now that you¡¯re off work?¡± I asked. ¡°Home,¡± she said. ¡°And if you weren¡¯t going to eat at home?¡± I asked. Chanelle sighed. ¡°Then I would go to the fucking cafeteria. Do you know that irritating people like this can get you killed around here or are you just a brat with a death wish?¡± she said. ¡°No, I¡¯m a sweet innocent child, no one would ever do anything to me,¡± I said. Activating my best baby-voice. It wasn¡¯t that hard considering I still had a baby voice, and it was actually harder to not sound like a child than it was to do the opposite. ¡°Luna, you¡¯re a dark-elf not a ten-year-old, and while most people around here would balk at killing someone that looked like a child, not everyone is so soft. Not everyone has the luxury of trusting those who appear innocent. It doesn¡¯t take a lot of development before someone can pull a trigger after all.¡± ¡°Huh¡ that¡¯s kinda fucked up¡ but more importantly, I¡¯m Cheshire, not Luna.¡± ¡°I¡¯m aware. I¡¯m also aware of the fact that you should be going by Luna in public so as not to rouse suspicion. ¡°Does anyone even know what Luna looked like? From what I know of her, she seemed like a shut in who just advertised herself to become the head without actually doing any work.¡± ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true. Most people don¡¯t even know that Luna isn¡¯t human. Either way, I¡¯ve associated your visage with the name Luna, and I¡¯m not going to put in the effort to change,¡± she said. I frowned. ¡°That¡¯s rude,¡± I chastised. ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± Chanelle said flatly. ¡°Fine, make your jokes, but keep in mind, I¡¯m you new boss and I am absolutely petty enough to dock your pay over slights against me,¡± I said. Chanelle froze. I turned to face her. She fixed me with a cold, deadly glare. ¡°Listen to me girl, if you so much as touch my paycheck for anything other than a raise, I will spill you onto the pavement. Do you understand? In fact, just for that comment you¡¯re going to give me a 50% raise. I¡¯ll expect it by tomorrow.¡±
A chill went up and down my spine, but Spvhanha gave me a poke. ¡°Show no weakness under any circumstances. If you want to be the alpha, you can¡¯t balk to any challenge to your authority.¡± I sighed, and carefully expunged the mirth from my expression. Reminding myself of the fact that death was no longer an uncertainty, just an interruption, I channeled the energy of waiting in line at any sort of government office with no phone. The sheer apathetic boredom that made one want to see someone pull a gun on an attendant just so that something could happen. The true mind-numbing enchantment of the most dead-hearted voice calling out a number that somehow wasn¡¯t yours for the umpteenth time, but somehow managed to be a perfect variation of your number that made you suspect that you might be the next one up¡ again. Visage adopted I looked at her through my eyelids, well I looked at her waist at least, she was very tall, and my eyes were half-closed. Then I spun on my heel, blatantly ignoring her. ¡°Duck in three¡ two¡ one¡ NOW!¡± I listened to Spvhanha¡¯s advice and ducked. Immediately I felt the disturbance in the air as what was, presumably, a large saw flew into the space previously occupied by my precious brain and skull that would certainly try its best against the tremendous force with which the saw was thrown. I felt Spvhanha tug on my arms and I followed her lead, my had whipping back. My fingers flicked open, and I felt a closed fist slam into my palm with enough force to break a bone. Lucky for me, and even luckier for my delicate child-bones, I felt Spvhanha absorb the force, stopping the hand dead. I felt the two of them exert pressure against each other, Chanelle to crush my hand, Spvhanha to grip her fist with more force than I thought possible. My hand hurt like hell as the hypothetical rope in their reverse tug-of-war match. I was glad I wasn¡¯t facing her as I grit my teeth with the pain. I felt something warm and wet running between my fingers. I knew I had to say something. And after a very brief back in fourth with Spvhanha, we decided less was more. I curled my fingers, Spvhanha¡¯s clawlike form sliding into the tendons in Chanelle¡¯s right hand, almost immediately her fingers went limp as the muscles clenching them were separated from their charges. I heard Chanelle groan in pain behind me. She immediately tried to alleviate the pressure on her hand, lowering herself closer to my level. ¡°Try something like this again¡¡± I began, but I didn¡¯t finish. Letting the dead quiet room fill with the sounds of her groans of pain, and fat drops of blood hitting the tiles. Tick¡ tick¡ tick¡ tick¡. I released her, freeing her hand. As I walked towards the swinging glass doors in front of me, I called out. ¡°Pleasure working with you,¡± I said, before gently kicking the shattered doors open. The responsible saw sitting a few feet outside them amidst a pile of broken glass. ¡°The price for the door will come out of your pay,¡± I said.
I wandered through the base of the Grey Nightshade guild. It was a collection of buildings of various purposes, spread out in the bubble. The pocket dimension taking the form of a massive¡ well¡ bubble. The walls of which were a silvery grey with a pearlescent sheen. It was actually quite beautiful, there was a particularly large gleam on the walls, mimicking the sun. According to Luna¡¯s memories the gleam would mimic the actual location of the sun if I were to leave the bubble. Currently I was just exploring. I could¡¯ve used Luna¡¯s memories to find any specific location I wanted to, but where would the fun be in that? So, I continued wandering around mapping out locations, I did use Luna¡¯s memories to identify buildings. It generally wasn¡¯t a good Idea to wander aimlessly in here, and looking around like a tourist was one of the key signs of aimlessness. Instead, my appearance was that of someone with a specific destination in mind. Eyes forward, gaze lightly focused on a specific point, but still looking around. I had somewhere to be but wasn¡¯t in much of a hurry. Around here, it was the visage of the important, higher members of the guild. We never hurried to where we were going because we knew that whatever was happening would wait for us. Although now that I think about it, I guess I kind of am one of those important members of the guild. It was an odd realization. I was a crime boss. A don. The biggest fish in this pond. I let out an exhausted sigh. I was so screwed. Not only would the church of Lumina kill me on realization of who I was, now they would kill me on realization of who Luna was. Or at least they would throw me in prison, but I¡¯m no more inclined to be imprisoned than I am to be killed. Although now that I think about it, imprisonment might be worse. Death just means I start over in a new place without the problem of the Grey Nightshade Guild to deal with, imprisonment is kind of a massive waste of time. I laughed at the realization. How nonsensical does my life have to be that I¡¯m more worried about going to jail than I am about being murdered to death¡ again.
I glanced at the next interesting-looking building and identified it. It was the RnD building. Technically it had some actual name that Luna had vaguely known. It started with an L, but everyone just called it RnD. I shrugged and wandered in. Looking around, I found a directory, which was basically just a large poster telling people what was on each floor, but that¡¯s pretty much all I needed. There were departments for just about anything a criminal organization could need, tools, weapons, vehicles. I was about to leave but I decided to go to the department of weapons research and development. Really only because it sounded cool. They probably had guns and stuff. I got on an elevator, moved to the requisite floor and got off. Looking around It was a lot less exciting than I thought. It was really just a bunch of rooms with number plates lined in hallways. I frowned, disappointed. Or at least I was until I saw a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Large letters above the door spelled out, ¡°Department of Weapons Research and Development¡± I walked down the hall and examined the door. Beside it was the requisite plate with the room number, as well as a clipboard hanging on a nail. It was labeled ¡°Available lab technician¡± followed by a bunch of time slots covering the current week. But none of that was what drew my attention. What did was an lattice of sticky notes arrayed over each other, taking up every available time slot for the week, and across all of them was written one name in permanent marker. CANDACE. Looking closer I noticed that at the bottom corner of the sticky note wall, was writing in sloppy handwriting, ¡°Debbie why the fuck is this even here?¡± I snickered at that and pushed my way inside.
The DWRnD lab was very spacious, but I barely had the opportunity to take it in, before an ornery voice called out from behind a large table. ¡°Debbie, get the fuck out! If you want to talk to me, just send me an e-mail so I can ignore it!¡± The voice sounded young but oddly raspy. I snickered again ¡°I¡¯m not Debbie,¡± I called in the direction of the voice. There was a humanoid form there, but it was clearly mechanical, kind of like an android, but it was partially disassembled, wires hanging out of the face and open chest cavity. It looked rather disturbing. I heard an electric drill stop. ¡°Eh? What do you want? If you have something for me to fix just leave it on the table!¡± She called, raising a hand above the large worktable in the middle of the room and pointing off to one side. I wandered around the side of the large worktable so I could get a look at who was presumably Candace. She was under the chair where the android sat, taking a drill to its hip joint. She dropped a thick bolt into a tray and crawled out from under the machine. Standing, she grabbed the leg and lifted it off the android and dropped it down onto the worktable with a grunt. She looked over at me and arched an eyebrow. ¡°Y-need somethin¡¯?¡± she asked looking at me. She was short, a little taller than me, couldn¡¯t be older than eighteen, had short black hair tied back in a ponytail, and her lips were quirked in a way that made me feel like she was telling some sort of joke I didn¡¯t understand. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked, I¡¯d wandered in here because I was bored and curious, I might as well bother the employees. Candace looked back at the mechanical leg in front of her. ¡°Switching out the servo in the knee joint since the old ones aren¡¯t precise enough for proper balance,¡± she said. Grabbing her cordless drill and changing the bit. ¡°Then why¡¯d you put those one¡¯s in, in the first place?¡± I asked. ¡°Because I¡¯m a moron and got them mixed up. But really, I¡¯m just doing this in the meantime while running the stress tests on the cooling system. Now, as much as I like talking about things I care about, I doubt you just showed up here for the express purpose of learning the way of the Candace,¡± she said, as she started quickly removing screws from the frame of the leg. ¡°Honestly, I just wandered in because I was bored,¡± I said. ¡°Cool, in that case, play with anything you know how to use, and if you don¡¯t know what it is, don¡¯t touch it,¡± she said, absentmindedly. ¡°Seems like rather lax safety regulations.¡± ¡°I¡¯m the lab tech, not your mama. If you want to lose a hand, it¡¯s not my problem. Really, it¡¯s Debbie¡¯s problem but she¡¯s a bitch so who cares,¡± Candace said. I snorted in surprise at the blunt statement. Looking around I noticed three blocks of silvery metal, all attached to tubes. The tubes all lead to different radiators, each with running fans. All the metal blocks were each being blasted by their own blowtorch. ¡°I¡¯m guessing these are the cooling system stress tests you mentioned,¡± I said looking at the torches, blazing with bright blue flames.
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¡°Yep, Aico puts out heat like a motherfucker when she¡¯s under load, so I need to make sure the cooling solution is pretty robust,¡± Candace said. ¡°Aico?¡± I asked. ¡°She¡¯s in the tank,¡± Candace said, pointing over her shoulder to a large cylindrical tank in the corner. In the center, suspended in the water was some sort of densely layered¡ computer¡ chip? I wanted to say computer chip, but it was in the shape of a cube, it was also open, letting the water run over all the little bits of metal. ¡°That¡¯s¡ Aico?¡± ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s the main project here. Currently she¡¯s bound to the fish tank to keep her cool, but if I want to give her a body, I¡¯m going to need a smaller cooling solution.¡± ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s why you¡¯re making this,¡± I said gesturing to the android leg. ¡°Bingo,¡± Candace said, smiling as she pulled a large black metal cylinder out of the leg. She set it on the worktable and grabbed an identical cylinder and began shoving it into the leg. ¡°Who¡¯s Debbie?¡± I asked. ¡°Some bitch; she keeps telling me I have to let other people use my lab, which I like, already do. But she keeps saying I need to be nicer and more accommodating. Pfft, we¡¯re fucking gangsters, hardened criminals, scoundrels of Scandinavia. We don¡¯t need to be coddled,¡± Candace let out a fake sigh and said, ¡°I swear, if she wants to mother everyone, she should either go work in a fucking orphanage or get her tits out and let people suckle on ¡®em,¡± Candace finished. I suddenly began choking on the air in my throat. My body half-caught between breathing and laughing. ¡°W-what?¡± I called between wheezes. ¡°If you¡¯re asking that question, I¡¯m pretty sure you heard me right,¡± she said, sounding almost smug. ¡°You sound way too smug,¡± I said, calling her out on it. Candace, for what might be the first time in this conversation, actually looked up at me, taking a pause from what she was doing. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be smug? I takes a lot of effort to be so vulgar. People write books on the art of vulgarity,¡± she said, deadpan. ¡°Do they?¡± I challenged. ¡°Mhmm,¡± she said, getting back to her leg. ¡°Now you wouldn¡¯t happen to have one of those books on hand, would you?¡± I asked. She snorted derisively. ¡°Of course I do, the queen of vulgarity can¡¯t be caught unarmed under any and all circumstances.¡± ¡°Care to fork up the book then?¡± I said, smiling viciously, anticipating her to backpedal. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m busy,¡± she said gesturing toward the leg. She was now looking into the cavity with a pen light, she¡¯d taken the cylinder, which I presumed was the aforementioned servo, out once again. ¡°My room¡¯s back there though, book should be on the top shelf of the bookshelf, furthest to the right,¡± she said, pointing off to a corner where there was, indeed, a door. ¡°Wait, you live here?¡± ¡°Yeah. Debbie hates it, but I told her if she wants to kick me out, she¡¯ll have to get within range of me shoving my foot far enough up her ass I could tickle her prostate with my toes,¡± she said. I snorted another laugh. ¡°Women don¡¯t have prostates,¡± I said, feeling like I was being baited, but still needing to say it. ¡°Who¡¯s to say if that¡¯s really true, only way to find out is to go on a steel-toed adventure through a certain woman¡¯s bowls until we find it,¡± she said, kicking her boots against the concrete floor, which produced a faint metallic-ish noise.
¡°Okay so, you¡¯ve told me enough Debbie slander to fill a phonebook, but I barely know anything about you,¡± I said, hefting the wheel to an angle grinder in one hand while pointedly facing away from the welding taking place behind me. I always wondered why the process of magically fusing metal was called welding, while using the same process for wood was called joining. ¡°What do you want to know?¡± Candace called. I set down the grinding wheel and moved to the large tank containing Aico. The computer chip firmly mounted in the liquid. It still felt weird calling it a computer chip, chips were supposed to be flat, weren¡¯t they? And this was a cube, about four inches on each side. ¡°Honestly I have absolutely no idea what to ask,¡± I said honestly. ¡°Ask anything, I don¡¯t have many secrets,¡± she said. I just shrugged and figured I might as well start small. ¡°What¡¯s your favorite color?¡± ¡°Blue, like any other basic bitch,¡± she responded. I smirked. ¡°Where are you from?¡± ¡°Here, born and raised,¡± ¡°How did you learn to make this stuff,¡± I asked, mostly wondering how someone could learn to make a massive computer chip before hitting the age of twenty. ¡°Lots of study, practice and caffeine. Notice, that sleep was not on that list,¡± she said conspiratorially. ¡°What do you do for fun?¡± I asked. ¡°Plenty. I make cool shit, test the cool shit, use the cool shit I made to blow shit up, that sort of thing. Oh, and you can turn back around now, I¡¯m done with the welding,¡± she said. I did so and saw what she was working on. It looked like she was making a new frame for the leg. ¡°Blow shit up you say? Where might I find such activities taking place?¡± ¡°Usually the shooting range, but for all the big stuff I look into finding something that needs demolition. If you wanna come just call me, my number¡¯s on the in case of emergency poster over there,¡± she said pointing to it. I glanced at it and copied the number into my phone. Suddenly a laptop began beeping on the worktable. Candace stopped what she was doing and moseyed over, removing the thick gloves she had on. She shut off the blow torches heating the metal blocks, which I now noticed were about the same size as Aico. ¡°Alrighty¡ results, results, results,¡± she said, rubbing her hands together. She looked over the screen for several seconds. ¡°Nice I was kinda rooting for this one, if for no other reason than it would be much easier to work with than all the other crap,¡± she said. Which one is it? I asked examining the overtaxed cooling systems. ¡°B,¡± she called from the computer. They were all labeled with embossed metal plates. The plates read: 1, B and mk.2. ¡°Care to explain the naming convention? I asked. ¡°There has to be a little madness to every method,¡± she said.
Entering a place that was both my home, and also a place I had never been, was a profoundly strange experience. Luna¡¯s apartment was so fundamentally different from mine, that we may as well not even be of the same species¡ ignoring the fact that we aren¡¯t of the same species. The point is it was weird entering that place. It was oddly cramped, not because of my undiagnosed hoarding tendencies, which definitely weren¡¯t my cover for being a lazy-ass who didn¡¯t want to clean her damn apartment, but because the place was genuinely quite small while also being, at the same time, quite large in a way. Seeing as I was essentially in the body of a child. The countertops came up to my chin, the couch was up to my waist, and the refrigerator was a towering monstrosity I would never be able to climb¡ which was why there was a step ladder. And that was another thing, not only was everything massive, but this was also clearly a place well inhabited by one of the vertically challenged. I say challenged, but at a height of no more than four feet five inches, It was probably safe to say it was less a challenge and more an ass kicking. Either way, the apartment was liberally sprinkled with cleverly hidden away ladders and step stools, to assist the little lady in reaching things on shelves at around my previous eye level. It was actually a little surreal. Not just the Improvements Luna made to assist in her living quality, but just the memories I had of this place. My body using reflexes I didn¡¯t know I had, to hit light switches I didn¡¯t know existed as I entered rooms. It was honestly odd to think that this is what my life now is. The fact that I knew the oven drawer had been converted to a platform on which Luna could stand while cooking, the fact that I knew her favorite blanket was a super soft blue and green queen-size comforter that she¡¯d brought from home. The fact that I knew where every hidden gun compartment in the apartment was. The one by the front door, the one in the toilet, the one in the oven, the one in the couch, the one in the laundry room, etc. It was like the most potent feeling of d¨¦j¨¤-vu. Except with the extra trippy measure, of the automatic muscle memory, hitting switches I didn¡¯t know about, and putting extra force into that one stubborn door that needed a bit of extra oomph to open and close properly.
Pray tell my oh so attentive mind construct, what do you think a criminal overlord does on the day to day? Scheme? Plan heists? Make examples of her army of dumb brutish goons? Well, maybe some other crime boss, maybe in some other place. But here? Me? Oh, no, no, no, my sweet mind construct. Here in the Grey Nightshade Guild, our illustrious leader whiles away her time in only the most important of¡ paperwork. I wish this was a joke. I wish I could laugh about it with you, but laughter was merely the first casualty in the war between my psyche and the reams. But I do still need to do it despite the fact that a lot of the paperwork is digitized, for some god forsaken reason, there still manages to be just enough non-digitized inked-up tree corpses to attempt an assassination on my will to actually deal with this shit. At least fulfilling my promise to take the cost of the door out of Chanelle¡¯s pay was easy. I just contacted a building company, who apparently don¡¯t give a shit about working on a building run by a criminal organization, got a quote for the repair costs, and docked Chanelle¡¯s pay so that the cost of the door is recuperated over the course of six months. Also, just for the record, Chanelle doesn¡¯t just get paid, she get¡¯s fucking paid. Chanelle makes in a week what I used to make in eight months at my old job. Although now that I¡¯m thinking about Chanelle, I¡¯m remembering how awkward it was coming here after yesterday. Seeing her at her desk, and just not mentioning the fight. I grit my teeth, pausing in my skim reading of the document. Although now I¡¯m realizing that I have absolutely no idea what I¡¯ve been reading for the past five minutes. I sigh and flip back to the previous page in the folder, looking for something I recognize¡. I have to use the bathroom.
Taking that as the lifeline it is, I get up. Leaving the paperwork, that I swear is trying to kill me, where it is I go to the bathroom. Passing by Chanelle is still awkward, I just have no idea what to say. Should I even say something? Would it make it worse or better? I can see her taking it either way. No, I should probably say something, but what? I can¡¯t say anything that would make me appear weak, that would undermine the whole point of the fight yesterday, but if I¡¯m mean it¡¯ll definitely make it worse. However, if I say something too neutral, she¡¯ll probably assume that I was feeling bad about it which still undermines the whole point of the fight. I groan. Leaving the bathroom, I return to my office. As I walk past Chanelle¡¯s desk I glance down at her. She met my gaze evenly. Not knowing what to do I just watched her, staring into those ice blue irises. I let out a sigh through my nose. I don¡¯t want to be some hardened heartless bitch, It¡¯ll only be a matter of time before I screw that up, might as well just be me and damn the consequences. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry about yesterday,¡± I said. Chanelle arched an eyebrow in an expression I was suspecting was hardened gangster lady for: shock. ¡°Let me level with you, I¡¯ve firmly decided I¡¯m not going to act like some cold-hearted bitch just to get you to respect me or whatever. As much as I probably need your respect seeing as you¡¯re in prime assassination position, I don¡¯t care. You¡¯ll either like me or you won¡¯t. You¡¯ll respect me, or you won¡¯t, but I¡¯m not willing to go chasing after it,¡± I said. meeting her eyes evenly. And god damn if that shit wasn¡¯t hard to do, she just had this I¡¯ll break you over my knee if you so much as fart in my general direction look to her. We just kind of stood there for several seconds, looking into each other¡¯s eyes until finally, her face softened. Not to anything that could be considered friendly, dear God no, it was more akin to going from diamond to steel. She stuck out her hand in a manner that I immediately recognized, and we shook. Her hands were bigger than mine on account of my general tininess. They were also calloused, a little boney, and oddly warm. ¡°Chanelle Owlfang,¡± she said. I smiled ¡°Cheshire Limington,¡± I said, as we released our hands. ¡°Also, what kind of name is Owlfang? Owls don¡¯t even have teeth let alone fangs.¡± Ah, there it was. Chanelle¡¯s face had returned to its rightful place at the tippy top of the Mohs hardness scale. ¡°You really wanna go there Limington? That genuinely has no meaning, other than sounding vaguely posh.¡± ¡°Hey! My name has a meaning, it means a town on a river,¡± I said proudly. Chanelle just gave me a flat look.
00020: THE PARADOX OF CHARLIE AND MELODY
THE PARADOX OF CHARLIE AND MELODY
¡°I¡¯m not happy. I¡¯ve been trying to tell you to ditch your fucked-up aunt for years now and look where it got you. To be fair, you aren¡¯t dead or anything, but you definitely aren¡¯t free. Like, you got so close to killing that manipulative bitch once and for all, but you just had to fuck it up at the last second, didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°W-well, she said that it would be a¡¡± ¡°Oh, so you trust her over me? Did you forget that she SHOT YOU IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD!?¡± ¡°N-no, I¡¡± ¡°Well, why are you acting like it huh? Are you just that much of a soft bellied little doormat or, are you just some fucked up little freak who gets her rocks off taking self-destructive orders from some vile cunt.¡± ¡°Hey, I don¡¯t!¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up, bitch!¡± ¡°¡¡± ¡°See? You¡¯re doing it again! I swear I couldn¡¯t get a more obedient dog, if I put a gun to your head!¡± ¡°I¡¡± ¡°Hey! What did I tell you about talking bitch!¡± *whimper* ¡°Ha-ha, even your little noises are fucking pathetic.¡± ¡°¡¡± ¡°What the fuck did I just tell you? Are you that fucking braindead? God, I wish I could just fucking beat you senseless. I few bruises would probably give you some perspective.¡± ¡°¡¡± ¡°Huh? Not gonna say anything, little bitch? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe it was an ant? Just came up and took it and you were too much of a loser to squash it. God, what would your mother thin¡¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t talk a¡¡± ¡°DON¡¯T EVER INTERRUPT ME DOORMAT!!!¡± ¡°I¡¡± ¡°Maybe you didn¡¯t hear, but I said SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!!¡± ¡°¡¡± ¡°Aww¡ what¡¯s wrong, is the little baby gonna cry?¡± *sob* ¡°Oh¡ look. The little doormat is crying. Aww, maybe it thinks I¡¯ll be nicer if it just curls up in a little ball and rocks itself back and forth.¡± *sob* ¡°Well too bad. Maybe if you weren¡¯t such a disgusting little weakling, you¡¯d get off the floor to get people to stop walking all over you. Cause let me tell you something. Your little tears¡ they''re a feature of a high-quality doormat. A predator sees you and thinks: No matter what I do to this little bitch, she¡¯ll just bear it, even if she cries, she¡¯ll still bear it. Hell, you¡¯re such a pathetic loser I bet even if someone SHOT YOU IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD! You¡¯d still not stand up for yourself.¡± *crying* ¡°Go on, keep crying. Everyone likes a doormat that washes their shoes when they step on it.¡± ¡°¡¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking dissociate on me again you piece of shit!¡± ¡°¡¡± ¡°Do you hear me in there?¡± ¡°¡¡± ¡°Charlie, listen to me or I swear to each and every fucking god and goddess that I¡¯ll find a way to crawl out of here and¡ ¡ ¡ ¡.¡±
I woke up from what could only be a nightmare. I was curled up in bed, hugging my pregnant body from behind. Both of my bodies were crying. The voices were screaming at me from the back of my mind, like a howling wind battering the walls of a house, demanding entry. I clung tightly to myself, hoping desperately, it would stop before breaking down the walls. I don¡¯t think it had ever been this bad. I just wanted to not be here. Not be anywhere, just¡ not exist. Wasn¡¯t there a way to do that? Just¡ stop. I watched listlessly as the girl lay there, unmoving. Her two bodies curled around each other. A voice screaming in her head. The voice sounded angry. Maybe she was in trouble. Oh well. Something happened. Maybe. It¡¯s pretty hard to tell like this. Things kept happening, it was hard to tell what they were. Maybe someone could try and find out what those things were. But that probably wouldn¡¯t happen. There was some sort of pressure building up. It should be released then. Shouldn¡¯t it? It¡¯s hard to say, something says it¡¯s wrong to release the pressure, but it has to be done. Or it¡¯ll release itself. Maybe that¡¯s how it works. Just wait till it releases itself. Ah¡ it¡¯s gone now. That¡¯s nice. More things change. Or maybe not. I wake up again. The first thing I notice is that I feel¡ miserable. I¡¯m so thirsty and hungry and I really need to use the bathroom, although I don¡¯t have to pee, and¡ oh¡ gross. I groan with both bodies. It¡¯s happened again. I hover out of the bed, I now need to clean, with both bodies and go immediately to the shower¡ okay poop, then shower.
Ignoring how my morning started, today isn¡¯t actually turning out all that bad. I mean, sneaking my soiled bedsheets into the laundry without anyone noticing was rather stressful, but seeing as I could make solid objects move through walls and become invisible, I just had to kinda float down to the laundry room, and stick them in with a load of whites. And after stealing fresh stuff, my bed was in pristine condition¡ is what I would say if it didn¡¯t still smell like pee. Okay, maybe today wasn¡¯t the best but I was making the most of it and that had to count for something. But back to my problem¡ I need a new mattress, and I have no idea where to get one. Well, that¡¯s not true, I know where to get mattresses, a furniture store, the real problem as I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to transport a giant fluff-pad, preferably unseen, through the mansion. It kind of made me miss home. I mean back there; I didn¡¯t have to worry about preserving my dignity. Whenever this happened, the staff already knew how to take care of it, and I¡¯d have a clean bed within the hour. Not to mention how they always wore masks and never spoke made it easier to not really think of them as people which, now that I¡¯m thinking about it, is kind of a messed-up thing to think of someone, but it¡¯s true; they never spoke, and I never saw their faces. Which made it easier to forget that they probably gossiped about me behind my back.
I was pacing through the halls while thinking this when a new problem with my mattress acquisition plan struck. I needed money. Mattresses weren¡¯t free, and were, quite frankly, expensive. This is a problem when it comes to having to acquire a new one. Maybe I should just give up on dignity and ask for it to be cleaned¡ wait. I have an idea. I skittered through the halls towards the kitchen and asked for something very specific. The kitchen staff, obligingly, completed my request in record time and handed me the object of my design. Smiling evilly, I practically sprinted back to my rooms. I threw open the door, approached the bed smiled, and recklessly dumped the full glass of orange juice over the already stained mattress. Perfect, now I can just say I spilled orange juice on the mattress, and the strong smell will help cover the other¡ strong smell. Dignity defended; I summoned the staff. Then I began looking at my pregnant body floating in the room just above the bed, while waiting for someone to arrive. It looked like some sort of dark ritual being performed. That image in my head, I rolled my eyes as far back as I could and started wiggling in the air like I was possessed by a demon. Giggling at my own antics I heard people coming down the hall and immediately made my pregnant body invisible. A few seconds later, I heard a knock on the door. ¡°Come in,¡± I said. The door was opened and in walked a girl about my age with a cart, she was dressed in an intricate French maid uniform, had dark skin and black hair. In the cart was a plastic bag and a portable vacuum. ¡°Hello, sorry for the mess,¡± I said, feeling guilty for shoving my problems onto someone else. ¡°No, problem,¡± she said. Quickly stripping the bed of its sheets. It was at that moment I wondered how she planned to get the large mattress through the door. I watched with interest as she took the plastic bag from the cart, and fitted the mattress into it like it was a giant sheet, afterwards she attached the hose of the vacuum cleaner and began sucking the air out. And to my surprise, the mattress shrunk in the vacuum bag. I didn¡¯t know mattresses did that. It was also surprising just how small it got. When she was done sucking the air out, she just rolled up the wrinkled sheet the mattress had become and with a grunt of effort heaved it into the cart. ¡°I¡¯ll be back with a new mattress in about twenty minutes,¡± she said before leaving the room.
You know, in hindsight, this whole situation has been a bit¡ I don¡¯t know, petty? Now that it¡¯s over I feel like it really wasn¡¯t that big of a deal. Sure, I¡¯m not that inclined to let the staff know about my problems on day one, bit in all honesty they¡¯re probably going to find out eventually. Like, what¡¯s the point of keeping it a secret if they¡¯re going to learn about it anyways? I¡¯m under no illusion that I am not the sort of person who is capable of keeping a secret like this indefinitely. I sigh and look up to where my pregnant body hangs invisibly in the air. Makes me think of some of the other secrets I¡¯ve been keeping. And honestly, I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m keeping this one. I doubt anything bad will happen if the staff find out about my whole situation. I sigh. Then, I take out my phone and begin whiling away the time until the girl gets back with my new mattress. Eventually she does, this one all rolled up and vacuum sealed She flops it out onto the bedframe and then removes the plastic, revealing the shriveled-up mattress. ¡°Okay, the mattress should be fully expanded in about half-an-hour, is there anything else you need from me?¡± she asked, rolling up the plastic vacuum bag. ¡°No. Thank you,¡± I said. She just smiled and nodded before leaving the room with her cart. So¡ thirty minutes huh?
So¡ childbirth. Apparently, it¡¯s the most painful thing a human being can experience. I always had my doubts about that, like something that literally kills you has to be worse right? Like when I got shot in the head it was a massive burst of pain followed by nothing and I¡¯m pretty sure most people wouldn¡¯t know what it feels like to die, so it wouldn¡¯t end up on the list. Although, unfortunately, all my doubts have been¡ assuaged. When all was said and done, my formerly pregnant body just kinda lay there, splayed out, breathing and trying to recover. I¡¯d prepared for this and had several healing potions on hand, which likely made this whole process far more bearable. Oddly enough I wasn¡¯t tired from giving birth, but from the potions, while I was left there to look¡ at myself. It was the same feeling I had when I looked at myself for the first time, but also different. I was just this little, tiny baby with black hair and super tiny hands, still a little covered in blood and mucus. I was looking up at myself, some titan with shoulder-length messy black hair, a little stringy from sweat. I reached out a tiny hand and then grasped my own finger. A warm smile crossed my faces. I was so cute. Then I laughed, I was now my own mother, and my own midwife. It was so weird, I had literally given birth to myself, It was such an impossible thing. How could someone be their own mother? Apparently, life finds a way. As I am now, literally, my own biological mother. It was like some sort of weird paradox. I was born from my own womb. I was there, I saw it happen in all it¡¯s gross, mucus-covered glory. My teenage girl laughter spilled out into the room, mixed with my adorable baby laughter, and the tired chuckles of my third body, fresh off healing potions. I had three bodies again. I smiled. I was whole. It was an almost indescribable feeling of completeness. Something a normal person would probably never feel. The closest I could imagine is someone who lost their arm a long time ago, long enough for them to get used to it, finally getting the money to pay for the healing required to regenerate it. That feeling of regaining something you had lost so long ago you just got used to being incomplete. Like if a pit to the underworld opened up in your living room floor. At first it would be a big deal, but eventually it would just become that part of the floor you don¡¯t step on. If that rift closed up, you would almost have to re-adjust to it being normal. That¡¯s what it was like. The feeling of once again being the way I was supposed to be. I couldn¡¯t stop smiling, even as I dumped thousands of dollars¡¯ worth of high-quality healing potions down the throat of my pregnant body. I didn¡¯t know how long the birthing process took, but when I looked out the window, I noticed the sun was rising. Wow. This had all started around noon yesterday. My little baby body floated around. It was so fun. I always liked flying, but this was somehow better, with my newfound tininess, I suddenly had so much more space to fly around in. I whirled through the air spiraling and giggling as I made laps around my room.
When the new girl, Charlie, moved in; I didn¡¯t think much of it. The mistress often had visitors staying in guest rooms, this one being around my age was odd, but nothing out of the ordinary. She¡¯d arrived with her mother or guardian after all. And like I was anticipating; it wasn¡¯t that big of a departure from my expectations. The girl was quiet, confined herself to her room, and despite certainly being some spoiled rich brat, was actually rather pleasant. She didn¡¯t really treat me and the rest of the staff as nice as some of the mistress¡¯ other guests, seemingly treating us as her own personal employees. This isn¡¯t a bad thing, it just means she kept a certain professional distance, and seeing as we were getting paid to be here, I personally had no qualms about that. Despite that, she generally tried to not make our jobs any harder and was rather polite in any interaction. She wasn¡¯t outdoorsy, spending most of her time cooped up in her rooms, like I said before, but she did venture out to get her own food from the cooking staff. She kept her rooms clean herself, unless she ran into something she couldn¡¯t handle on her own. Like a week or two ago, she asked for help with her mattress. I¡¯d taken it down to Grandma May, who wasn¡¯t actually my grandma, but everyone called her that, even the mistress, who used magic to sanitize the mattress, which I then took to storage and got her a new one. Rich people were picky like that, like the mattress was perfectly fine, but apparently if something was stained once it was utterly unusable, to be fair she did pee in it, like she tried to hide it with orange juice but I could still smell it, the worst one was this other girl who was here a year or two ago, oh she was awful, her name was¡ Juliette¡ something, it started with a Conz and sounded really pompous, but I digress. Either way I got the new mattress, brought it back and set it up. I figured that would be the end of it, and I wouldn¡¯t see her again for a good while. Which I was right about, I didn¡¯t see her again. I was busy with my job, and she was an aspiring hikikomori. Well¡ until about six hours ago. I was cleaning the halls in the mostly unoccupied wing of the manor where she lived, which is just the job Miss Mariele hands out to the staff who¡¯ve been annoying her. Basically, just sends us as far away from the servant quarters as she can, which I totally deserved for the record. I had managed to set up the old bucket of mayonnaise on a slightly open-door trick and caught her in it. It was hilarious¡ to me that is, she was pissed. Anyways, I was cleaning the hall outside her bedroom, and I heard screaming. So, like the responsible maid I am, I came running, with the sound of the screaming I thought she could be dying. But when I burst into the room¡. You know, I¡¯m still not sure if I saw what I thought I did, everyone always said I was a little cooky, maybe they weren¡¯t just joking, and I had finally cracked, because not only were there two of her, one of them was apparently in the middle of giving birth and the other was well¡ delivering the baby, I don¡¯t even think she noticed me over the sounds of her own screaming, and all the goo and, oh so wonderful, lakes of blood. It was like, a lot of blood. Like, ¡°forget the ambulance and just call the coroner ¡®cause this chick is dead,¡± levels of blood.
I kinda want to know if she¡¯s okay and only partially want to determine if I¡¯m going, or have gone, completely bat shit. If there was that much blood, there must still be some sign of it if I sneak into her room and check. So, that¡¯s why I¡¯m currently inconspicuously dusting a fancy rich people thing, that looks like a nightstand, that¡¯s in the hallway right now. Waiting for her to leave the room. I¡¯ve been dusting this thing for thirty minutes. I¡¯m pretty sure if I dust it for much longer, I might start stripping off the lacquer. Okay, have I complained enough yet? At some point I¡¯ll reach critical mass, and the scene will have to progress right? No? Ugh, don¡¯t you just hate it in books and movies and whatnot when the scriptwriter or vanilla writer or director or whoever, is obviously padding out the runtime? Like personally I think it¡¯s horrible it removes all the tension and pacing set up previously, and don¡¯t get me started on random jokes inserted in dramatic moments. Like when the chips are high and the stakes are down, the last thing I want is some schmuck to make some lame beard joke, that isn¡¯t even funny, and just kill the drama. Like, nice job Steve people are literally dying but you got to make your dumb quip, It¡¯s basically as bad as the whole as you know thing in movies. Where it¡¯s so obviously for the audience that it¡¯s ridiculous. Like, is there anything you hate more than some peon explaining to you the stuff you already know? Like, Fun Fact: Photosynthesis is the process plants use to synthesize sugar from water they get from the soil, carbon dioxide they get from the air, and light they got from the sun or, in absence of sun, grow lamp. This process is¡. Oh¡ she¡¯s here. See! I knew it, if I stopped being entertaining, the scene would progress. Because whatever exec responsible for this crap got that chill up his spine when he sensed the box office numbers falling.
Anyways, I listen as Charlie walks by me, paying me little mind aside from a casual ¡°good afternoon,¡± she tosses my way in her stride. I give her a hum of acknowledgement back, and she continues out of the hall. I wait a few more seconds to make sure she¡¯s gone and then¡ I strike. I wander to the door and place my hands on the knob. It¡¯s locked. Fortunately for me, I had the forethought of becoming a maid in this establishment and so, I have access to all the rooms. With a flex of intent, a trickle of magic from the key bracelet on my wrist enters the doorknob. The mechanism relinquishes its hold on the secrets I seek with a gentle click. I have to restrain myself from knocking on the door, years of maid training engraved into the very core of my being. (It¡¯s a commentary on the state of the working class and how the completion of menial tasks for insufficient pay degrades the mind, body and soul, until there¡¯s nothing left but despondent contentment and hopeless compliance.) But then I remember this is sneaky, sneaky time and the room is empty anyways. I open the door. Huh¡ so you remember what I said about the room being empty twenty-four words ago? Yeah¡ that was apparently a load of horse poo, because I am now standing face to face¡ with Charlie. But Charlie just left, I saw it, it happened in the next set over. In that one scene it took way too many takes to film because the actress playing me couldn¡¯t get my mannerism quite right enough to satisfy the director. I have no idea who this actress is by the way, but I hope they get someone who actually looks like me, you know someone tall, hot and intimidating, like¡ Evelyn Tarth, or¡ wait, no, bad A.D.H.D.-brain I know it isn¡¯t your strong suit, but I kinda need you to pay attention.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The Charlie girl hadn¡¯t moved, simply staring at me with a look of horror on her face, but I decided I had seen enough. In this town if you were an inconvenience to the wealthy, they would probably have you killed. So, as the sensible, self-preserving biological organism I am. I, very slowly, backed slightly towards the hallway. Like one might back away from anything that might kill and, eat you, not necessarily in that order. There are kind of a lot of monsters that eat things before killing them. Like there¡¯s this big sand worm in the desert that¡. I cut off my rambling mind by slamming the door shut and sprinting down the hall. My shoes landing with the sound of hardened¡ wait, what are my shoes made out of? Is it leather? I don¡¯t think so, it¡¯s too hard and not skinny, sorry, skin-y enough to be leather. Is it rubber? No, rubber¡¯s pretty rare since the refinement process was lost. I hook my hand on the left-corner where the hall intersects another and use it to help swing me around the bend. So, if it isn¡¯t rubber then what is it? Because I know back before the new calendar, people apparently had super cool technology, like rubber and carbon fiber and enough metal to be able to build entire cities out of the stuff, and now whoever didn¡¯t skip this cutscene to get back to the gameplay knows that too. See, you can stick worldbuilding in wherever and whenever you want, no matter how jarring it is. I nod to myself contented by the knowledge that whoever is controlling me like a puppet is know more knowledgeable about the backstory of the fictional world in which I live.
Continuing my desperate sprint for my life I come across a problem. See we¡¯re in the left wing of the manor. Charlie¡¯s room being lined up along the exterior wall of the left wing. When I ran, I ran north, towards the back of the manor. Before turning left¡ towards the wall. This would be fine since I, in my infinite wisdom, knew there was an exit here that would lead me out into the gardens where I could escape over the fences and then, control could be returned to the player¡ or maybe this whole escape sequence could be under player control. Actually no, I know for a fact that the game devs are lazy and will just half-ass it, and as we all know, escape sequences are super hard to get right. Anyways, the problem is, I am coming up to the exit that would lead to the gardens, as well as a right turn that would lead to the back of the manor. The back of the manor is a death trap in which I will certainly get caught. Unless I want to jump out a window, which I very much don¡¯t. The exit on the other hand leads into the garden¡. I don¡¯t have outdoor shoes on. These shoes would be absolutely ruined by the gardens, and I can¡¯t afford to replace them because the mistress apparently wants her staff wearing impractically expensive shoes while indoors, shoes that need to be changed when going outside.
Now, at every servant¡¯s exit, such as the one I¡¯m sprinting towards, there is a shoe-rack containing shoes for the staff to change into when they are going outside, but this is an escape sequence; the manor is practically coming down around me, one crumbling piece at a time¡ and exactly one at a time, very slowly, preferably in a big scary wave just behind me, with lots of rumbling and dust to communicate to the player it¡¯s time to gtfo. What was I talking about? Oh right, so the point is, I¡¯m arbitrarily cornered. For all I know, it might be time for a boss-fight, and there are big, unexplained energy barriers keeping me away from the freedom of changing my shoes in peace. Yes, I can see them now. I skid to a stop, my impractically expensive shoes making note of their aforementioned impracticality, as when I said ¡°skid to a stop¡± twenty-five words ago, I neglected to mention the skidding took place, face down on the tiles. I really hate these shoes. I climb to my feet, my cheeks at my normal skin tone, (don¡¯t rotate the camera) and turn to face my adversary. I let out a sigh, no way to get out of this. Please ignore how me doing this is a plot hole. (It¡¯s an allegory on the illogical nature of humanity, and how one can make choices against their own ideals and judgements.) I tap my hated shoes against the ground and drop into my combat:idle animation just as I see my enemy round the corner.
¡°I have nowhere left to run,¡± I say. Right at the same time Charlie yells something. I couldn¡¯t quite tell what it was because I was also talking. ¡°What?¡± We both say at the same time. Damn it writing team, what the hell is this? I was just talking about how it¡¯s a bad idea to undercut dramatic moments with inane humor like one-thousand three-hundred eighty-five words ago, and now you go and pull this stunt on me? I sigh, disappointed. ¡°Amateurs,¡± I curse under my breath to the player like the quirky fourth-wall breaking protagonist I am. ¡°You first,¡± I say, slightly before Charlie does, which means she goes first. ¡°Alright, well¡ twins? I¡ um, have a twin sister,¡± she said, very unconvincingly. I call her out on her BS like the quirky BS-calling-out protagonist I am. ¡°BS. No normal twin-haver comes running down a hallway after the innocent staff like they¡¯re about to use their wealth to make them disappear,¡± I said. (It¡¯s a metaphor on the duplicitous nature of those in power, and how they use their influence and connections to suppress any threat to said power. It does not ignore how if one who was not in power were to suddenly gain it, they would likely do the same, or perhaps even worse to keep hold of it.)
¡°Wait, what? I¡. That is so wrong in so many ways I don¡¯t even know where to start. Like, for one: I¡¯m not actually rich, my aunt is, I don¡¯t actually have my own money. And secondly: I¡¯m not going to make you disappear. I don¡¯t even know how anyone would go about doing that.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe call Echelon?¡± I say. ¡°Who¡¯s Echelon?" ¡°They¡¯re like, a gang. I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re the ones the rich people use whenever they want to make it look like someone was killed because of criminals,¡± I foreshadow. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s¡ dark. But¡ would a gang of criminals even have a phone number? Like some sort of assassination hotline?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, you¡¯re the corrupt, morally bankrupt rich girl with drill hair who¡¯s been super mean to me for reasons unexplained unless you read the source material. You probably do those aristocratic villainess laughs all the time, like the ones where you assume *this pose, and go; Oh, ho, ho, ho.¡± *ED¡ª¡°This pose¡± refers to a common trope in Japanese media, wherein a character, generally matching the previously stated depiction, will strike a pose involving the dominant hand partially covering the mouth, palm outwards at a fifteen-to-fifty-degree angle from the ground, pinky finger curled (Optional) and perform the distinct laugh. This is commonly used to mock the hero/heroine after¡. ¡°I¡ what does half of that even mean?¡± ¡°Well, if you didn¡¯t interrupt the comment from editorial, you would know,¡± I accused. ¡°I¡ I get the feeling that even if you start talking about the stuff you saw, no one will believe you.¡± ¡°Hey, are you saying I¡¯m crazy? That¡¯s rude, I get enough of that from Miss Malerie¡ and Grandma May¡ and the rest of the cleaning staff¡ and the cooking staff¡ and the gardeners¡ and my Mom,¡± I said, trailing off. ¡°Huh, I think I got all of them,¡± I said. ¡°Uh¡ good for you?¡± she said. ¡°Yes, it is good for me. Remembering stuff is very important. Like how I remembered the name of Miss Malerie, a character who will only be mentioned in this scene, for this gag and the other time I mentioned her before, and never be mentioned again, nor will she appear in person. You know, like that one dude with the bowl-cut¡¯s mom who went the whole series without being seen.¡± We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds in silence. ¡°I¡¯m going back to my room,¡± Charlie said, with that same exhausted tone everyone had after the conclusion of combat. And with that, the boss fight against Charlie something-or-other, was complete. I dusted imaginary dust off my shoulders with the duster I was still holding. A small spattering of dust entering the air. Wait what? Why was there dust on my shoulder?
I flop back onto my bed. I just had the weirdest conversation in my life. I think my secret is safe, seeing as the girl I was talking to is either insane, or weird enough to just bring up random things and pass them off as truth. Either way, no one should trust a word she says. Like, what was that whole thing about editorial and Malerie about? I snicker. She was also dressed weird. The cleaning staff here generally wear comfortable uniforms with an eye for appearance. It¡¯s clear that the clothes they wear are designed to get dirty, but even so, they are still the cleaning staff of someone of high-society, so they have to look the part. Their cloths are well fitting and well made, but not something you can¡¯t just toss into the washing machine. The girl, on the other hand, wore an overly embellished maid outfit; covered in frills and intricate iridescent patterns embroidered into the, otherwise black and white, fabric. From a distance it would look like any normal French maid outfit, but up close it looked like¡ expensive cosplay. Really expensive cosplay. She was also using an honest to goodness, feather duster instead of something normal like a damp rag. She was very short, had long black hair that was pulled into a ponytail, dark olive skin, and was probably at least 3% freckle by weight. Although now that I think about it, she seemed familiar. I¡¯d probably seen her around somewhere before. I kinda liked her. She was definitely weird, but like the fun kind of weird, if that made any sense. Although, I didn¡¯t know what her name was. Hmm. My other body entered the room at that point carrying lunch. I handed the tray to myself before going invisible and floating back out of the room through the walls. I figured I might as well just ask her what her name was, and even if I didn¡¯t find her, I could just ask anyone, they¡¯d probably know. Fortunately for me, I found her quite easily. The weird maid girl was peeking around the corner, apparently having watched me enter the room. I was going to just appear out of nowhere, but now I kinda wanted to mess with her. So, I snuck up behind her and materialized.
Leaning in close I asked softly. ¡°What are we looking at?¡± She squealed. Leaping into the air, before taking a defensive stance. ¡°Oh, jeepers. Don¡¯t do that, my bladder can¡¯t take the stress, and I personally want to take good care of my lissosphincter so it¡¯ll, in turn, take good care of my undies which will take good care of my hoo-ha and by extension, me,¡± she said. ¡°Is that how you start any conversation?¡± ¡°No, why would I? Not all people start a conversation by sneaking up on me with their creepy ghost powers,¡± she said. I froze, wait, does she know? ¡°Why are you standing there like I just coincidentally said your secret out loud and you¡¯re mentally panicking before ultimately deciding to either call Echelon¡¯s assassination hotline, that totally exists, and you were just playing dumb about earlier, or you¡¯re going to start looking into Echelon to see if they do actually have an assassination hotline?¡± ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I ask, changing the subject with tact and subtlety. ¡°Huh¡ so you do have ghost powers¡. Freaky. Anyways, my name is Georgianna, but I go by, Georgie, George, Anna, Annie, Gia, Gina, Gigi, Anne, Orgi, Geo, spelled G-E-O even though it just sounds like Joe, Gianna, Geo, Nana, Rigi, but not Georgianna, only my mom calls me Georgianna and you¡¯re not my mom,¡± ¡°Okay¡ uh, is there a particular name you prefer or¡¡± I trail off. ¡°Hmm,¡± The girl with too many names said, putting a finger to her cheek and tilting her head in an exaggerated thinking pose. ¡°Nope, not really. Honestly there are just a lot of options for everyone to use matching their personalities. I have a spreadsheet determining in great detail what each name chosen, or combination of names chosen means. Oh, and by the way, you may have inferred this already, but you will be judged based on which name you choose so choose wisely,¡± she said smiling. Okay¡ so¡ names huh? I don¡¯t know, Gina, I guess? I don¡¯t really feel like overthinking this, not to mention how whatever insane criteria is used in this process is something I¡¯ll never be able to understand. ¡°So¡ uh, nice to meet you¡ Gina, I¡¯m Charlie.¡± I said, sounding unsure. Her smile broadened. ¡°Nice to meet you too, Charlie. Although I did already know your name. I am part of the staff and it¡¯s part of my job to know who you are, although I don¡¯t know why that¡¯s important. Like, why should I know your name? How does that help me with my job? I don¡¯t know, it doesn¡¯t actually make all that much sense. Not to mention personally, I would find it super weird if people already knew my name before I met them. Oh¡ I just did that didn¡¯t I. Sorry for being creepy, but in my defense you did it first. Sneaking up on me with your ghost powers, and by the way, what exactly are your ghost powers? Can you walk through walls, or fly, or go invisible, or make the room super cold, or appear in mirrors right after people look away from them briefly, or slam doors, or throw objects, or pan the camera away from someone while the strings climb just before the aforementioned someone screams and then their blood gets splattered across whatever the camera was focusing on after it panned, like a wall or a family painting, especially a family painting, but really it could be just about anything?¡± ¡°Okay, please slow down. Also, I don¡¯t have ghost powers,¡± I said, I don¡¯t even know why I bothered. ¡°Sure, sure, you want to preserve the reveal for a more dramatic moment, I understand,¡± Gina said, nodding sagely. ¡°You know what, screw it. Fine I have ghost powers! You happy now?¡± I said. Gina frowned. ¡°You were supposed to wait for a dramatic moment where you have the choice to either save me, and reveal yourself, or let me die. And while you mull over it for longer than it would take for me to die, if this movie followed temporal logic properly, before finally choosing to save me, whereafter I reveal that I knew all along and just thought you were bad at hiding it, or, even better, I didn¡¯t bring it up because I thought you would tell me when you were ready or something like that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to go take a nap,¡± I said. Before walking directly through the wall.
I floated into my room through the wall and collapsed onto the bed next to my baby body. I groaned. As much as I wanted to keep talking to Gina, I couldn¡¯t. My phone still sat on my desk next to my other body where I had left it after getting the text message that sent me here. My aunt wanted me to do something. She didn¡¯t tell me what, but it couldn¡¯t be anything good. Either way I would find out tomorrow. I curled up as I felt the whispers of the voices coiling in on me. Like a million little spiders crawling all over me, they bit into everything I was, and did, and tore at it, berating me, calling me names. And I couldn¡¯t¡ I couldn¡¯t take it. Why does this always happen? I don¡¯t like listening to this, every second of every day, in the back of my mind telling me I¡¯m useless, I¡¯m a failure, I¡¯m weak, I¡¯m a puppet, a doormat, a bitch. I¡ I don¡¯t want to be here. I don¡¯t want to be anywhere. I don¡¯t want to¡ exist. The last thing I here before I stop being me, is all the voices, all the whispers, coalesce into one voice and speak one short statement. ¡°Fine, then I guess we¡¯re doing this the hard way.¡±
A hand reaches over from the side of the bed and wraps fingers around a girl¡¯s throat, squeezing with tremendous strength. The person standing over the girl on the bed glares down at her then she grabs me and pulls. I scream as my mind is slammed back into reality. No, no, I don¡¯t want to be here, I¡. ¡°Shut the fuck up Charlie,¡± I say, standing over my- NO, It can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be, it can¡¯t be¡.
She says, standing over me. ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s how we¡¯re going to do this then? You little freak,¡± she says, looking down at me with utter contempt. ¡°No, I¡¡± ¡°SHUT THE FUCK UP!¡± She shouts, loud enough that I worry about others hearing it from halfway through the manor. I whimpered, scrambling back across the bed to get away from her. ¡°Look at you skitter away like the fucking cockroach you are. Gonna go hide under the toilet bitch?¡± she says in a mocking tone. I grab my baby body, cradling myself as best I can, and run to the door. I try to pull it open, but she¡¯s already there, she kicks the doorknob with enough force to slam it shut. I scream, as she doesn¡¯t do anything to avoid hurting my hand in the process. ¡°Oh, I can finally give you those bruises,¡± she says, a dangerous malice entering her voice. I shoot across the ground flying as fast as I can for the bathroom. I fly into the bathroom and slam the door behind me. Breathing heavily as I put all my weight against the door. A heavy slam sends me towards the ground, but I catch myself with flight. Rolling I turn to face her. As she stalks into the bathroom. She clicks her tongue at me chidingly. ¡°Wow Charlie, I didn¡¯t know you were this much of a pussy, no wonder your aunt keeps fucking you,¡± she said. ¡°Y-you¡¯re not real,¡± I say. ¡°No, no, I¡¯m pretty sure I am,¡± she says opening the cupboard under the sink and taking out a large bottle. She leaps lightly into the air, stopping up the sink and dumping the full bottle of bleach into it. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked worried. ¡°Fixing some shit,¡± she said. She flipped over the sink and lowered her head into it. ¡°No!¡± I screamed running at her, I tried to grab her, but I passed right through. ¡°What are you doing with my hair?¡± I shrieked. ¡°You know exactly what I¡¯m doing,¡± she said. As I spun to face¡ her. She rolled over slightly to make eye contact. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you fuck this up anymore. I think it¡¯s time for a more¡ direct approach. Hope you like bruises,¡± she says. Then she laughs to herself. ¡°Although, I¡¯m pretty sure a masochistic bottom-bitch like you would love some bruises,¡± she said vitriolically, ¡°Either way. That can come later. First things first. We¡¯re going to kill that bitch,¡± Melody finished.
00021: DUMPLING LEARNS TO GET STRONGER
DUMPLING LEARNS TO GET STRONGER
I am not sure what to do. I need to get stronger, and the John said that I need to focus on what I can already do, but I don¡¯t really know what that means. What can I do? Nothing really, but there has to be something. But none of the things I can do are really that special. I frown. I wish I could ask Mama. Okay, so if I¡¯m strong I should be able to beat up mean people like the necromancer lady. So, maybe being strong means you¡¯re really good at beating up mean people? I consider that thought, it makes sense. I smile. So, I need to get better at beating up mean people. But where will I find mean people to try beating up? The John-person was nice, and I think the other people with him were also nice. How could I tell if someone was mean? I was considering this while walking around the¡ which floor was this? I think I lost count. I am above the floor I was on, that was now a big spikey hole. This floor is weird. It¡¯s all bouncy. Like it looks really weird, everything is brightly colored and really smooth and square. My home with Mama is also really square, and smooth, but it isn¡¯t bouncy. It¡¯s actually really fun to bounce on the floor, but I need to focus; Mama needs me. I need to find bad people to beat up, and if I get good at beating them up maybe I¡¯ll be strong enough to beat up the mean lady and save Mama.
I lightly bounce down the weird tunnel I¡¯m in, looking for bad people to beat up. I round a corner and bounce down that hall as well. I round another and start bouncing harder, seeing how high I can go. I wonder if the ceiling as also bouncy. I keep bouncing higher and higher seeing if I can reach the ceiling. I start to giggle, as I keep bouncing. I reach my arms up trying to reach the ceiling. I¡¯m so, so close just one or two me-heights away. I drop, landing on the bouncy ground, it warps down super far as I coil my legs, I rope stronger muscles through my thighs and calves, weaving them together to make them longer and stronger. And¡ I leap. The floor throws me high into the air, I reach my arms up, I thin out my arm bones, stretching their length as far as I can to reach the ceiling. My fingers just barely brush the surface. I let out a squeal of delight as I begin to fall back to the ground. I did it! I made it to the ceiling! I laugh as I reach across the network to tell Mama what I did and¡ oh¡ right. I slowly come to a stop in the hall. Right, I need to get stronger. I take a deep breath. Okay¡ What can I do, that is special? What am I good at? I can¡¯t think of anything¡ I¡¯ve never really done anything like beating up bad people. All I do is sleep and chase the¡ squeak¡. I remember a conversation I had with Mama, after that time I cut my leg open to see how it worked. She said that My legs were the best legs because I could change them to fit the situation. Maybe that¡¯s it? I can make myself all changey, and then I¡¯ll be super strong? I sit down on the bouncy ground and look at my hands. That mean creature I fought, before I woke up in the big pit, had weird hands, they had long sharp claws on them that really hurt. Focusing, I pushed my claws to extend. They extended a little, but not nearly enough. I needed something to make them longer, I couldn¡¯t just pull more nail out of nowhere, I needed something. I frowned. Okay, so, what if I didn¡¯t use the nail stuff but something else? I pull a little bit of bone from my fingers and arms and make them into claws. I smile; they are far longer now, but my arms now feel flimsy. I need more bone stuff. What even are bones made of? Can I make them? Actually, no, new plan. Can I get new stuff to make stuff with? I look down at the bouncy floor, an idea forming.
The floor material tastes weird. It¡¯s chewy and tastes nothing like food, but when I swallow it, I can move it around. I push it to my fingers and then¡ I get little bouncy finger pads. They¡¯re grey like my skin. Unlike the floor, which is brown. Okay, so now I know if I eat something I can use it in myself, and I can make myself stronger by changing myself¡. But now what? I guess I could try to find new things to eat. I think about the idea for a moment before deciding that there¡¯s no reason it shouldn¡¯t work. Smiling, I move on. I now know how to get stronger. I just need to eat everything I can find. I smiled. I have a plan; this shouldn¡¯t be hard.
I was so bored. I thought that finding new materials would be easy, but everything around here was pretty much the same. The walls, the floor, and even the little nibble I managed to get from the ceiling were all made from the same material. I now had a lot of that bouncy stuff, but this stuff doesn¡¯t seem all that strong. I grumbled into the room. I kinda want to leave. This place seems useless. I focus and try to remember. Immediately I got a few faint flashing images, images that pulled me in a specific direction, up another floor. The images also gave me a number. Five. Deciding that that¡¯s probably not important, I continue onwards. Although I get a strange feeling. Aren¡¯t there supposed to be monsters? There were monsters on all the other floors. Like¡ I remember a small slippery looking monster slamming into someone, sending them flailing out over¡. I shake my head. NO! I need to pay attention. If there are no monsters, that¡¯s fine, the last one I met was mean anyways. I think to myself, remembering the feeling of that thing¡¯s claws in my stomach. Arriving at the staircase, I ascend. Although I can¡¯t quite shake the feeling that something is wrong. There should be monsters.
The entrance of the Lomari Labyrinth is not a subtle location. In fact, it is at the center of a massive fortress, designed to be able to contain any gold rank monster that might attempt to escape. Although, it could be said that that is not, in fact, the true entrance. The creators of the fortress seemingly agree to this theory, having named the location the Lomari Fortress. The actual entrance, the point of no return as it were, the metaphorical gate at which all hope is abandoned prior to crossing the threshold, is actually a hole in the side of a mound of dirt into which a tiled road leads. Traffic bustling in and out constantly. Adventurers descend to seek fame and glory whilst evading the death that seeks them, bringing with them the occasional cart to carry out goods. Even the occasional automobile descends into the dungeon. Afterall the first three-or-so floors are relatively safe, as the floors aren¡¯t considered truly dangerous until the eighth and onwards. The eighth given this title due to it¡¯s reputation. All of this is to say that the Lomari Labyrinth isn¡¯t your standard-issue horrible hole of horrors untold, no, it is a very valuable horrible hole of horrors. One that a great many people have invested large quantities of wealth towards the exploitation of. Monster parts, medicinal herbs, magical artifacts¡. All, valuable resources, readily available within the caverns of the Lomari. This is to say, that this isn¡¯t some uncared-for cesspool of death and misery, it¡¯s a carefully monitored cesspool of death and misery, a resource if you will. Now, let¡¯s suppose for a moment something were to inexplicably alter that resource in a very public and visible way. Those who have invested money or blood or both into such a place may be inclined to inquire as to, what the fuck just happened. There are many things that could incite such an inquiry, maybe a certain concentration of resources vanished from an area; a few adventuring teams going missing; a crop of herbs going bad inexplicably; Or, just maybe, the entirety of a floor¡ªlarge enough to fit a few cities¡ªvanishing inexplicably in exchange for a massive crater, all the surrounding land being crystallized and every single resource on the floor gone. Not to mention every single party expected to be on the floor now M.I.A. Every party on surrounding floors reporting massive tremors throughout the dungeon. Tremors, able to be detected even from the fortress above. One may be able to understand how such hypothetical events might cause a bit of a fuss.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
That was why a critical action had been taken, wealth from investors pooled and an invisible transfer of funds taking place. That was why there was now a figure approaching the entrance of the Lomari. The completely still entrance. As Every last person who could be contacted had been called out, leaving the Lomari Labyrinth empty for the first time in ages. Empty of humans, that is, monsters being uncaring of summons from humanity, and even if they did emerge, anything short of silver rank would be quickly reduced to their base molecules in a matter of moments. The figure walked along the tiled road, her bare feet clinking against the tile in a rhythmic fashion. Clink, clink, clink. Her perfectly white porcelain soles impacting the ground with an oddly ominous sound. She strode casually into the dungeon, as if she owned it.
I don¡¯t like this place. The last place was all bouncy, which was fun, but this place is just full of water. I tried to swim in it, but when I did something bit me, and it¡¯s too dark to tell what it was. How can the bitey thing even see me? I poke a toe in the water to test it. It¡¯s cold. I tried eating the walls when I got here, but I found another problem. They are made of rocks, and when I tried to bite the rocks, my teeth broke, so I need something stronger to be able to break the rocks, but if I already have that stronger thing, I should just eat that, but I probably won¡¯t be able to eat that without having eaten something stronger. I let out a humph, in frustration. How am I going to be able to get stronger, if I need to be stronger to get stronger? I just sat there looking out over the dark water. This floor was like a cave, but everything was super dark. I need to be able to see in the dark to keep going so that I can at least find out what the bitey thing is. I know that it¡¯s possible to see in the dark because when I was looking through the information Mama sent me, there was information on some animals that could see in the dark, like kitty-cats. If only I¡¯d looked into how they did it, then I could change my eyes to be like theirs. If only I still¡. I slapped my cheeks. No, I need to focus. What do I know about seeing? Well¡ I can see in the light¡ but I can¡¯t see in the dark. So, maybe instead of seeing in the dark, I just need to make it light? I consider this idea. It should work¡ but how? Maybe I can find something that makes light, and then make myself glow with it? The light in the staircase has to come from somewhere. I turn and walk back into the staircase behind me before looking up to see where the light is coming from. There¡¯s nothing there but the same stone that the stairs are always made of. I whimper. Stone again? But I can¡¯t eat stone! Why can¡¯t it be made of something soft and squishy like a¡ a spongey, soft¡ mushroom! Yeah, why can¡¯t it be made of mushrooms? Wait¡ weren¡¯t there glowing mushrooms back on that lower floor? The one with all the mushrooms? Thinking back, I remember there being glowy mushrooms. Maybe I could go back there, eat some of the glowy mushrooms and then I¡¯ll be able to glow. I nod my head at the idea and descend.
Returning to the bouncy floor, I began wandering my way to where I feel like there would be another staircase, when something appeared. It came bouncing around a corner, each bounce sending ripples through the bouncy floor and walls. I wabble back and forth, trying to not fall over. It¡¯s a big orb. It looks like it¡¯s made of¡ something. It¡¯s not stone. It has swirly lines carved into it and¡. It leaps at me. I squeal and jump out of the way, or at least I try to, but the floor doesn¡¯t let me. The squishiness of it, absorbing the force I use to jump. I curl into a protective ball as the ball-thing hits me. I feel it¡¯s hard body impact mine, I scream as my arms and ribs break under the force. I slam to the ground with the ball on top of me, the floor distending with the force before me and the monster are both sent into the air. I immediately fuse my arms back together while the ball bounces down the hall towards the far end. I hit the ground with a bounce and immediately sink my claws in and run. I can¡¯t beat that thing, it¡¯s four times bigger than me, and it¡¯s hard like stone. I¡¯m not strong enough to even scratch it¡ strong enough¡. Maybe I don¡¯t need to be strong enough. The floor isn¡¯t strong, but it seems perfectly fine with the ball thing. I need more floor stuff. I drop to the ground and bite a chunk out of the floor. I turn to keep an eye on the ball thing, which seems to be trying to reverse it¡¯s momentum to come back at me. I keep eating and rapidly replacing everything in my body with the floor stuff until I¡¯ve replaced most of myself with the bouncy material. I smile triumphantly, just as the ball monster hits me in the face. I feel my head squish as I am slammed to the ground, I get compressed to a thin line as the thing¡¯s weight bears down on me, before it finally springs back up. I snap back to my normal shape as the ball-thing goes bouncing down the corridor again. That¡ didn¡¯t hurt at all. I let out a celebratory cheer. I¡¯m invincible! Then I get hit in the face again.